#well no yeah that tracks. she would choose that spelling much like he did

[laplaces-lovecraftian-dick]

what if the reason no one can ever get マエリべリ―・ハ―ン right is because she's the equivalent of a futuristic "kaitleighnn" type name.

[alanaartdream]

Oh hey there it’s Artist Alana from Alanaartdream (the tumblr; the YouTube; the instagram; the TikTok and twitter witch is trying to go by X now but most of use still just call it twitter… I also have a fb but I don’t go be alanaartdream on there and only mostly use it to keep track of what my family is up to and see how a friend who refuses to use anything but Facebook and YouTube ;-; I’d really wish she’d use tumblr again because Facebook is full of trouble honestly)

As some of you who been following me on YouTube/ tumblr/ TikTok and instagram would know I have adhd ( one of the 3 types of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder)

My parents discovered I had it when I was seven but at the time Dr use to think kids would outgrow adhd so just gave my mum medication 💊 for it and left it at that so my dad was of the idea I didn’t need to know what I was taking medication for and left it at that BUT my mum who cared about me and actually paid attention to me realised yeah that wasn’t the case and that the medicine wasn’t really helping so took kid me to all sorts of tutors and trying to find people who could help kids like me at the time And informed me I have adhd when I was a teenager (witch at the time felt like a slap to the face but glad she at least was trying her best to help me deal with best way she knew how and with what help was available at the time;; she really had to take me to all sorts of places and try out different teachers to help kid me to learn abcs so I can at least read and sort of write this out to you all now (my spelling & grammar still isn’t great but at least you can read what I write out now disspit all the mistakes) also there’s a few other adhd people on TikTok I follow who give great advice to help deal with adhd and talk about it in ways to help explain it better and one of them is who I was watching while drawing some Fairly Odd parents Timmy Turner and Danny Phantom while watching them being as my adhd brain likes to draw what it likes to focus on and one of it’s favourite things to focus on is cartoons/ animation as well as manga/comics it will be what I end up drawing most of the time

Also part of why I’ll forever be a defender of Timmy Turner because I can see a lot of his schooling troubles are because the human adults in his life are so blind to his struggles and don’t really care to help him like his found family do and he could do so much better if he truly had the support he needed to do better I believe he would

Like his parents don’t even try to help him with his homework or to make sure he does it; they can hire a babysitter? But not a tutor

Heck his mother was a stay at home one yet she chooses to ignore him or go spend money on the shopping network and leave him with a babysitter (and the dad is even worse) look my own mother was a stay at home mum but she didn’t ignore my sisters and I and once we got to age where we didn’t need as much watching went back into working (because dad I think starting travelling overseas for work and was losing interest in being a family man (think he didn’t want to be married anymore by this point)) what the heck is Timmy’s mum even doing??? Like she only has one child to raise at least she doesn’t have 3 and she’s ignoring him to go shopping?

My mum would make sure we did homework by sitting down with us to help if we were struggling; heck at least once or twice my dad did too when it came to big projects but never once did I see Timmy’s parents do that for him (( and then they had the nerve to blame Timmy’s bad grades all on him hello it’s on them as well they never sat down with him to make sure he’s doing homework or to check if he needed help; parents are supposed to help their kids with the homework and if Cocker wasn’t such a bad teacher he would’ve called Timmy’s parents in to rain them in as well; never once did cocker ask to meet up with Timmy’s parents to talk about his bad grades; only time he did was to try to enroll Timmy into his fake boot camp/ army school) butch never through to address these issues and would just blame it on Timmy half the time when his parents were just as much to blame

No parent now can afford to be a stay at home parent;; but they cannot afford to ignore their kids now because now everyone is more aware of these issues but when fairly odd parents was frist out people didn’t really think about these things like they do now but I hope they don’t gloss over how bad Timmy birth parents were

I just hope Timmy’s doing better away from his human parents in fairly odd parents a new wish series if they get around to another season of it hopefully

[zuppizup]

Water

Previous - End of the world

“Do not ask how the ocean’s blue, or why the tides their time do keep. To love is to simply know this: The tides are true as the ocean is deep”

Rayla begins to come to as the sun is setting, the moon hanging on the horizon. She looks around the clearing, as she pushes herself up on her elbows and Callum hurries over to her. He’s been unsuccessfully trying to light the fire, but their tinder is still damp.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he helps her sit up. The colour has return to her cheeks somewhat and her breathing finally sounds normal.

“Where are we?” she asks, looking around her.

“Not far from where we ran into Claudia,” he offers her his water skin, but she doesn’t even seem to notice it as she begins to gather her things.

“How far have you tracked them?” Her hands move to her back and he can see a little of the tension leave her shoulders when she finds her blades securely holstered.

“Tracked them?” he tries to urge her to relax. It’s almost night and she’s been unconscious for hours. They’ve no idea what the spell Claudia performed on her did and the last thing she needs to do is to go stumbling through a dark forest.

“How much of a head start do they have?” Pushing herself to her feet, she stumbles a little and he rushes to catch her.

“Too much.” He tries to urge her to sit, but she ignores him. “Rayla, you need to rest. You were out for hours.”

“We don’t have time!” She grits her teeth, eyes glistening. “The Cube-”

“Yeah, they have it now, and we have no chance of getting it back with you like this!” He takes a deep breath, attempting to keep his temper under control.

“Oh, so it’s my fault?!” She attempts to glare at him, the look undercut by the tears on her cheeks.

He huffs, balling his fists. “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.”

Turning away from him, she begins walking to the edge of the clearing.

“Rayla, stop!” He hurries after her, grabbing her wrist. “We need a plan. We can’t just go blindly chasing after them!”

She pulls her hand back, turning to glare at him. “Callum, we know what they’re going to do with it!” Tears well up in her eyes again. “How could you?”

“How could I?” He scoffs. “What other options did I have?!”

“They’re going to restore Aaravos and we gave them the last piece of the puzzle!” Her tears are angry now. “What were you thinking?!”

“I obviously wasn’t thinking!” He spits, and it seems to momentarily shock her into silence. “Of course I gave up the Cube to save your life! I love you!"

Taking a breath, he shakes his head, some of the fire leaving him. It’s the first time he’s said it since she’s come back...

She wipes her eyes, her shoulders slumped now. “Callum, you can’t-”

“What, you just expected me to watch? To stand idly by while Claudia suffocated you or slit your throat or... or...?” He blinks his own tears from his eyes now. “Do you think I could do that?”

This seems to get through to her somewhat and she falls silent again.

“If it came down to it, could you do it? If Aaravos possessed me again, could you kill me?” He takes her hand. “Even though it might have stopped this.”

Her breath catches and she closes her eyes, reaching for him. He takes her in his arms, holding her close.

“Callum, what if we’ve doomed the world?” She whispers into his neck, her voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t reply. Not because he doesn’t have an answer but because he knows she won’t like it. That it would weigh heavy on her, be another burden that’s not hers to carry but that she would all the same.

Because he doesn’t care.

He knows if presented with the choice again, he’d choose her. That he would always choose her. That there would never be an eventuality where he’d be able to hold onto the Cube and let her die.

[integra1127grimmreaper]

Black Velvet - (John Winchester)

Warning: Mention of sexual activity

Summary: Story inspired by the song - Black Velvet by Alannah Myles. Years after he had up and left you, you run into your old flame, John Winchester.

A/N: Y/N - your name

Dividers created by @firefly-graphics​  

John and the boys had just successfully taken care of a demon that preyed only on women; ones that enjoyed partying a bit too much and dressed extremely provocatively.

Luckily for the town's woman folk, they managed to track its vessel down before he claimed another victim. So, here they were grabbing a few drinks at the local bar in celebration of a successful hunt.

"That was one tough son of a bitch..." Dean remarks throwing himself down into the chair with a heavy grunt.

"Look who's talking..." Sam grumbles.

"You weren't the one used us bait."

"You got the whole long hair thing going on, makes ya look more like a girl from behind" Dean points out with a wave of his hand.

"That with the girl clothes made ya really convincing from a distance."

"I still can't believe you made me wear girl clothes" Sam scowls at him.

"Be glad you wore jeans instead of a skirt..." Dean flashes him a grin.

"You'd have had to shave ya legs then."

Sam doesn't respond to his remark; choosing to grumble into the glass while taking a sip of his drink instead.

"Dean, stop teasing your brother..." John reprimands him.

"Sorry, Sir" Dean responds straightening up in his seat as Sam triumphally smirks.

Scanning the room, Dean sips at his drink, silently cringing at the terrible singing of some drunk up on the stage.

"Why did we decide to go to a bar that has very bad karaoke night?"

"It's the only bar in town..." Sam shrugs in response.

"At least he's almost finished with the song."

"Thank goodness..." Dean groans out in relief.

A few minutes after the drunk leaves the stage, a very attractive looking woman takes the stage then; dressed in a black mini skirt, paired with a corset styled top, and black leather jacket.

"Why, hello there..." Dean utters out in interest.

"She's out of your league dude..." Sam remarks.

"Whaddya mean?" Dean frowns at him, pulling at the open flaps of his jacket.

"I'm an extremely attractive guy, the ladies love me."

"Keep telling yourself that and it might just come true" Sam chuckles.

"Let's hope she can sing though."

"Yeah, that would be really embarrassing" Dean nods in agreement.

"A woman so fine looking, and she ends up making a fool of herself in public would be tragic."

As the boys continued on with their little discussion neither of them had yet to notice how quiet their father had become as he stared narrow eyed at the stage as the topic of their interest begins to sing.

*

Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell

Jimmie Rogers on the Victrola up high

Mama's dancin' with a baby on her shoulder

The sun is settin' like molasses in the sky

The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything

Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for

Black velvet and that little boy's smile

Black velvet with that slow southern style

A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees

Black velvet if you please...

"Looks like hottie can really sing and dance quite well..." Dean groans out in comment as she swings her hips to the music.

*

Up in Memphis, the music's like a heatwave

White lighting, bound to drive you wild

Mama's baby 's in the heart of every schoolgirl

"Love Me Tender" leaves them 'em cryin' in the aisle

They way he moves, it was a sin, so sweet and true

Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for

Black velvet and that little boy's smile

Black velvet with that slow southern style

A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees

Black velvet if you please...

"Bro, I think she's looking at me..." Dean excitedly slaps Sam against the arm when the woman seductively smiles in their direction.

"I highly doubt that..." Sam drawls out in response.

*

Every word of every song that he sang was for you

In a flash, he was gone, it happened so soon

What could you do?

Black velvet and that little boy's smile

Black velvet with that slow southern style

A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees

Black velvet if you please...

With furrowed brows, Sam studies the woman for a bit; noticing something a bit strange, he turns to look at his father.

John sat dead silent; eyes narrowed as he gazed back at the woman.

"I think she's looking at Dad, not you..." Sam remarks a bit confused at the interaction between the two.

"No, she's not..." Dean scoffs.

"She's clearly checking me out."

*

Black velvet and that little boy's smile

Black velvet with that slow southern style

A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees

Black velvet if you please

If you please

If you please

If you please...

The song ends and the woman steps off the stage.

"No, she's definitely looking at Dad..." Sam shakes his head.

"Dad, you know her?"

John doesn't respond to his question, getting up from his seat instead.

"I'm gonna get some fresh air."

"Wondered if you were going to follow me out or not" you remark with a smirk at seeing John walking toward you.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" John rasps out, his gaze dark as he stared down at you.

"Ten years..." you rasp out in response.

"What you doing here?" John asks as the two of you step further into the dark alley alongside the bar.

"Came to do a job, but you guys beat me to it."

"Alone?" John frowns in displeasure.

"I'm a very capable woman and hunter" you arch a brow in rebuttal.

"You should know that from the days we used to hunt together."

"From what I remember; I was always saving your butt" John comments, stepping closer to you.

"Then we both remember things way differently..." you drawl out, slowly backing away from him; gaze never wavering as he slowly stalked you.

"That so...?" John responds, lips slightly twitching in amusement.

"You were always jumping in front of me during an attack" you nod frowning.

"Even though I never needed your help."

Flashing a dimpled smirk, John reaches up to cup your cheek.

"You needed my help for other things though, didn't you?"

"John..." you softly whimpered, eyes fluttering close when your back came up against the alley wall.

"What's wrong, Sweetheart?" John slurs, pushing himself flushed up against you.

"Need my help again...?"

The inner turmoil inside you finally snaps as you gave in to your desires, lifting a leg to wrap around his waist.

If there was one thing you could never resist; it was the sexual charm of John Winchester.

"Morning..." a voice raspily slurs against your neck, as strong arms pull you closer.

"Morning..." you groan out, smiling as you turn to face John in the bed.

"Who woulda thought we'd run into each other again after all this time...?" John stares down at you longingly, brushing your hair out of your face.

"Yeah, who woulda..." you wrinkle your nose at him in response as he tips down to kiss you.

"I missed you..."

"I definitely know something missed me, yeah..." you joke when feeling his morning erection poking at your stomach.

"Oh, he missed you a lot..." John grunts, thrusting himself against you.

"Maybe you should show me, how much he missed me..." you whisper, softly nipping at his neck.

"With pleasure..." John growls out, rolling over on top of you as you giggled in response.

"Stop sulking" Sam scolds Dean as they sat in the diner, eating breakfast.

"Just don't understand where she ran off to..." Dean whines in disappointment.

"She just up and disappeared out of nowhere."

"It's for the best" Sam smugly remarks.

"She was way out of your league anyway."

"Whatever, man" Dean scowls.

"You hear anything from Dad?"

"Just the text he sent last night; that he would meet us here this morning" Sam shrugs in reply.

"Where you think he ran off to?"

"Maybe he went off with your dream woman..." Sam teasingly smirks.

"Dad's so not her type!" Dean scoffs in protest.

"You sure? Cause, it seemed to me as if they knew each other."

The two of them continued on bantering for a few minutes, until a car pulled up in the driveway of the diner.

"What the...?" Dean remarks, seeing John get out from behind the wheel of the strange car.

Mere seconds later, the woman from the night before gets out of the passenger side.

"Told you..." Sam smirks.

John and you entered into the diner, heading directly to the booth that had two men seated in it.

"Boys, this is Y/N" John introduces you to them.

"Y/N, these are my boys; Sam and Dean."

"Please to meet you" you smile at them in greeting.

The one named; Sam politely smiles at you, while Dean stares opened mouthed.

Dean snaps out of his stupider then.

"You two know each other? How?"

"We're old friends" you reply with a chuckle.

"Your dad and I were hunting partners for a bit about ten years ago."

"So, you two...?" Dean stares shocked while waving a finger between John and you.

"That's none of your business, boy" John grunts out frowning.

"Relax, Big fella..." you chuckle, slapping a palm against John's chest.

After the awkward introduction, John, the boys, and you sat chatting while having breakfast. It was an enjoyable time as you guys exchanged stories of hunts, and how grumpy John would get at times.

But it wasn't long thereafter, when breakfast ended, and it was time to part ways.

"Come with us..." John suggests as you stood alongside your car.

"I can't" you whisper out softly.

"Why not?" John frowns at your reply.

"I'm retired, John... the hunter's life is no longer for me. I only took this one as a favour to an old friend."

"Retired?" John arches a brow.

"For ten years now" you nod.

"This job is too much of a risk for me to be taking now."

"If you're worried about the risk of being on the road 24/7, you don't have to" John remarks.

"We have a safe place, a bunker... it's isolated, and safe from any and all elements. You were always the better researcher between the two of us, you could stay there to help with that."

"It's not just me... I'm not alone."

"What you mean, you're not alone?" John frowns at your remark.

Realizing you had no other option but to tell John the truth, you exhale heavily in defeat.

"I have a ten-year-old daughter...at least she will be in a few months."

"Daughter...?" John stares at you open mouth.

"Ten years old?"

You silently nod, taking a picture of her out and handing it to John.

"Her name's; Lily..."

"She's...?" John murmurs out, staring at the picture of the little girl.

"She has your eyes and dimples..." you nod feeling a bit emotional, then suddenly chuckle out.

"Also has that same grumpy scowl as you."

"Why didn't you let me know?" John stares at you accusingly.

You scoff at his remark with a frown.

"You're the one that up and disappeared one day" you reminded him.

"The minute I told you, that I loved you; you ran."

John's head drops in shame at your words then.

"I was scared..." he utters out in admittance.

"Scared...?" you frown in confusion.

"Scared..." John nods, looking up into your eyes then.

"Scared of loving someone, and possibly losing them again."

You take a step closer to him, reaching up to cup his cheek.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"I thought it was for the best if I kept it to myself, that it would keep you safe then."

You couldn't help the chuckle that slipped your lips then.

"I was a hunter before we met, my life would continue to be in danger, even if we weren't together."

"I know now it was a dumb idea..." John sighs out.

"Quite dumb..." you nod chuckling.

John flashes a dimpled smirk at your remark, clearing his throat then.

"Where is she now?"

"Lily?" you reply, and John nods.

"She's at my sister's. Like I said, I'm retired, I stopped hunting because of her. This was just a favour, so I asked my sister to watch her for me."

"I'd like to meet her..." John requests quite eagerly.

"Does she even know about me?"

"I've told her about you, yes. She knows who her daddy is. Likes to look at that picture of you and I that we took back then."

"She does?" John cringes at the thought of what his daughter must think of him.

"Has she asked where I am?"

You exhale heavily then at the memories of those conversations.

"Almost every day... especially, why you never come to see her."

"What did you tell her?" John's voice comes out brokenly.

"That her daddy is extremely busy chasing bad guys, so she and everyone else could remain safe."

Tears threatening to escape from his eyes, John presses his forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry... I never should have left."

"It's ok..." you murmur as tears began to burn your own eyes.

"You'll come with us?" John stares pleadingly at you.

"Both of you?"

Biting into your lower lip, you silently nod in agreement.

John smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"I love you..."

You couldn't suppress the whimper that slipped your lips then.

"I love you too..."

With a dimpled smirk, John grabs hold of your car keys.

"C'mon, let's go pick up our little girl, and then head on home..."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you eye him closely.

"You sure, you ain't gonna run out on us again?"

John chuckles, pulling you back into his arms.

"I promise, Sweetheart..." he presses a kiss into your hair.

"You better..." you warn him, causing him to chuckle louder.

"Get in the car..." he swats your bottom as you head for the passenger door, and you shoot him a glare over your shoulder.

"Let's go get our girl..." John smirks at you, starting up the car.

"Let's go get our girl..." you smirk in agreement.

*

Black velvet and that little boy's smile

Black velvet with slow southern style

A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees

Black velvet if you please

If you please

If you please

If you please...

[inconmess]

For the CR Spell Hurt/Comfort: 19 Feign Death, Chetney.

*scratches my head for a moment* I totally forgot a queued this one up and tbh I don't know much about the spell and its ritual so... I am kinda treating it as a faked death scenario. And I love faked death scenarios :3

Feigned death: You touch a willing creature and put it into a cataleptic state that is indistinguishable from death.

Also, just to tease, I had two other ideas in mind but I choose this one. Enjoy! One was a prank and the other was an escape.

"You know..." the masked figure said as it tilted its head. "You've been causing my employer a lot of damage along without your tiny little group..."

Don't hesitate to ask!

"And I am not going to give up their location. You can do whatever you want to do with me," he growled, though it didn't come through as intended because of something that blocked his connection with the wolf.

"I can do whatever I want with you?" it said in a pleased tone, lined with a touch of amusement.

"As long as you don't go after my friends."

"Oh I know you won't give them up. Neither will I search them up. Because you will lead them to me," a smugness in its voice that sent shivers down Chetney's back.

A tendril came up and touched the old gnome's cheek. "You have to remember, resurrection doesn't work anymore."

Chetney internally panicked, wishing he could move his frozen body as the face spoke some words and the world turned black.

"After all," the thing chuckled, "the most emotional people take the most rash decisions."

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

"Is this the right place, F.R.I.D.A?" Imogen asked, unsure as they approached the worn down hut.

"Yeah, these are where the tracks led to. Why?"

"Because I feel no one here. Absolutely no thoughts."

"Maybe there might be something to block thoughts?"

"Or they could've moved again." Fearne said flippantly. "I mean, we did narrowly miss them the last time also."

"No, no. This time he specifically left clues, like he wanted us to find them. Even if this is a trap, Chetney should be here."

"Unless he's been killed."

"No, it wouldn't. Mr. Pock O'Pea is leverage. Whatever it is, it would need him alive in order to negotiate."

"Well, we need to go inside first to see if our assumptions are true then." Deanna snapped as she blasted the door open without any warning, the rest of them hastily bracing themselves for any sort of impact from any traps.

In the end... it was kind of anti climatic. No traps, no guards to fight, and no sight of anyone at all. And they had come in expecting for a fight that this switch immediately set in a feeling of uneasiness in them. The hut was silent. Dead silent.

"Should we... check the rooms?"

"I hope they are just good at hiding..."

Bedroom? Empty. Cooking area? Empty. Some kind of a store room? Empty. Every single room was empty and now they were confused. Were they even in the right place? Was there some sort of a-

"Secret panel!" Fearne shouted as she swung back the carpet with a triumphant shake of the body as they all stare at the badly disguised trap door.

"Our last hope."

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

"Maybe we shouldn't have joked about it?" FCG said as they all stared down at the unresponsive werewolf.

"Maybe he's just faking it? You know, like how some people say that bears will leave it's prey if they play dead?"

"There's no fucking heartbeat or thoughts! There is always thoughts even when he sleeps!" Imogen shouted.

"And he also snores. Quite loudly." Fearne unhelpfully added.

"Anyone has diamonds on them?" Deanna asked in panic, trying to remember the spell for Revivify.

"Ressurection magic isn't working, remember?"

"Well, we said that for sending also and it worked close range! We have to try! It's Chetney!"

"I still believe he is pretending to be dead."

"No injuries, no nothing. He wasn't even tortured. Couldn't he just escape by summoning the wolf?"

"He was fucking captured because he couldn't access the wolf!"

"And it's been 5 days since he fucking missing! Revivify wouldn't even work if he's been dead for that long!"

"He would've started to decompose then!"

"Or did someone cast some preservation spell?"

"I don't know what sick fuck would ever-"

"They would, to make a statement. Look," F.R.I.D.A said as they pulled out a piece of paper hidden inside Chetney's jumpsuit.

Love the gift I gave you? If you didn't, meet me at the tower. You know which one.

"That fucking son of a bitch. He wants us to come to the tower? I will fucking-"

"D, it's a trap."

"I know it is a fucking trap and I am going to go into it anyway-"

"What are we going to do now? Leave the body?"

"Of course we are not leaving the body! We are taking it with us!"

"Because if you want to go after the man, we have to leave the body here."

"Are we... burying him?"

"Don't. I am afraid of being buried alive. Also, does anyone have water, I am fucking thirsty and those bastards haven't been taught to respect old people."

Everyone screamed.

__________________________________________

Well, I read that the spell only lasts an hour so... what the guy presumed was they would find the body sooner and confront him before Chetney "revives" but when have they ever worked according to the bad guy's plan?

[oyapluto]

she’s mine

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: ᴡʜᴇɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴏʏs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏʟʟᴇʏʙᴀʟʟ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴏ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴀsᴛ ʀᴇsᴏʀᴛ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪs ɪs ʙᴀsɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴄᴇɴᴇ ɪɴ sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜɪɴᴀᴛᴀ ɪs ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴋɪʏᴏᴋᴏ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛᴇʀᴜsʜɪᴍᴀ ! ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴄᴇɴᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴘʟᴏᴛ. 

Before boarding the bus, Tsukishima rummaged through his bag absentmindedly for his water bottle. His hands continued to roam for seconds too long, unable to brush against the familiar metal. Annoyed, he peeked inside, noticing what he was searching for was in fact missing. He stopped in his tracks, with Yamaguchi following suite with a look of confusion painted on his face. 

“I left something in the gym. I’ll be right back,” Tsukishima muttered flatly. 

As he walked up the stairs his mind played back the events of the evening, trying to recall when he had misplaced the water bottle. The last time he had it was after the match, refilling it near the water fountain. Assuming he left it there when he had used the bathroom right after, he made his way back towards that area. 

Upon arrival, the water bottle was no where in sight. Tsukishima stood for a moment, irritation slowly bubbling underneath him wondering where it could possibly be. 

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice: 

“Hey babe!” 

Tsukishima turned around visibly confused seeing you walk towards him. His head immediately registered the voice as yours, the assistant manager for the volleyball club, but he wasn’t aware of any significant other you could possibly have that would be in this gym at this very moment. 

You smiled at him, picking up your pace. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you!” 

Tsukishima’s brows furrowed together lightly, and he had half the mind to laugh in your face. Did you hit your head or something? His mouth was instinctively getting ready to remark some insult to tease you.

Though on the inside Tsukishima tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. Why did that nickname roll so easily off your tongue like that? The other half of his mind wanted to tell you to say it to him again. 

Once you had gotten close enough for Tsukishima to see your features clearly. His face dropped.

Why did you look so...scared? 

Once more a voice interjected. Different this time.

“C’mon baby don’t be like that! Just give me your number.”

Tsukishima peered behind you, noticing another boy in a yellow uniform approaching with a sly grin on his face. Tsukishima’s eyes flickered to you again, and he could see the desperation in your face. 

Normally you were able to stand your own ground. It was one of the things that Tsukishima liked about you, though he’s never admitted it. Despite that, the guy before him looked persistent, and probably stronger and faster than you too. Tsukishima almost felt...angry. Who could reduce you to such a state? He looks to you one more time, watching as you mouth ‘please’ to him. He softens. 

“I think she’s made it very clear she doesn’t want to give you her number. Or are you too stupid to understand that?” Tsukishima asks, tilting his head to the side. 

The boy with the bleached blonde hair pauses, diminishing his demeanor from one of false kindness to genuine revolt and confusion

“And who the fuck are you?”  

“Her boyfriend, actually.” 

You look up at Tsukishima, trying to hide your surprise. You hadn’t expected him to play a long. If you didn’t know him, you’d think that Tsukishima was being serious right now. There was no trace of detest, or hints that he could be lying. 

You let out a breath you had been holding for far too long and grabbed onto his arm. His body stiffened, just briefly, not used to such soft gestures from you. Though he relaxed into it just as fast, again not appearing as though the relationship you had fabricated was false. 

The boy who had introduced himself as “Terushima” just a few moments earlier had his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He glanced back and forth between the two, still not entirely convinced.

“You didn’t say you had a boyfriend, beautiful,” Terushima remarked. 

Tsukishima had already begun to spoke before you could even get out an explanation. 

“Well normally shitty guys leave her alone when she says no the first time.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, burying your face into Tsukishima’s arm. He’s trying hard to stop himself from blushing, currently in a stare down with what seems to be the captain of another volleyball team. 

Irritation wipes Terushima’s face, but he joins in on the laughter to your dismay. 

“That’s bullshit,” he bites, “There’s no way a pretty little thing like her would be with someone like you.” 

His words sting, because they were true. 

Tsukishima knew he was never good enough to be with you. It’s the sole reason why he had never decided to pursue anything with you to begin with. Even indulging in this scheme felt wrong to him, considering how he felt about you. Of course he was doing it to help you out, despite his height he’s never been much of a fighter, though he couldn’t deny the warmth he was feeling with his calloused hands interlocked with yours. 

You raise your head, catching Tsukishima off guard. 

“Tsukki is a better man than you’ll ever be. I’d choose him over you a million times over.” You spouted. 

Tsukishima blinked. Had you always been so good at lying? He hated how genuine that sounded. Pride swelled inside of him nonetheless. 

“You are so lame,” Tsukishima added on, clearly putting salt to Terushima’s wound, “Going after a girl who’s clearly taken. Didn’t you get the hint? Or do I have to spell it out for you: she’s mine. Get lost.” 

As if to seal the deal Tsukki cupped your face with his free hand, trailing his wrapped finger to lift your chin to face him, earning a soft gasp from you. Your own free hand naturally floated to his chest.

Your eyes fluttered close, thinking that this wasn’t exactly how you imagined your first kiss with Tsukishima, but you weren’t necessarily complaining. You could feel his cool breath on your lips until—

“Ugh,” Terushima relents “I get it, you don’t have to rub it in my fucking face.” He rolls his eyes, storming off in embarrassment. 

Opening your eyes, you were met with Tsukki’s gold ones. They were widened slightly, as if he was surprised himself. Your faces were quite literally an inch a part, and you broke away from each other immediately. 

Letting out a dry laugh, you looked off to the side, praying Tsukishima wouldn’t notice how your face flushed. 

Unbeknownst to you, he was doing the same. 

“T- thank you, Tsukishima,” you manage to get out, “I really didn’t want to bother you, but he just wouldn’t leave me alone no matter what I said.” 

“It’s okay,” he replies as cool as he can manage whilst trying to slow down his heart beat. “I’m glad you found me.” 

“I’m glad I found you too,” you answered honestly. 

As the two of you walked back to the bus together, there was still some awkwardness that lingered in the air. You shifted the weight in your heels, not knowing what to say next. 

Tsukishima spoke up first, “What were you still doing there anyway? Shouldn’t you be back at the bus?” 

“Oh! Right!,” you blurted out, using one hand to swing your half-opened bag to the front. “You forgot this!” 

Tsukishima stared blankly at you. 

You were holding his water bottle. 

It was Tsukishima’s turn to laugh now, pushing up his glasses with his fingers. 

“Idiot.” Tsukishima muttered, but he couldn’t help but smile. “You went through all this trouble to get my water bottle for me?” 

You pouted, reminding yourself of Tsukishima’s true nature. 

“Yeah well, you would’ve been extremely salty for the rest of the ride home if we left it. It drives the team insane when you get like that ” 

“And here I thought you actually liked me, Y/N.” Tsukishima teased, but rather than being condescending like he intended it gave off a flirtatious tone instead, to the surprise of you both. 

Before you could give an answer, the honest answer you had decided, yet another booming voice cut through the conversation.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU TWO BEEN?” Daichi yelled, diverting your attention. 

Simultaneously your heads whipped to the captain, expecting to be met with a mix of anger and disappointment. Instead he was frozen in place, as was the entirety of the Karasuno volleyball team, mouths agape as if there was some kind of spectacle before them. 

Tsukishima’s cold exterior resurfaced, “Why do you idiots look like you’ve seen a ghost?” 

Sugawara sputtered, but it was ultimately Tanaka that broke, “Woah-hoooo way to go Tsukishimaaaa! I didn’t think you had it in you!”  

“Yeah dude no fair! We had no idea!” Nishinoya exclaimed. 

Neither of you two still had the faintest idea what was going on, but when you looked down, realization finally dawned on you. 

“Tsukki,” you whispered. 

“Hm?” He replied, clearly disliking being the butt of the conversation and not understanding it. 

You nudged him to fully grab his attention, he finally looked to you, and followed your gaze. 

The two of you were still holding hands.

[samstree]

and the wolf was nowhere to be found (1/3)

In which Jaskier chooses to lie, until he can no longer tell the truth.

(lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, geralt apologizes, post mountain, miscommunication, rated teen, read on AO3)

A big thanks to @wanderlust-t and @a-kind-of-merry-war for the prompt! <3

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4]

“You are gonna run after him again, just like that? Don’t you remember what he did to you? What you went through?”

Essi leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her chest, watching as Jaskier packs a second bag.

“Come one, poppet. Geralt was having a hard time back then, and now he’s come all the way to Oxenfurt to apologize.

“So what?”

“So I’m forgiving him.”

She grumbles a few rude words regarding the witcher’s lineage.

“Hey! That’s not nice.”

“And this is way too easy! Why can’t you see a disaster waiting to happen until it hits you in the face?” Essi exclaims. “Do you know what I would have done? I would make him grovel! Give him the cold shoulder. Or…or at least play it cool for a while longer so he knows not to take you for granted again! Sorry, but I’m…not like you.”

“Um…excuse you. I am plenty cool!”

“There’s nothing cool about being utterly in love and then getting cast aside over and over again, Jaskier. You know that.”

Jaskier sighs, walks to Essi and pulls her into a tight hug, all his scattered doublets ignored.

“I’m going to be okay,” he tries to tuck her curls away from her eyes but fails.

“Are you?” When she pulls back, there’s something inscrutable in those blue eyes, the curtain of blonde hair obscuring her emotions. “When you came down from the mountain, the way you couldn’t even … I don’t know. I just need to make sure it won’t happen again.”

“It—” Jaskier opens his mouth to make an easy promise, but finds the words choking in his throat. “I, um—”

Essi squeezes him on the shoulder. “He’s apologized, profusely from what you told me, and he’s being nice now. He will certainly be nice for a while, but what happens after he wins you back? What’s preventing him from hurting you again?”

Jaskier has no answers for her, so he resorts to giving her another hug.

“At least, think about my cold shoulder tactic. Sometimes people need the reminder, just so they know what they can easily lose.”

“Essi—”

“Think about it.”

She presses a small kiss on Jaskier’s cheek and leaves him to his packing. Outside the window comes the familiar sound of Roache’s hooves, clicking against the cobblestone.

Jaskier straightens his tunic and lets out a heave. He can see Geralt is being good now, friendly even, after all these years of denying their friendship. Now, the witcher is even waiting downstairs to begin their next journey.

Essi is just being overly protective, Jaskier decides.

He winds down the stairs and finds Geralt cooing at Roach. The urge to melt in those golden amber eyes is overwhelming.

“We good?” Geralt takes Jaskier’s bags and secures them on Roach, side by side with his saddlebags.

“Good,” Jaskier lies.

 ---

The truth is, Jaskier has heard of this so-called “cold shoulder” tactic. He’s even contemplated it for longer than he’s willing to admit. Every time Geralt dismissed him as a friend, brushed him off, Jaskier couldn’t help but want to retaliate with equal measure.

What if he’s the one to give Geralt a time-out? What if when Geralt tells him to fuck off, he just…leaves? The same idea churned in Jaskier’s stomach for two decades, but in the end, he knows the answer—he can never bring himself to go through it. His feet would carry him back to Geralt before even taking a step away.

He was left anyway.

But now…

Jaskier can’t afford to be left again. Essi was right. He isn’t sure if he can pick himself up again. He barely managed it the first time.

Jaskier lets out an audible scoff as he comes to the realization. He’s going to do it. The cold shoulder tactic. It’s so cheesy that it feels like something only school girls would use to get attention from a crush. Keep your distance, string him along a little. That’s how you get him to notice you exist—

“Something funny?” Geralt turns on horseback, sunlight peaking through his silver hair, a curious frown between his brows. He’s towering, beautiful. He has always been the most beautiful person Jaskier knows, even if he doesn’t know it.

Jaskier strums an absent chord on his lute. “Just something Essi said.”

“Hmm.” Geralt nudges Roach forward. “I was thinking… You’ve never seen a basilisk, have you?”

“No?”

“There are rumors about a nest in the next town. Want to see it?”

A hint of smile hints at Geralt’s lips, and Jaskier’s heart almost leaps out of his throat. A basilisk hunt is one he’s been dying to watch for years, if not decades. He’s drooling with excitement just thinking about the ballad that will certainly sweep the continent off its feet.

“Of course I want—" The sentence stops in its tracks. Jaskier bites his tongue to hide the slip. “You know what, I think I’ll stay in town. This new song needs some polishing before its debut. I’m sure a big witcher such as yourself doesn’t need a bard’s moral support for a meager basilisk, right?”

Jaskier adds a wink for good measure, but Geralt is not amused. He’s staring from his vantage point, his expression inexplicable. Is it really so shocking that Jaskier will turn Geralt down this once, after all this time?

“I understand.” Geralt pauses before continuing, almost too carefully. “Perhaps I can help? Sing it for me tonight?”

“Sing it…for you?” Jaskier asks, dumbfounded. The lute in his hands suddenly feels a lot weightier than it is.

“You wanted my review for so long, Jaskier. I’m giving it to you now. I’m sure your playing will be…nice.”

Geralt looks at him with hope in his eyes, and Jaskier can’t help but let his ego grow a little. It’s unbelievable that a simple refusal is what got Geralt to finally say anything positive about his music. The tiny triumph fills his chest with unexpected giddiness.

“Maybe I will. We shall see,” he replies. His fingers strike another chord.

Jaskier feels a spring in his steps, urging him forward to the mare’s steady gait. Golden amber eyes are burning a hole into his back, but he doesn’t dare to look back lest the tiny bubble of this perfect moment break.

 ---

Night falls, and Jaskier scribbles down another line. The door opens and Geralt drags his feet into their shared room.

Jaskier makes no effort to get up.

Once upon a time, he would have raced across the room to greet Geralt, checked for injuries and fussed over any scrapes and cuts, all the while getting dismissed with the witcher’s grumbled words. He’d help remove those heavy armors when Geralt’s muscles ache from exhaustion and get ichor all over himself.

He will not do that tonight.

Play it cool, Essi’s words echo in his memory. Right, he’s doing things differently now.

Jaskier fixes his gaze on the notebook in his lap and listens as Geralt shuffles around the room, putting everything back in place. One by one, his armor pieces drop in the corner of the room.

“How was it?” he asks with the most nonchalant tone as if he’s just noticed the other man’s existence.

“Fine. The basilisk’s dead.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier chooses the single hum uncharacteristically as Geralt puts his swords against the doorframe and sits down on the single chair.

He’s so still, hovering even.

“What?” Jaskier finally looks at him. Geralt, as he claimed, looks fine, with only a smudge of a black ichor sticking to his hair. A frown appears between his brows.

Adorable.

Jaskier shakes the thought quickly.

“Your new song?” Geralt prompts.

“Oh yeah. Never mind. I don’t feel like singing.”

It’s another lie. A necessary one, Jaskier tells himself.

“You,” Geralt says, raising an eyebrow, “don’t feel like singing?”

Jaskier clutches the notebook to his chest almost defensively, not sure what to do with the accusation. Is it a tragedy that Geralt knows him like the back of his hand? Or is it a shame that Jaskier is indeed buzzing with excitement to test out this song, with the most important person in his life?

“Well, I don’t.”

Jaskier keeps his chin up and scrambles off the bed to put away his books and pens. Geralt’s intent gaze is on his back again.

“Twenty years, and I’ve never known you to turn down an opportunity to sing.”

“I guess you don’t know me that well,” Jaskier bites back with a force that seems to come out of nowhere. “The bard may not want to entertain all the time, darling.”

The endearment sounds false, more like a jab. He lets out a dry chuckle and hopes to ease the tension but to no avail. Geralt’s eyes are wide with surprise. So Jaskier reaches for his bedroll as a distraction, but only serves to make the confusion deepen on Geralt’s face.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier lays it by the fire, on the soft rug that magically seems clean enough. It should be self-explanatory, but apparently not because Geralt is still staring quizzically.

“Sleeping.”

Geralt looks at the double bed and then back at Jaskier. “On the floor?”

“Thought I’d give you the space. I know how keyed up you are after the potions.”

Jaskier can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the nervous energy buzzing as more words he doesn’t mean comes out of his mouth. He crosses his legs on the bedroll and pulls the blanket onto his lap to hide from Geralt’s scrutiny. But then, something dawns on Geralt’s face.

“Jaskier…” Geralt rubs his forehead, his face pinched. “What I said in Oxenfurt, I meant it.”

“You do?”

“You can count on me now. It won’t be like…before.”

Their gazes meet, and Jaskier bears the intensity of it with everything he has. He feels bare, seen through by the amber gold he’s missed and cursed and loved so much.

“I’m here, and I’m all here, Jaskier. Please believe in me.”

“I do.”

It’s not the truth despite how much he wants to believe it. Jaskier wonders if lying to Geralt ever becomes easier.

He doesn’t know what is not convincing him. Geralt looks so genuine, and Jaskier wants more than anything to trust him again, but the smile on his face feels too stiff.

The plan is going as Jaskier wanted. He’s showing Geralt that his friendship doesn’t come freely anymore, and the witcher needs to make more effort, meet him halfway, somehow. Then how come as the quiet night creeps in, Jaskier only finds a hollow space in his chest?

The roaring fire in the hearth warms his back, but Jaskier clutches his blanket tighter. It can’t stave off the coldness left by the lack of a witcher’s body by his side.

 ---

Jaskier continues with the same scheme the next day.

Ignoring Geralt is not a difficult task in the beginning. The barmaid is a beautiful thing, doe-eyed and curious, has too many questions for her own good. She keeps asking about Jaskier’s ballads, and wouldn’t quite believe any crazy stories in them.

“Is it true that the White Wolf fought a sea serpent on the Skellige Isles? Surely, those creatures only exist in legends!”

She’s getting familiar, pressed up against Jaskier on the bench, almost pushing him back into Geralt’s side—the real subject of the topic, but it’s obvious her fascination lies only in Jaskier. Her brown eyes stay on the bard alone.

“Why don’t we find somewhere more private and I’ll tell you all about it?”

“Is it a good one? It must be a heroic tale, isn’t it?”

“Heroic, of course. There’s also a twist. I won’t spoil it for you, but—” Jaskier winks, his fingers brushing past her wrist. “—it’s a love story that holds more heartbreak than you can bear.”

Her giggles are like soft wind chimes, and Jaskier guides her away from their table. He takes two steps and turns back, smacking himself on the head as if he’s only just thought of it.

“Oh, shoot! I know I promised to go the market with you, Geralt, but you see…” He gestures to the girl waiting expectantly in the near distance. There’s nothing I can do about it, he says with a shrug. “Have a good time, will you?”

Geralt is holding his tankard, his knuckles white and his face ice-cold. It’s like Jaskier is looking at one of those ice sculptures made by Oxenfurt’s art students every winter.

“You said you’d come.”

Geralt’s voice is so gentle, so full of dejection that Jaskier’s resolve almost breaks. He clears his throat and darts his eyes elsewhere. Those acting coaches back in school would have been disappointed in him for letting his emotions peak through, but Geralt doesn’t seem to notice what’s underneath this front.

“Surely you can find a new bridle for Roach by yourself,” Jaskier waves his hand in dismissal. “You are a big witcher.”

Geralt opens his mouth and closes it, before speaking again. “And the pastry shop you wanted to visit?”

Jaskier thinks of the lemon cakes he’s been itching to try and swallows the yearning in his throat. Gods, being with Geralt all day with not a care in the world, and with the best sweets on the continent. What is he doing turning all this down?

“Well,” he insists, “Better company comes before cake, my dear.”

With that, Geralt lets go of the topic. His amber eyes drop back to the half-finished ale. “Better company. I see…”

“Surely you understand, Geralt.”

“Just—” Geralt purses his lips in an attempt at a smile. “Don’t exaggerate too much.”

Jaskier should feel bad as he walks out the tavern door with a beauty on his arm, he should, but instead, a pang of anger rises in his throat. How many times did Geralt abandon him at the sight of Yennefer in the past few years? How long did he brood on top of that mountain, recounting every bad choice he’d made in his life and decided that it was all Jaskier’s doing?

For once, Jaskier doesn’t want to put Geralt first in everything, waiting for a bone thrown in his direction, and the witcher—this infuriating man—is going to act like a kicked puppy.

Horrified at this burning rage, Jaskier turns only to watch helplessly as Geralt walks down the street in the opposite direction. He’s planted to the spot, unable to chase Geralt down, and clueless as to whether this plan is doing him any favors other than the fleeting satisfaction of getting back at his friend who was at fault.

Was.

Geralt was at fault. Jaskier has forgiven him, or at least, that’s what he said at first sight of his witcher’s travel-weary face back in Oxenfurt.

And yet, he’s punishing him still.

The barmaid is still waiting for Jaskier’s stories, her cheeks still round with a timid blush and her eyes gleaming with expectations.

The colorful adventures taste stale on his tongue and she loses interest too quickly before returning to her post. His mood sours further as the day stretches on.

Jaskier ends up wandering around town without an aim in mind. The only place he’s carefully avoiding is the market, and the stable, and the smith’s shop. Anywhere he might bump into Geralt. When night draws in, a sudden downpour catches him off guard and drenches him from inside out.

Great. Just the perfect ending to the worst—well, the second worst day of Jaskier’s life.

Candles are still lit as Jaskier enters the room. He finds Geralt fast asleep already, and on the table, right next to his writing supplies, is a lemon cake.

It’s drizzled in honey and looks just as enticing as he imagined.

Jaskier picks it up and finds a lump forming in his throat, choking him with guilt. He wants to scream, to let out the frustration at all the mistakes made in the past and haunting him still. He wants to cry. It’s just…

Now, he doesn’t know if he still deserves to.

---

Okay, I know I'm being mean to Geralt here, but don't worry, I’ gonna be mean to Jaskier in the next one ;) 

Also, whatever Jaskier is doing here is very unhealthy. Don't try this at home.

Tagging: @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[angelsfalling16]

Sometimes All I Think About Is You

Part of the 20 First Kisses Series

Summary: Baz loses a bet with Dev and Niall and has to wear a uniform skirt for a week, and it makes Simon act so crazy. He can’t handle that much of Baz's legs, and he's determined to prove that Baz is using it as a distraction from whatever he's plotting.

Word Count: 3068

A/N: This was based on this prompt that was sent to @carryonprompts. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it for a few days since I saw it, and I finally got the chance to sit down and write it today. (And of course, it fit perfectly as a 20fk fic :))

The title is from the song "Heat Waves" by Glass Animals

Read it on ao3

***

Simon

There’s a blast of magic, and the doors to the dining hall slam open.

This is a pretty regular occurrence, and everyone is pretty used to it by now, which means that I am one of the few people who look up to see who it is.

Baz walks in through the doors, sneering at Dev and Niall who follow him in. The two of them look like they’re about to burst into laughter at any moment while Baz has a near-murderous look on his face. (It’s an expression I know well.)

I’m not sure why the three of them look like that until my eyes fall down to Baz’s outfit for the day.

“What the hell?” I gasp.

“What did Baz do this time?” Penny asks in a bored tone, not even bothering to look up from

“Look,” I whisper.

She turns, and I use the moment to take in what Baz is wearing. He’s wearing his usual Watford blazer, but rather than his neatly pressed slacks, he has chosen to pair it with the pleated grey skirt that is usually reserved for the girls who choose to wear them.

Somehow, he manages not to look completely ridiculous. I would almost venture to say that he looks good in it. (Of course he does, the bastard. He doesn’t look bad in anything.)

His legs seem to stretch for miles beneath the too-short skirt that barely hits him mid-thigh, and I can’t seem to stop staring at them.

I’ve seen Baz’s legs before, of course. I mean he wears shorts all the time when he’s playing football, but this is different. I’m not supposed to be able to see his legs right now, so it feels wrong in a way. Yet, I can’t seem to look away.

“Hm. Interesting fashion choice,” Penny says, turning back to her breakfast. “I guess there aren’t any rules against the boys wearing skirts since they’re technically still in dress code.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird.”

“How?”

“I—. I don’t kn-know.” I shrug. I guess it’s just different than what I’m used to. But different isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was just a shock to see him dressed like that. “I guess it’s not. It’s just surprising.”

My eyes follow Baz around the room as he grabs some food and sits down at his table, snickers following him as he walks. From Dev and Niall. No one else seems to really care how Baz decided to dress today.

I try to pretend not to care either, turning back to my own food, but I can’t stop my gaze from wandering over to Baz.

***

I can’t keep my eyes off of Baz the rest of the day either, no matter how hard I try. There’s just something about the way he looks in that skirt that has my eyes glued to him, and it takes my full attention to try to figure it out.

Finally, as I stumble through the lesson in our final class of the day, I figure it out.

Baz is plotting something, and he’s wearing the skirt to throw me off his trail. He wants me focused on what he’s wearing instead of whatever it is that he’s planning. It almost worked, too. I haven’t been able to think about much except that skirt.

I mentally shake myself, feeling foolish. I almost let Baz trick me. If he had managed to keep me distracted, he could have gotten away with whatever he wanted.

Now, I absolutely cannot take my eyes off of him. I have to follow him and figure out his nefarious plan.

***

I follow Baz around for the next several days, and he keeps wearing that skirt, trying to distract me. But I won't let him get away with it. I will figure out what he’s up to and stop him.

Currently, it’s Friday afternoon, and I haven’t stopped watching since the moment he walked into the dining hall for tea. (Without blasting the doors open this time.)

“I know he’s up to something,” I murmur, more to myself than to Penny, but she responds anyway.

“Simon, I mean this in the kindest way possible, but you’re being an idiot.”

“What?” I ask, so shocked that I tear my eyes off of Baz in order to look at her.

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe he just likes wearing a skirt and that’s why he’s doing it?”

I consider this possibility briefly and silently acknowledge that she has a point, but, “It can’t be that simple. There has to be something more to it.”

“Why?” She asks, sounding exasperated.

“Because it’s Baz. He is always planning something. He’s just trying to distract me,” I explain to her for the third time in just as many days.

She sighs, like she’s giving up on me. “Fine. But consider this: your obsession with Baz’s skirt has nothing to do with the fact that he might be plotting something.”

“What do you mean? What else would it have to do with?”

She shakes her head. “Only you can answer that, and I think it will be better if you figure it out on your own.”

I frown, confused. I don’t have any idea what Penny is on about. The only reason I’m watching Baz so much is to stop his wicked plots.

...Right?

I look over to his table, but he’s gone. He must have left while I was talking to Penny, which means he’s on his way to football practice and is probably changing into his football shorts at this moment.

There’s a weird pang in my chest, almost like disappointment, but I know that can’t be right. Why would I be disappointed by Baz taking off the skirt?

I wouldn’t. What Penny said is just messing with my head.

I quickly finish my tea and scones and rush out the doors to follow Baz. I can’t let him out of my sight.

 Baz

I cannot wait until this dare is over. I’m not sure that I can handle another minute of Simon’s watchful gaze following me everywhere I go. It has gotten worse this week, and I swear I’m going to suffocate under the weight of all of his attention.

Everyone else in the school got over me wearing this skirt after the first day – or rather, the first hour, but Simon seems to be getting more interested in it with every second that passes. I don’t understand why he cares so much. It’s just a skirt.

Luckily, there are only a couple more hours left of this ridiculous dare.

Dev and Niall agreed to let me change out of the skirt during football practice only if I immediately put it back on and wore it all the way through dinner and until I went up to my room for the night. (I can’t even begin to imagine what Coach Mac would have said if I had shown up to practice in a skirt.)

I already got enough attention from the skirt the first time I wore it. Everyone’s eyes were on me as I walked around the school in it. No one dared say a word to me about it, though. Probably because they knew that I wouldn’t hesitate to blast them away with just a few words and flick of my wand.

Now, as I head to the library after dinner, I tug at the skirt self-consciously, glad that I only have to wear this until after dinner. I can’t believe that I actually agreed to this bet. Or that I lost. Or that Dev just had this skirt lying around in his wardrobe.

“No questions,” he said as he handed it to me. I raised my eyebrows at him but said nothing.

I had to spell the skirt to fit me, but it wasn’t too far off from my own size. The only thing I didn’t change was the length. Most girls wear their skirts longer, but if I’m going to go through with this dare, I’m keeping the skirt exactly how Dev had it. I won’t lie, I’m curious as to where Dev might have gotten it, but I respect his privacy enough not to bother him about it.

I wish I could say the same for everyone else.

I’d probably be staring at me, too, because it’s so different from what I usually wear at school, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not annoyed. There is one person’s eyes on me that is particularly getting to me.

From the moment I stepped into the dining hall on Monday, Snow’s eyes have tracked my every moment. He was so shocked by my appearance that his mouth fell open, and he stared at me for a full minute before Bunce said something to him.

Ever since then, I have felt him following me, closer than ever before, and he looks like he wants to say something. He hasn’t yet, and I’m unsure what is holding him back. Even though I’ve been doing my best to avoid him, there have been several moments when he could have corned me and said whatever he wanted.

I am relieved he hasn’t, though, because I am simply not in the mood to listen to him make fun of me. Especially since if this weren’t so against the social norm, I might feel inclined to dress like this a little more often.

Simon Snow is the last person I want to hear making fun of me for wearing something that makes me feel more like myself than anything else.

 Simon

“Would you please stop drooling over Baz’s legs and focus. You were the one who wanted to study today.”

“I’m not drooling!” I say defensively, my voice a little too loud for the library.

“You’re like two minutes away from it. You haven’t stopped staring at his legs all day.”

She gives me this look that leaves absolutely no room for argument, so I press my lips tightly together and turn my attention back to my notes. We have an important exam coming up, but I can’t focus, not with Baz sitting over there dressed like that.

I have to confront him about it. Ask him what he’s plotting.

Finally, I’ve had enough, and when Baz gets up to go in search of a book, it’s the perfect opportunity.

I stand and Penny sighs but doesn’t say anything. This is likely paired with one of her signature eye rolls, but I can’t bring myself to look her in the face right now, so I don’t know for sure.

I watch Baz disappear between the stacks and follow after him.

Maybe I’ll actually be able to get him alone this time. I’ve been trying to talk to him all day, but I didn’t want to make a big scene in front of everyone, and I could never get him alone.

I find him towards the back of the library and realize that I never actually figured out what I would say to him once I finally got the chance to talk to him, and my mind goes blank as my eyes once again fall to the skirt he’s wearing.

“What the hell are you doing?” I blurt.

Well, that probably wasn’t the best thing to say.

 Baz

Simon’s exclamation startles me, but I go very still in the hopes that he won’t notice. I didn’t even know he was in the library. I thought I would be safe from him here, but sure enough, when I turn around, he’s standing behind me with an intense expression.

“What do you mean?” I sneer, trying to play it cool.

“I know you’re plotting something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He takes a step closer to me, and my heart starts racing. My cheeks flush, too, and I’m not really sure why.

Simon’s eyes drop to my skirt as if that’s answer enough, and I’m pretty sure his own cheeks go a little red as stares at me.

That’s interesting, I think.

“You know, Snow, if you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do is say so.” I say it just to see how he’ll react. To test something.

He really is blushing now and stutters out a bunch of sounds that don’t make up any real words.

He doesn’t hit me, though. He doesn’t even deny it. His pale skin just keeps getting redder until it looks like all of the blood in his body might be in his face. It’s kind of cute but also confusing. Why is he reacting like this?

“That’s not—. I mean—. What are you planning?” He says, trying to sound fierce, but in reality, he just sounds nervous. It truly is interesting.

“Nothing. I just like wearing skirts.” I tell him the truth only because I know he won’t believe it.

He growls at me and takes another step forward. I try to back away from him, not trusting what I might do if he gets too close to me, but I bump into a shelf and have been effectively cornered by him.

“You’ve got me where you want me,” I say, a little too breathily. “Now, what?”

He shakes his head, and I’m not sure if it’s at me or himself. He doesn’t say anything, just takes another step forward until we’re mere inches apart.

I glance around us, but we’re all alone. He has me trapped, and I don’t even mind. Even if he were about to kill me, I don’t think I’d stop him. I might kiss him first, but I wouldn’t mind dying with Simon Snow this close to me.

A long moment stretches out between us as we stand like this, practically staring each other down. Then, his eyes move to my mouth then my skirt then back to my face, and I try not to shift under his gaze, try not to care.

But then something shifts in his expression, and he starts to lean in closer until our lips are a breath apart.

Simon

Maybe this is what Penny meant earlier.

I wasn’t obsessed about Baz wearing a skirt because I thought he was plotting something. It was because I was attracted to him in it.

Once that thought enters my mind, it’s like everything else seems to click into place.

The skirt isn’t the only thing attracting me to Baz. I’ve felt this way about him before, I just always buried it and threw myself into figuring out what he was plotting.

But it was always so much more than that.

I watch Baz a lot. The way he casts spells, using his magic so effortlessly. The way he pushes his out of his sparkling grey eyes when it comes loose from its slicked back state. The way his hair almost starts to curl when he gets out of the shower. The way he smiles when he thinks no one is watching, like he is truly happy.

The thoughts and realizations keep circling in my mind until I realize that I desperately want to kiss him.

I start to lean forward but stop, wondering if I’m making a mistake. What if Baz doesn’t want this?

 Baz

Simon hesitates briefly, meeting my eyes, like he’s waiting for me to tell him no or push him away, but I’m not going to stop him. I don’t have that kind of willpower.

I nod at him, and that’s all it takes for him to close the distance between us.

His lips press to mine softly at first then more firmly once he realizes I’m really not going to stop him. I can’t stop the sigh that escapes me as he kisses me like it’s the only thing he wants to do.

I kiss him back slowly, afraid that this is all a dream, but it’s not. It’s so utterly real. Simon Snow is kissing me.

With that thought, I put everything I have into the kiss, tilting my head to deepen it and putting my hands on his hips to deepen the kiss.

It feels weird to feel Simon against my bare leg. I mean, it feels weird to have him this close in general, but also, it feels nice.

He’s so warm, and I didn’t realize that I had been freezing all day with my legs uncovered until Simon’s natural body heat starts to warm me up.

I smile into the kiss as one of his hands finds its way into my hair, tangling there. His other hand slides down my side until he reaches the edge of my shirt and hem of the skirt. He stops there, like he’s found exactly what he was looking for.

Damn, I think, pulling back to catch my breath, if I had known that wearing a skirt would get this reaction from Simon, I might have worn one a lot sooner.

Apparently I say that last bit out loud because Simon agrees. “You should. It looks better on you than anyone else.”

I feel all of the blood in my body rise to my face in a deep blush, and I kiss Simon again in the hopes that he won’t notice how pleased I am by his words.

I have never told anyone how dressing in girl’s clothes really makes me feel, so it makes me feel elated to hear Simon say he likes it.

This isn’t the first time I’ve tried on a skirt, but it’s the first time I’ve worn one in front of other people. Which is why I accepted the bet. And why I intentionally lost. I wanted to try it out. I wanted to see how other people might react while being able to say that I didn’t have a choice if things didn’t go too well.

This week has given me hope, though. It made me feel like I could dress like this more often if I wanted to. And maybe I really will.

I don’t think I would want to dress like a girl all the time or that I want to be a girl, but occasionally dressing like this makes me feel really good. It feels right.

I kiss Simon harder, happy that I can be myself and be allowed to kiss him when I never thought I would be able to do either of those things.

[writeforfandoms]

Merry Go Round of Life 5

Find my masterlist 

Part five y’all! Getting a bit more plotty. Things are happening. 

This will be Din Djarin x f!reader eventually. Don’t hold your breath folks, this one’s a slow burn. Sort of. 

Warnings: The kid being cute and trouble. Minor swearing. That’s it. 

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!): @tibbietibbs @fandom-blackhole @shoopidly @pedrocentric @Beskarprincessjenny @sarahjkl82-blog @cannedsoupsucks​ 

 Chapter five: In which there are interruptions

Over the course of the rest of the day, you learned a few things.

First and foremost: Djarin didn’t talk much, but he wasn’t harsh. He was gentle with the kid, and when he did have to speak he was polite. 

Second: the kid was cute but he was trouble. He would attempt to get into everything if you didn’t keep a very close eye on him. Fortunately he didn’t try to climb into the fireplace, but everything else was fair game. Under your cot? Up the bookcase? Under the workbench? Attempting to climb the pantry shelves? All things the little one had done just that day. 

Third: while Peli was not forthcoming with information, she was at least talkative. Which is how you learned that the kid had joined Djarin months previous under mysterious circumstances. You also learned where the door opened.

The blue blob led to Kamino, a seaside city you’d never been to. This door seemed attached to a storefront, and didn’t move. The green blob led to the hills around Kalevala, where the castle was in fact roaming. The red blob led to the capitol, Mandalore. This door was also attached to a storefront, far enough from the center of the city to not be in the thick of things but still busy enough when you cautiously cracked open the door. 

But the black blob Peli would tell you nothing about. She clammed up and hid under her logs when you tried to get more information out of her. Huffing, you gave up on that avenue, for now. 

There were multiple other knocks at the door throughout the day, and every single time, Djarin got there before you could. Which did not stop you from snooping, not at all. You hovered behind him, out of sight of whoever was on the other side of the door, and listened. Which is how you learned that he was polite, at least. People came to him for all sorts of things - a charm for safe travels, something to help the garden, something to keep track of children. That last one caused the wizard to scoff. 

But still you found no clues, no hints, nothing useful. Peli would give you looks every so often but you had no idea what that meant. 

After Djarin had taken the kid upstairs for the night, you found yourself in the armchair, soaking in the warmth from the fire. That was one (of many) downside to being old - you got cold more easily. Fortunately, Peli didn’t seem to mind you sitting there, so long as you left a couple logs in easy reach for her. 

“How did you end up here?” you asked her, unable to contain your curiosity. Not that you tried all that hard. 

Peli paused at that, watching you. “Wizard stuff,” she answered at length. 

“Wizard stuff,” you repeated slowly, very dryly. 

“Yes.” 

You stared at Peli as you might Winta after you’d caught her sneaking cookies before lunch. (It had been very effective on your niece.) You needed information. You were not a mind reader, or a witch, or anything helpful. You were just a seamstress. 

Peli cracked first. "I can't just tell you," she grumbled, hunkering down into her logs. "It's wizard stuff. I can't say."

It dawned on you then that she really might not be able to say. It was like your curse - you couldn't talk about it. So you nodded slowly to show you'd heard her.

"What can you tell me?" You asked her, leaning forward in your chair. 

Peli crackled and grumbled, pushing her logs around to rearrange them. You could see ash under them, of course, and the base of the fire. It almost looked like there was something in the middle, there, something from which the fire started. 

“I can’t tell you much,” she finally said, logs sufficiently rearranged. “But I can’t leave this hearth. I run all the magic keeping the castle moving, and I maintain the doorway.”

“Maintain.” You latched onto that word, eyes narrowing a little. “But you didn’t create it?”

“No,” Peli said, sounding offended. “Not my job. Not my area of expertise, either. I’m best at maintaining things, keeping things going.”

So the wizard had likely done all the spellwork, and Peli maintained it. Interesting. Why, you weren’t quite sure yet, but at least you had a little more information now. 

“So basically you keep up the castle,” you said, watching her. 

“I’m a powerful fire demon,” Peli grumbled, hunkering down a bit and very clearly sulking. “I’m older than all of you combined. I didn’t used to be chained to this fireplace, you know. I used to be--” She stopped abruptly, and after a few moments of silence there was a series of hissing sounds. Cursing in fire demon, you presumed, based on the tone. “Well, let’s just say I used to be a lot more free than this.” Her tone had shifted to something wistful and aching. You felt an answering tug in your heart. 

“Is that why you want me to break your curse?” you asked, voice lowered a little, gentled. “So you can be free of this place?”

Peli managed a shrug, which was an interesting thing for a fire to do. “One reason, yeah,” she agreed in a mumble. 

You hummed, caught between sympathy and deep curiosity, and stood carefully. “I’m going to bed,” you told the fire.

“Before you go,” Peli started, shrinking down a bit. “Stack a couple more logs for me?”

You sighed but did as she asked, setting them in easy reach. Then you flapped a hand at her and went to lay down on the cot. It was more comfortable than the chair, and you groaned quietly as something (or several somethings) in your back popped. 

So you had a curse, a fire demon, and a wizard. Peli had implied that the curse on her had something to do with the wizard, but she never outright said the wizard had placed the curse on her.

But wouldn’t he have? A witch placed the curse on you, so the logic followed. Probably. Then again, what did you know about magic? Almost nothing. You groaned quietly again at that, well aware that you could go in circles for ages.

Okay, okay. Curse. Peli had promised you would get hints, but so far you hadn’t found any, or heard any. Unless you’d missed something? That was possible. But it wasn’t like you could just ask Peli to clarify for you, either. 

You sighed. How were you supposed to break the curse on Peli if you didn’t even know what the curse was? Surely there must be a way to figure this out. It would probably take more time, that was all. You just hadn’t given yourself enough time yet. 

You woke to two little hands patting your face. You blinked yourself awake carefully, peering blearily up at the child, who was on the cot with you and beaming at you as he tapped his little hands against your cheeks again.

“Good morning,” you muttered, cradling the child as you sat up. 

“Kid,” Djarin said gruffly from somewhere over by Peli. “I told you to let her sleep.” 

The kid just grinned at you and cooed.

“He’s fine,” you told the wizard, carefully twisting enough to crack your back. You stood carefully and made your way to the table with the child, looking at the simple breakfast already set out. The kid wasted no time, diving on the food as soon as he was set down. Choosing to pick your battles for the moment, you ignored the complete lack of table manners and instead watched as Djarin carried the kettle over to the tea pot, pouring the hot water in carefully. 

“Thank you,” you murmured to the wizard, spotting three plates and three mugs. He dipped his helmet to you wordlessly. Apparently in your new old age, your verbal filters had decayed, as you asked him, “Do you ever remove the helmet? It looks uncomfortable.”

The wizard froze for several long moments. Then he shrugged a bit. “I’m used to it,” he answered, carefully, almost testing the words for himself. “I don’t usually remove it around other people.”

“Why do you wear it?” you asked, giving him a quick once-over. You remembered seeing a helmet like his before, on the Witch, but she hadn’t been wearing hers. 

“Protects the face from spells gone wrong,” he answered. You couldn’t tell if he was being entirely serious or not. But you ceased questioning him, instead pouring out tea for the three of you. 

“Sugar?” you asked.

“You don’t have to--” the wizard started. 

You snorted and interrupted him. “Neither did you,” you pointed out, looking meaningfully at the table. 

His shoulders slumped and he seemed to accept your logic. “Two,” he told you, sounding vaguely grumpy under that helmet.

You hummed, pleased, and put two sugars in his tea. “I’d take the child off so you can eat in peace but I’m afraid he’ll make a mess,” you admitted.

“It’s fine,” Djarin assured you, picking up his plate and his tea. He took both upstairs with him. 

Breakfast and cleanup didn’t take long, and then you played with the child. Again. Djarin thumped his way back down the stairs at some point, looking at the two of you before heading for the door. Then he stopped and turned to look at you again. 

“I’ll be out the rest of the day,” he warned. “Don’t wait up for me.” He paused again, considering something. “Do you… need anything?”

“Thank you but no,” you told him. “The child could use a few toys, however. It would help keep him out of mischief.”

The wizard straightened at that and nodded. He looked rather like a man on a quest, or at least you presumed so from his body language seeing as you couldn’t see his expression. He turned with a flap of his cloak and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

[studyvibes]

Hello guys so I thought it would be nice to translate an interview with Maneskin which is originally in Russian.

Thank you @teatrodellavita for sending me the link for the interview ❤️

So to warn you all before you read the translated interview, this is translation everything from Russian to English so all the maneskin answers were basically translated x2 (Italian -> Russian -> English) so there might be some Chinese whisper/telephone effect. Also I struggle with Russian idioms/metaphors so I’ll note them if they are during the interview.

I’ll leave the link here so you can follow the time stamps all of the questions. Also I tried my best making a nice structure which was hard because this whole post was written on tumblr mobile app

https://youtu.be/16NIbGDcycI

(I’ll be writing in personal notes to explain some parts in italic and bold)

So the video starts with the host making a parody of 80s Italy video promoting a vinyl. I am not sure, correct me if I am wrong, but I think that’s a reference to their New Years special episode. I skipped parts of the host talking because I don’t see it relevant to the Maneskin interview. Also I’d like to note that if you want to compare the host he is similar in hosting style like Jimmy Kimmel, he trying to ask questions with a bit of humour

[2:02] Host: Our guest, the winners of Eurovision: Maneskin!!!

[2:08] Maneskin performing I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE

[4:59] Host: Maneskin!!! *clapping*

Damiano: Thank you

Host: Thank you! Grazie! (Says other random Italian phrases, which I don’t know how to spell)

[5:21] Host: I was informed that on Yandex Music in our country (YandexMusic is a streaming service) you became more popular than Billie Eilish. You are the most popular band/group in the country based on streaming your music.

Host: Tell me how do you feel about Billie Eilish? Are you happy that you surpassed quiet singing woman from America (he didn’t mean it in harsh way more like a joke way)

Victoria: Poor Billie

Damiano: We really like her. There isn’t any competition with her, it’s not that important. But we are happy that our audience is here.

*audience clapping*

[5:55] Host: (said something that I couldn’t hear because of the clapping)

Host: You know, thanks to you we noticed how much in TV and Russia we see rarer and rarer people come/visit in leather and lace

*audience laugh in the background*

Host: And honestly speaking, looking at you we realize how much we miss it, we lack it, you have very very beautiful costumes/outfits

Damiano: thank you very much

Host: it just lacking blue and then a bit we’ll have a russian flag

*audience laugh*

[6:31] Host: what are your thoughts/feelings of Russia? What are your thoughts/feelings of meeting your fans? Where did you go? You are already a couple of days here, what did you like?

Damiano: Very pretty. It is very rare when we could go for walk, we saw the Red Square. The public is very warm so we appreciate/it’s very nice.

Victoria/Damiano (Not sure if this translated part was from Victoria or Damiano): We received a lot of Vodka as gifts

Ethan: and chocolate

Host: In this country you are the first people to receive vodka as a gift. (I think it’s sarcasm because I know a lot of people who received vodka as a visitor/ gifted vodka for visitors)

*audience laughs*

Host: but it’s ok, maybe it’ll become a tradition.

[7:04] Host: Tell me, a bit, for all of us who know you after the Eurovision. How was the band created? Who first joined the band. Am I right that Thomas, Victoria, you *pointing Thomas and Victoria* you first then Damiano joined? Tell us

Thomas: We went to the same school, and during that time we met each other. Then Damiano joined our band and then we made the band. A lot of different people came to us - we were looking for a soloist and drummer

Victoria: and during that time Damiano joined us.

Victoria:We choose Damiano because he was the only who could actually sing

Thomas: and then later Ethan joined the band. We found him *pointing at Ethan* on Facebook

Host: So you wrote something that you are looking for a drummer right? How did it happen? What did you write, what to write so I can join you as the 5th member with accordion

*audience laughing*

Ethan: Accordion is a bit difficult instrument *audience laughing* to use in rock music, but you can send us your resume, we will look at it.

[8:35] Host: We have a question from our band called ‘фрукты (Fruits)’ which is performing already 10 years. So the question is: you, just like the band Fruits, started from street performing, right? Like outside nearly at the streets of Via de Corso in Rome?

Damiano: Yes

Host: When you performed outside did you already wear the same costumes/outfits? How much as an estimate did you earn a day? It’s very interesting, a lot of bands will travel to that street, to repeat your journey.

Victoria: We dressed worse

Damiano: We dressed the style of hippie, but we earned a bit of money. One time, one boy came up and dropped for us 20 euros. It didn’t matter on the day, and one time a guy/young man came up and dropped 50 euros in to our box.

*Host pointing at himself proudly, audience laughing*

Victoria: So it was you!

Host: Oofcourse

Victoria: We thought we saw your face somewhere before.

*audience laughing*

Host: Of course guys, I left the boutique and thought hmmm what do I do with useless money, ofcourse.

[9:50] Host: Also about the band Fruits I just can’t not say it, Damiano, when you turn to your profile, *asking camera men to move the camera close up to the soloist of the band Fruits* *we see her side profile* I think during your childhood you both were separated, you look so alike. Damiano, maybe you have relatives in this country.

Damiano: *Damiano laughs*

Damiano: Maybe

*continues laughing*

Host: maybe, maybe

Damiano: It is possible, my dad was in Russia. *Damiano starts to laugh more, audience and laughing and clapping, camera goes on the soloist of the band Fruits smiling looking shy/embarrassed*

Host: She has the exact same story, her mother was visiting Italy

[10:23] Host: I can’t stop talking about your costumes/outfits (positively). And that you returned us faith/hope in Italian music in our country, which we really really love here, but also faith/hope in rock music. You are a group which uses more than one guitar and doesn’t used a drum machine and suddenly became very popular that we grateful for you because the word rock appeared and returned thanks to you.

Host:It is clear that you love rock music which is now considered the past rock and know the history of rock music. If you were offered to be able to go to a concert from the past, from any band, where would you want to go? Each one of you

Damiano: maybe the performance of Queen, would’ve been fun to see

Host: Victoria, which band and which performance?

Victoria: hmmm...possibly David Bowie, his tour.

Host: Ethan?

Ethan: If it was possible to return in the past, I would’ve traveled to the Woodstock

Victoria: he has has there contacts/ connections

*Damiano imitates smoking and laughs*

Host: oh I can’t repeat that after you

Host: and Thomas?

Thomas: I would go to the 70s for Jimi Hendrix

[12:00] Host: Where do you buy your clothes? Like from the basics, so I arrive to Rome and I have more than 50 euros, thank god, and I want to buy clothes. Where do I buy the clothes?

Maneskin (I wasn’t sure who’s comment the translator translated): just in the stores

*audience laughing*

Damiano: There is nothing funny *Damiano smiling* It’s true *He starts laughing*

Host: I’ll be honest I haven’t been in Rome for a very long time. But it’s in vintage stores right?

*Maneskin agreeing*

[12:30] Host: I have a very important moment, it is that you for the first time..mm.. finally brought back what we all missed and exactly that is bright and beautiful, outlined dignity male makeup on stage. Speaking of this..... talking veryyy slow so they can translate them quickly... speaking of this, I have a small favour/request ... *he kinda goes of track for a second* who does the make up, do you do it yourself?

Maneskin: no no

Damiano: no we have makeup artists, actually one makeup artist, very talented, well done. Between all of us, Victoria is best as makeup.

Host: Yeah, but with Victoria it’s understandable, it’s clear that she start trying makeup sooner than you did.

Host: I have an offer, imagine you don’t have your makeup artist and you have a person who urgently needs makeup applied. I would like to ask if you, Damiano, and the member could apply the makeup on my face? I honestly don’t know what you need to apply to makeup *he is opening palettes of makeup*

*Damiano stands up walking towards the host

Host: (in English) Thomas if you wanna, you know help, please.

*Thomas joins Damiano*

Host:(back in Russian) Victoria you can hint them

Translator: She (Victoria) said that you (Host) choose the wrong helpers

*audience laughs*

Host: Yeah? Then come join

*Victoria and Ethan join*

(Ok here it goes messy cause they are all talking and the translator instantly translates so I might have mixed up)

*Victoria points at some makeup product (can’t see which one)*

Host: This one?! Victoria...

Damiano: wait, I’ll go first, first add a bit of eyeliner

*Damiano applies eyeliner under the eye of the host*

Victoria: you started under the eye, you should’ve started from the top

Host: *joking* I’ll also always start with this line

*Victoria smiling shakes her head, audience laughing*

Damiano: Its the type of makeup you wear when you go grocery shopping

*Audience is laughing, host tries not to laugh while Damiano is applying eyeliner on him*

Host: I was actually planning to go grocery shopping

*Thomas and Victoria start applying eyeshadow on different parts of hosts face*

Host: Sto-wha- already other parts being applied?

*Audience laughing*

Host: Ok guys... but..

Host: Ethan is it ok? Your the only one I can trust in this group

Support host in the background: he’ll need to be returning home (as a joke implying he needs to look decent when he leaves the studio)

*Victoria applies makeup on the host lips*

Host: Also lips?! Hmmm

Ethan: you look good

Damiano: close your eyes *applies upper eyeliner*

Damiano: (in English) I don’t know what I am doing

Host: (in Russian) you don’t know what you are doing? No, that’s too late to tell me.

Damiano: (in English) that’s why we have a makeup artist

Host: (in Russian) no, wait, now your make up artist will say why am I even needed by this band.

Ethan: just a final touch *applies eyeshadow on the tip of the hosts nose, and walks away with two thumbs up*

*host laughs and then picks up mirror to look at the work*

Host: not bad guys, to be honest, not bad.

Damiano: (in Italian) No it’s true, look how pretty he is, very pretty

Host: guys I want to tell you one thing: never fire your make up artist

*audience laughing*

Host: Thank you for your visit and we are very grateful for your performance

Host: And what can I say, we are waiting here and with the whole company will to you concert. Grazie mille

————————————

Ooooooff that took wayyyy longer I planned, it was hard because I had to relisten some parts to know who actually said, like it is easier when it’s only one person cause I get to translate quicker.

Anyways, hope you all enjoyed this translation, if you have any maneskin interviews in Russian or German (warning: my German is a bit ruff from lack of practicing) which you would like me to translate, message me :)

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Echoes of the Past" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

What probably gets debated the most in the fandom is the legitimacy behind King being the King of Demons. Some believe that there's truth to his statement, while others, like me, like to think that he was just some stray Eda picked up off the streets. Either option seemed likely, especially since Season One never gave an answer that leaned one way or the other.

Then here comes the writers finally answering the question of who King is in episode THREE of Season Two! Because, again, they don't waste time on giving fans exactly what they want.

Fans wanted answers behind King, we got 'em, and analyzing what those answers mean requires going deep into spoilers. So if you haven't checked the episode out yet, I highly recommend that you do. Trust me, it's worth seeing.

Now let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Luz Experimenting with Spells: Hey, look! More proof that Luz isn't an idiot like some people flanderize her to be!

But, seriously though, this is a perfect little thread to introduce into the story. Luz collecting knowledge from Lilith's old books and past work she and Eda made adds to Luz's intelligence while also providing a believable explanation for how she gets new spells. It's also nice to see that she has this little notebook (or spellbook) to help see what works and what doesn't. It's a level of experimentation that proves her dedication to becoming a witch while also exemplifying how she isn't stupid. Occasionally reckless, sure, but you can't say that the person who figured out an invisibility spell through showing her work is also an idiot.

Francios with a Knife: How did Francois get a knife? I don't know. But the fact that a random knife plopped out behind him with little to no explanation is funny, and I will not hear otherwise.

I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

Luz’s Invisibility Spell: I breezed past this, but I honestly love this invisibility spell. More specifically, I love that there's a limiter. It can turn you, objects, and people you're in contact with invisible, but only as long as you can hold your breath. It helps make the spell something the characters can't always rely on, which is appreciated. Because if it works as long as they concentrate, what's stopping them from sneaking into Belos' castle and assassinating him in his sleep? It's a smart way of explaining why they can't always rely on something, despite how insanely useful it is.

Luz: Let's gush about Luz some more, shall we!

"Echoes of the Past" is another episode that has Luz on top form. She is constantly supportive of King, even if Lilith has a point in the dangers of indulging his fantasy as a powerful tyrant. Doing so would cause more harm than good, especially when King finds out Luz doesn't believe him, but her going along with it was all done with the best of intentions. Luz doesn't want to hurt her friend, and even if she did in the long run, she still makes up for it by helping King learn more about his past.

And, as another reminder, Luz isn't stupid. She's the first to say they should leave when it's clear how dangerous the castle is and is quick to figure out there should be more at the top. Luz is a loyal and caring friend who's also guarded and intuitive when the situation calls for it. This episode understood that, so here's hoping other fans will too.

Lilith: Yeah, she's still growing on me.

I feel like this episode shows a better idea of Lilith's place in the group more than the past two. She's a person who's obsessed with knowledge and learning but considers herself above the jovial nature of King, Luz, and definitely Eda. Therefore, she acts as the perfect catalyst for what jumpstarts this week's adventure. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest that she almost instantly dismisses King's claims due to considering herself more knowledgeable than everyone else. Still, I like how she's willing to believe King once she finally sees evidence that seemingly proves he really was the King of Demons, to the point of referring to him as "her lord." Hooty does the same thing, but it comes across as him fearing for his own life and choosing to be friends with someone who could maybe kill him in an instant. For Lilith, her newfound respect comes from the desire to learn more, and it's that desire that makes Lilith an enjoyable character to me. It's adorable to see, and it has some comedic flavor in moments like when she dismisses everyone else and their emotional revelations to take pictures of the carvings around her. I'm sure she'll cause some controversy like other characters with rushed reformations, but for me, I'm more than ok with her addition to the main cast.

More of Lilith’s and Hooty’s Friendship: HOW DOES THIS WORK!?

ON PAPER, IT SEEMS LIKE IT WOULD BE A BAD IDEA, BUT IT F**KING WORKS!

HOW?!

WHAT BLACK MAGIC DID THESE WRITERS USE TO MAKE A RELATIONSHIP SO UNEXPECTED COME ACROSS AS SO ENDEARING AND ADORABLE?!

And where can I get some for my stories...just asking.

But seriously: HOW?!

Hooty Making Himself Portable: Ah, yes. The classic bit where a character does something horrifically grotesque off-screen, and we have nothing but character reactions and sound effects to imagine what happened between shot A and shot B. It's an oldie, but given how hard I was laughing (mostly because of Luz's gagging), it's still a goodie.

Eda’s Portable Bathtub Boat Thing: I mean...I was expecting Eda would use something to catch up with the others, but...that thing...well...I mean, I'm still laughing just by thinking about it. That should tell you how well executed this joke was.

John Luke: ...I'm gonna go ahead and add him to the list because HOLY S**T was this guy disturbing! From his design to his movements to even the sounds he makes when moving, everything about John Luke screams as something that will stay in kids' nightmares for a while. Now, this might seem like a complaint, but to be honest, I'm more than alright with how creepy John Luke is. I highly doubt adult viewers will consider John Luke scary, but I guarantee he'll terrify some of the youngins that this series is aimed for. And that's fine. It's good to creep kids out a little bit with something somewhat scary, as it might introduce them to more good horror stories later in life.

Plus, the reveal that John Luke was only a guard for King is pretty solid narratively speaking. You can see how John never really meant to hurt King aside from one accident when Eda escaped with him. If you want to read into it, I guess it might be questionable to tell kids that something that looks dangerous is secretly nice, but that's really nitpicky, in my opinion. John Luke was a fantastic threat that is designed and animated well, with a solidly executed twist. Some might hate what he presents, most will fear him, but we can all agree on one thing: His theme is awesome (can I get the track for that, please)!

King’s Backstory: Finally, at long last, we know who King is, thus putting an end to a year-long debate. And I fully mean it when I say that the writers gave the best possible answer. Because in a way, everyone was right. Yes, King was just an animal that Eda decided to adopt, like the nature-loving hippie she is inside (She's got the hair for it). However, while he may not be the King of Demons himself, he is still the son of someone who deserves that title. So while he isn't the King, there's a chance he might be the Prince. Once again, there's no direct answer, but given how the writers came up with something that pleases everyone while still providing more questions for debate, it acts as a brilliant move, in my opinion. So whatever answer we get next, I'm sure it will be just as perfect.

Baby King:

My heart was not prepared for that level of cuteness!

King’s Breakdown: NOR WAS IT READY FOR THIS LEVEL OF SADNESS!

But in all seriousness, a HUGE round of applause to Alex Hirsch for his performance in this episode. He expertly captured the raw emotions of shock, anger, betrayal, and sadness that King must have felt when finding out that everything he believed he was is a lie. It's one of those moments where I don't hear a person voicing lines in a booth (or wherever the hell VAs are voicing characters nowadays), but instead hear a living person being emotionally torn apart. It was heartbreaking seeing King so vulnerable as he's so guarded with his emotions. Seeing him like this adds so much more layers to a character that many would mistake him as a cute, comedic animal sidekick. But just like with Luz, there's more to him than people will tell you.

“I don’t even know what’s real or fake anymore!”: I'm just pointing out this line because I believe it's what convinces Luz to help King learn more about who he is. Hell, not knowing what's real or fake is the main reason why Luz got sent away in the first place, so I feel like she can relate to King when he's in a similar predicament.

Hooty and Lilith vs John Luke: This was just a cool scene with some epic moments of dodging John Luke's attacks and some funny ones, like how Hooty said the word "pain." It's a ten out of ten that I would rewind to watch again.

King’s Other Horn: I'd question the logistics of how a horn that got broken off when he was a baby still manages to fit perfectly in the present...but it is neat symbolism of King accepting his past and letting it be a part of him, so who cares?

(The fact that the colors of the broken-off piece don't match the rest of the horn is nice attention to detail as well.)

WHAT I DISLIKED

It's a Little Too Predictable: I pretty much figured almost every little twist the episode offers. But, I'm willing to say that's because I'm in my twenties, and I've seen enough stories similar to this one, so I'm more likely to know what will happen. The little monsters watching this will see it for the first time, so they'll most likely get more surprised than me...And that was my only complaint about the episode...which is more of a personal problem than an actual issue...I guess that means it's perfect.

IN CONCLUSION

"Echoes of the Past" is an easy A+ in my book. It gives lore and backstory that furtherly develops the characters that episodes like this should. It also tells a tragic story about King that still sprinkles in a few good jokes every now and again to lighten up the mood. Sure, there are some nitpicks I could mention (how did King remember his own birth?). But when the good stuff is done so well, what's the point of dwelling on small, insignificant issues? This is still a phenomenal episode that flew past all expectations I had for it, and it continues the winning steak this season is having so far.

(But that's still three home runs in a row. Meaning that a stinker is coming. Ooiee, is it coming!)

[slytherinsnekxvii]

hi, remember that murder snily au i'm always talking abt but never have anything to show for? yeah, i've scrapped it like six times now and i finally have a version of it i'm marginally satisfied with. so, here you go, this is the first part of maybe three or four, i think? have fun:

anger

/ˈaŋɡə/

noun

noun: anger; plural noun: angers

1. Normal anger does not split open one's ribcage and wind itself around their heart. Normal anger does not coat itself in venom and sit behind one's teeth and hide under their tongue and lie patiently in wait. Normal anger is not cold and slow and remorseless. Lily thinks that what she calls anger is normal. Lily does not realise that she is extraordinary.

Lily's brand of anger is decidedly... different. What, exactly, makes it so different isn't exactly obvious to her, but she knows that it's not like anyone else's. At least, not as far as she's aware. Hers is a cold sort of anger, an all-encompassing thing that bites and burns and hurts. It's patient, too, winding in and around her ribcage and clawing its way upwards to settle behind her teeth, waiting for a reason to show itself. It's protective, aiming to eliminate a threat before it has a chance to do further damage.

She's... aware of her anger. Not very much so, but it's seen the light of day often enough to be familiar to her. She doesn't know it, though, hasn't made herself properly acquainted with the more... unfortunate spectrum of her emotions, and that is what makes it truly dangerous.

When she feels something scratching at her insides and festering beneath a vindictive sort of justice at seeing Black and Potter and Lupin and Pettigrew suffer the displeasure of the Slytherins, she thinks it's anger. She finds herself in a dusty, unused classroom in the dungeons, helping to refine a brutal spell designed to rend the flesh of anyone unlucky enough to be on the wrong end of it and she thinks it's anger that curls around her and whispers into her ear, "Make sure it hurts."

It isn't. She calls it anger, claims it a necessity, insists that she's protecting her best friend, but she doesn't realise she's mistaken.

The story of the "Prank" gets out—doctored, of course, to keep Black out of Azkaban, and Lupin away from execution—and Lily titters into the back of her hand when she hears it told in bits and pieces throughout the corridors.

"Did you hear?"

"Who would've thought—"

"—bloody idiots went into the Forest! At night! What kind of—"

"—ll five of them, yeah. Can't figure out for the life of me how they managed to get Snape to go—"

"—must've dragged 'im kicking an' screamin', I'm telling y—"

"—Gryffindors, my left tit! Damn cowards just ran off and left Lupin and Snape to deal with—"

"—no clue what happened, but have you seen the scars?"

"—out of the Hospital Wing, already? How—"

"—down fifty points! All because that lot wanted to play jokes aga—"

She smiles, a tiny, smug thing that she doesn't notice, and moves on. The Slytherins are properly riled up now, Rosier and Mulciber and Wilkes and Avery hovering around her and Severus with expressions she can't describe as anything but sadistic. At some point, she realises that their presence makes her feel much less uncomfortable than it did a week ago. She doesn't dwell on it, ignoring the small part of her that worries and shivers in favour of leaning over Severus's shoulder to read about the sort of magic that appears in nightmares.

She grips her wand, idly twirling the twelve-and-a-half inches of willow and dragon heartstring as she skims over detailings of ancient, arcane magic. It's always about blood, she thinks, staring a diagram of a pricked finger dripping red into a cauldron. Potion for Transferring Magic from One Wizard to Another, the heading proclaims. She shakes her head, accidentally knocking into Severus's in the process. "Ow."

He winces a little, and then tells her, "I'm turning the page."

She hums, eyes glued to a book she wouldn't dare look at not even a week ago, and says, "Okay."

It's fascinating, Lily has to admit. Gruesome in some cases and horrific in others, yes, but there's something... mesmerising about it, something hideously captivating in the way that the diagrams seem to eagerly demonstrate their attached spells. On the page, a young wizard is neatly flayed alive, the entire process precise. Her stomach rolls, but Lily can't seem to tear her gaze away for even a second. She doesn't think about it.

She doesn't think about a lot of things, actually, staunchly refusing to acknowledge the way she finds herself drawn away from her Housemates and friends, instead choosing to orbit around her best friend and the seemingly endless rotation of Dark Arts tomes he's somehow gotten his hands on.

Mary's sick of her excuses, she knows, responding to every one with a nod and an, "Oh, alright, then," in that tone that lands somewhere in the middle of disappointment, exasperation and concern.

Marlene has given up entirely, the whole of their interactions reduced to simple greetings in the hall and nods when they pass each other between classes.

Dorcas is nice about it, still catching her arm on the way to breakfast, still offering to study with her when they're all together in the Common and she doesn't want anyone to feel left out. It's undeniable, though, that her smile isn't near as warm as it used to be and it's tinged with worry at the corners.

No one makes it a secret of what they think about her recent activities. And as for the company she's keeping? Well, they'd always been particularly vocal about that.

Things must come to a head eventually, and they do, not even ten minutes after Professor Sprout has dismissed them from the classroom on Wednesday afternoon. She hears the whispers first, half of them from students she doesn't even know, has never said a word to.

"—conspiring with snakes—"

"—think it's the first time I've heard of a Gryff going Dark—"

"—ck was right about her, she's got no—"

Something ugly twists in her chest, and she forces her feet to turn and move, one step after the other. She can make it to the Common Room reasonably quickly, she thinks, and then she catches the self-proclaimed Marauders outside the Great Hall. Or rather, they catch her.

"You can do better than a bunch of slimy snakes, Evans," Potter crows, and she stops dead in her tracks. "Why bother with them when you've got a fine piece of Gryffindor right here?"

"Get lost," she says, the words ground flat between grit teeth.

Potter does not get lost. "Come on, Evans," he continues. "You're not acting like a proper Gryffindor. Where's your House loyalty? I can guarantee that chivalry and bravery are much better than whatever they're offering." It sounds... like a taunt, and this is when Lily realises that what she's been feeling isn't anger.

"Chivalry? Bravery? What would you know about any of that? It's not very chivalrous to corner students four-to-one, now, is it?" She hisses her words, each one more scathing than the last, and as she spits them out, every last one dripping venom, she realises that she wants it to hurt. "And it certainly doesn't seem brave to leave behind someone who needs help because you got cold feet! I'm not a proper Gryffindor? No, I think you've got it wrong, James. If you want to see an improper Gryffindor, the whole lot of you can go right ahead and look in a bloody mirror! I will not be talked down to by the likes of spiteful little cowards like you! I'm more Gryffindor than all four of you put together, but if you're what our House is supposed to look like, then I want nothing to do with it!"

Her ears are ringing when she's done, the whole world narrowed down to one singular focal point, the group of boys headed by the one who'd been desperate to get her attention and regrets it now that he has it. She looks at each of them in turn, summoning a contempt she didn't know she possessed until now. "Save your breath," she snaps, when Black's jaw unlocks, and she turns around and walks away.

Something slots into the place at the back of her mind, and she thinks, oh, her fingers itching to wrap themselves around her wand and whisper the words that will turn them inside out, call the blood from their pores and make it sing. Something clicks, when she thinks about she felt just then, and she can tell the difference quite clearly, very easily, between pure, white-hot, blinding rage and what she's been calling anger. She doesn't know what it really is, and she doesn't want to. She doesn't think about it, either, simply pushes the entire realisation to the back of her head and thinks, oh.

It changes... very little. Something inside of her has changed, and she finds herself growing steadily more unbothered by the voice in her that tells her about old, forbidden magicks of the body and the mind and the blood. It's always about blood.

She doesn't bother reading over Severus's shoulder anymore, the two of them scribbling notes as the pages flip on their own once they've both finished reading.

What does change things is when Rosier corners her after Defence one day, a sealed envelope held in his hand.

"What's this?" Lily asks, eyeing the pristine letter suspiciously. She might get along with the Slytherins much better now—especially after the incident with the Marauders that Rosier had found particularly amusing—but she can't say she truly trusts them.

"An invitation," he says, and before she can speak, he continues. "Every rule has its exceptions. We'd thought there was only room for one Mudblood prodigy, but it looks like there's space for two."

"Don't call me that," she bites, and he waves the envelope at her.

"Think about it. As it stands now, men like Potter and Dumbledore are holding too many of the cards. Men who would let people die and then cover it up to save their own hides. Don't you want to see them get what's coming to them?"

"There's no difference between you and them," she says.

"Isn't there? We've never claimed to be good."

She stares at him, silent.

"It's a new age, Evans. Don't you want to change the world?" he asks.

She takes the envelope.

anyways, i hope you enjoyed that! thanks for reading :)

[stxrrywildflower]

this town {g.w.}

pairing - george weasley x reader

summary - you introduce george to one of your favorite songs

warnings - none

this fic includes the use of modern technology

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

being a muggle-born, you usually spent summers back home with your family.

during that time, you were able to see your friends and extended family as well as do your usual ‘muggle activities’ as you usually called them.

your favorite part of all, however, was finally being able to catch up on all the music released throughout the year. you were almost cut off from the muggle world at hogwarts, and the time off allowed you to finally listen to what you were missing.

in the first few days off of school, you listened to as much music as possible. when you could, you wanted to show fred and george everything.

the three of you were going into your final year at hogwarts. naturally, you wanted to spend more time together; more specifically you and george for obvious reasons.

molly had extended the invite for you to spend the summer at the burrow. harry and hermione were joining the family as well, and she thought it would be sweet to invite you as well. you fit right in with the family, between getting along with everyone right down to making george ‘‘the happiest molly has ever seen him.”

after thoroughly explaining everything they needed to hear, your parents had finally agreed.

george greeted you in the field outside of his family home when you finally arrived, immediately enveloping you in a hug. “i’ve missed you so much sweetheart.”

“it’s been four days george,” you commented, though you weren’t exactly complaining.

“so? can’t i miss my girlfriend?”  he spoke, adding on a hurt tone.

you pulled back first, hand moving up to cup his cheek. “i’m sorry george, i missed you too,” you beamed. he leaned down to kiss you deeply, only stopping moments later from the sound of footsteps.

“hey hey hey,” fred interrupted. “you have all summer to do that.”

you shifted away from george with a light blush on your face, allowing the boys to pick up your bags so you could head inside. “where are your parents?” you asked.

“out getting hermione and harry,” george answered. “so we got the house to ourselves.”

fred gagged in the back. “get your mind out of the gutter fred,” you rolled your eyes. “i don’t think i can after george’s innuendo.”

george finally had enough of your arguing and spoke up again. “since we have no one to criticize us, why don’t we work on those fireworks?”

↓

george snuck into your room almost immediately after dinner that night. he stopped abruptly right before entering, mouth agap and nearly frozen in place.

“close your mouth georgie, you know what molly says about the flies,” you teased.

“what’s that?”

you met george’s eyes, a slight smile forming at how much his expression matched a little kid on christmas.

it was no secret the weasley boys loved any muggle items arthur usually collected. the twins usually tinkered with them for their latest pranks. you never had the heart to tell any of them the true meanings or how they really worked.

“this is a smartphone, my mom let me bring it before school starts up,” you explained, patting the spot beside you on your bed for him to sit. “it’s how we basically communicate in the muggle world. we use it to talk, play games, music,” you rambled off.

“music?” george spoke.

you nodded. “yeah there’s different programs we can use. do you want to here some?”

george settled further on the bed, leaning close to you as you opened up your music service.

“this one is called ‘this town.’ it’s my absolute favorite song,” you added. “really?”

“yeah, it’s always been a dream to dance to this.”

a lightbulb went off in george’s head, though he managed to keep his reaction minimal. you let the song play through your phone speakers, a gentle smile forming right away.

george had a lot of planning to do.

_____

you were back in your room a few nights later. george was tucked firmly in your side, letting his head rest in the crook of your neck so your hand could run through his newly short hair.

“i kinda miss your long hair,” you spoke.

george brought his head up to meet your gaze. “i thought you hated my long locks,” he retaliated.

“i could never.”

“come on,” george tugged, standing up abruptly to pull you from the bed. “let’s go outside.”

“outside? george it’s pouring rain.”

your boyfriend huffed before shifting his facial expression into one you knew would get you. “alright fine,” you soon agreed.

without another word, george grabbed your hand to lead you out of the room and through the hallways. you had to be more quiet as it was fairly late at night and people were already starting to turn in.

“and why are we going outside?”

“it’s a surprise,” george answered. you mentally rolled your eyes, you should have known.

it took you a few minutes to get down to the base floor and george didn’t let a single clue go the entire time.

he stopped by the back door, opening it up and guiding you out by placing his hand on the small of your back.

“you didn’t,” you immediately spoke.

george raised on eyebrow with a grin. “oh i did.”

towards the middle of the field, george had set up a gazebo tent with various string lights twirled around the legs and up into the top. “isn’t that a fire hazard with the rain?”

george stopped dead in his tracks. you looked towards him, awaiting an answer to calm your concerns.

“i’ve already planned for that, we’re fully safe under here,” with that, he placed a gentle kiss to your nose.

you made your way through the field, occasionally jumping in the puddles you passed by. you were incredibly thankful george hadn’t told you to wear shoes.

the two of you finally made it to the tent. the rain poured through the top giving the illusion that the lights were the only thing surrounding you.

“dad helped me set it up,” george explained. “he’s been tinkering with some muggle speakers and finally got them working.”

“speakers? for what?”

george let go of your hand to pull out his wand. with one quick swoosh and a mutter of a spell, music slowly poured out. within just a few seconds, you recognized it as the song you had shown him just a few days before.

“now, may i have this dance?” he extended one hand out.

you bit your lip to hold back a giggle. the whole concept itself wanted to make you cry; dancing in the rain with the person you loved was becoming a dream come true.

you swayed back and forth, focusing on your movements.

george kept one hand on your waist, the other out to the side to interlock with yours. you let your head fall against his chest, focusing on the vibrations of his chest. his lips occasionally fell to place a kiss to your head.

“are you humming?” you inquired.

george let out a light laugh. "i love this song.”

you pressed your head further into his chest to hide your smile.

the rain continued to pour down around the two of you. after awhile, you forgot about it. you were already soaking wet after all.

you recognized the ending of the song begining and frowned. just one nearly four minute song felt like it went by way too fast.

if you were being honest, you didn’t want it to end.

but alas, the chords of the song were soon replaced by the continuous fall of the rain.

neither of you moved from your hold, choosing to savor the time together.

“thank you for this,” you spoke quietly.

george ducked down to press his lips to your temple, cutting through the rain for the simple gesture. “always, love.”

[krreader]

untraditional.

pairing: gryffindor!kim namjoon x slytherin!reader fandom: bts ; harry potter warnings: non idol!au ; hogwarts!au ; mentions of sex  genre: crack ; fluff ; smut word count: 2.1k+

summary: after the battle of hogwarts, the school decided to bring the rivalry houses closer together. every year, you would get a partner from your rival house and this year, you really hit the jackpot.

a/n: hiiii @namucries​, idk how this idea formed, I literally just started writing and I am so happy with it. like I actually really love the plot? lol. anyways, I hope you enjoy it bb!!!

After the battle of Hogwarts, the school decided that they needed to make some changes. Not just in regards to fortification and the likes, but to how they ran the school.

This ever growing rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor couldn’t continue any longer. If it hadn’t been like this from the beginning, then maybe this whole Draco and Harry situation could have been avoided and then maybe things would have been different. 

And so the professors had decided that each year, you’d be assigned a partner from a “rivalry” house. That was true for Slytherin and Gryffindor, but not so much for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. They didn’t mind this nearly as much as you and your peers.

It was a huge deal every year. Who would be your rival partner that you were stuck with for the rest of the year? Would you be lucky and at least score some eye candy or would you be stuck with a wizard or witch that could barely hold their wand up straight? It was a surprise every year.

“I can’t believe this,” your best friend shook her head as she walked out of McGonagall’s office, “This is the fourth year in a row they’ve assigned another girl to me. I thought that now that I’m finally old enough..-“

You let out a snort, “You do know that there’s plenty of fish to catch in our own house, right?”

“Yeah, but where’s the thrill in that?” she let out a sigh and leaned against the wall, nudging her head to the door, “Fingers crossed you’re luckier than me.”

You didn’t care much about your partners. You’ve managed to avoid all previous ones on most occasions with lame excuses such as: “I’m sorry, I feel really bad today” or, “I’m so busy today, let’s study together some other time.” Most of them cared as little for you as you did for them, so it never caused an issue. Except for last year, when the guy that you were assigned to developed a crush on you and found out that you were spending your time with other Slytherin boys, rather than with him. He told on you, told the professors how you had been doing this for years - basically going against the rules - and so this year, you fully expected them to get back at you for that and assign you a partner that you’d suffer with for a year.

But the moment you entered the headmaster’s office and your eyes fell on the guy that was - apparently - your partner, you stopped walking.

“Hello there,” after a moment of staring, your confidence came back and you now smirked, “Did I just hit the jackpot?”

The guy furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the headmaster with raised eyebrows, “That’s her?!”

McGonagall let out a disapproving sigh and shook her head a little, looking at you over the rim over glasses, “Ms. (Y/L/N), do everyone in the room a favour and have a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” you sat down right next to the guy and licked your lips, crossing one leg over the other while continuing to grin at him.

“This is Namjoon. Your designated partner for this year. And..-“ just as you wanted to say something, McGonagall quickly continued, “This is your punishment for this year. Namjoon has been assigned Gryffindor’s headboy and you will help him with anything that he needs and wants.”

This obviously meant errands and helping Gryffindor become a stronger house. That’s what everyone else would have heard in that sentence. But you took away only two things.

“Sure, anything he needs. I’m down for that punishment,” and when McGonagall got up with an annoyed huff, you whispered, “Quite literally.”

At this point, you would have assumed the guy to blush and become intimidated, but Namjoon just smiled at you, despite it not holding any humor to it: “Does that usually work on others of my gender?”

“Don’t worry, some men need a few hours to warm up to me. I’m sure you and I will get along well,” you got up and bounced on your heels, “Thanks for this, headmaster.”

“It’s not a..- just get out,” she had enough of you.

“So.. where are we going first?” this was day one of you being Namjoon’s partner. Unfortunately, it didn’t start with a tumble in his bed, but the day was still young, “How about we go for a butter beer and get to know each other better?”

“I have friends for that,” Namjoon retorted making you stop in your tracks for a moment, but then catch up to him with a laugh.

“Oh, this is going to be so good. I love it when men aren’t shy. Makes them so much more attractive, you know?”

Namjoon let out a snort and shook his head, “Not sure you’ll think of me that way after today.”

Suddenly you came to a stop at a willow. Normally, that’d be a nice sight. Nature, grass, the sun.. But it was not like the paintings hanging in the castle that you often admired, it wasn’t a willow full of magical creatures that you could be amazed by.

It was..-

“COWS?!”

“Yep,” Namjoon grinned and pushed a bucket into your hands, “Someone needs to clean the willow, since Hagrid is away for the month. Nobody was willing to do so and since you and I got paired up, I figured I have the perfect candidate for the job.”

“What, someone to clean?!”

“Someone who is used to shit. After all, that’s all that comes out of your mouth, isn’t it?” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows at you and put his hands in the pockets of his pants, “I’ll be over there reading up for my next class if you need me.”

“Wh..- You’re not even helping me?“ but you had no option, because he was walking away and the cows were already approaching you, curious about who this new person was that had entered their willow, “Hey, stop that,” you tried to scurry away from them when they started nibbling on your shirt.

This was so not what you had hoped today to look like. Cleaning cow shit.. was Hagrid seriously the only taking care of this? Poor guy..

Still, all the while you were cleaning, you kept muttering curse words directed at Namjoon, even if he couldn’t hear them. They made you feel better. 

How dare he be so rude with you? You didn’t just talk shit, you were a great girl. Smart and well-read and.. stupid.

You straightened your back and furrowed your eyebrows, “What the hell am I doing?” you whispered to yourself.

I’m a freaking member of goddamn Slytherin. Slytherin’s don’t just clean like that, they’re too smart for that. Use your magic, you moron!

Whatever Namjoon wanted you to do, you’d bend the rules to your will as much as you wanted. What was important was that it was clean, right?

So you pulled out your wand and cast the spell that you figured would help you out most here. And indeed, after casting it for a few times, the willow looked as good as new. And with a final spell for a nice smell, you walked back to Namjoon with a smirk on your face. As in: HA, didn’t expect that one, huh?

“I’m impressed,” he smiled up at you from the ground, then got up and brushed over his pants, before saying in all honesty: “I knew there was talent slumbering somewhere within you. You shouldn’t hide it under that ‘cool kid’ facade, you know?”

“What?” you snorted, “I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do. It’s painfully obvious,” he shrugged, “It’s fine, you do you and all. I just think it’s a shame that you try to hide how smart you are in fear of it ruining your reputation. Because see, McGonagall didn’t just choose me as your partner because she knew I had enough errands I’d need help on, but because she knows there’s more to you than what you want everyone to believe. She thought I might be able to help you with that.”

And for the first time in forever, you had no words to that. No witty comeback and no flirty remark that you could say to that. He had seen through you on your first day of you two being together. That hasn’t happened before… ever.

“Anyways, we should go to class,” and to make you even more speechless, Namjoon took off his robe and placed it over your shoulders, since you had forgotten yours - or more likely simply opted not to wear it because you didn’t want to.

You were… so confused.

What were those feelings you were feeling right now?!

You had never cared about your rival partner in the years before, but that changed with you having been assigned to Namjoon. That first day on the willow spent together was the beginning of a, you dared to say, friendship.

He made you understand that being this sarcastic asshole wasn’t nearly as cool as you thought it was. He made you realise that you had a lot more talent than you even knew of yourself. He showed you that, even if you didn’t, he believed in you.

Your friends kept telling you how much you changed, and while some of them laughed about it at first, they all accepted you now. 

The real you that you’ve been trying to hide for so long. The girl that could be kind when need be and was incredibly smart on tests and in classes.. or in general.

But the sarcasm part? The flirty part? Your rival partner couldn’t quite get rid of that..

“Well, don’t you look dazzling,” you grinned as you spotted Namjoon at the Yule Ball. Both of you had come with different partners, but neither of these were anything more than friends.

“Right? The pants look great on me,” he complimented himself with a grin.

“True,” you pretended to think for a moment as you stared at them, then you looked at him from under your eyelashes, “But you’d look even better without them.”

Namjoon couldn’t help but let out a laugh. At this point, he had come to accept that this was just a part of you that he couldn’t change. And well.. maybe he didn’t even want it to.

“We’re here with other people, yet you’re flirting with me. Don’t you think that’s rude?”

“Not at all. And besides, I wanted you to ask me out, but you didn’t,” you pretended to be hurt by pouting your lips, “We could have had so much fun tonight.”

And see, the Namjoon that YOU knew - or at least thought you did-, would have laughed and turned around to walk away. But that man still surprised you every single day. He took a sip from his drink, then placed it on the table next to him and pushed his hands into the pockets of his dashing pants.

“We still could.”

Not the answer you had expected, same as that look that he threw you.

That look.

Before you could reply, he turned around and walked away. But instead of re-joining his date - that had since formed a little group of girlfriends around her, all laughing, thankfully - he left the ballroom.

And well… you couldn’t not follow, right?

He continued walking, even though you were sure that you knew you were only a few steps behind him, through several hallways and up several flights of stairs, until you were finally standing in front of the Gryffindor common room where he had waited for you.

“Hm.. I’m pretty sure I won’t be allowed in there,” you cocked your head to the side, “But whatever it is that you had in mind.. I’m sure it’s innocent enough for us to do right here?”

You licked your lips, then bit down on your lower lip with a grin.

Namjoon was leaning against the railing of the stairs, confidently so. He looked insanely good right there. So good that you wanted to jump on him this very moment. 

But he took the initiative.

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, smashed his lips against yours and kissed you so deeply that he literally knocked the breath out of your lungs. It was a passionate kiss, tongues and teeth clashing against each other and hands already beginning to wander, despite the… not very private environment.

But this desperation only proved how much sexual attraction had been building between you two. Because as much as Namjoon had tried to hide it the first few months, he liked you as much as you liked him.. sexually at first, and then later, on a more deeper level. 

But that was another story. Right now, this was about what you needed in that moment.

“I want you,” Namjoon whispered against your lips.

“Then take me,” is what you whispered back without having to think twice about it.

And he would have. He would have pinned you against his mattress and would have pounded into you until you were screaming his name. And you would have let him. You would have begged him not to stop, because you were already sure that he was good. 

But goddamn it, the Fat Lady just had to ruin it, huh?

“Uhm, excuse me, young lads.. I tried to let you two enjoy yourselves for as long as I possibly could, but I just heard what you said and there is no way I can let you inside now.”

These stupid rules. What were the professors so scared about? Pregnancies? You were witches and wizards, you weren’t stupid enough not to know how to prevent that from happening.

You were almost certain that Namjoon would just call it a night with a heavy sigh and you’d be left horny for the rest of the night, but instead, he pushed himself off the railing and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, whispering: “Headboy’s have a lot of privileges these days, you know? The Prefects’ bathroom is open 24/7 for us to use. Us alone,” into your ear.

Well, well… there were so many things you did not know about this man and you couldn’t wait to find them all out.

[princessamericachavez]

Fjorester Talk in episode 117

also known as Sofía goes buckwild and overanalyzes 10 minutes of conversation and body language.

ready?

Ok, first of all, Fjord looks so worried from the get go as he asks Jester if Lucien/Cree was speaking to her directly. 

And when she confirms it he does this little grumpy sigh

He no like it. No like it at all.

Fjord: Does it seem like he’s keying in on you in particular?

LISTEN GUYS

I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR LIKE TWO WEEKS

HOPING FJORD WOULD GET PROTECTIVE OVER JESTER CONSTANTLY GETTING SCRIED ON/MESSAGED BY LUCIEN BUT I DIDN’T THINK TRAVIS WAS ACTUALLY GOING TO DELIVER

AND HE DIIIIIID

Ok anyway he goes on about how when they see someone else scrying it’s usually just a representation of the spell and wonders if Lucien is more powerful and therefor can see the person

and then he makes a pause mid-argument

because Jester makes this face and he realizes this is upsetting her, so he quickly backtracks trying to reassure her. 

Fjord: I’m sure it’s just coincidence but...

and here’s where the idea comes and god how long has he been thinking about this???

Fjord: since we’re not in the sea... would you... want to wear this?

YES HELLO DO YOU SEE THE PARALLELS TO THAT ONE TIME HE WANTED TO GIVE HER AN EXTRA POWERFUL HEALING POTION TO MAKE SURE SHE WOULD BE SAFE??? PROTECTIVE FJORD PARALLELS!!!

and then he just brushes off the fact that he’s a huge Uk’otoa beacon everytime they are on water —baby, you died once already, don’t act like it’s whatever???

Fjord: maybe it would provide some protection if we were to keep checking in on him?

Jester: I mean... it’s worth a try. 

Of course, as she points out, Lucien has already met all of them and he could just as easily scry on any of the M9 if he wanted to, but that’s not really what Fjord is worried about, what is bothering him. Fjord knew Lucien was watching and it’s not the first time they are scried on, but he makes it clear that he’s concerned about how centered on Jester that’s been lately. 

Jester: Maybe it’ll keep me from getting seen next time I scry on him?

Fjord: I guess we’ll find out next time we try it. 

The way he chuckles softly, trying to defuse the tension, and she smiles back even though this subject clearly has her nervous??? 11/10

Jester: Thank you. 

SHE SAYS IT SO SOFTLY. SHE’S CLEARY SO TOUCHED THAT HE’S WATCHING OUT FOR HER AND HAVING HER BACK JUST LIKE HE ALWAYS DOES. 

LOOK AT THOSE HEART EYES THEY BOTH HAVE WTF

THEY ARE BOTH SO SOFT 

Fjord: Yeah. Just in case it’s not... coincidence. 

Listen there’s such a heaviness in how he says the word. 

Like the possibility of anyone —especially this very dangerous stranger with the face of a friend— purposefully targeting Jester is his worst nightmare. It probably is. 

Jester: It’s also creepy. He did say that he kind of knew me, right?

NOTICE HOW JESTER IS STILL PLAYING WITH THE AMULET IN HER HANDS??? 

Idk why but that’s getting to me. She’s so nervous with this whole thing. 

Fjord: He did?

Jester: When we got there he said he hadn’t met anyone except for me. 

OH FJORD DOESN’T LIKE THIS AT ALL

So of course Jester tries to defuse the tension talking about how she must look like through the scry

AND HE’S JUST SO IN LOVE

And so he plays along

LOOK AT THE WAY HE MAKE HER SMILE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(same, Ashley, same)

And so, more reassured by the goofiness, Jester finally puts the necklace on. 

Fjord: And of course, it’s Caleb’s...

Jester: oh

LISTEN SHE DID NOT LIKE THAT. She was clearly so excited to get a present like this from Fjord and you can see her face fall a little when it’s deviated towards someone else. 

Jester: should I ask him if it’s okay?

Fjord: Well, he gave it to me to use it..

Fjord: and you seem to need it more. 

AKA THE AMULET WAS FOR FJORD’S WELLBEING BUT THE WAY HE IS OK IS IF HE KNOWS JESTER IS PROTECTED

Jester, now that she knows this is something that he is personally choosing to transfer to her: Okay...

LOOK AT THE WAY SHE CLUTCHES IT TO HER HEART I’M DYING

Fjord: And just be careful.

Fjord: I don’t like the possibility of him keying in on you or using that connection between the two of you to manipulate something. His magic seems strange. 

LISTEN GUYS LISTEN 

THIS PART HERE IS HUGE OK?

This is the part where Fjord took 18 steps forward instead of one since Rumblecusp

Whereas before he could’ve hide his concern as something tactical, something useful that made sense and could help their mission... or could’ve hidden behind group speech to disguise his concern...

here he says “I don’t like the possibility of him keying in on you.��

here he is straight up saying “I am worried about you”

(quietly hopes Lucien does exactly that to trigger more protective fjord instincts in the future and lots of angst based shippy shenaingans)

Fjord: Alright. More adventures tomorrow. 

BECAUSE THAT’S ALL OK

THAT’S IT

HE SAID HIS PIECE, HE KEPT HER SAFE, MADE SURE SHE LAUGHED A LITTLE AND THAT’S ALL HE NEEDS... THAT AND MORE ADVENTURES BY HER SIDE

But then Jester hesitates

AND LOOK AT THAT, THE WAY SHE PULLS BACK LIKE SHE’S AFRAID IF SHE SAYS THE WRONG THING HE’LL CLOSE OFF

THE WAY HIS FACE SCRUNCHES WITH WORRY OVER WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE TROUBLING HER THAT SHE’S HESITATING TO SAY

Fjord: What?

Jester: H- How are you?

FJORD MELTING IMMEDIATELY: 

The way he goes from super concerned to extremely soft in 0.2 seconds.

(i am ashley and ashley is me)

Jester: *explaining all the very valid reasons she has to be worried about Fjord too and all the crazy shit that happened to him only a few days ago*

Fjord: *bursting with feelings of love*

seriously travis pls have some mercy of my poor yearning soul

Also I wanna talk about the way Jester brings up Avantika.

Jester: She tried to pull you into the water... you guys had a thing... it must have been weird to see her all kinda dead and stuff... was it weird? And then you killed her... again...

The way she calls them “a thing” and the way she checks if it was “weird” for him to see her as undead really says a lot to me. I think Jester never quite got over the heartbreak during the pirate arc and part of her probably still thought that Fjord harbored some sort of feelings or attraction towards Avantika. 

I think she believes whatever they two had was far more intimate than it actually was. Or, at the very least, Jester thinks it must have meant something to Fjord. 

How could she not? The whole thing had her bursting with jealousy and pain and unresolved feelings... you can tell how anxious she is around this subject but also she needs to know if he’s alright because she cares too much

Fjord: It was weird. Yeah, it was weird, for sure. I wasn’t expecting that...

HE DOESN’T EVEN REGISTER IT AS AN “EX” THING I SWEAR

Fjord: I’m alright. 

And so she finally relaxes.

Fjord: It feels like I keep trying to start newer chapters in my life and leave the old stuff behind and then it just... keeps popping up. 

Fjord: It feels like it’s hard to... pursue something new, when the past is not dealt with. 

YOU CAN’T SEE IT IN THE SCREENSHOTS BUT JESTER STARTS NODDING VERY GENTLY WHEN HE STARTS TALKING ABOUT NEW CHAPTERS AND MOVING ON 

ALSO THIS

(ashley knows what I’m talking about)

Jester: Do we need to deal with the past?

WE

SHE SAYS WE

BECAUSE AS USUAL THEY ARE A TEAM ALWAYS FIRST AND FOREMOST

AND IF THIS IS SOMETHING HE NEEDS TO DO SHE’S GOING TO HELP HIM AND BE BY HIS SIDE WITHOUT A DOUBT NO MATTER WHAT

Fjord: I think so. 

Fjord: Yeah... I want to. 

THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER WHEN HE SAYS ‘I WANT TO’. HE WANTS TO HAVE A FUTURE WITH HER. HE WANTS TO LET GO OF THE PAST SO HE CAN HAVE A FUTURE WITH HER. HE’S LETTING HIMSELF ‘WANT’ THIS AND ADMITTING IT.

Fjord: I feel like I need to close all of that before...

AND THEN HE JUST GOES THROUGH THIS BLESSED FACE JOURNEY FOR 6 ENTIRE SECONDS

LOOK AT IT

AND THE WAY SHE SLOWLY SMILES LIKE SHE MIGHT KNOW WHAT HE MEANS

LOOK AT HER OWN FACIAL JOURNEY

ASHLEYYYYYYYYYY

And so Jester jumps into action mode offering her help. 

and Fjord —once again— proves that he’s able and willing to open up to Jester about things that he’s keeping close to his chest... like Sabian. 

Fjord: I um... I actually... I put a bounty out for S-Sabian. 

IDK WHY THIS FACIAL EXPRESSION AMUSES ME THIS MUCH

THIS IS FJORD’S ‘IM ABOUT TO CONFESS SOMETHING PERSONAL TO JESTER FACE’ AND WE’VE SEEN IT BEFORE AT THE KILN AND IN RUMBLECUSP

Jester: A bo- When? How?

SHE’S SO BEWILDERED LMFAO

and a little offended that she didn’t know

and I think Fjord can tell by the way he quickly tries to excuse it as a way to keep Kotho occupied after the whole Vokodo ordeal

But Jester quickly gets back on track and starts looking for a way to help him with this. If finding Sabian is what Fjord wants —what he needs— right now, she’ll do anything to help him. 

Jester: *describing how she would be able to help Fjord*

Fjord, who never had anyone be this ride or die for him ever and who is bursting at the seems with love for this kind and wonderful woman:

Fjord: Sure.

Jester: You want me to do it?

Fjord: Yeah. 

THOSE HEART EYES SHOULD BE ILEGAL 

Jester: *uses a sixth level spell to send a message for Fjord because this is totally her number one priority now and it’s not like they are dealing with stuff that literally drained her today or like they are stuck up north for god knows how long... nope... she needs to find a way to help Fjord right now*

Fjord:

okay okay okay

so after the message

you can see how Jester is worried that the news she finally found for him are bad news and not going to cheer him up

Jester: Oops

Fjord: No, no, no, no! No oops! That’s great! That’s great!

I love the way he rushes to reassure her, to make sure she knows that what she just did for him is amazing and means so much and please jester do not be sad about this because this already means so much to me you have no ideaaaaaa

Fjord: That’s... totally distracting but that’s great. 

Fjord: Thank you.

Jester: You’re welcome! Now you know!

Fjord, with more feeling and emotion behind it like he wants to tell her that she and everything she does for him out of love mean the entire universe to him: Thank you.

Jester, blissfully unaware that he’s in love with him but delighted that she was able to help and that he is letting her in enough to help deal with his past: You’re welcome! I’m glad I could help!

Fjord, still not over how good she is and how diametrically different her kindness is compared to everything else he’s known in life so far and still after these many months shook and surprised by how wonderful she is: That’s very nice of you, I-

Jester: It’s just a (6th level) spell. Easy to do.

SHE HAS NO IDEA THAT WHAT HE MEANS ISN’T THE MAGIC NOR THE SPELL NOR THE INFORMATION... IT’S HER HELP AND SUPPORT THAT HE IS SO SHAKEN WITH. 

Fjord: I.... will think about that all night. 

Sure you will Fjord. We know you will. But we know it’s not about Sabien but about Jester’s kindness that you’re gonna be thinking all night. We know that’s what’s keeping you up. Not the past, the future. 

AND OF COURSE

THE OBLIGATORY AWKWARD ENDING

Fjord: I’ll race you to the top!

Both: UP!

THEY ARE SO ADORABLE AND GOOFY AND PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER WTF HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE MY LIFE INSTEAD OF THINKING ABOUT THEM 24/7??

ANYWAY WHO IS READY FOR PIRATE ARC PART 2 AND MORE SHENANIGANS WITH THESE TWO WHILE FJORD GETS FINALLY READY TO MOVE FORWARD TOWARDS THE FUTURE HE WANTS WITH JESTER? I AM

[engie-ivy]

do you have a fic where remus confronts Sirius of believing he was the spy (like maybe canon divergence - they all live) and refuses to agree that just because there was a war doesn’t mean he should’ve not trusted him or used the excuse that he’s a werewolf not to believe him

Hi!

I have fics that deal with the suspicions and false accusations during the war! But these do take on a more Fluffy path, and eventually lead to them being understanding and forgiving of each other's behaviour😅

You might like the confrontation in

If Tomorrow the World Crumbles

“Well, what am I supposed to bloody think, then?” Sirius shouted back. “You’re obviously keeping things from me! How is this sketchy behaviour going to make anything better? Why couldn’t you just come talk to me, so you could have proven that you’re not-”

“Because I shouldn’t have to proof anything to you!” A hint of pain was seeping through in Remus’s frustration. “All my life I’ve had to proof myself to everyone, and all my life I’ll have to continue proving myself, simply because of what I am, but not to you. Never to you. You’re supposed to believe in me! You’re the one person who’s supposed to be on my side.”

And here's an excerpt from my longer fic

If Only You Knew the Whole Story

He’s sitting in a chair. His arms are handcuffed behind his back and his ankles are chained to the legs of the chair. Protective spells are placed around him, making it impossible to come any closer than half a meter in his vicinity, though there isn’t much he could even do without his wand. His long, dark hair is tied in a messy bun with loose strands falling over his face, and he still has the muggle clothes on he was wearing when he got arrested.

He’d been wearing muggle clothes a lot. When James teased him about it, he told him to go try and ride a motorbike in flapping wizarding robes and then come talk to him. No one particularly minded seeing him in tight fitted muggle clothes anyway, as the man has always been unfairly good-looking.

He looks up as Emmeline enters the room, his grey eyes empty and emotionless.

Sirius Black.

“I didn’t think you’d come back. You seemed rather pissed off when you left the last time.”

“I’m pissed off at you by default. But I did some fact-checking on your previous claims.”

Black rolls his eyes. “If you looked him up in the Animagus register, I could have told you-”

“Actually, I went to a more direct source.”

“Hello, Black.” Remus steps in the room, his eyes focused somewhere on the logo on Black’s worn-out band shirt, deliberately not meeting Black’s eyes, his mask of indifference firmly in place. Emmeline understands his need to not show any emotion in front of Black.

Black’s face, on the other hand, is a whole different story. It’s hard to imagine his eyes were so void of emotion just a moment ago, as a variety of emotions passes over his face.

Disbelief. Hope. Fear. Guilt. Pain.

When he speak, soft and barely audible, his voice sounds so broken that it sends a shock through Emmeline’s body. She can tell Remus feels the same, as his eyes snap up to Black’s face.

“Remus? Please...”

“I messed up, Remus. I messed up so bad. But if only you knew the whole story-”

“You’re going to tell me the whole story,” Remus interrupts, his voice cold and bitter. “The real story.” He opens his palm to reveal the small flask of Veritaserum.

Now, Emmeline was expecting anger. Anger as Black would realise he wouldn’t be able to make up stories anymore. Anger as he saw his plans of manipulating Remus with his lies go up in smoke. Emmeline may have understood shock, that they would actually dare to force him to take the truth potion, or maybe even panic, now that his ploy is officially over.

What Emmeline did not expect, however, was the look of sheer hope on Black’s face, like he’s a dehydrated man who has been wandering the dessert for days and Remus is holding a glass of fresh, cold water.

“Yes,” he says pleading. “Yes, please...”

It completely catches Emmeline off guard, and she can tell Remus is also thrown off. He stares at Black dumbfounded and seems unsure what to do next. He fumbles with the flask, opening it and sliding it across the table towards Black.

As they can’t get near Black with the protective charms surrounding him, Emmeline doesn’t know what they would have done of he had simply refused to drink the potion, but then again, that would have said enough of itself, wouldn’t it? Now, however, Black wastes no time in bending forward, taking the flask between his lips and throwing his head back, gulping the potion down.

After Black has dropped the empty bottle back on the table, he sits motionless in his chair, his eyes closed. Remus is staring at him intently, his mouth in a hard line and his knuckles turning white where he’s gripping the edge of the table. The moment can’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but it feels like an eternity. Despite all her talk about only doing this for Remus, not believing anything will come of it, Emmeline feels nerves coursing through her body. There’s a heavy tension hanging in the room and the air feels thick. Emmeline can only imagine what this moment must be like for Remus.

After what seems like hours, Black slowly opens his eyes. “It wasn’t me.”

So few words hardly more than a whisper, but their impact couldn’t have been greater if he had shouted them in their faces.

Remus’s legs threaten to give out from under him and he supports himself on the table, staring at the wood while gasping for air.

“It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me.” Black repeats the words like a mantra.

Remus lifts his head, and upon seeing the pain, hope and confusion on his face, Emmeline wants to run to him, support him and start questioning Black, but at the same time she feels like she needs to stay out of it for now, this needs to be between them.

“What wasn’t you?” Remus breathes. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Everything. Any of it. The murders, the betrayal. Rem, I wasn’t even the Secret-Keeper!”

“But... But...” Remus tries desperately to order his thoughts. “Peter?”

Black nods silently.

Remus shakes his head. “No, no. James insisted! He would never choose anyone but you!”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Black replies as he shifts his gaze downwards, sadness reflecting in his eyes. “Not until I convinced him to. Merlin, I thought I was so clever! A perfect way to throw them off track. Who would even consider it being anyone else?”

“But you told me it was you! Those evenings we spent talking about it...”

“I lied! I lied to you, Remus.”

Remus stares at him for a while. “You didn’t trust me.” It’s not a question.

“We knew there was a spy,” Black says, looking absolutely miserable. “We just didn’t know who.”

“And I was the logical choice,” Remus states. “I assume because I’m a dark creature?”

“Yes. It was because you’re a werewolf.” Black looks Remus straight in the eyes. “Because you have fifteen years of experience keeping secrets and hiding who you are. And you’re so damned good at it! Better than anyone I know. Dumbledore always chose you for the most secret missions. You were the only one amongst us no one had any idea of where they were going or what they were doing.”

“That wasn’t by choice!”

“I know, I know. Remus, you have to understand. We didn’t think you were the traitor, we just couldn’t be absolutely sure that you weren’t the traitor.”

Remus swallows and looks away. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that I felt with every fibre of my being that I could trust you and you would never hurt us!” Black speaks. “But at that time, I couldn’t allow myself to feel, I had to think. And logical thinking, shutting off all emotion, said that none of us could say with one hundred percent certainty that it wasn’t you. With Harry’s life at stake, we couldn’t afford to take any chances. It was best not to tell.”

Remus nods, but he’s still not meeting Black’s gaze.

“Remus, please look at me,” Black says earnest. “I need you to know this. We still would have died for you in a heartbeat, Lily, James and me. We still thought the world of you.”

“But I thought the worst of you!” Remus’s breath hitches. “I despised you, wanted to hate you! If I had found you that night, I would have...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, doesn’t need to.

Black doesn’t look shocked, or even angry. He just looks immensely sad.

“Why wouldn’t you have? I fucked everything up, Remus. I lied to you, I trusted the wrong people, I distrusted the wrong people, I convinced James to take a path that lead straight to his death. And I can’t even do the only thing James asked me to do in case the worst would happen! I can’t even take care of Harry, like I promised I would. I abandoned him in my failed attempt at revenge, another one of my numerous mistakes. I literally can’t think of a single thing I haven’t screwed up these last weeks.”

Remus just stares at him. Only after a long silence, he speaks.

“You really are... you.”

Black just blinks at him.

“I mean, the boy who snuck out of the dorm to keep me company in the hospital wing, the boy who bribed the house elves to make my favourite chocolate cake on my birthday, the man who wanted me to stay with him when I had no place to live and never let me go, the man who once attacked five Death Eaters on his own because one of them had tried to use the Cruciatus curse on me... That person was not a facade, an act or a lie. That person was really you. You’re really that person.”

“Telling you I was the Secret-Keeper was hard for me, as it was the first and only time I ever lied to you, I promise.”

“I know,” Remus slides down in the chair across from Black. “And it’s okay, Sirius. It’s okay.”

Sirius closes his eyes for a moment. As he opens them again to look at Remus, they’re filled with relief.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s just... You’re the only person who I couldn’t bear to see me as a monster.”

Remus smiles softly. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

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