#it’s probably explained and i can’t find it

[moonstruckme]

omg mae bae happy bday and congrats on 7k wowie! would you do apple pie, ¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology, with steve harrington? <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: alcohol, spin the bottle

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Steve finds you in the kitchen. You’ve procured a pair of scissors from somewhere, and you’re snipping apart those plastic rings that hold together six-packs. You glance up as he comes in but look away quickly, picking another up off the counter. 

“Turtles strangle themselves on these things,” you say. You snip a corner, the sound short and crisp. “I don’t know why we still use them.” 

Steve honestly doesn’t think much about sea animals when he’s drinking a beer, but he wants to agree with you. “Me neither.” 

“It’s like, we’re supposed to be this advanced society. Can’t we come up with something that doesn’t kill turtles?” 

“Mhm. Probably.” 

“I just think it’s dumb.” You push out a breath. It sounds frustrated, but Steve knows you well. You’re more stressed than angry. He’s not patient enough to wait for you to get around to telling him that yourself. 

“What’re you doing in here?” he asks. 

You look up at him again. Shrug. “I was sick of being out there.”

“You wanna go home?” 

“Do you?” 

It’s a fair thing to ask. Steve’s your ride, so leaving these things is usually a joint decision. But he feels like the question is pointed. “Do you think I wanna go home?” 

“I don’t know.” Some of the stress is seeping into your voice now, your terseness taking on a new hue. “You seemed mad.” 

He was mad (is mad?). He just hasn’t figured out if it’s fair for him to be, yet, so he wasn’t planning on making it your business. He thought that would be the nice thing to do, but you don’t seem to appreciate being left out of the loop. 

“Do I seem mad now?” he asks. 

You cut through the last plastic ring with a harsh snap. “Christ, Steve, I don’t know. Why are you asking me all this?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and though it’s automatic he does mean it. “I’m not trying to be mad at you.” 

Your eyes meet his, crushed before you can hide it. “But you are.” 

“Not—” He sighs, jamming his thumb against his brow bone. It’s an anxious habit, a preventative measure against potential headaches. “Not really. Not in a way that’s important.” 

“I think it’s important anytime you’re mad at me,” you say. Your voice has softened and smalled. Steve feels like his guts are in knots. He wants to make an excuse, to explain—It’s not that I’m actually mad at you. I haven’t decided if I should be. So we’re all good, right? For now, I mean. At least until I decide.—but before he get the chance to further fuck things up you ask, “Can you tell me what you’re mad about?” 

Steve drops his hand to look at you. “You really don’t know?”

You wince, and he thinks you do know. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.” 

He feels his brows furrow. “For what to happen?” 

“For it to land on you.” 

“That’s not…it’s spin the bottle. You can’t control who it lands on. That’s the point.” 

You shake your head, almost to yourself. Your fingers are fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I shouldn’t have even played. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have if I’d known that was gonna happen.” 

“What do you keep apologizing for?” Some accidental anger makes its way into Steve’s tone. “Who did you want to kiss?”

You blink. “No one.” 

“Nobody plays spin the bottle unless they want to kiss someone.” 

“Well, I guess I changed my mind.” 

“Why?” 

“Because!” Your voice rises, and you lower it just as quickly. You both glance to the kitchen entryway like the calvary is going to come force you back to that stupid party just because you almost yelled. “Because,” you say, quieter, “it was weird.”

Steve forgets to even try to keep his face in check. He feels it twist with hurt. “It was?” 

“Yes! Everyone was looking at us, and it was like a game—it was a game.” You pull your sleeves over your hands, shoulders winding up tight. “I guess I just feel like that sort of thing should be private.”

Awareness dawns upon him like a slow sunrise. Steve has never been known for his book smarts, but he’s not stupid. He knows what it feels like to be liked. He’s just never known what it felt like to be liked by you. 

A little laugh of disbelief stumbles out of him. “You said ‘ew.’” 

You’d been tipsier and fizzy with excitement when the game had started. Smiling and laughing at everything, your giddiness palpable. When your turn had come, Steve had watched you carefully to see if your eyes did that hopeful flit to someone in the circle, but all your concentration had been on the bottle, your smile slipping just a little as it spun. And landed on him. 

Ew, you laughed. No, c’mon, you can’t make us.

That’s the game, Marcy had reminded you gleefully. As a resister, you now had the attention of most of the circle. It wasn’t Steve’s first time playing. He knew how it went. 

Relax. He’d forced a smile, getting onto his hands and knees to meet you in the middle. It’ll be quick. Not too disgusting.

You’d made a face of humorous unwillingness, your eyes darting around the group as if seeking rescue. Fine, you relented. If it’s not a big deal to you, it’s not to me. 

Steve had done this more than once, but it felt especially awkward with you. Crawling into the middle of a circle of spectators, your hand knocking the bottle so that it clinked and rolled. True to his promise, he kept it brief, a short, painless press of his lips. Hardly enough to feel the impression of yours before you were both pulling away, Steve silent and you spewing a string of nervous giggles. 

You’d left before it was Steve’s turn to spin. 

Now you seem near to ripping the sleeves of your shirt, the material stretched over your curled fingers as you worry your lip. You’re back to not looking at him. “I didn’t mean ‘ew’ at you.” 

It had sure sounded like it. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant it, like, I didn’t like how things were going.” You laugh at yourself, the sound stymied. “Like ew, we have to kiss in front of everyone, or ew, Chris is watching us way too intently.”

Steve makes a face. “He was?” 

“Is that what you’re mad about?” Something seems to dawn upon you now, too, your expression clearing. “That I said that?” 

He looks at you for a second. “Well, it sounds stupid when you say it out loud.” 

“No it doesn’t,” you say, but you look to be fighting a grin. “I’m sorry, it’s not stupid. I didn’t mean to be mean.” 

“It’s okay,” he says genuinely. 

You shake your head. “I wasn’t thinking. But that’s not what I meant.” 

Steve knows this now, but he teases you anyway. “Are you sure about that?” 

You hesitate only half a second before you catch onto what he’s doing. Your smile starts to win. “I’m sure.” 

“Kissing me doesn’t disgust you?” 

“No.” Your voice is bashful now, but your eyes are steady on his as you take a step toward him. 

The knots in Steve’s guts aren’t getting any looser, though there’s a different kind of commotion going on there now. “I don’t know if I believe you.” 

You reach for each other at the same time, his hands on your ribs and yours on either side of his face, and this time there’s no glass bottles to knock or rules to adhere to or spectators to appease. This kiss isn’t short.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: baby girls, he we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You rinse out the bowl you used for your oatmeal. It’s only as the back door opens that you notice the roar of the mower’s stopped. You put the porcelain in the dishwasher and shut it as you hear footsteps down the hall. It’s almost ten o’clock. 

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky greets your back as he enters. “I just put fresh water in the hot tub. Might go for a soak myself, try to loosen up these muscles.” 

You face him, “hot tub?” 

“Oh, yeah. Guess that’s new too.” He chuckles. “Another one of my projects.” 

“Right,” you nod. A sudden buzz makes your jump. 

You look around and scurry across the kitchen to grab your phone. It’s a message from your mom. But why would she text you? Can’t she just come downstairs? 

‘Is Bucky still there?’  

You stare at the message and frown. Huh? 

“Everything okay, doll?” Bucky asks. Your eyes flick up. 

“Um, yeah, erm, it’s my mom...” you shake your head. 

“Right, how’s work going for her?” He plants a hand on the counter and leans. 

“Work? It’s her day off,” you blink. 

“Ah, yeah, she said she didn’t want to wake you up when she left. She got called in. Emergency.” He explains. 

You clutch the phone as you stare at him dumbly. Why didn’t he mention that earlier? Well, it’s not on him, you could have checked. But if she’s gone, why is he still here? 

“Don’t spoil the surprise,” he says, “about the lawn.” 

“I won’t,” you look down and text her back. 

“So how about it? You up for a soak?” He asks again. 

“Um, I’ll think about it. Just gonna chat with my mom,” you waggle your phone at him and meander to the door. 

‘Great. You two can get to know each other.’  

Her answer is disappointing. You thought she’d be surprised, maybe confused. It’s all perfectly normal to them. You’re still adjusting. If she’d told you before you got there, it wouldn’t feel so strange. 

At the same time, you don’t want to let her down. You can’t just ignore her message. You have to try but you feel like you haven’t even had time to settle in. And he’s not the only thing that’s different. Your room doesn’t even feel like yours. 

You stand at the bottom of the stairs. You key in a final reply. ‘Ok’. That’s it. A tepid agreement. 

“Hey,” Bucky surprises you again. “Invitation stands,” he wipes his forehead, his bicep bulging as he does, the muscles of his chest straining. “I’m just going to get in my trunks.” 

“Uh, I... I’ll think about it,” you make yourself take a step up and climb steadily, refusing to look back. 

You stare at the phone. You don’t want to be rude. You’re sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why your mother didn’t mention him. You might do the same in her shoes. After so long being single, she was probably just letting it pan out. 

Still, she could have said something when you were on the train. 

Whatever. It’s not your place to complain. You’re still living under her roof, rent-free, after years of tuition on her dime and a lifetime of dependency. You can pretend like this is all okay. 

You go into your room and shut the door behind you. You wouldn’t have a swim suit in the dresser, you didn’t bother to pack it for college. Wherever your other clothes are, it should be there. You just don’t know where that is. 

A tank top and shorts should do the trick. You prefer that to an actual swimsuit. It won’t feel so revealing.  

You take out a hot pink spaghetti strap shirt and a pair of black shorts. You switch out your clothes, catching your foot in the shorts and tripping slightly. You stand up, shirtless, leaning on the vanity as you get your balance.  

You glimpse your reflection and shy away. You tie the string of the shorts and reach for the tank top. You pull it over your head and check yourself in the mirror. It will do. You hope. 

As you come out of the room, another door opens. You peer down the hall as Bucky emerges from your mother’s room. You gulp and flick your eyes away from him. He wears a pair of light blue shorts, so short you might mistake them for briefs. His thick thighs and torso flex with his movement as he approaches, a towel over his shoulder. 

“You changed your mind?” He asks as he comes closer. 

“Erm, well, I... I’ll give it a try. I’ve never really been in a hot tub, so...” You poke your fingertips together nervously. You don’t want to tell him your mother told you to be social. 

“Great, kinda feel like a loser sitting in there by myself. It’s really too bad your mom had to go in.” He sighs. 

Yeah, it is. You wonder why he didn’t mention it sooner. Or why he’s hanging around. You guess you don’t really know how things work around here anymore. 

“Don’t forget a towel,” he winks as he pats the one on his shoulder. “I’ll go get the cover off and you can come hop on in.” 

He brushes by you, his knuckle glancing off you as he does. You shuffle down to the linen closet and take out a towel. You don’t follow him right away. 

Your stomach is a flurry of nerves. It’s just the oatmeal. It always sits like a lump. You didn’t think about that, you were just hungry. 

You go downstairs and drag your feet to the back door. You come out onto the deck and peer around. The tub sits in the deck, installed where the table used to be. It steams as Bucky steps into it. He sighs and groans, muscles clenching up his back and sides. He must work out a lot. 

You look down at yourself. Self-consciousness creeps over you. It’s been a while since you thought so much about it. You tried not to focus much on your body; as long as you liked what you’re wearing, you don’t worry about what’s underneath. You don’t have the most extravagant taste but you have a few cute pieces. 

He lowers himself into the water and lets out another drone. He shifts around to face you but doesn’t seem to notice you as he closes his eyes and leans his head back. He takes a deep breath so his chest puffs out. 

You set your towel next to his on the small table near the edge. You near and stand at the lip of the tub. Can you just sneak away? 

“Hey,” his voice rolls over the bubbling water, “it’s not bad. Come on. It feels great. It’ll loosen you right up.” 

You nod and bite your lip. You get down on your butt before you ease yourself down onto the seat of the tub. The water steams and spits just beneath your shoulders. It is nice though it does raise a thick sheen across your forehead. 

“Mmm, trust me, when you’re mine age, you’ll need one of these,” he smirks. “So,” he stretches his arms around the frame of the tub, “what’s the plan, doll?’ 

“The plan?” You flap your lashes. 

“For the summer? Beach days with the girls? You wanna invite some friends over? You can have the tub to yourself,” he offers. 

“Mm, no, I... I’m looking for work. Uh, probably send out more applications.” You shrug. 

“Looking for a job? Ah, right, no more school, huh? Exciting. You got the whole world in front of you.” 

“Mhm, yeah,” you reach to rub your neck. 

“I’m sure you’ll still have time to hang out with your friends,” he insists. 

“Uh, I don’t... I don’t really have any,” you utter. You look away and stare at the fence. 

“No? Well, all my buddies are too busy for me. I know how you feel.” He says, “you know, we could be friends.” 

“Um, yeah, maybe,” you look at him again as you chew your lip. His eyes snap up from your chest. You look down and try not to show your horror. Your nipples are entirely visible as the pink fabric clings to you. You cross your arms. “You’ll be busy with my mom.” 

“Not all the time,” he says “You know, ever since she got this promotion, she’s been too busy for me.” 

“Ah, erm, I'm sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry?” He asks. 

You shake your head, “I don’t know...” 

“Mm, I know why,” he tilts his head. 

You stare at him in confusion. 

“You know a guy like me shouldn’t be kept waiting around. You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you? You can’t help but feel bad knowing I’m left all on my own. Lonely.” He traces a finger along the edge of the tub as he speaks. 

“I... guess. I don’t... know? I just...” You look away again. You can hardly stand the heat of the water as it boils your blood. 

He snickers and you wince as he shifts around the tub, sliding into the seat next to you. He slips his arm behind you as he does. You shrink down and stare at the deck railing. What is he doing? 

“This is nice, isn’t it? Getting to know each other?” His fingers tickle your shoulder as he crowds you. “You know, seems like we have a lot in common, doesn’t it?” 

“Um, erm,” you squirm in the seat. “I think... maybe... I should...” 

“Relax, it won’t do you any good if you don’t relax,” he girds. “I’m just saying, baby girl, seems like we’re both pretty lonely.” 

He leans back into the hot tub and lets his head fall back. You bend your arm, rubbing your other, and fidget. You want to just go but you’re scared to move. You don’t think you’re really afraid of him, he probably won’t stop you, but you’re just all locked up. 

You sit there, staring through the slats at the green lawn. The water babbles and your ears pulse. He continues to caress your shoulder. 

“Mm, baby girl, come on, just let yourself...” he taps your arm, “lean back, huh?” 

You obey. You lean back into the tub and slide down in the seat, trying to mimic him. Your head hits his arm as you recline. It is nice as the jets shoot up your back. 

“Wait, wait, you gotta get in the right...” he grabs your thigh and drags you towards him. “..place. Make sure you hit all the pressure points.” 

As he moves you, you spasm and cry out in surprise. A jet blows right against your shorts, a stream of water that sends tingles through you. You try to move back but he holds you in place. He squeezes your thigh and kneads. 

“Ah, yeah, baby girl, right there? Doesn’t it feel good?” 

You squeak as the water hits your clit through your thin shorts. You put your hand on his and wiggle. That only makes it more intense. Does he know what’s happening? 

“Please...” you gasp. 

“What did I say? Relax,” he continues to rub his fingertips into your thigh. “You’re all tense, baby girl. Let it go.” 

Your eyes round and you contort, trying to take the pressure off your clit. It doesn’t help. You puff out and grab onto his arm without thinking. He needs to let go. You can feel a throbbing inside of you. It hurts. Please, stop. 

The sensation crests and coils through you. Your muscles clench then release all at once. You squeal in shock and shame as your body twitches. You think you just... orgasmed? 

“Baby girl, what is it?” Bucky leans into you. 

“I...” you heave. “I-- nothing.” 

“Mmm, nothing?” His hand crawls up your leg and over your stomach. He twists and bends his arm, cradling your head and turning you to face him. You shiver as he cups your chest through the wet fabric and runs his thumb over the hard bud beneath. “Cause I think you just came in this nice clean water.” He leans in closer until you feel his breath against your lips, “baby girl, I thought you were going to be good for me?” 

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

“Rings of Power” 2x07 - Speculation and Clues 

Now that we established the “leaks” are fake, let’s get down to business and speculate next episode, for real this time.  

What’s confirmed for Episode 7? 

According to the director, it will be an Elrond-centered episode 

Battle of Eregion: Orcs (lead by Adar) vs. Elven army (lead by Elrond) 

Adar and Elrond share a chat (“You cannot defeat me in battle” Adar warns Elrond)

Arondir joins the battle 

Annatar and Celebrimbor ("what have you done to me?"/“finish the Nine, and I’ll spare your city” )

Elrond at Khazad-dûm with Prince Durin (asking the Dwarves to help in the Battle of Eregion)

Galadriel and Celebrimbor emotional exchange

Want leaks? These are the real leaks.

My guess is this dynamic (Battle of Eregion/Elrond and Annatar/Celebrimbor) will be the core of Episode 7, with Arondir side plot. Maybe Isildur and Theo, as well.

Annatar & Celebrimbor - "Who are you, truly?"

From the preview teaser, we know the “what have you done to me?” scene will take place in 2x07. So, it’s almost certain that Celebrimbor will discover Annatar’s true identity in this episode. He also finds out that Eregion is under attack, while Sauron/Annatar promises he can spare the city if Celebrimbor completes the Nine rings of power. 

Two possible scenarios here: 

Celebrimbor finishes the Nine, and only then he discovers Annatar is actually Sauron. This would mean that Annatar/Sauron would still pretend to be an emissary of the Valar when Celebrimbor finds out Eregion is under seige; 

Celebrimbor discovers Annatar is actually Sauron. Then, Sauron blackmails him into finishing the Nine rings of power.  

I'm betting on the second option.

Mostly because we, the audience, have yet to find out that the “miraculous mithril powder” Sauron gave to Celebrimbor in 2x06 isn’t mithril at all. My guess it’s Sauron’s blood (we saw him performing blood magic in 2x06), to mix into the alloy of the Nine rings of power, to bind and enslave the future ring-bearers to his will and create the Nazgûl (the “Ringwraiths”). And thus explaining why the Nine work differently from the Seven (the Dwarves’ rings of power won’t bind them to Sauron’s will, but create greed and lust for gold).  

I think Celebrimbor will discover this, and that's why he tries to destroy the Nine (to stop Sauron). And, when we see Celebrimbor crying on the trailer, I think it’s after he realizes what he has done; not only at being deceived, or Eregion being under attack, but mainly because he gave Sauron the means through which he’ll conquer and enslave all of Middle-earth.  

Celebrimbor will finish the Nine, and he will try to destroy them, only to find out he can’t.

Will Sauron take a hold of the Nine in 2x07 or 2x08? 

I'm betting late 2x07, because 2x08 has a lot to deal with and many plots to close, and prep-up for Season 3.

This might be a wild guess, but I think Sauron is talking about Mirdania here, and she might be the one who gives him the Nine, bringing full circle as to why Sauron has been earning her trust and loyalty all season: for her to do his bidding, no matter what (causing fraction between the smiths, preventing Celebrimbor from finding out about the attack on Eregion, etc.). Will she leave with Sauron? I don't think so; his eye is set on another prize. She’s R.I.P. for sure, and probably won’t even survive this episode. 

And this scene might actually be Sauron peacing out of Eregion with the rings of power, at the end of 2x07.

Elrond/Adar - Battle of Eregion

From the preview teaser and the trailers, we already know how this will go down (somewhat). In some teasers we’ve seen Elrond with a wound on his face, I think this will only happen in 2x08, and not in 2x07. 

We also know Elrond will go to Khazad-dûm, and ask Prince Durin to provide aid in the Battle of Eregion. I think he’ll see Durin giving a speech to the Dwarves in 2x07, and King Durin III being against helping Eregion, but they won’t show up on the battle just yet (more on that later).

This will probably happen before the Elven army faces the Orc army, because logic.  

This attack somehow stops (probably because Adar will flaunt Galadriel in a cage), and Elrond and Adar will have a chat (as we’ve seen in Episode 7 preview). 

Adar will warn Elrond that his small Elven army can’t stop the Orc legions. My guess is he’ll use Galadriel as bargain here. As I’ve speculated before, Adar already expressed to Galadriel, in 2x06, his desire in knowing what comes after Sauron is defeated and the fate of the Orcs, seeking out a truce between Elves and Orcs, which would allow him and his “children” to live in peace, in Mordor. I believe he will propose this to Elrond, too. 

However, there might be a plot twist in this scene, because every character wants Sauron destroyed: and in 2x07 Elrond might have to choose between saving Galadriel or stopping Sauron.  

Elrond & Galadriel - Elrond's Choice

As I’ve already speculated in Part 1 of my “Last Temptation” megathread, and with 2x07 being an Elrond-centered episode, it makes perfect sense for this to be the moment when he has to uphold the promise he made to Galadriel, in 2x04. And this is exactly what I’m guessing will happen, and the majority of the people on my "People's Choice" Poll are way off mark here. (Or I am, we'll see).

This scene from the trailer is, indeed, Elrond touching Galadriel’s face, at the Orc camp. And it will mirror the first time they were introduced to us in 1x01, but on reverse and sorrowful, because instead of greeting each other, they are saying farewell.

My bet is Elrond will allow Galadriel to remain as Adar’s prisoner, probably to lure Sauron out, in the hope they might save Eregion still, and stop the Orc attack on the city. Plot twist: it won't. Adar is so consumed by his desire for revenge against Sauron, he won’t stop the battle.

Ironically, the clue is in the actual trailer. 

My guess is this scene will play out like an actual goodbye between Elrond and Galadriel, because they believe they both can/will die (we, as the audience, know they won’t, but we can’t look at things that way). And no, there won’t be any kissing on the lips, for f*ck sake. Anyway, it will be a very emotional scene, nonetheless.

And this is why the showrunners decided to throw the Galadriel/Celebrimbor scene in Episode 7 preview, to make it seem it’s Elrond who frees Galadriel from Adar and the Orcs.  But now you’re asking: if we see her in Eregion with Celebrimbor, who lets her out from Adar’s captivity?  

The answer is: Ghûl, the Orc and Adar's wingman, wingorc? Winguruk? The Orc from whom Adar practically rips the war horn from at the end of Episode 6, to give out the signal to the Orc legions, to attack Eregion.

And now you’re thinking I’m out of my mind here, but stay with me. 

Throughout the season, this Orc is the most fleshed out, and has a lot of screentime for him not to do anything relevant to the plot. He’s terrified of Sauron’s return, doesn’t want to go to war, and he’s the one with a family (meaning he has motivation and an character arc).  

He has already shown interest in Galadriel, in Episode 5; he’s the one who tries to cut out a lock of her hair, when she arrived at the Orc camp.

Ghûl's gaze also lingers on Galadriel as she’s being dragged away from Adar at the end of Episode 6, warning Adar that an attack on Eregion is what Sauron truly wants, and that he’s taking his bait. And she’s completely right here, because we saw Sauron planting the seeds of this battle into Adar’s mind in 2x01.  

So, yes, this is my guess, and I've seen other fans have picked out on this as well.

And why an Orc being the one to set Galadriel free is also important to the story? Last season, we saw Galadriel expressing some weird and genocidal views on the Orcs, going as far as vowing to Adar she wouldn’t rest until every single one of his offsprings were dead. Now, we know this won’t happen, and even after Sauron’s defeat in “The Last Alliance” war, there are Orcs on Middle-earth and Mordor (their kingdom) still exists. Galadriel will remain a central part in all of this, throughout the entire story. So, being released by an Orc would certainty contribute for her to broad her horizons and dilute her “black and white” views, and might come into play later on in the story itself.

Galadriel & Celebrimbor

From Episode 7 preview, we know that Galadriel will reach Eregion and reunite with Celebrimbor. Some could argue this scene is actually another one of Sauron’s deceptions, but I don’t think so. My guess is this scene will happen near or at the end of the episode, and Sauron/Annatar has already left the city by then. Sauron and Galadriel won’t reunite in Episode 7 (this will only happen in 2x08 because it’s one of the climaxes of the season).

Charles Edwards (Celebrimbor) has confirmed "Rings of Powers” isn’t following the canon where Celebrimbor was in love with Galadriel, and there is no build up or any foreshadowing for this, so we can scratch the eventuality of any “romantic” undertones happening in this scene.

By the time this scene takes place, I'm 99,9% sure that Celebrimbor already knows the truth of Annatar’ identity. What will these two talk about? Sauron, his plans and the rings of power. Galadriel promises Celebrimbor: “I won’t let you face him alone”. 

There are several possible scenarios here: 

Sauron fled Eregion after Celebrimbor discovered his true identify, but will return to collect the rings of power (like in the books);

Sauron is still somewhere at Eregion when this scene happens (or they believe he is);

Galadriel is talking future here (“Sauron already left with the rings, but if he eventually returns”/"We'll get the rings back and stop him", etc.);

Galadriel is talking about the effects of Sauron’s deceptions and corruption on Celebrimbor’s mind.

This scene will also be important to give extra motivation for Galadriel to go seek out Sauron by herself at the finale. By witnessing first-hand the extend of Sauron’s plans and what he did to Celebrimbor, she’ll go on a hunt for Sauron with a mindset of killing him, next episode.

I’ve already talked about this several times, but it’s always important to remember: in the finale, Galadriel’s plan will be to kill Sauron (probably using Morgoth’s crown + Nenya, as I've speculated before), and there is no doubt in her mind.

Hence the plot twist in “The Last Temptation” scene, and I already shared my theory on the most likely scenario to happen to make her snap her out of her murderous spree (and, as I’ve already said several times, I’m not a huge fan of this myself, but it's what seems most likely to happen giving the foreshadowing and clues so far).

What they will leave out for "next time"?

Celebrimbor's fate. *Spoiler alert*: I'm sure everyone in the fandom knows, but Celebrimbor will most probably die in 2x08.

I can be wrong, but I have the feeling we’ll only see the Dwarves joining the Battle of Eregion in Episode 8. Either way, my bet it’s the showrunners will “deus ex machina” them, and have them arriving when everything seems to be lost and that all Elves are going to die (pretty much like the Knights of Rohan in Battle of Helm's Deep in “The Two Towers”).

I don’t think we’ll see Númenor again this Season. Only if it’s Isildur plot, but it’s almost certain he’ll not join the Battle of Eregion, and just “hang out” with the human Southlanders.

The Stranger arc will be in Episode 8: when when he’ll earn his wizard staff and be finally revealed as Gandalf (because, let's face it, everyone saw that coming from a mile away). And I’m kind of disappointed, because I was hoping for him to turn out to be one of the Blue Wizards.

Unsure if the “Dark Wizard" identity will be revealed. And, no, he’s not Saruman, for f*ck sake, Saruman is one of the Istari and a member of the “White Council”, and he only joins Sauron after “The Hobbit” timeline. I can be wrong, but I’m guessing they’ll leave that “mystery box” for next season, and, most likely, only reveal who the "guys in the masks" are, and why they serve him.

I’m betting we’ll only see the Balrog of Moria in Episode 8, too, and it will kill King Durin III (like in the books, earning its nickname of “Durin’s Bane”). There will be no Balrog in the Battle of Eregion, because Sauron can’t control the Balrogs (they are the same kind, both corrupted Maiar by Morgoth, so he can’t command them, and that's why the Balrog of Moria never joined Sauron's forces).

Just a warning: all comments concerning the fake leaks will be deleted, because we are doing serious speculation in here.  

[thatdammchickennugget]

Mr. Sensible One

pairing - remus lupin x fem!reader

summary - watching over a sick four-year-old shouldn't be too difficult, right? But when a minor fever turns into a full-blown panic, you find yourself helping two very anxious godfathers through the ordeal—one of whom is surprisingly charming, despite the chaos

warnings - fluff, nurse!reader, teasing, reader is described with hair long enough to be put into a ponytail, muggle!reader, sick child, canon divergent (lily and james never died)

wordcount - 2.7k

a/n - a little oneshot to celebrate my new job at a pediatrician

Remus Lupin had always considered himself a calm, rational man, even in the face of adversity. After all, he’d lived through full moons, more than one near-death experience, and Sirius’ cooking on numerous occasions. But now, as he stood in the living room of his cramped but cozy little apartment, watching a sick and very miserable looking four-year-old Harry sniffling on the couch, that calm was quickly unraveling.

Harry let out a tiny sneeze, his face scrunching up as though the world had personally offended him. His glasses slipped down his nose as he pouted, tears brimming in his big green eyes. Remus’s heart sank.

“Is that—Pads, is that a fever?” Remus asked, holding a shaky hand to Harry’s forehead. “He feels warm, doesn’t he? I think he’s burning up.”

Sirius, who was pacing by the fireplace, stopped long enough to shoot a panicked glance at Remus. "Warm? He's on fire, Moony! Oh Merlin, I knew something like this would happen! We are so not cut out for this! James and Lily are going to murder us!"

Remus groaned, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "We can’t let them come back to find their son in pieces."

"I'm not cut out to be a godfather under these conditions," Sirius muttered, crouching next to Harry and trying to look reassuring. It wasn’t working. Harry stared at them both, looking pitiful and confused as if sensing the rising anxiety around him.

“Lily left us a number. For his pediatrician, I think!” Remus suddenly remembered, grabbing the note Lily had meticulously taped to his fridge before they left for their first vacation since Harry was born. "We just need to call the doctor, and everything will be fine."

"You can use a telephone?" Sirius asked, incredulity breaking through his worry.

Remus shot him a look. "It’s not that hard."

“Well, get on with it, then!” Sirius urged, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Remus fumbled with the phone, his mind racing. He had no idea how to explain what was going on. He had even less of an idea what a Muggle pediatrician could do for a magical child, but Lily had sworn by this doctor. As the phone rang, Remus felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hello, Willowbrook Pediatrics, how can I help you?" a warm, feminine voice answered.

For a second, Remus could only blink in surprise. The voice was soothing, far more relaxed than he was at the moment. It brought him back down to earth, just a little.

"Er—hello, this is Remus Lupin," he stammered, shifting on his feet as Sirius threw him an impatient look. "I’m watching a little boy, Harry Potter—he's, um, he’s my friend’s kid. I think he’s sick? And I think he’s got a fever? I—I’m not sure what I should be doing."

There was a small pause on the other end of the line. Remus’s anxiety flared again until he heard a soft chuckle.

“You sound like you’re ready to have a heart attack, Mr. Lupin. Don’t worry. Kids get sick all the time, especially at that age. It’s probably nothing serious. Why don’t you bring him in, and we’ll take a look?”

Remus blinked, thrown by her casual tone. "Bring him in? Oh, right. Yes, of course. I should’ve thought of that." He pinched the bridge of his nose. Why didn’t I think of that?

“You’re doing fine," the nurse added gently, still sounding amused. "Just breathe. You’re not the first one to call in a panic. We’ve seen it all.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, his cheeks warming in embarrassment.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you,” she replied, and then, as if to reassure him one more time, “I promise, he’s going to be alright. Just come in when you can.”

When the line disconnected, Remus let out a long breath, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“Well?” Sirius asked, practically bouncing on his heels. “What’d they say?”

Remus pocketed the phone. “We’re taking him in. She said it’s probably nothing serious.”

Sirius visibly sagged in relief. "See, I knew we’d be fine. We can handle this."

Remus wasn’t so sure, but as he bundled Harry up to go, his mind kept circling back to the voice on the phone.

ੈ♡˳

Remus wasn’t entirely sure how he expected a Muggle pediatrician's office to look, but the moment he and Sirius walked in with Harry in tow, he was immediately overwhelmed. Brightly colored walls, posters of cartoon animals, and shelves lined with toys greeted them. Children’s laughter echoed from a small play area in the corner, though Remus was fairly certain one or two were close to tears. The mix of noise made his head spin.

"Is it always this chaotic?" Sirius muttered under his breath, eyeing a child trying to climb one of the chairs in the waiting area.

"It’s a doctor’s office, Pads, not Azkaban," Remus replied, though he too was a little out of his element. Harry, clutching his favorite stuffed dragon under one arm, looked miserable, his cheeks flushed from the fever.

“Here, sit down with Harry. I’ll handle the paperwork,” Remus said, gently guiding Harry toward a row of chairs.

“Paperwork? What paperwork?” Sirius asked, frowning.

"Just sit down," Remus sighed, already walking toward the front desk.

As he approached, he noticed the receptionist—the same voice he'd heard on the phone. You were scribbling something on a clipboard, completely focused, but when you looked up, your face softened into a welcoming smile.

"Mr. Lupin, right?" you asked, looking at him with the same warmth he'd heard earlier.

Remus felt a flicker of recognition, though he couldn’t place it. Something about you seemed familiar. "Yes, Remus Lupin. I called earlier."

You nodded. “Yeah, I recognized Harry.” ou peered over his shoulder, gaze falling on the tired little boy snuggled into Sirius’s side.

“Yes, that’s him. He’s, uh…not feeling great,” Remus said, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

You smiled gently. “Poor thing. We’ll get him looked at as soon as possible." You handed Remus a clipboard with a short form. "I just need you to fill out a few details—basic information— because he hasn’t been here yet this year, and then the doctor can see him.”

Remus stared down at the form, trying not to let his bewilderment show. It was mostly straightforward, but some of the questions made him pause. Medical history? Allergies? He wished Lily were here to fill this out, but he scribbled in what he knew, occasionally glancing up to see Harry leaning more heavily on Sirius.

“You seem like you’re doing better now than when you called,” you remarked, noticing his tense scribbles.

Remus chuckled nervously. “You, uh, caught me at a bad time. I didn’t realize how difficult this would be.”

"Well, you're doing great," you reassured him, eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. “You’re not the first to panic over a sick kid. Happens all the time.”

“I’m not usually one to panic,” he said quickly, though his mind betrayed him by flashing back to that morning's chaos. Except when it comes to Harry.

You tilted your head, a strand of hair falling loose from your ponytail as you studied him. "You really care about him, don’t you?"

Remus blinked at the observation. "Of course. He's... he means a lot to me. To us," he corrected, glancing over at Sirius, who was currently trying to distract Harry by making funny faces.

Your smile deepened, a fondness in your eyes. “Lily picked well, then.” you said it so casually that for a moment, Remus wasn’t sure if he heard right.

“Wait,” he said slowly, realization dawning. "You know Lily?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Oh, I probably should’ve mentioned that earlier. I’m Y/N, an old friend of hers from school. Well, before she went to boarding school, anyways. We’ve known each other since we were kids."

Remus stared, momentarily thrown. How had Lily never mentioned you?

“I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, feeling a little foolish. “She’s never mentioned you before. I’m sorry.”

You waved it off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t see her much anymore, with everything going on in her world. But we stayed in touch.”

Her world. Remus knew exactly what that meant. You might have been unaware of the magical specifics, but you clearly knew Lily had a separate life. He wanted to ask more, but a small voice from behind interrupted his thoughts.

“Uncle Moony,” Harry mumbled, reaching out for him, his little face pinched with discomfort.

Remus was by his side in an instant. “Hey, bub. You’re going to see the doctor soon, okay? They’ll help you feel better.”

You watched the scene unfold with a soft smile before standing up from behind the desk. “We’ll get him checked out right away,” you said kindly, motioning for them to follow toward one of the exam rooms.

Remus gently lifted Harry into his arms, the boy's tiny hands clutching onto his shirt as he rested his head on Remus's shoulder. His breathing was shallow, his face warm against Remus’s neck. Despite the weight of worry settling in his chest, he offered Harry a small smile.

“Let’s get you sorted, kiddo.”

Sirius was right behind them, glancing back and forth between Remus and you, his curiosity clearly piqued. “So,” he began casually, falling into step beside you. “You and Lily, huh? That’s a surprise. I don’t remember her mentioning any old friends.”

You chuckled, pace unhurried. “I’m not surprised. We lost touch for a while after she went to that mysterious ‘boarding school’ of hers. I guess her life changed quite a bit after that.”

Sirius hummed in response, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Remus shot him a warning look over Harry’s head, as if reminding Sirius to tread carefully. The last thing they needed was to accidentally expose the Wizarding world to an unsuspecting Muggle, especially one who was apparently still connected to Lily. Sirius winked at him, clearly taking that as a challenge.

“So, Y/N,” Sirius continued, his voice dropping to a mock-conspiratorial tone, “what exactly did Lily tell you about her boarding school?”

You laughed again, this time more softly, shaking your head as you led them down the hallway. “Not as much as you’d think. It’s always been this huge mystery, like something out of a fantasy novel. She’d come back every summer with these wild stories, but when I pressed her, she’d just change the subject. I think she enjoyed keeping me in the dark.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, intrigued by how much you didn’t know. He wondered how Lily had navigated that line between two worlds for so long. “Didn’t it drive you mad not knowing?” he asked, genuinely curious.

You shrugged, opening the door to one of the exam rooms. “Sometimes. But we’ve been friends for so long… I figured if it was something she wanted to tell me, she would. Besides, I always got to hear lots about James. And about you two as well.”

Remus blinked, startled by the mention of himself and Sirius. "Us?" he echoed, stepping into the exam room with Harry still nestled against him.

Sirius raised an amused eyebrow. "Oh, do tell. What stories has our dear Lily been spreading about us?"

You smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Well, I wouldn’t say 'spreading,' but she did mention you two from time to time. You, especially, Sirius. Something about you being…what was it? Oh right, 'impossible to control’. And Remus here was always 'the sensible one, the voice of reason.’” You chuckled. “But it seems like that balance has worked out well for you all these years."

Sirius puffed up with mock pride, placing a hand over his heart. "Impossible to control? I take that as a compliment."

Remus rolled his eyes, shifting Harry slightly in his arms. "I’m sure she meant it that way."

You chuckled at their banter, pushing off from the doorframe to prepare the exam room. “Well, you three certainly sound like a handful, from what I’ve heard.”

Sirius flashed you a charming grin, ever the extrovert, already opening his mouth for another quip. Remus shot Sirius a pointed look, but his attention quickly shifted back to Harry, whose tiny frame seemed even smaller sitting on the exam table. He gently brushed a hand through the boy's messy hair. "He's still burning up," Remus murmured softly, the worry evident in his voice.

Sensing the shift in mood, you turned back to them, your tone professional but kind. "Alright, let's take a look and see what's going on with him."

As you moved toward Harry, Sirius leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to seem relaxed, though the concern in his eyes betrayed him. Remus sat on the edge of the table, still holding Harry’s hand. The boy stirred a bit, his feverish eyes flickering open just enough to meet yours.

"Hey there, Harry," you said softly, crouching down to his level. "I'm just going to check a few things, okay? You’re going to feel better soon, I promise."

Harry nodded weakly, his bottom lip quivering as you took out a thermometer. As you gently placed it under his arm, Remus kept whispering reassurances, his thumb softly rubbing circles on the back of Harry’s hand.

"So, how long has he been like this?" you asked, glancing up at them.

Remus bit his lip, thinking. "Just since this morning, I think. He was fine last night when we put him to bed. But then he woke up with this fever, and he’s been sluggish and…off."

Sirius chimed in, unable to contain himself. "He's not usually like this, you know. He's normally bouncing off the walls, keeping us on our toes."

You nodded, your practiced hand moving swiftly as you checked Harry's vitals. "Sounds like it could just be a regular bug. Kids his age are bound to catch something sooner or later. But we'll see what the doctor says."

After a few more moments of quiet examination, you straightened up and smiled at them both. “The doctor will be in soon, but it looks like a pretty standard fever so far. You’re doing the right thing bringing him in.”

Remus exhaled a breath, the weight of the moment lessening, but his eyes still reflected lingering concern. Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him. “See, Moony? We’ve got this.”

You handed Remus a small packet of information, including instructions for monitoring Harry’s fever. At first he didn’t even notice the sticky note you left on top. “This should help too. But don’t hesitate to call if things change.”

As you made your way back to the door, you hesitated for a moment before turning around with a smile, your voice slightly teasing. “And if you need any more help with Harry—or anything else—don’t be afraid to use that other number I gave you.” You gave Remus a wink before walking out, leaving Sirius snickering and Remus flushing a light shade of pink as he looked down to find your phone number scribbled on the note.

Sirius grinned widely, nudging Remus with his elbow. “Well, well, Mr. Sensible One, looks like you’ve made an impression.”

Remus groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Shut up, Pads.”

Sirius wasn’t about to let it go, though. “A wink and everything. You should ask her to dinner or something—Lily would love it. And think about it, Moony, you’d finally get out of the house.”

Remus gave him a long-suffering look, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We’re here for Harry, not me."

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius drawled, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms. “But Harry’s not the only one who deserves to feel better, is he?”

With a small laugh, Remus glanced down at the packet of papers in his hand, his thoughts lingering just a little longer on those numbers staring back at him. Maybe Sirius was right… maybe he did deserve a bit of happiness, too.

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

[rivendell-poet]

Hello! It’s the same anon who asked you about the Hobbit movies :) I was wondering if you could write (no pressure! I just mostly wanted to share an idea) funny headcanons or a scenario of a female reader (could be a non-Mirkwood elf or someone from a long-lived race) who was part of Thorin’s company and meets Legolas again 60 years later when she’s with Frodo in Rivendell? Reader remembers how Legolas wasn’t too courteous to the Company and locked them up in the dungeons which made her dislike him quite a bit. And let’s just say that she wasn’t all too… thrilled upon meeting him again in LOTR and him joining the Fellowship with her ahaha. Bonus points if she remembers Legolas calling Gimli a ‘goblin mutant’ when he looked at Gloin’s locket in the Mirkwood forest xD.

Again, please take your time with this :) I understand that you have quite a few things to write, and I only want you to write whatever you feel happy writing <3

Hi anon! Sorry it took so long for your request, but hopefully this was what you meant with scenarios. If you'd prefer a oneshot please feel free to put a new request in <3 Thanks so much for the idea by the way, it was super fun to work with. And it genuinely means so much to read the last note on your request, so seriously thank you

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

Gender-neutral reader | Wordcount : 0.5k | TWs : None

✧ To be perfectly honest, you hadn’t wanted to join the Company in the first place - it was more of a collection of favours than a real desire to reclaim Erebor.

✧ Which made it so much worse when you and the Company got captured in Mirkwood.

✧ (It probably didn’t help that you’d let out a small laughed at the blond elf’s joke about Glóin’s son. In your defence it was funny.)

✧ As an elf, the guards had been cordial to you - and you’d managed to find out quite a few things about the kingdom. Such as the blond elf being Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood.

✧ He tried to visit you, once, holding the idea of having a better bed and better food over you if you gave up the information.

✧  And you may not have wanted to be in the Company, but you’d be damned if you weren’t loyal to them.

✧ So you’d simply refused to speak to him.

✧ Although all that knowing his name, and your time in Mirkwood, really did was help put a name and reasons for your grudge.

✧ A grudge that hadn’t gone anywhere, until now.

✧ Because sitting across you from you at the Council of Elrond was the same elf as the one who you’d only properly seen through bars. Not that there was recognition in his face.

✧ The matters only got worse when you realised the name of the dwarf who was joining you - Gimli.

✧ For the first leg of the Fellowship you don’t bring it up, because the quest to save Middle Earth is (sadly) more important than a simple grudge.

✧ It doesn’t mean that you can’t still be slightly petty to him however.

✧ You never do anything that could endanger him, just subtle things - like waking him up a few minutes before his watch should start, or loosening his dagger from his scabbard only enough to make him confused.

✧ Gimli eventually figures out it was you, but promise not to tell. He’s the only one aside from Gandalf who actually knows of your involvement in the Fellowship, but not of the precise comments.

✧ That’s a little bit of information you want to share on a good occasion.

✧ You decide to finally share the story a little after leaving Lothlórien, because you can tell the Fellowship needs some cheering up.

✧ And when you say it you feel completely justified in waiting this long.

✧ Because you get to watch the elf almost turn pale - as pale as an elf could go - as the realisation hit him.

✧ (The rest of the Fellowship does briefly have to deal with Legolas looking horrified while you laugh and try not to keel over.)

✧ Merry and Pippin join in the laughter as soon as you explain the joke.

✧ And it does the job in cheering the Fellowship up.

✧ Legolas takes it surprisingly well, although afterwards approaches you to apologise in private - genuinely expressing remorse for his actions.

✧ It’s unexpected but welcomed, and you thank him for it.

✧ From then on it becomes an inside joke between you all (especially you and Legolas).

✧ And, when facing what you are, even a simple joke can be one of the brightest lights for the two of you. A light both of you are grateful for.

A/N : Sorry to any readers who wished for comedy, I'm afraid I'm not great when it comes to writing this. But hopefully you enjoyed it! And, honestly, I'm very open to writing more in this universe/with this premise if people want some <3

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @ferns-fics / @chewgazellechew / @recordofragnarokfan2 / @stormchaser819 / @raikan624 ✧ wish to be tagged?

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

Summer's a Knife (a graveyard fic)

Graveyard fics are fics that I started and will never return to. Some are vague outlines, some are 4 sentences, some are 40 pages. But if they haunt me, I want them to haunt you too.

I am actually sad that this became a graveyard fic. But I truly cannot write it anymore. I wanted to release this first chapter in May of 2022... you see how well that went for me.

This is the first summer after the war from Ginny's POV. It is sad, it is romantic, it deals with grief. It was going to have flashbacks to Ginny's sixth year. It was going to have 4 big chapters and a small epilogue, each chapter focusing on a month. It was going to be one of my favorite things I wrote. Unfortanetly, I don't feel that way anymore.

May (chapter title: so long daisy May) is the only complete (non-edited) chapter. I knew what I wanted to write in June (the best and worst day of June), no clue what July (I've been down since July) would bring, and an idea for August (August slipped away)

I even had a playlist made

Chapter 1 is below the cut because it is 10k words, and I am giving it all to you. After that I will explain the rest of the vibes of the fic with some snippets I wrote. Sorry this is a LONG POST.

You say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times. We're not trying.

If I bleed, you’ll be the last to know

So Long Daisy May

Ginny’s bloodstained trainers echoed on the cobblestone path to her Great Aunt’s house. 

Once again, she was sent away for being too young. It wasn’t that long ago her parents were begging her to leave, to come back here for safety away from the final battle. Harry gave her a look that he didn’t want to see her either. She stayed of course. Fought in the war that was her fight as much as any other member of her family’s fight. Probably even more than most of them to be honest. 

Now the war was over, she was sent away again. Her mum didn’t want Ginny to stay at Hogwarts any longer than necessary, wary of any lurking danger from Death Eaters still roaming the grounds. The Burrow was not safe yet. Her dad, Bill, and Charlie left soon after Voldemort fell to ensure that their home would be safe for them to come home. Molly Weasley could not bear to convince George to leave his twin’s side in the room of all the deceased. Ron was off somewhere once again, probably conjoined to Harry and Hermione’s sides, unbearable for them to separate. 

That is how Ginny ends up with Percy of all brother’s returning to Great Aunt Muriel’s cold mansion that foggy, early morning.

Percy took a moment to knock on the front door. Ginny was planning to just walk inside, finding herself too tired to care about politeness and proper etiquette. 

The front door swung open 30 seconds later, a small house elf stood in the entryway. 

“Hey, Milsey. We were sent here to update Muriel and wait it out until the Burrow is safe,” Ginny said. 

Milsey bowed down, “Of course, anything for Prewett blood.”

Ginny didn’t even try to hide her eye roll. She could practically hear Hermione in her ear ranting about House Elf Welfare. 

“You don’t need to bow for us, Milsey,” Percy said. The first words he said aloud since their mum sent them here. Ginny did not know what to make of Percy anymore. He was the only brother who noticed anything was wrong with her during her first year at Hogwarts, and then he was the only one who checked up on her during her second year. Then he stopped caring about her. Ron told her that he got a letter from Percy telling him to stop being friends with Harry during his fifth year. She didn’t even get that. She could not understand how he could ignore his family for two years, and then come back begging for forgiveness. 

Fred had forgiven him. 

The thought of Fred made her entire insides clench. She wanted to vomit even though she had not had anything to eat in hours. 

Percy walked through the front door, Ginny closely following. 

“I am 109 years old, I just can’t have people showing up to my house unannounced at the crack of dawn. I have not even finished my tea yet this morning. Ginevra, your shoes are filthy. Take them off before you step on my Egyptian Rug, it is older than me and made from Sphynx fur,” Ginny’s aunt said in one breath. 

Muriel stood in the doorway, wrapped in her silk nightgown, arms folded, looking very unpleased to see her niece and nephew. “And where is Molly? I need to speak with her about her inability to raise polite children who give warning when they are going to visit their aunt!”

Ginny felt Percy’s hand wrap around her bicep, warning her to not make a retort. “We will make sure we give you notice next time we visit, Auntie Muriel. Thank you for letting us pop in this morning,” Percy said, using his trademark pompous voice. 

Muriel grunted, "I missed you Percy. You were always the most respectable Weasley. The Prewett blood runs strong in you."

Percy squeezed Ginny's arm again as a reminder to stay calm. Ginny turned and gave him a look that read something like I’m not a baby, get your annoying hands off of me. She wasn’t sure he quite got the message, but he removed his hand anyway. 

“We are only here until dad gives us the all clear to go back home. I will clear out all of our things we left in your spare rooms. Your favorite Weasley can update you on what has happened in the last 24 hours.” Ginny turned, not even sparing a glance at Percy to see his reaction to the news that he would be the one updating the family about Fred’s death. She crossed over the sphinx rug and stormed up the stairs, making sure to leave dirty footprints with each step.

Her room was first. Her trunk sat in the middle of the floor, a few articles of clothing scattered across the floor, but mostly still packed. She didn’t want to admit it to her mum at the time, but she kept her trunk packed in case they needed to make another quick escape. Now, it seems so frivolous caring about her things when her family is now forever torn apart. 

She quickly gathered her clothes strewn around and shoved them into her trunk. Levitating her trunk out the bedroom door and into the hallway.

The Ministry of Magic has more to worry about at the moment than some underage magic. 

Her parent’s room was next. Unlike Ginny, they did not have their trunks already packed from school, so they did not bring much from the Burrow. Ginny noticed this on her third day at her aunt’s house when her mum had not changed robes. Looking around the room, Ginny gathered what little items were there and put them into her own trunk.

The twin’s room was last. 

Ginny took a deep breath, bracing herself before pushing the door open slowly. Unsurprisingly, the room was a mess. Weasley Wizard Wheezes products piled in boxes on the floor and stacked on top of the bed. Mail in orders haphazardly organized in some system that only made sense to George. In the corner was Fred’s belongings frozen in time, never to be touched by him again. 

Flashbacks to the Great Hall flooded her brain. 

The smell of burning smoke clogged her nose. Seamus guided her back inside from the courtyard into the entryway of the Great Hall. Everything was too quiet. The emeralds littered on the floor cracked under her step, echoing against the stone walls. Suddenly Bill was there, pulling her from Seamus into his arms. He was crying. Why was he crying? He led her to the middle of the Great Hall where her family was huddled together. She counted the amount of heads, realizing two were missing. Slowly she approached her mum, who was kneeling on the ground in front of - NO.

Ginny stumbled, tripping over a box of sparklers on the ground. Her knees crashed into the footboard of the bed. A spare sparkler fizzled on the ground then ignited the entire box. An impressive explosion lit up the entire room, burning an imprint on the ceiling. Smoke filled her lungs. Spluttering, Ginny sunk to the ground, trying to catch her breath. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. In and out. Quicker. Faster.

In. 

Out. 

In.  

Out.

She felt herself start to hyperventilate. Her throat clogged up, unable to suck in deep enough breath to fill her lungs with oxygen. Tears blurred her vision. Pressure built in her head, she felt like she was submerged underwater. Unable to catch her breath. Drowning in her tears. 

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. For a second, she thought she was with Bill back in the Great Hall again before realizing that was not the brother holding her. 

“It’s alright, Ginny,” Percy soothed her.

Sobs wracked her body. She was exhausted. She could not keep them in any longer. Tucking her head into Percy’s chest, Ginny cried for her brother. She would never hear Fred tell another joke or have a late night race on the brooms. Her whole body ached. Several hours after his death, she finally felt the magnitude of the loss of Fred. 

Percy scratched her back, lightly tracing his fingertips down her spine, soothing her. Just like he had the time she broke down during their trip to Egypt. Slowly, oxygen inflated her lungs and her sobs lessened. Her breath slowed back to a stable rate. 

"Thanks, Perce," Ginny said when she finally trusted her own voice. 

"Don't mention it," he shrugged. "How about you get some rest, I will clean up the rest of this room."

Ginny was too tired to protest. Pulling herself to stand, Ginny nodded at Percy before slowly making her way back to her guest bedroom. She didn't even bother changing into fresh clothes before crawling into bed. Curled into a ball, she pulled the covers tightly around her. 

Her thoughts drifted to the same person she dreamt about for the entire year before the blackness wrapped around her, pulling her into a deep sleep. 

Hours too soon she was gently shook awake. Groggy eyes opened to her father smiling down at her. He aged so much within the last year. What red was once in his hair has turned primarily gray, fresh wrinkles were etched into his face. Ginny flung her arms around his neck.

“It’s safe to go home now.”

“Where’s Percy?” Ginny asked, hating how childish her voice sounded.

Her dad stroked her hair, “Already home. Let’s join him.”

Her dad grabbed the trunk on the ground and Ginny’s hand, side-apparating her to the Burrow. Teaching the sixth years how to apparate was not a priority this past year. Just another flaw in her education from the last 9 months. Her landing was not soft. Stumbling a few steps, Ginny stood at the top of the hill, just inside the ward line. 

“Everyone else is inside,” her dad said. 

Stumbling over herself, Ginny ran down the hill to her home. At first glance, the Burrow looked the same as the day she left it. But as she got closer to the front door, she noticed more things amiss. The treeline looked different like a few branches were knocked away. The grass was scorched yellow like someone burned it. Windows were cracked or blasted open with missing shards of glass. 

The front door groaned open with her push. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together, heads bent down, all snapped up at the sound of her entering the kitchen. 

“Ginny!” Hermione smiled, standing to embrace her in a hug.

Ginny squeezed her friend back. She didn’t get to appreciate seeing the three of them at Hogwarts. Hermione was much thinner than the last time she saw her. They all were. 

Ron embraced her next, giving her a pat on the back. She let go and looked over at the end of the table where Harry now stood. 

“Hi,” Harry said.

He looked good. Thin like the other two, but still handsome. He had somehow gotten taller over the last year, his hair long, messier than she had ever seen it. The dark rings around his eyes and his hollow cheeks emphasized his green eyes. Staring at her the same way he had a year ago, like he was staring into a brilliant light. 

Her heart skipped a beat. 

But in the next heartbeat, they were crossing the room to one another. His arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, hers around his waist. Pulling each other close. She pressed her ear against his chest. 

He's alive, heart is beating, lungs are expanding with each breath.

Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. 

The stairs creaked, alerting them to the presence of another Weasley member. Ginny pulled back from Harry just slightly, not completely breaking contact, as George entered the room. Slowly, he crossed the room, giving Ginny a quick pat on the head before leaving out the back door. Reality sunk back in as she watched the back of George’s head.

Fred's dead. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. 

She felt her throat start to clog again. The unbearable feeling of loss started to overwhelm her. Slowly, she pulled away from Harry. She could not lose it again, especially not in front of the others who went through so much more than she had. Ron also lost Fred, and he wasn’t breaking down at the sight of George. 

And George, who would see Fred’s face whenever he looked in the mirror, did not deserve Ginny breaking down by looking at him. It made her feel like an awful person for almost losing it. No one needed the stress of taking care of her while they too were struggling. 

“He hasn’t said anything,” Ron said, filling the silence. Ginny realized her eyes had not left the back door George exited. “Charlie went back to Hogwarts to convince him to leave. He got back maybe 20 minutes before you did.”

Ginny wouldn’t know what to say either when everyone looked at you like they were seeing a ghost.

“Where’s everyone else?” Ginny asked.

Ron nodded to the back door. “Bill and Fleur are out back. They checked the house for curses, but haven’t finished the rest of the property.” He pointed to the stairs next. “Mum’s up in her room. I imagine now that dad is back, she will spend the rest of the day in the kitchen. She shares her love through food, you know. And I think she has a lot of love she will want to share.”

Ron’s prediction that Molly Weasley would cook a feast for dinner was not far off. A few hours later, everyone was crammed at the table, along with enough food to feed them for days. Harry sat next to her with a plate stacked full. Throughout their meal, they exchanged casual brushes and quick glances. 

“What are Kingsley’s plans with the Ministry?” Harry asked her dad as he passed the salad bowl to her.

“There is a lot to figure out. The Ministry was corrupted, that is no secret.” Percy kept his head down, avoiding the gaze of his father. Arthur took a bite of his chicken before continuing, “It is fair to assume there will be trials, but those probably won’t occur until later this summer. First, the physical damages of the war need to be fixed before the government can fix itself. Kingsley is working with Gawain to assess the damage first.”

“Do we know how many people lost their lives?” Bill asked.

Arthur shook his head. “It is unclear. There are still those unaccounted for in addition to those in critical care at Saint Mungos. But right now the number is at 43, not including Death Eaters.” 

The clattering of silverware halted. Silence overcame the table as the magnitude of the battle overcame them. 

“Excuse me,” Harry stood, tossing his fork on his half finished plate of food. He crossed the kitchen and made his way up the stairs, not bothering to look back at any of them. 

Ron silently stood too, following Harry up. Hermione paused, eyes following Ron, but she stayed in her seat. “He will be fine,” Hermione reassured the table, not making eye contact with any direct member of the Weasley family as she spoke. 

The table remained awkwardly quiet for the rest of the meal. Fleur spoke of Shell Cottage to fill the silence. Ginny excused herself to her room as soon as she felt appropriate to leave. 

“I will be right back,” Hermione said as she passed Ginny’s bedroom door later that evening, two plates of food balanced on her arm. 

Ginny nodded and continued to get ready for bed. By the time Hermione returned, Ginny had already tucked herself into bed, facing the wall. Hermione silently dressed for bed. “Goodnight, Ginny.”

Her circadian clock was off. Even though her entire body felt exhausted, Ginny lay awake staring up at the cracked ceiling of her own bedroom for hours. Sleeping at Muriel’s threw her off. In other circumstances, she would have taken this opportunity for a night flight. But she didn't feel safe flying alone tonight. Her mum would also be worried sick if she found out Ginny went out alone unsupervised in the middle of the night. Ginny did not need to be an added reason for her mother's stress right now. 

So instead she shifted in her bed, trying to drift off to sleep. Counting Hermione's rhythmic breaths as she slept on the cot next to her bed. 

One.

Two.

In.

Out.

Ginny tried to prevent her thoughts from drifting to anything depressing. No Fred, no Hogwarts, not even her childhood home. So instead she tried to make her mind go blank, to think of absolutely nothing besides the sound of Hermione’s breath.

Her counts of Hermione’s breaths quickened. “No, please no!” 

“Hermione?” Ginny leaned over the edge to peer down at her friend. Her face was twisted in distress. The faded quilt was thrown off her body as she tossed and turned in her sleep. “It’s fake! Please stop!” a blood curdling, terrible scream escaped Hermione’s lips. 

Hermione bolted straight up, eyes widened in fear, her hand reached for her right forearm. Ginny crawled out of her bed, squeezing next to Hermione on the cot. Tentatively, she reached out, stroking her back. 

Hermione flinched away from her touch before finally relaxing. She tugged the sleeves of her jumper down her arms and pulled her knees into her chest. Ginny continued to try to provide comfort to her friend.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione finally looked at her. “Sorry.”

Wrapping Hermione into an embrace, Ginny whispered, “You have no need to apologize. I wasn’t even asleep.”

Hermione hummed. “Bellatrix, well…” she trailed off, staring out the bedroom window. The quarter moon provided minimal light in Ginny’s bedroom, so Ginny could hardly make out the look on Hermione’s face. “Nevermind,” Hermione finished, pushing herself away from Ginny, standing. “I’m going to go sleep upstairs, so you can get some rest. Goodnight Ginny.”

She grabbed her wand and bolted out the door, leaving Ginny all alone. 

Ginny sighed and crawled back into her own bed. She punched her lumpy pillow, trying to find a comfortable enough position to drift off to sleep. With Hermione gone, she lost her distraction from letting her mind run wild. Now, thoughts of Bellatrix infiltrated her head. 

Chaos reigned. Flashes of lights of every color surrounded her. She fired off spells at any person still cowardly enough to hide their face behind a mask. Harry was dead, but Tom had not won. She would make sure of it. Ginny caught sight of her wild mane of black hair before she saw her face. Firing off a cascade of curses, each aimed for Tom’s right-hand woman, each somehow deflected with ease. Bellatrix gave her a wicked smile, and for a moment Ginny wondered if Bellatrix knew exactly who she was and why she was so distraught. Hermione and Luna joined her side to fight Bellatrix. A streak of green passed her head, and for a moment, Ginny thought she would finally be at peace.

All good judgment she made hours prior about not flying tonight was out the window. She needed out.

Shoving her feet in her trainers and grabbing a jumper to combat the cool May evening air, Ginny quickly slipped out of her bedroom. Taking the stairs two at a time, pushing open the backdoor, and sprinting the moment she stepped out into the night. 

With no one to tend to it in over a month and Death Eaters to trample it to the ground, the orchard was a disaster. Apples littered the ground, the sweet fruit squashed underfoot. The burnt grass damp with dew. 

The broom closet smelled musty. Thankfully,  it appeared untouched. Ginny grabbed an old Cleansweep, swinging one leg over the handle in a fluid motion. Her feet firmly placed on the ground, inhaling the cold air, she pushed off into the dark sky. 

The common phrase “It’s like riding a broom,” never fit so eloquently. Months away from the sky, and it is almost like she had never left. She pressed her chest closer to the handle to center her gravity, and she was soaring. Past the treeline and the top of her home, she flew lazy laps. Circling the property, spiraling in the open air. 

Her lungs expanded with cold air, her heart kicked faster with adrenaline, and her mind forgot old haunts. She felt invincible. She felt alive. 

Slowly, she looped closer to the ground. 

She noticed his dark hair first. 

Once she flew within earshot, Harry started to speak. “Imagine my surprise to be awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of your brother snogging.”

For the first time in days, Ginny smiled "I hope it wasn't with the picture of Aunt Muriel he keeps stashed under his pillow.”

A laugh escaped Harry’s lips. It was one of the most joyous sounds Ginny ever heard. "I think he finally has reason to dispose of that picture."

“Oh?” Ginny questioned, the tips of her toes grazing the grass as she hovered closer to him. 

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked up, “Your brother is snogging Hermione Granger.”

“When did that happen? Oh, you haven’t been stuck third wheeling them this entire time have you?” Ginny asked, sympathetically patting Harry’s arm. 

Harry looked down at where Ginny was touching him, slowly moving his other hand up to give her fingers a gentle squeeze. Ginny sucked in a breath. 

He shook his head, letting go of her hand, “They didn’t snog until yesterday.”

“But yesterday was the ba-”

“Exactly,” Harry said, interrupting her. “How long have you been out here?”

"I couldn’t sleep, and Hermione had a nightmare,” she said, shaking her head. “It was Bellatrix. That's all that I know."

A dark look crossed Harry’s features. "I can only imagine."

Ginny did not push further. It wasn't Harry’s secret to tell, nor was it her's to know. 

Instead, she slid off the Cleansweep and took a seat next to him. Enough space to not touch, but enough to feel the electricity between them. The hairs on her arm stood straight up. All day, tension wrung between them. Each touch sparked every nerve in her body. For months, she dreamt about what she would do when she saw him again, and now she was too overwhelmed to act. 

They sat in the silence, staring up at the stars. As each second ticked by, she became more and more unsure how to express how much she missed him. Harry shifted beside her, and Ginny braved a glance to peek over at him only to find his bright, green eyes focused on her. 

He hesitated for only a moment before his signature look of determination swept across his features. A look found right before doing something brave and stupid. 

And then he kissed her.

If Ginny thought it was easy to return to flying after time away, nothing compared to kissing Harry. The feel of his mouth slanted against hers felt like coming home. Nothing was more natural. An instinct. Just like the instinct of Harry’s hands to wind in her hair and hers to press against his chest. 

No words were said aloud, but so much was shared within one kiss. They were always good at having silent conversations. A single look. A single touch. So many emotions and thoughts expressed between them in those moments. 

His hands in her hair. I missed you.

Her hands wrapped around his waist. Please don’t go again.

Their lips pressed together. I need you.

Eventually they broke apart after what could have been several days. Ginny always lost track of time when Harry kissed her. Pulling away, Ginny let out an uncharacteristic giggle, relishing in the warmth of an alive Harry. 

She shifted her weight, leaning against his side. Her head rest on his shoulder. His arms snaked around her waist. Slot against one another like no time had passed since those days spent by the lake. 

That is where they stayed until daylight broke over the horizon. 

Days were quiet. Planning funerals drained livelihood out of the Burrow. Ginny found herself helping where she could. Her mum was constantly cooking in the kitchen, so Ginny would help clean. She didn’t speak, she kept her thoughts to herself. When Harry was in the room, they moved like they were dancing. Never touching. 

Nights were loud. Hermione would leave her room after everyone officially went to bed to join Ron in his. That was when Ginny would sneak out to fly. Harry would join her minutes later, some joke on his lips about Ron and Hermione and how he wished maybe they went back to fighting. Then they would fly together or sit and talk. Eventually, they would fall asleep under the stars pressed into each other's arms, waking just at the crack of dawn to sneak back into their respective bedrooms. 

One bright morning, Ginny followed the scent of fresh breads and sweet sugar down to the kitchen. Her mum hunched over the oven, a faded floral apron tied loosely around her waist. Ginny would not be surprised if she barely missed her mum waking up to slave away in the kitchen right as her and Harry were sneaking back into their beds. 

“Morning, mum,” Ginny said, giving her mum a squeeze around the waist. 

“Good morning, dear,” her mum replied, leaning into her hug. “I would like you and Charlie to run some errands for me today.”

“Sure,” Ginny said, stealing a pastry from the counter. “What do you need?” She asked, mouth full of scone.

Her mum turned back to the oven to pull out a fresh pie. “I would love it if you could run some of these breads to some families for me. The Browns, the Deacons, and the Rivers. I believe Deacon’s daughter was in your year. Sophie was it?”

The scone in her mouth went stale. Bile rose, burning her throat on the way up. Ginny grabbed a napkin off the counter and spit out the mushed up pastry. “Yeah, Sophie,” Ginny’s voice wavered. She cleared the acid from her throat, pushing the sound of late night giggles about Hogwarts gossip out from her head. “I can do that for you. Where’s Charlie?”

After wrangling her second eldest brother from the yard, the pair apparated, Ginny tightly wrapping her hand around Charlie's arm, to the home of Ron’s ex girlfriend. 

Ever the introvert, Charlie left her to do all the talking and condolences. 

After giving her final sorrows to the Brown Family, Charlie grabbed her arm and apparated them to the small Wizarding village the Deacon’s lived. 

Ginny stumbles forward as her feet crashed into the stepping stones of her dead dormmates home. Steadying herself, Ginny wondered if she would ever get used to apparition. Flying makes sense. Apparating does not. 

Grabbing her brother’s arm, she turned him to face her, “Listen, let me do this house alone, yeah?”

Charlie gave her a look, questioning her judgment. “You know you aren’t of age and mum would slit my throat.”

“Please. She was my friend.” 

Something in her eyes must have given enough reasoning to Charlie to let her go alone. “I will wait over at the shop across the street. Meet me there when you’re done.”

Ginny pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his thick waist. Charlie was the closest of her siblings to her own height, so she could rest her chin on his shoulder during the embrace. “I won’t be too long.”

She turned away from her brother, the pie her mother gave her rest carefully on her arm. Steadying herself with a shaky breath, she knocked.

A moment passed. And then another. Ginny held her breath as she waited. Maybe she would not have to face them. Maybe she could set the pie down on the step and turn her back and run away from the grief inside the home. But before Ginny could follow her intrusive thoughts, the door opened to a beautiful woman with short auburn hair and laugh lines carved into her face even though she looked as though she had not had a reason to laugh in a long time.

“Hello, my name is Ginn-”

“Ginny come in,” Sophie’s mum invited her in, opening the door wider for Ginny to slip inside. 

She shouldn’t be surprised that Mrs. Deacon knew who she was, a classmate of her daughters, a Weasley, a blood traitor whose family housed The Boy Who Lived for years. Ginny did not want to know what the exact reason was that Mrs. Deacon recognized her. 

“My mum made this for you,” Ginny said, offering the baked pie that would never fill the Sophie-sized hole in her heart. 

“Thank you, that is very sweet of her and sweet of you to drop it off.”

Sophie’s mum took the pie and set it on the kitchen counter filled with other condolence foods. Ginny felt nauseous at the sight. 

Ginny sat on the gray loveseat and turned away from the sight and took in the room around her. Light cascaded in and reflected off of the framed photos on the cream wall to brighten the room. Photos of Sophie and her little brother, Samuel, were everywhere. Together with a woman, who must have been their grandmother, standing in Diagon Alley. Sophie singing in the frog choir with her hair tucked back in her signature butterfly clips. Sam tugging on a much younger Sophie’s hair and running away. All moments forever to cycle on repeat, but to never be updated again.

The bile that she swallowed that morning began to rise again. 

“Would you like something to drink, dear?” Mrs. Deacon asked, pulling Ginny out of her reverie. 

“No, thank you,” Ginny replied, even though she could probably use a glass of water or a shot of firewhiskey.

A grunt from the door leading to the hallway alerted Ginny of Mr. Deacon’s presence. He was a tall man, not as tall as her own father, but much wider. He worked for the Ministry’s Portkey Office. Sophie often boasted about all the places her father traveled for work, and Ginny could see it. A man like him did not belong behind a desk. 

“Elric, this is Ginny. She is,” Mrs. Deacon paused, “She was one of Sophie’s classmates.”

Ginny stood to her feet, “Mr. Deacon, I am so sorry for your loss.”

Mr. Deacon waved his hand, his other rubbing his sternum like he too struggled with gastric reflux at the reminder of Sophie. 

“I too am sorry for yours. I heard you lost a brother.”

The grief of losing Fred washed over her again like a wave that quickly retreated into a cool, cold nothing. “Yes, I did. Thank you.” Ginny sat back down on the couch. The Deacons sat across from her, gripping each other’s hands. 

Silence swept over the room like a cloak. Thick, warm, and suffocating. 

Ginny broke the silence first.

“Sophie was-,” Ginny paused, clearing her throat, “she was a beautiful soul. Her voice lit up the dorm room. She would sing under her breath and she studied and then belt songs in the shower. She was wicked at potions and brilliant at Gobstones. She was one of my best friends, and I am so sorry for your loss.”

The all too familiar prickling sensation behind her eyes grew. Rapidly blinking, trying to keep the tears at bay, because she had so much more to say. So she pressed on. “I was there,” Ginny said, looking up to meet Mrs. Deacon’s eye. 

The scent of smoke encroached her olfactory system. The feel of Sophie’s manicured hand in her own haunted her skin. 

Ginny ignored the memories and pressed on. “When You-Know-Who asked for a pause, I went out to the ground to help.” The words recover bodies left unsaid. “I saw her lying there. She was alive, and she was asking for you. She loved you so much.” The tears building in her eyes escaped, rolling steadily down her cheeks. 

"They told us her body was recovered during The Silent Hour, but never by who," Mr. Deacon said, tears brimming his eyes. “Thank you, Ginny.”

The guilt bubbling in her gut was interrupted by footsteps bounding down the steps. Little, 12-year old, Samuel Deacon slid into the room.

“Ginny!” Samuel shouted, eyes filled with joy as though he were seeing a hero. And to him he probably was. She had not seen him in months. Thankfully, Samuel was long gone from Hogwarts during the battle, but the last time she saw him was forever ingrained in her brain. The memory seeped through her pores.

“Pain does not last forever,” Amycus Carrow said to a room full of scared students. “But the memory of it does.”  He sauntered across the front of the entrance hall, each step deliberate to draw out the dramatics of what he was saying. Ginny guessed he got this schtick from Tom. “Which is why it makes such an excellent punishment. You remember the pain, so maybe next time you won’t misbehave.” He turned to face her, smiling like a Grindylow ready to to entangle their prey within their long fingers. 

“Now can someone please tell me which illiterate idiot graffitied the walls?” Amycus’s voice echoes through the hall. Dozens of eyes stayed focused on the floor. “Was it you?” A finger pointing at a short Hufflepuff boy standing over in the corner. His eyes widened at being called out for a crime he never committed. 

“No,” the boy stuttered. 

“I don’t believe you,” Amycus sneered, clenching the collar of his cloak, dragging him out into the open. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Sa-Samuel,” the young boy managed to stutter out. 

“Well, Sa-Samuel, I hope you remember to never misbehave again.” With those words, Amycus lifted his wand.

Quickly shoving her hand into her bag, fumbling around searching for the jar of paint stashed at the bottom. Her fingers found the cool glass and she yanked it out and threw it at Amycus’s feet. 

He turned to meet her, and grinned. The Grindylow caught his prey. “I see I found the illiterate idiot.” He turned his wand to her face, “Crucio.”

“Sam, it is good to see you,” Ginny asked, voice overly pleasant. 

To Ginny’s horror, Mrs. Deacon said, “Samuel has told me a lot about you.” She smiled too warmly at her. Like she wasn’t the reason Sam was not almost cursed in the first place. Like she wasn’t the last one to see her daughter alive. Like she deserved forgiveness.

Ginny’s stomach turned and threatened to spill out on their carpet. She needed to leave. 

“Thank you so much for your hospitality. I do need to get going.”

Both of the Deacon’s stood immediately. 

“Of course,” Mrs. Deacon said. 

“Let me walk you out,” Mr. Deacon said. 

So Ginny let herself be ushered out. She kept her mouth clamped shut. Afraid to vomit out words along with her guts. 

As she reached the door, Mr. Deacon stopped her, “Sophie’s funeral is set on the thirteenth. We would love it if you could make it.”

Ginny couldn’t trust her words, so she nodded in agreement, and burst out the front door. As soon as the door closed, she broke out into a sprint, down to the corner shop where Charlie should be waiting for her. 

He was leaning against the side wall, lazily smoking a cigarette. 

"Take me home." Ginny said, walking past Charlie. 

"But we have one more-"

"Take me home."

Charlie paused before grabbing her arm and spinning on his heel. They arrived in front of the Burrow a second later. Ginny sprinted to the broom shed. Grabbing the closest broom, not even checking whose it belongs to, Ginny kicked off of the ground. 

She lapped the Burrow several times, streaking by as fast as the broom allowed her. Up in the air, she could blame her tears on the wind in her eyes instead of the guilt she felt in her heart. 

That night, she did not fly.

Hermione snuck out of the room, but Ginny stayed in her bed. Waiting. A soft knock on the door alerted her of his presence. Her bed shifted from his added weight. 

They avoided each other that day. Well really, Ginny avoided him and everyone else. Hiding in the sky, and when she was called inside by her mum, she hid in the kitchen. Charlie did not say anything to her, which was a blessing. Her mum did comment on the extra pie brought up, but a quick lie that the Rivers were not home avoided anymore questions. 

Harry’s arms snuck around her waist, pulling her against his chest. She tucked herself under his chin as he pressed his nose into her hair. Her hair was still damp from the shower she took earlier that evening, but she knew Harry would not care. In fact, he probably preferred it. The scent of her shampoo freshly washed into her hair. It calmed him. 

She wondered if he was struggling with what was going to happen tomorrow as much as she knew she would. 

But she did not ask.

Slowly, his breaths evened as he fell asleep behind her. And Ginny fell shortly after.

All mornings have been quiet since the battle at the Burrow. But none compared to this one. Outside, the morning fog was thick and suffocating. Inside, so was the silence. 

Weasley family members dressed in black to bury their loudest family member. 

When it was time, her father led the family to the grave. Walking in a line to the apparition line on the edge of the Burrow property, and one-by-one apparating to Fred’s final destination. Ginny stood and watched as her loved ones disappeared with a pop. Her dad stood by her side and lifted his arm. 

“Ready?”

No.

“Yes,” she said, gripping his arm. 

The graveyard was busier than she expected. Her family is large, but so was Fred’s impact. 

Old classmates of his, old teammates, old co-workers lined the chairs in the back. Professor McGonagall could be seen from her tall witch’s hat. Hagrid stood off to the side, already loudly sobbing. Ginny felt her tears join his. 

She made her way to the front and sat in her seat nestled between Ron and George. The same small wizard that preached at Dumbledore’s funeral and Bill’s wedding stood in the front. A twisted thought crossed her mind about how busy that man is during this week. 

And he talked in platitudes. He talked about his sacrifice, how he was a light in the family. But never really about Fred. Ginny wished she had taken the time to write something, then maybe Fred would have gotten the send off he deserved. 

George gripped her hand near the end of the small wizard’s speech. “Are you ready to see some magic?” 

Ginny grinned, a warmth spreading across her chest. “Always.”

George grinned back at her, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wand. With a small flick of his wrist. A bang behind the gravestones went off.

Gasps wrang out from behind her. Aunt Muriel gave out a shriek of terror, as fireworks lit up the foggy sky. 

Sparks flew above her, spelling out the initials F.W. And for the first time all week, Ginny was  crying, but she was not upset by it. 

After the funeral, the mood was much brighter, the fog outside lifted with the smoke of the fireworks, and Ginny could feel like she could breathe again. 

Slowly, the crowd began to thin. Angelina grabbed George’s arm and loudly declared that they were going to the Leaky to celebrate Fred’s life and a group followed her. Bill, Charlie, and Fleur followed shortly after them. After a moment of contemplation, Percy followed suit. 

Her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading further into the graveyard to where her brothers lay. Her father followed a few steps behind her. 

Ron and Hermione were still sitting in their seats. Their chairs were now pushed impossibly close together as Hermione almost sat on Ron’s lap with her head tucked against his chest, and Ron’s face pressed into her hair. Masking the tears that he was shedding.

Ginny steadily made her way up to Fred’s grave. Ash sprinkled the grass from the firework show. She lowered herself to the ground, sitting to the right of the gravestone. 

“Hey, Forge,” Ginny murmured, closing her eyes and resting her head on the stone. “Miss you.”

Ginny slowly descended down the stairs, unsure exactly which one would creak under her step. She wasn’t sure who would be worse to alert of her late night excursion: her mother or her great aunt. 

All she wanted to do was see them and not just take Bill’s word for it that they were safe. Luna. Dean. Hermione. Ron. And of course Harry. Mum nearly locked her in her bedroom when Ginny asked to go to Shell Cottage. 

So now she was sneaking to the fireplace in the middle of the night to floo her way over to Shell Cottage. A task significantly less dangerous than any of the times she snuck out in the middle of the night this last year. 

The third from the bottom step let out a loud groan. 

“Shit.”

“Going somewhere?” A voice from the top of the stairs called down to her. Thankfully, it was the person who would most likely go with her on this adventure.

“I thought getting some nice fresh, saltwater air would be nice at this time of night. Want to come along?” Ginny asked, nodding her head to the living room.

Fred quickly descended the stairs, uncaring if he woke the entire house along the way. 

"Is that the plan then? Run off to Shell Cottage without letting anyone know where you're going?"

"You know."

"I know because I caught you sneaking out," Fred retorted. "And when mum and dad wake in the morning and find your bed empty? What will you do after they chain you to your bed?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "They won't tie me to the bed." 

"No, probably not, but you won't be let out of their sight. And when the time comes when it is important for you to sneak out, you won't be able to." 

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, hating that she didn't understand. 

"I'm saying, wait. Wait until something big. I will go with you then. Not when you're sneaking out to see your boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend."

"I didn't realize you were sneaking off to see Thomas. Don't let me stop you then," Fred teased. 

"Oh, shove off," Ginny said, pushing his shoulder. 

Heavy footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. Harry stood above her, head of messy hair blocking the sun. He held his hand out, an offer to help her up. 

She took it, pulling herself up and into his arms in one fluid motion. He enveloped her in a hug, holding her tight against his chest. Ginny breathed in the scent of him. Woodsy and cool, like the morning air in the autumn. 

Reluctantly, she detangled herself from him, keeping her hand intertwined in his. There they stood, hand in hand, staring down at Fred Weasley’s grave.

Fred Weasley

1/4/1978 - 2/5/1998

Mischief

Harry gave her fingers a squeeze before letting go. He bent down in front of Fred’s grave. He paused for a second, before pulling out his wand, waving it carefully. A bouquet of daisies appeared in the dirt. Fresh and white. Harry stood, reaching back for her hand, but refusing to look at her. 

“Hermione and I went to my parent’s graves on Christmas. She did this,” Harry said, waving his hands at the flowers on the ground, “I thought Fred deserved some too.” He bent down and picked one from the ground, “Daisies mean new beginnings.” 

He shifted his weight, "or at least that's what Hermione told me when she showed me how to do the spell."

Ginny’s gut twisted into a knot. "They're beautiful," was all she could muster out. She wasn't sure she wanted a new beginning. She wanted to start all over. 

"For you," Harry said, handing her a single flower. 

Ginny smiled and accepted the pity flower. Harry didn't believe in the pity flowers either, but it was thoughtful, so Ginny tucked it into her pocket. 

When she got home later that night, she tossed it into her windowsill. With hope that maybe the rest of the summer improved from the beginning. 

The next several days were spent in mourning. Traveling from funeral to funeral. 

Colin’s funeral was hard because she spent 30 minutes before leaving being coached by Hermione on the intricacies of a muggle funeral. Obviously, no fireworks like Fred’s nor an ablaze casket like at Dumbledore’s. But instead a metal contraption that would slowly lower his wooden casket into the ground. 

She sat near front on the side with Neville and Seamus on either side of her. Harry with Ron and Hermione in the back, trying to keep attention off of them as much as possible. 

Ginny grieved for her friend. Her Herbology partner. The person who never tired answering her questions about the Muggle World. The same sinking feeling that ebbed and flowed in her since the battle came back. She was the reason why he lost half of his first year lying petrified in the hospital wing. Tom was the reason he lost the rest of his life.

Tonks and Remus’s funerals were next. Members of the Order carried both caskets. Kingsley had tears streaming down his face with Tonks’ casket on his shoulders. Her dad looked more tired than usual under the weight of Remus’s casket. 

Only one other gravestone stood in the ground on the plot of land. Tonks’ final resting place lay next to the empty grave of her father whose body was never recovered. 

In the last row sat Andromeda cradling a young Teddy Lupin. Remus showed her a picture of young Teddy when he visited the Weasley’s at Muriel’s place. Then, his hair was a bright orange. Now, it lacked any sign of vibrance, instead he wore Remus’s signature sandy hair. 

Next to Andromeda sat Narcissa, poised, dressed head to toe in expensive black robes. Looking every bit out of place Ginny is sure she felt.

Harry did a double-take after he noticed her next to his godson. Ginny reached forward and laced her fingers with his, offering a squeeze of comfort. On the other side of Harry, Ron pulled Hermione closer to his body. 

Instead of the small wizard, Kingsley stood in front of the graves and gave a speech about hope and love and loss. A personal story about Tonks catching a death eater by tripping on top of him was interrupted by wails coming from the back row.

Little Teddy’s uncontrollable sobs echoed in the cemetery. Andromeda tried shushing him to no avail. Narcissa stood, offering a hand, a moment passed before Andromeda passed over her grandson to her sister. Narcissa carried Teddy further away from the funeral and whispers of the guests.

“She has no right,” hissed Ron. 

“It’s fine,” Harry replied, his leg bouncing, looking everything but fine. 

Kingsley continued on with Teddy’s sobs quieted by distance. Ron kept anxiously looking over his shoulder back at Narcissa while Hermione stared straight forward. Harry leaned forward in his seat, releasing his grip on her hand. 

Ginny, for her part, kept listening to Kingsley and silently wondered if she would ever fully understand what happened with those three last year. 

The funeral ended with Kingsley and Gawain Robards casting golden sparks at the pair of caskets before they slowly descended into the ground. 

Gradually, the crowd began to thin out. Narcissa carefully returned to her sister’s side off in the back, swaying back and forth, cradling a sleepy Teddy in her arms. 

Harry stood and started to make his way back towards where his Godson was. 

“Mr. Potter. May I have a word?” Gawain Robards asked. 

Harry froze momentarily, and Ginny wondered if he was going to tell the Head Auror to fuck right off before he calmly nodded. Robards stuck out his hand, leading Harry away from the crowds, in the opposite direction of Narcissa Malfoy. 

Ginny stood frozen next to Ron and Hermione, both just as conflicted as she felt on whether they should eavesdrop on Robards and Harry’s conversation or confront Mrs. Malfoy. 

Her mum approached the Black sisters. Ginny snuck over to the back, Ron and Hermione following her closely, ready to witness whatever drama could unfold between Molly Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy. But instead of sharp words or curses shot from wands, her mum swept both Andy and Narcissa into a warm embrace

“I am so sorry about your sister,” Mum said, pulling away from the Black sisters. 

Narcissa placed a hand on her mum’s arm, “We do anything to protect our children.” She gave Andromeda a curt nod and took a slender finger to brush Teddy’s cheek. “I won’t intrude any longer than I meant to. It was good to see you, Andy.”

With a pop, Narcissa disappeared.

Harry stormed by a few seconds later, Robards still standing where Harry left him, hand rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice questioned.

“Later,” Harry shortly replied before apparating off, not even sparing Ginny a second glance. 

Hermione sighed, turning to Ron. “Ready?” Ron gripped her hand and then both disappeared with another pop. 

“Wanker,” Ginny muttered under her breath, “You were supposed to apparate me home.” 

Kicking a rock on the ground, Ginny begrudgingly walked back to where her mother was now rocking Teddy. 

On the thirteenth, Ginny dressed once again in black. Hermione and her traded their black robes so they were not wearing the exact same outfit to every funeral they attended. By the fourth day of funerals, Fleur was offering her wardrobe to them as well, altering her clothes to fit their bodies. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione attended every funeral, each of them feeling like they owed it to the witch or wizard who lost their life. Just yesterday, they attended the funeral of a Slytherin fifth year girl that none of them had even met. Ginny joined them most days. Harry side-along apparating her to the graveyard. Occasionally, other members of the D.A. would be in attendance and Ginny would stand next to them. 

Harry planned on arriving right before the funeral started, but Ginny wanted to be there as early as possible. Hermione’s heels clicked as she walked down the Burrow steps into the kitchen. “Ready, Ginny?”

Together they apparated to a large wizarding cemetery. A place where thousands of purebloods were buried before. A place that currently had an unusually high amount of fresh mounds of dirt and 6 foot holes due to the significant amount of deaths during the war. 

Ginny found her dormmates immediately. Jessica embracing Elise with Athena rubbing circles on her back. They all looked up as Ginny and Hermione approached the trio.

Jessica let go of Elise to engulf Ginny into a hug. "I am so sorry about Fred, Ginny."

"Thank you, Jess."

Jessica paused before wrapping Hermione in a hug as well.

Athena pulled something out of her pocket and placed it in Ginny’s hand. 

"Here."

Opening her palm, Ginny felt that familiar tug of her gut. In her hand was a green butterfly clip, similar to the ones Sophie often donned in her hair. Looking up, she saw her roommates all had one clipped in their hair as well.

"Thank you," Ginny choked out, clipping her loose strands back. 

"Do you want to sit with us?" Athena asked Hermione. 

Hermione shook her head, "Thank you for the invite, but Ron and Harry should be arriving soon. I will sit with them in the back. You four should sit together."

Hermione gave Ginny’s shoulder a squeeze before walking to the back row of chairs.

The funeral started not too long later. Ginny pressed between Athena and Elise near the front. The four dormmates held hands the entire time, offering gentle squeezes of support to one another as they buried their friend. Little Samuel Deacon sobbed throughout the entire procession, and Ginny wished nothing more than him to have his sister back.

Ginny stayed back after the funeral to watch Harry approach the Deacon family. It was something he did after every burial, apologize to the family. Ginny wished Harry understood that Sophie’s death was not his fault. 

Samuel turned away from his parents and gave her a small wave. Ginny lifted her hand, but turned away. The nausea associated with Sophie was churning in her stomach once again. 

That night, with her back pressed against Harry’s chest and one of his arms draped across her churning stomach, she lay frozen still.

"You okay?" Harry murmured in her ear.

She wasn't, but she couldn't admit that secret out loud. Especially to the person who carried so much more guilt than she could even begin to imagine. So she lied.

"I'm fine."

Harry had no reason to believe her lie, since it was his favorite lie to tell too. But he pretended for her, pulling her closer to his chest, pressing his lips to the back of her skull.

Not shortly after, his breaths evened out as he was lulled to sleep. Ginny’s brain was ignited on fire, keeping her awake.

“I know, it’s going to be alright,” Ginny lied. Sophie continued to whimper in pain. Ginny could only bear to look at her face, scared of what the rest of her crushed body may look like. 

“I want to go home,” Sophie cried out, tears leaking down her face. Ginny felt tears well up in her eyes too. 

A sound from behind her drew her away from her dying friend. Ginny couldn’t see anyone, but something in her wanted to get up and follow. 

Sophie’s weak cough drew her back in. Blood tinged on her lips, her face losing color as each second passed. “Will you stay with me until I go?” Sophie asked, her voice childlike. She is just a child, Ginny realized. At 17 years old, there was so much Sophie never experienced. So many people Sophie was leaving behind. Ginny’s gut flipped realizing this is why her own mother wanted her to stay hidden.

“Of course,” Ginny choked out.

Sophie’s fingers managed to find Ginny’s. “It’s okay, Gin. You were one of my best of friends.”

Ginny snapped herself out of the memory. Harry still wrapped tightly around her, his heat radiating off his body suffocating her. She wrestled herself out from underneath him, desperately trying to not wake him. She needed fresh air.

Barefoot in the grass, Ginny padded to the paddock and grabbed her broom. She took flight and hoped the night air could cool the fire she felt in her brain.

As the sun began to crack streaks of light in the sky, Ginny crept back into her bedroom. Harry softly snored in her sheets. Ginny smiled as she slid back into his arms. She had been awake for nearly 24 hours, her brain was finally exhausted enough to finally fall asleep.

With no more funerals to attend, the rest of May trickled by. Everyone was stagnant with grief, finding it difficult to progress on. Charlie was growing restless, staying now at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur, but not feeling like he could abandon the family back in Romania just yet. Every time he mentioned the country, her mum would burst into tears. 

Percy was just there. All the time. He and her dad would attend work, but then he would always come back to the Burrow instead of his own apartment.

Ginny sat with George most days. They had a quiet understanding that talking was the last thing either one of them wanted to do. A few days a week, they would go to Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes and organize the mess. Some days, Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson would stop by and help up, filling in the silence with endless chatter. Other days, the pair would sit on the front counter, passing back and forth a bottle of butterbeer with the radio blasting Wizard Rock in the background. 

Ron and Hermione were wrapped around each other at all times of the day. One couldn't even use the toilet without the other hovering nearby on the stairwell.

She had not seen Harry in days due to conflicting schedules. He would fall asleep in her bed after a long day of performing bullshit politics with Kingsley, and Ginny would join him after her nightly flight. When she finally rose in the late morning, his side of her bed would be cold.

Moments alone were rare, and those moments were spent exploring each other's bodies instead of exploring each other's thoughts. They were two vastly different novels only sharing a page with one another and then snapping the book shut before either one could read any further. So Ginny came to her own conclusions. 

The burn marks on his thighs were fresh as though his escape dragon from Gringotts scorched him. The ribs she traced with finger in the dark told her that food was scarce. The lightning shaped scar on his chest told a horror story she didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole. The erythematous circle branded into his chest was the most confusing part of his story. 

Ginny hated to think what conclusions Harry was drawing from her body.

On a cool evening in late May, Ginny decided to actually retire to bed at a reasonable time. The sky had opened into a massive thunderstorm which was not relenting any time soon. Harry and her had played a round of Exploding Snap earlier in the day to pass the time. 

"Are you falling asleep with me tonight?" Harry asked, bare legs crossed on her bed, his hand propped behind his head. He looked so casual, like her bed was his own. 

"Only if you promise not to snore tonight," Ginny teased. 

A pillow flew at her face. Ginny snapped it from the air and threw it right back into Harry’s face. With glasses askew and a smile tugging at his lips, Harry reached out a hand to her.

She eagerly took it, being led to her own bed.

Ginny melted into Harry’s side, his hands immediately resting on her hips pulling her close. She tilted her chin to slot her lips against his.

This part was easy. Harry’s body was a map she had traced and memorized a year ago, and, during the quiet dark nights in her dorm room, she recited to herself. 

His lips were soft and chapped. Teeth grazing her own lips, threatening to roughen her up with a bite or two. His chest pressed against her own. His hands, one always wrapped around a strand of her hair, tugging her whenever she pressed up against him just right. His strong thighs, one always slotted in between her legs.

That was the mantra she replayed in her head over and over while her fingers wandered down her skin last year. 

But now, in the dark of her warm bedroom, it was Harry’s fingers trailing down her body. 

“You’re perfect,” Harry murmured into her collarbone as she moaned his name. 

Ginny came undone with the touch of his fingertips, her world bursting, once again, into a fire. Her insides ignited for Harry. She felt far from perfect, but with Harry she felt alive.

Her hands worked to remove his faded T-shirt, eager to return the favor. Fingers trailed down his chest, avoiding the new scars on his body. She wrapped her hand around his length and Harry’s breath hitched, a noise escaping his mouth that Ginny wanted to bottle up and savor forever. He never had to say anything to her ever again as long as he kept making that noise. 

“Ginny,” Harry moaned, “I don’t think I will last much long-”

Ginny shut him up by capturing his mouth with her own. Teeth grazing his swollen lips. With a few more pumps, Harry shuddered about another moan that made Ginny’s toes curl. 

Harry blinked his eyes open, green irises hidden behind his black pupils, staring hungerly at her. He pressed lazy kisses along her jawline, nose, forehead, before finally catching her lips. “You make me forget everything bad,” Harry sighed into her lips. 

Ginny’s insides turned cold, the blazing heat evaporated and replaced by an icy tundra. She wasn’t sure why, Harry’s confession or the idea of forgetting, losing memories. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” Ginny said, hoping to prevent any more confessions from slipping through his loose lips. 

“Night, Gin” Harry replied softly. 

Harry’s bare chest rose and fell with each breath, and Ginny wished nothing more than the ability to join him in unconsciousness. Her finger traced the lightning bolt on his chest, her own chest tightening with memories of that day. She thought she lost him. The final blow in a series of blows that kept hitting her over and over again that night. 

With everything she lost, she had to keep taking steps. One at a time. 

One breath in. One breath out. 

Ginny glanced out her window. The rain had slowed to a trickle. The blooming daisy sitting in the window sill caught her eye. She bolted up from her bed, grabbing the flower on her way out the door. 

The orchard was still a mess. Her mum had removed the destroyed flowers, but all that was left was upturned earth. Falling to her hands and knees, Ginny dug in the soil. A wand would have made it easier, but she did not want easy.  

Taking a step back and admiring her work, the daisy Harry had given her now rooted in the soil of the orchard. Alone. With a promise of growth.

To new beginnings. 

The best and worst day of June (chapter 2)

If May trickled slowly like the water on the River Styx, June crashed in like a tsunami under Poseidon's rage. 

The back door slammed close after George drunkenly stumbly out 

Maps of Australia and pictures of the brain were pinned up on her walls. Gwenog Jones’s face was covered by a colorful poster highlighting the anatomy of the brain. 

“Do you need any help?” Ginny asked.

Hermione tutted, wrapping her hair into a bun and sticking her want through it. “I wouldn’t mind a fresh pair of eyes. Thanks.”

Ginny picked up one of the massive textbook with a brain on the cover Charms of the Central Nervous System: Don’t be Nervous! Opening to the back glossary, Ginny scanned the O’s until she found what she was looking for.

Peering over her shoulder, Hermione said “I didn’t obliviate my parents’ memories. I blocked them.” 

“What’s the difference?”

Hermione stood from the bed and walked over to the brain poster covering Gwenog’s face. “Obliviation destroys old memories. Burns them. That is why Gilderoy Lockhart will never fully recover because so much of his brain was destroyed. If little bits are taken then there is some neuroplasticity and ability to regenerate what was missing, but if I took 17 years of my parents' lives from them, I would never be able to get that back.” She paused, staring off into the distance, as though she was realizing the challenge she could be facing instead.

Shaking her head, Hermione continued. “So instead of taking away their memories, I hid them behind a wall.”

“The hippocampus stores memories,” Hermione said, pointing to a part of the brain that looked nothing like a seahorse. “So that is where my parents’ memories are being blocked. I just put their old memories behind a wall and put new memories in front of that wall.”

“There has not been a whole lot of research, but in theory, worst case scenario, if I remove their new memories too quickly, I could cause their brain to blow.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Not like pew pew,” Hermione said, mimicking an explosion. “More like, their brains would swell to fill in the space of the memories that I took back. Which could cause their brain to expand and possibly herniate causing a stroke." 

She mindlessly flipped through the pages of the textbook, hoping something would give her hints about memory and memory loss.

Ginny drops comments every now and then about memory loss

She is not very happy that Hermione took her parents memories

“What are you planning on telling your parents when you see them?”

“That I am their daughter and I had to keep them safe.”

“Do you think they will understand?”

“From personal experience, amnesia and having your memories taken from you can be very traumatizing.”

“This is different from the diary, Ginny. I was trying to keep them safe.”

As we will find out in a later chapter, Ginny is not talking about the diary

"Are you going to go with them?" Ginny asks on a warm night.

"No, I don't fancy facing another Winter so soon," Harry replied

And there it was. A hint about what he had faced this past year, but neither one pushed forward. She could ask, and he might answer, but then he might ask the same of her. And that was something she did not want to answer. Some Gryffindor she is.

Harry tells her everything about the horcruxes and how we was one for the last 16 years of his life.

Ginny tells Harry very little about what she experienced this last year.

Hermione goes up to switch beds like they do every night and when Harry is lying next to her, she dreams about him. But when he talks she hears Tom. When she wakes and Harry is laying right next to her, she freaks the fuck out. 

The next day she runs away to Lunas

Luna “I always liked being outside. Now I love it even more. It is open, and bright. I’m not a big fan of the dark right now.”

“If you want to talk about it, I will happily listen.”

“Ginny, you are such a good listener, but not a very good talker.”

“You should tell Ron that. He says I never shut up.”

“Oh no you talk, you just don’t talk about what is bothering you. You ask questions about me or how other people are doing, but when people ask how you are doing. You deflect. You talk about how Quidditch is going, or how your family is. But never you.

A few nights later, Harry joins her out flying, and that is when she admits that she is afraid that she was never in love with Harry, but she was attracted to the horcrux within him this entire time.

Harry has to put his big boy pants on and try to be emotionally mature hearing that from her. (Boy does not do a very good job, but at least he is trying)

He tries to get her to open up more about what happened to her and slowly we start to see some things

She picked up a strand of grass, carefully pulling it apart into two separate pieces. A simple distraction. "What do you know of last year?"  

"Only what little Neville has told me."

"I'm sure what he told you paints the picture of what happened," she shrugged. She couldn't meet his gaze, she stared at the grass in her hand, delicately tying it into a knot. His hand reached for hers, fingers intertwining. He squeezed her hand gently, reassuringly. Offering support. 

---

She is hiding. She doesn’t want to talk to Harry, or see her mum’s broken face. So she is hiding in the one place no one would look. 

Laying on Fred’s bed, she could finally be alone. 

***enter depressing thoughts here***

---

On June 22nd, she dreams of Tom. She always dreams of him on this day. Their anniversary of meeting face to face in a chamber meant to be a secret. She wants to ask Harry if he remembers, but she doesn't dare for the fear of what he might say. 

I forgot.

Lucky you.

So she keeps this nightmare to herself just like she kept the past year to herself. She felt like she was slowly becoming a chamber full of secrets herself.

That night, with her back against Harry’s chest and one of his arms draped across her stomach, was the first time she felt brave all day. In the dark where he couldn’t see her face, when they were alone, unlikely to be overheard since the house was asleep. She finally muttered the truth that haunted her.

“I'm the reason Sophie's dead.”

The only indication that Harry heard her was the pause in his breath. Harry’s arm tightened, pulling her impossibly closer to his chest. And because he understands her perfectly, he does not suggest that she possibly could not be a murderer, he asks a different question.

“Why do you think so?”

She inhales slowly, calming down her nerves. “I left her on the courtyard. We were fighting together, Colin and Seamus were also there. Spells were flying everywhere, and I lost her in the crowd. There just was so much chaos. Then a death eater was in front of me, I think it was Avery, firing curse after curse at me,” Ginny paused, flashes of that night playing over and over in her mind. “I fired a reducto at the arch above his head and it collapsed on top of him. But it caused a lot more damage. It wasn’t much later that Voldemort called for a pause. 

“After, well after, I went inside,” Ginny said, skipping over finding out about Fred’s death, “I went out to the courtyard to find survivors. To help. That is where I found her. Underneath the rubble that I caused.”

"You couldn’t have known.”

But Ginny felt like she should have known better. She knew innocent actions have consequences after surviving her first year

I've been down since July

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you

The Great Depression 

Pieces of her life were black. Dark and missing and forgotten. She had soared to unimaginable heights to try to find them, but every time she thought she heard a whisper of a memory, it turned into his voice mocking her, or worse, her own voice laughing at her. 

Hermione and Ron come back from Australia

Hermione apologizes to Ginny because her mum cannot forgive her. Her dad had to play mediator in the argument.

Her parents are coming back to England eventually, but not yet. They wanted more time before returning home. 

Ron and Ginny conversation

"It's supposed to be easy. Harry and me. How it was before."

"What did you used to talk about."

"I tried prying once to know what he was up to with Dumbledore, but Harry not so subtly shut that down quickly.  So we stuck to safe topics. Quidditch, O.W.L.s, how maroon definitely isn't your color."

Ron scowled. 

Criminal Trials get announced for the Death Eaters and the date

A brown owl flew into the kitchen, dropping off the newest edition of the Daily Prophet on Hermione’s plate. She reached into her shorts pocket to trade a knut for the paper. Ron fed a small piece of his breakfast sausage to the owl as compensation as well. The owl gave a satisfied hoot before flapping its wings and flying out of the kitchen window. 

Ginny pointed her fork at her brother. "Who was the person I suggested you snogged for practice?"

"Are you seriously asking me security questions right now?"

"The Ron Weasley I know would never voluntarily give up some of his breakfast."

Ron stabbed his fork in another piece of sausage, taking the whole thing in his mouth, "Yeah well I've matured."

"Oh! They released the dates for the trails!" Hermione shouted, interrupting them. 

Ron looked away from her and turned back to his girlfriend. “When’s Malfoy’s?” He asked, kindly swallowing his food before asking. 

The Carrow trials get announced for like August 13th, making sure that they are AFTER Ginny's birthday which makes her an adult, therefore, she is required to speak at them if they summon her as a witness 

yeah this was done intentionally, fuck the ministry for forcing my girl to have to relive her trauma

Harry’s birthday 

Ginny gets drunk at Harry’s party

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

August slipped away

Ginny’s birthday 

Carrow trials

Amycus was a man. He only understood pain in tears and in blood. He didn’t understand that to girls blood meant nothing more than washing their sheets that night before bed. He didn’t understand that girlhood was pain, or that tears could be shed from grief or laughter. 

Alecto was a woman. She understood that trauma of girlhood because no matter how horrid she currently is, she was a victim of it too. She understood how to torture a young girl scared of her past. She knew how to weaponize memories, or the lack thereof, so that Ginny could continue to torture herself without Alecto lifting another finger. 

Ginny turned to the other side of the courtroom where Amycus Carrow sat. His face emotionless, but his muddy eyes filled with glee, like her reliving her torture was *erotic* for him. 

She felt her heart quicken. Calm down.

Breathe in and out.

"Her brother told me."

Her mind brought her back to the floor of the DADA classroom. Those same hungry brown eyes staring down at her, his wand still raised. Every one of her nerve endings felt like it was on fire, every synapse filled with ice. Her mind bounced from one area of her body to the next, unable to focus on what body system hurt the most. Amycus lowered his wand and sneered down at her, "I know Alecto makes you forget her detentions, but I want this one to be unforgettable."

The courtroom was silent. The judge leaned forward in his chair, "Can you please further explain, Miss Weasley?"

Breathe In.

Out.

In.

Out.

• So since I never actually wrote what happened to Ginny during her time with Alecto, I will tell you all now. Alecto would erase Ginny's memory after every detention. Often times, the detentions were tame, because the punishment was the fact that Ginny was slowly losing her mind and she felt like she was reliving her first year at Hogwarts. Alecto figured out that Ginny was the girl in the chamber (because how would people not know this information? like Ginny wrote her suicide note on the wall in red paint) and used that to torment her. Also tying in the fact that Amycus was still torturing my poor girl with the cruciatus curse, Ginny was going through it. And it is not like she could really tell anyone what was happening to her because she didn't know what was happening to her. She eventually pieced it together.

• The coming together of Harry and Ginny officially 

You'll Have New Septembers

The epilogue where Harry sends Ginny off on the Hogwarts express

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

While I don’t think the senti-kid story necessarily works if the writers wanted to keep the show focused on kids, I think it would’ve gone over a bit better if it was just Felix who was the senti, rather than also Adrien and Kagami (especially Kagami, she was a complete retcon in that regard).

Picture this:

Gabriel, Emilie, and Natalie find the Miraculous (Butterfly and Peacock) because they have an expensive hobby (archeology/collecting rare items, as wealthy people like to do), not because they need the magic at all. They just heard a rumor of an old Tibetan monastery and wanted to check it out, got lucky in finding the two jewels. The Peacock doesn’t even have to be broken.

We can keep the basics of the backstory shown in Representation- minus the detail of Adrien being made with the Peacock. Gabriel and Emilie conceive Adrien normally, but Colt and Amelie aren’t able to like in canon, so Colt has that same jealous outburst at Gabriel. Because Emilie feels bad for her sister, and Gabriel sees an opportunity to make a deal, they lend, or maybe trade, the Peacock to them to create a child. As in canon, Colt uses it, and his jealousy makes Felix a physical copy of Adrien.

Emilie gets sick for non-magical reasons. (I wouldn’t mind having her use it for funsies and not realizing it was broken, but it’s very obviously cracked, and I can’t imagine at least one of their two kwamis not giving them a warning.) As for what happens to Colt, I’m on the fence about him being alive in present times because that kind of abuse is really heavy, so maybe he just dies for unsaid reasons (though I vote Amelie poisoned him or something).

This version would allow for a really cool contrast between Adrien and Felix’s stories and characters. You have Adrien, a normal human, capable of disobedience, but who bends easily under others and is a people-pleaser. Versus Felix, a senti being magically compelled to obey orders of whoever has his amok, but fights to be free every chance he gets. That contrast would also further Felix’s frustration and jealousy of Adrien, in addition to his own father’s hatred of him and being identical to his cousin, because Felix would kill for Adrien’s free will, but he squanders it. But then there’s also the issue that he’s essentially victim blaming Adrien, not realizing that magic isn’t the only way to force obedience- not to mention ignoring the times that Adrien did stand up for himself (like running away to school). I think that would be a really great discussion of free will, how jealousy can blind you, family conflict (and resolution), and how different kinds of abuse/trauma aren’t automatically better than each other just because they’re opposites (ex: someone with heatstroke shouldn’t be jealous of someone with frostbite. Both suck.) The intensity might be worse for each circumstance (since Felix has magical abuse and physical+verbal abuse), but he would be in the wrong for saying Adrien has it easy.

(I think at this point my ADHD is over-explaining, so I’ll leave it at that lol)

Do you think a route like that would’ve improved the show at all? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

The sentiplot has many issues and one of the big ones is that it's not a great fit for a show where Marinette is the one and only main character. They've given Kagami, Felix, and Adrien this massive weight that begs for them to take center stage for at least a few episodes, but probably a whole season or two. The show isn't going to do that, so it's near impossible to really fix the sentiplot without truly massive changes to canon.

That being said, I think that this idea would have vastly improved the sentiplot in its current form! Right now, the senti thing truly doesn't matter to Adrien's character. His mom could have gotten sick for any random reason and the only meaningful change would be that Gabriel couldn't use the rings to keep Adrienette from kissing that one time. Outside of that, Adrien's status has no meaningful effect on the story. It doesn't even keep him out of the final! He does that on his own! The senti thing is just there for cheap drama.

There's also the issue that the current storyline makes the Agreste's look awful which is clearly not the story's goal. Emilie is supposed to be an angel and Gabriel is supposed to be a grief-stricken man who loves his family. That doesn't fit with the kind of monsters who would make a magical designer slave to be their child and then wear his control rings around as daily accessories. Remember, they picked their freaking wedding rings for his slave collars! Most people wear those every day. The implications are nasty!

It makes way more sense for the Agreste's to have the peacock for more mundane reasons and for Colt to get it somehow. Maybe even have him steal it after he finds out about it to really remove the Ageste's from the perfect slave child issue. This allows for the contrast between Gabriel and Colt that canon so clearly wanted, but failed to write. It also makes Felix's actions towards Adrien make way more sense. It feels like canon Felix hates Adrien and we still don't know why that is.

As nebulous as Felix's character is, he still feels like the kind of character who needs to be tied to something like the sentiplot. It's part of the reason I don't think I can use him in my own stuff. The sentiplot is - or at least should be - such a major, defining thing for him that the only possible way to use him is to keep that plot or to give him a plot about freeing the Kwamis since they're also slaves and his abusive childhood could make him feel a bond with them.

Focusing the sentistruggle on Felix instead of spreading it out to include Adrien and Kagami would also keep the sentistuff from dominating the story. Making the male romantic lead an artificial being without true free will whose creation killed his mother is a massive thing that needs to be the focus of his character for the rest of the story. People are on the edge of their seats waiting for Adrien to learn the truth and want this to be a big plot. I do not think they're going to get that, but they should.

Having a side character be the artificial human allows this to be something that is dealt with and then Felix either leaves or fades into the background once his story is over because his story allowed to have an ending whenever they want it to. That's not true for Adrien. Adrien's ending is happily every after with Marinette and the sentiplot needlessly complicates that plan because it means that Adrien's character is always going to be center stage, making people want the sentiplot to mean something since it's apparently impossible for him to ever be a real boy who has true free will. That's such a massive thing that it begs for Adrien to be the main character, which is an asinine writing choice. I have no idea why they keep giving Adrien all this massive narrative weight. You don't do that if you want the female romantic lead to be the main focus! You do it if you want them to be true costars or if you want the male lead to get the majority of the focus. This is writing 101!

As you said at the top, I'm not sure how well this works for a show aimed at five-year-olds because it's still a pretty heavy stuff, but as a general idea, I'd be down to watch it! I didn't have a ton to add to this one because your pitch was already excellent!

[sturnsdc]

ART CLASS AU!

pair: Carl Grimes x fem!reader

synopsis: Yn has feelings for her classmate, Carl, but she never does anything about it. However, things seem to work in her favor when they have to work on a project together for the art class.

warnings: no TWD scenes, just fluff, slight angst, somewhat obsessive behavior ??

words: 2,4k

A/N: to make the narration clearer: at all times, Yn is writing in her diary, which is why at times she will speak about Carl, and at other times it may seem like she’s speaking directly to him (but she’s not)!! For the most part, it’s just a bunch of fragments from her diary, as she explains a bit at the end.

this came to my mind suddenly; i apologize for it being so short.

the words in italics are the lyrics of the song !!

dividers from: @cafekitsune ! ♡

main masterlist carl masterlist

YN´S POV

you look pretty good today

is it me or did you shave?

sometimes i wonder if it's normal, if it's real. With each passing day, he seems to become more handsome, and like a magnet, he keeps drawing my gaze again and again. It feels like i can't control it.

i notice when he wears a new shirt, or when he’s wearing the same pants from a few days ago. I notice when he forgets something, when he’s focused, or when he gets distracted.

i just can’t stop noticing him.

good, you've been looking at me twice as more

so i can see your face

when we make eye contact, i feel like i’m going to die. My heart races, my cheeks turn red, my hands sweat, and i stop breathing. Even my stomach tightens, my whole body tenses up. The first time it happened, i thought i was having an attack.

secretly, i enjoy it because when i feel his gaze, i have an excuse to turn my head, look at him, and smile. I don’t even know where i find the courage, but he smiles back at me, with tight lips, then looks away after a few seconds.

my friends told me not to overthink it, that maybe i’m just misinterpreting things. They say if “i keep analyzing every time we make eye contact”, i’ll end up falling for him, and then he’ll break my heart by not feeling the same way.

you sit across from me in the classroom

but do you even know my name?

then i tried to avoid him. He probably doesn’t even know who i am. Does he even know my name? i doubt it; they hardly ever say it out loud in class. I don’t even know everyone else’s names.

but then everything seems to align, and the teacher walks to that side of the room while giving the lesson, as if she knows i’m following her with my eyes. And there he is, on the other side of the classroom, in his plaid shirt and with those pretty eyes, taking notes on everything she’s saying… while i lose my breath and forget what i was listening to.

Carl... i do know your name.

if you want to ask me how i am

don't hesitate

it was a couple of days after the teacher announced the final project. The art class would have to hold a fair, showcasing our own works, from paintings to ceramics. It had to be in pairs, but we couldn’t pick our usual partners. We had to step out of our bubbles and take a risk.

i thought about him, but my embarrassment consumed me, so i let the days pass. And just two days before the next class, i ran into him in the hallway. He seemed surprised. His blue eyes looked at me in a strange way, almost like he was unsure of something. Then he made a move to come closer, and i started to get nervous.

he did it; i didn’t expect him to. He spoke to me, asked if we could pair up, and all i could do was say yes, with a dazed look and stumbling over my words. Then he smiled, like i’d never seen him smile before. His face lit up, and he walked away, happy.

did i do the right thing? how am i gonna focus if i could barely even speak to him?

'cause you're my cru-cru-crush

and i like you very much

i have to admit, Carl Grimes is a special guy. I can’t stop thinking about him, about the little details i’ve noticed, about the brief interactions we’ve had. It’s like my world is starting to revolve around him.

he’s a gentleman—so masculine yet so gentle. He speaks to me with such care, even though i’ve seen him outside of class, joking roughly and arguing with his friends. He’s the complete opposite.

i like this side of him, when he focuses all his attention on me, asks for my opinion, and smiles at me. I haven’t seen him talk like that with anyone else. 

should i get my hopes up?

and i'd appreciate if you'd like me back

but it's okay 'cause you make my heart

we started talking about the project.

he’s so smart, coming up with amazing ideas, and i stress over not knowing which one to choose. however, he doesn’t seem worried; he waits for my answer patiently, as if we had all the time in the world, which isn’t true since we have to submit the work plan by the end of the class. but he doesn’t pressure me—he asks for my opinion on each idea and helps me weigh the pros and cons.

we chose one together, and then i started writing our plan.

but… something… feels off. We keep making eye contact, and i smile like a fool, watching as he does the same. Is this really happening? i feel like we’re in a bubble. time no longer exists, air isn’t even necessary—just us.

and then i find myself hoping that he feels the same, because i love how it feels to talk to him, to be the center of his attention, even if just for a moment.

an art class

an art class

art class used to be my escape from other subjects, a room where i felt safe. Then i saw him, and it became more than just that. Thinking about art class sends tingles through my body and instantly puts a smile on my face. My heart races like crazy, and i’m filled with excitement. And it’s all because of him.

now, art class has become something that makes me genuinely happy, motivating me to go to school.

even with the project, i’ve never been this excited to work on an assignment before, but now that i’m at his house, meeting his dad and his sister, and then heading to his room to start working on our project… i feel like i love classwork.

why do you always stick to smiling

and sit still being so quiet?

i feel like he's in the hallways more often now, because i see him every day. Sometimes i'm just turning a corner, and there he is, with his group of friends, laughing and being the smiley guy i used to see only once in a while. 

he's everywhere, all the time. What's going on?

now it's impossible not to notice him, because he's always there. Sometimes i don't even have to see him, because i can hear his laugh, or his friends', and i know we’re in the same place. 

how can he be so loud, but so damn quiet in class? i don’t get it.

it's like a completely different version of him, but i don't mind at all, it's just... weird. 

i've been pretty distracted for some days

and it's ruining my diet

the days go by, and each time i get to know him more and more. He's amazing, funny, super smart, mature, and adorable. I've also gotten to know his family better, and i understand more where that calm and controlled side he shows in class comes from.

everything seems wonderful, and i know my feelings are only growing with each passing minute, but he's starting to occupy my mind all the time, and that's becoming a problem.

my friends talk during lunch, but all i can think about is our conversation from the day before, when we got sidetracked from the project, and he started explaining the story of one of his comics. I can remember how his eyes lit up as he told me about it, and i just kept asking questions, even though i already knew the stories. I love the passion with which he spoke about it. I remember his tone of voice, the way he moved his head, and how his eyes looked at me so attentively. I recall almost every word, but then, when my mind is at its peak, i see my friends getting up from their seats, looking at me with puzzled and concerned faces.

lunch ended, and i didn’t even touch my food.

Carl Grimes, i need to figure this out soon.

if you don't take the hint already

i'm afraid i'll start a riot

i’m trying to figure out if it’s just me, Carl, but i really don’t understand—do you look at me the way i look at you?

now i try to avoid looking at you if i don’t have to, but then i feel a constant gaze, and when i turn my head, there you are, trying to look away as quickly as you can. Am i imagining this?

i feel the frustration building inside me, Carl. I need to know.

today, i try wearing different clothes, the ones i save in my closet for occasions outside of class, the ones i wear when i feel confident. But this time, i don’t feel that way. This time, i’m scared. I want you to notice. I want to know if you care, if you’ll say something.

'cause you make my whole world go crazy

yeah, your smell just sends me flying

and you did, Carl. You told me i looked good, then you got nervous and said i always look good, just that this time i looked different. If you only knew how much that meant to me.

since then, days have gone by, and i feel like you’re paying more attention to me— or have you always done that and i’m just now noticing?

you also started wearing a new cologne; it’s stronger and lingers in the air when you pass by me. Is that on purpose? now i can’t stop thinking about how good you smell, and that alone is enough to keep me floating, my mind in paradise, thinking about how much i like you.

'cause you're my cru-cru-crush

and i like you very much

today i told my friends how i feel about you. They looked at me with pity and talked to me like i was a little girl. They say you don’t feel the same, that i’m imagining everything, and that i’ll end up hurt if i keep this up.

am i really that out of my mind? they say i’m obsessed, that i’m seeing things where there aren’t any.

but they were the ones who told me the first time you looked back at me.

and i'd appreciate if you'd like me back

but it's okay 'cause you make my heart

i've spent some nights crying, and now i’m trying to avoid you. It's so hard when we still have to keep working on the damn project.

i’m scared of getting my hopes up. I started this on my own. you’re not to blame, but now i wish i didn’t have to see you for a couple of weeks.

an art class

an art class

and yet, that day of the week arrives, and along with the anxiety, i can feel the excitement trying to break free. My heart races, my hands sweat, and i can’t catch my breath.

“art class,” says the sign on the door, and just that is enough to shake my entire world and bring back the feelings i’m trying to ignore.

all my days

been trying to find a reason to stay

i keep hearing my friends' words every time i see you, and now i feel guilt, embarrassment, and a horrible pain in my chest that settles in my heart, right next to the happiness you bring me. It makes me feel sick and confused.

you've asked me a couple of times if i'm okay, but how could i answer you with the truth?

say my name

and i'll go ahead and pick a date

i'm okay

if you understand that this is fate

the day of the exhibition arrived, and i’m nervous, and you notice it, so you take my hand and smile at me. You told me everything would be fine, that we did great, and that we would do really well.

you were right. Of course you were...

we spent the whole day there, answering questions and receiving compliments. We really did a good job, and everyone keeps saying that.

now i feel exhausted. All day i had to manage my emotions—the mix of anxiety, the pain in my chest, happiness, satisfaction... and love, the damn love. I feel like handling all that drained me more than talking to so many people and repeating the same words over and over.

finally, we can leave, but then you take my hand again and make me look at you. This time you look more serious, and i start to get scared, but you don’t say anything bad.

“i’m going to be honest, Yn, i loved working with you on this and getting to know you better. Since i saw you in class, something about you caught my attention, but i didn’t know how to approach you. This was the perfect opportunity, and i took it. I understand if you don’t feel the same way i do, but if you do... i’d like to get to know you more and see what can come of this.” that’s what you said, your face blushing and your eyes looking everywhere but at me.

if you only knew that when i got home, i cried, feeling so happy, kicking my legs on the bed like a tv character, and squealing into my pillow so no one would hear me. with my face red and a huge smile.

now we’re going on a date, and i just hope this turns out well.

Carl Grimes, what have you done to me?

art class

art class

i don’t even know when i started smiling, but i finished reading aloud and looked around. Carl, beside me, was smiling widely, and our two little ones had tears in their eyes; apparently, they were moved by the story of how it all began.

i recently found my diary from when i was a teenager, and i told Carl about it in front of the girls, and they both begged me to read it to them. Of course, i paused at the perfect part, at the true beginning of our relationship, but within those pages is everything, including the story of our first time and countless anecdotes from our school days.

i will always be grateful for that class because that’s how i got to know the man who makes me happy.

Carl Grimes is more than my words can describe, but i think i did a good job explaining how i fell for him.

who would have thought that a couple of years later, this would be our life?

in the end, maybe it was part of our destiny.

taglist: @jamiesturniolo

[anamericangirl]

You think EVERY trial involving Trump is a sham. How could that be? Your explanation for the hush money trial makes sense, sure, I’ll accept that. But the rape trial? Or him being accused of espionage? Or how they found no evidence of a stolen election? Are those all shams too?

It just doesn’t make logical sense for him to be such a target to thousands of people involved in the trials hes been a part of. How could that many people just be “out to get him” and why?

I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention the last 8 years, but they’ve been after Trump since 2016. They are constantly making shit up and spreading lies about him in an effort to get him out of the race, out of the White House. They hate Trump and they have been doing everything in their power to get rid of him from slander to illegally trying to take his name off the ballot.

Every claim they’ve made about Trump since 2016 from his racism to the Russian collusion to the hush money and all the other trials are verifiably false shams.

They have been outright lying about him for eight years and I’m supposed to believe them now? why?

If you think the explanation for why the hush money trial is a sham makes sense then that should put you on alert for the others as well. If one is a sham maybe they all are. That should be a red flag for you to be seriously skeptical of the others, not go “yeah ok this one’s a sham but the others are probably true.”

It makes perfect logical sense to me because he has been a target of these people since he first entered the race. Every time they thought they found something headlines in the media and talk show hosts were so happy because “we got him now!” Even when it turned out they didn’t have him because they were lying their assess off and making shit up yet again and got exposed. They don’t care about whether or not he’s done something illegal. They just want to “get him” and if they can’t find something they’ll make it up and if you’ve been paying attention and doing your due diligence with research (which most people don’t do and that’s why they are so easy to fool) it is blatantly obvious.

I think the odds that every charge against him is a sham is far more likely than the odds that a single one is legitimate.

What evidence is there of him being guilty of espionage? All they have is that he was holding onto documents he was allowed to have?

How does finding no evidence of a stolen election make Trump guilty of a crime? Surely I don’t have to explain how that’s clearly a sham to you. And also, they never investigated the claims of the election. You won’t find evidence you don’t look for.

I will assume every claim and every charge against him is a vicious lie until they 100% prove otherwise. With their track of record of lying to the American people to try and destroy their political enemy I will accept no less than that. They have failed to prove any of these allegations or provide sufficient evidence and I have seen no reason to believe they are true in my own research. So I will not believe it and you shouldn’t either.

[wsdanon]

hello shotgunners fans take another little thing of some of them… (Felps and guaxi, but if you’d like to think about it the absence of Matt speaks volumes. or something…)

fic is based on a moment from the first clip in this little video I posted. Felps does actually die to the centipede a little after and then texts Guaxinim to ask for help retrieving his items

reblogs appreciated, hope you enjoy \o/!!

Felps wakes up in a bed. Which is already a red flag in of itself, but is quickly forgotten in favour of the fact he feels like shit. Cold burrows in his bones while heat lathers his skin, nausea broiling in his stomach with a pounding headache to top things off. 

There’s someone with him. Maybe. In this bed which is definitely not his bed because he doesn’t have a bed yet. 

A low light hovers on the other side of his eyelids—necessary for him to get any answers, but already irritating with the shield that closed eyes offers. 

He shifts, and groans. His body aches. More than aches. The person with him cups his face and gently taps next to his eyes—an obvious request that he doesn’t want to comply with, but probably should. 

He lets his eyes open a slit and sees Guaxinim’s face in front of him. That’s good. Someone familiar—someone he trusts with almost all the important things. 

Another tap to the side of his eyes makes him realise they’ve slipped shut again. He blinks rapidly—trying to keep them open—and Guaxi’s hand disappears from his face to take up his vision instead. 

“Felps—are you okay?” He signs. 

“No.” He groans out, not entirely sure where his hands are and not willing to risk shaking his head. 

“I found you passed out while mining.” Guaxi explains—too much information for right now, really. “You sent me your location asking for help, remember?”

“No.”

“I think you were poisoned.” 

And whatever else Guaxinim says, Felps misses, as—with another groan—his eyes slip shut again. 

Poison makes sense. He feels poisoned. He remembers something—big, and scary, and painful. It’s a little hazy. He was bitten? 

The blankets are too warm, Guaxinim is too warm… but at the same time Felps tries to burrow closer. Maybe if he overheats enough it’ll stop the shivering in his bones. 

He tries to protest as Guaxinim pulls him away and sits him up, but his limbs are heavier than he can work with, and Guaxi is easily strong enough to move his dead weight. It would almost be attractive if Felps’ skeleton wasn’t trying to shake itself to dust. 

Guaxinim says something and Felps can’t even attempt to lip read. He’s pretty sure Guaxi laughs, though. 

He’s propped up in a corner, Guaxi’s hands gently resting his head back against the walls. 

“You’re so out of it.” Guaxi signs, before signing a small laugh as well. Then he tucks the blanket around Felps again. “I asked Matt to find some milk, so I’m going to go get it from him, okay?”

Why can’t Matt just come here? He doesn’t want Guaxi to leave. And Matt’s warm. Matt’s so warm. Warm in Felps’ chest—with an uncomfortable itching accompanying it, sure, but that must be better than this. Matt could fix this, surely. 

“I didn’t want to leave you alone, you know?” Guaxi pauses his signing to briefly cup Felps’ cheeks and press a kiss to his forehead. “But Meiaum just got back, okay? He’ll keep an eye on you.”

And sure enough, Meiaum walks into his line of sight. Him and Guaxi talk for a moment, then Guaxinim leaves and Meiaum joins him on the bed. 

“Cold.” Felps murmurs out. 

Meiaum frowns, and leans closer. Asks him to repeat himself. 

“I’m cold.”

“Oh! Hm…” 

He looks around—presumably for another blanket—and, finding nothing, decides to tug Felps closer. 

He’s worse than Guaxinim at moving Felps—which is probably less about strength and more about not knowing how to move him—but eventually Felps is tucked against his side, his head resting on Meiaum’s shoulder. Meiaum pulls the blankets around himself as well to get them closer, then wraps an arm around Felps’ shoulders. 

It’s a little better. 

It’s better enough that Felps drifts back to sleep, at least.

When he’s woken up again, a glass of milk is shoved in his face. 

He blinks hazily at it. Not entirely sure what to do.

“Drink?” Guaxinim signs. 

And okay, sure, he can do that. 

The blanket is tugged down, which is not appreciated, but at least his hands are freed. And this time he even feels like he can move them. So, with shaky hands he takes the glass—although he can tell Guaxinim still has a hold of it. 

At the first sip he’s already feeling a little better. Which gives him the motivation to finish it. 

“Feeling better?” Guaxinim asks. 

Felps signs a yes. 

“Nice!” Guaxinim smiles—wide and pretty. “That should take care of the poison, at least. And I already bandaged your wounds, so don’t worry about all that, okay? Now you just need to rest up.”

“Okay.”

“Here. Let me help you lie down.”

Guaxinim waits a moment for him to protest, before doing just that. Meiaum—who was asleep? Maybe?—shifts to lie down behind him, while Guaxi cuddles up against his front. 

It’s a bit of a tight fit. At the moment, at least, Guaxinim’s bed is not really made for all that many people. But Felps is too worn out to worry about any discomfort. 

And it is kind of nice, anyway. Comforting. Scary cave creatures—a giant centipede, he can remember it a little better now—can’t hurt him while he’s tucked between these two. 

So, he takes Guaxi’s advice and lets himself drift off to sleep again. 

——

Hope you enjoyed \o/!! Matt is not allowed in their secret base yet sadly

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Make Me Write ask answered

162 📖 for @inell!

---

When they arrive at the fire station, Eddie is indeed in rough shape. Scratched, damp, and wearing a heating blanket. 

“Buck, why is my dad dressed like a baked potato?” Chris asks nervously when he sees him. 

Eddie is sitting in the back of an ambulance, looking a little sleepy. The other paramedic - the one that isn’t Chimney - is talking to him. 

“It’s keeping him warm,” Buck explains. “Why don’t you go see him? That’ll make him even warmer.”

“DAD!” Chris calls out, heeding Buck’s advice. He picks up his pace a little in Eddie’s direction. 

“CHRISTOPHER!” Eddie calls back once he sees him. He hops out of the ambulance, dropping the warming blanket, and runs across the engine bay floor towards his son. When he reaches him, he scoops him up into the biggest, tightest, most loving hug Buck has ever seen. Buck honestly feels a little choked up, watching it. 

He doesn’t want to intrude on their moment, so he hangs back, holding onto Christopher’s backpack. After a minute of this hug, of Eddie speaking quietly to his son, he finally looks in Buck’s direction. He sets Christopher down, strides over to where Buck is, and hugs him too. Just quick, with a clap on the back, but it’s still a hug. It catches Buck off-guard a little.

“Thank you,” Eddie says emphatically. “Thank you so much for taking care of him.”

“No problem, really,” Buck says when Eddie pulls away. “Chris kept me in line. Made sure I knew the right answers to American history. Really he did me a favor.”

Eddie’s smile in response is practically glowing. “I owe you one, man.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. Just glad you’re okay.” Buck says. “Is Carla good? I couldn’t reach her either.”

Eddie nods. “Her dad isn’t well. She was visiting him today.”

“Oh,” Buck replies. “That’s… That’s too bad.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Listen, man, can I buy you a beer sometime? As a thank you?”

Buck… Well, for some reason, even though it’s totally not necessary, Buck really likes the sound of that.

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “Yeah, that’d be great. My number should be in your phone from when I tried to call you.”

“Perfect,” Eddie smiles. 

x.

It’s way too much fun. 

Buck meets Eddie at a sports bar. They grab beers. Watch a game. It’s probably the most fun Buck’s had in a while. Without work or a kid in between them, they connect as just people. And it turns out, they connect pretty well. They have a similar sense or humor and like a lot of the same things. Eddie listens when Buck goes on accidental tangents about subjects he finds interesting. Buck is genuinely delighted with stories about Christopher. They just sort of… Mesh?

By the end of the night, they’re making plans to hang out again, and Buck’s stomach can’t quite shake a fluttery, swooping feeling. Something that he’s only really felt before… Well, on dates. 

Which is strange for Buck because, well… Eddie is a man? And Buck didn’t know that another man could make him feel that way. 

Which probably means… Something. 

xi.

Buck and Eddie manage to hang out two more times by themselves, and once with Christopher, even, before the world shuts down. And Buck goes from the exciting thrill of a new friend/maybe crush to working alone in an empty library, filling online orders, and putting them in sterile pickup areas, with nothing at all to look forward to. 

It’s awful. It’s depressing. Buck genuinely struggles to get out of bed in the morning for the entire month of April. 

His sister is pregnant, and she can’t even stay with Chimney because of the risk. She’s alone. Buck’s alone. Everyone is boxed off from each other. 

They keep in contact. Eddie and Buck. Text. Social media. Buck does a few virtual homework help sessions with Chris out of working hours. But it’s weird. It’s like they almost had a friendship or something, and it just kind of gets stalled. 

All the nothingness means Buck has time. On and off work. He has nothing but time. It reminds him of the early years of his undergrad, where the coursework wasn’t challenging or interesting enough to keep his mind busy. He’d had to find ways to fill the time. Partying. Drinking. Sex. Working out. Those had been his options, then. Apart from working out, he doesn’t want to replicate the rest in a global pandemic. Which means Buck is left with way more hours to fill than even in undergrad. 

And he’s a librarian. So… One of the things he does to avoid going crazy? He reads. He researches. He learns. And one of the things he starts going all in on learning about? Human sexuality and attraction. Because the distance from Eddie doesn’t make Buck stop thinking about him. Doesn’t quell the curiosity, the thinking. The excitement each time a notification from Eddie lights up his phone. So Buck researches, and he tries to figure himself out. 

So, in the middle of a pandemic, where everyone is quarantined, and Buck is completely alone, he discovers he’s bisexual. Stellar timing. Really great work. Had he uncovered this little tidbit of identity earlier in his life? Maybe he’d be quarantining with a boyfriend or a husband or something cool like that. Since he’s historically fumbled all the women in his life. Who is he kidding? He’ll probably be the same with dudes. But until proven otherwise, he imagines he’ll be very smooth.

So. Bisexual. Alone in his studio apartment. Living through an unprecedented global emergency. Kind of thirsting over a man he won’t be able to see for months, and who he doesn’t even know is queer, so probably has no chance with. 

Buck is frustrated. 

He learns to cook. He buys a variety of plants. Tries and fails to learn to draw. Impulse adopts a cat; a Burmese he renames Begonia. Her previous name was Princess and to be honest she is way too relaxed for that designation. 

Nothing makes the sense of restlessness building in his chest go away. 

xii.

It’s late summer by the time he and Eddie can hang out again. At a distance. Outside, on a hike. Masks on if they get any closer. Eddie has a higher chance of infection on his job, and Buck wants to be safe. 

They fall back into their easy pattern of conversation and humor. It’s like whatever paused between them at the beginning of the year picks right back up without any issue. And Buck is relieved. Relieved and excited. Like they’re pointed towards a direction he hasn’t seen before, but is desperate to discover.

Buck tells Eddie all about the ever-changing library policies regarding the virus. Eddie tells Buck about childcare struggles. 

“With Carla caring for her dad full time, and my Abuela back in Texas, it’s been insane,” he admits. 

“And no aftercare programs at the library,” Buck says. 

“Or anywhere,” Eddie says. 

“Man, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

“It’s… Well, single parenting is never easy. But global catastrophe certainly adds to it.”

“Hey, if-if I can help…” Buck offers, a little aimlessly. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Is the library open to visitors yet?”

“Well, no,” Buck admits. “Soon, hopefully? But I mean, I can ask the head librarian - Janine - if he can, uh, sneak in. Masked up, of course.” “I mean, if he could. That’d be really helpful. He could do class from there, right?” Eddie asks. ”Only if it wouldn’t put you out!”

[sugarcigarette]

Can anyone explain what in the world is going on with Mercury? Like is he full robot that can liquidate himself or is he just a sentient liquid wearing armer and keeping a form to the best of their ability?

Is this ever explained if so please i beg someone to tell me.

[michaelnotwheeler]

I need to sleep fr dawg

Anyway, I wish someone would do this for me

[segasys]

well my mom just took my only charger for my phone and this might mean unfortunate things in terms of art (as I only have my phone for digital) and activity here, since I’ll have to really ration my time due to charge, actually devastated and going to sulk now

[arbitrarycategories]

what if I indulged my inner twelve year old and wrote crossover fanfiction

[mumblesplash]

getting better at drawing when you’re not trying for realism is kinda funny bc it’s like wow now my art looks even MORE like the exact midpoint between old-school disney and late 2010s anime. i didn’t think it was possible and yet i’ve done it again. inspiring