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#i mean the obvious answer is that they're not a surface flower at all and they're unique to the underground
patricia-taxxon · 6 months
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So, I watched that response stream that DeadwingDork made about my furry boinking video, here it is if you're curious.
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By some accounts, this gentleman seems like he means well, with regards to pronouns he pulls the "when in doubt, they/them" gambit, which is partway there. If he finds this, I'll politely let him know I don't use they, just she & it. Thanks!
I have good reason to believe he began this journey in good faith, but over the course of the video he slowly gives up being charitable, and it's very frustrating to watch. There's a few key moments of miscommunication I noticed that I'd like to clear up.
DeadwingDork and I got off on the wrong foot very early on, and part of that's my fault. I start the video openly lusting after Garth Alphandomega, and this put him on edge. This might be an ideological difference we can't get past, he says that Garth is "Just a wolf" when I personally think he's quite different from a wolf. After that, I do the joke where I say "If the opportunity presented itself I would fuck my-" and cut to The Flowers of Robert Mapplethorpe, but he didn't have the context to understand what I'm saying by cutting to that album in particular, so he thought I was jokingly saying I would fuck my dog. He spends the rest of the stream with that initial impression of me lusting after what he perceives as literal animals, it's kinda the initial rock that starts the avalanche and closes him off from understanding basically anything that I'm saying, until the end, where he's convinced I've just spent 43 minutes coming out as a zoophile.
This might just be a difference in artistic philosophy, like he interprets Alpha & Omega to be about wolves whereas I interpret it as being about people through the aesthetic lens of wolves. Metaphor isn't just for abstract art movies, after all. Garth walks on 4 legs, but he has enough obvious persistent human-like traits both visually and behaviorally for me to understand him as a person delivered via wolf. For the same reason, he is disturbed by my lusting for Shoukichi Pompoko, because he interprets that movie as literally being about tanuki. I think this the main reason the concept of a character being "simultaneously human and inhuman" completely whiffed on him. He skimmed over my segment on how Leo can be both a wolf and hispanic & didn't understand the relevance, because I don't think that contradiction can be resolved in his head.
The most frustrating part of this stream is the way he clearly picks up on a lot of the overarching subtext that I'm putting down, but by that point in the video he doesn't have enough faith in me to interpret it as being put there intentionally. He treats the connection between my special-ed dog training and my current animal identity as an unintentional self-report, when it isn't. There's this *maddening* segment where I talk about Pom Poko for the first time, and he... honestly quite accurately picks apart the picture I'm illustrating about alienation, but he handwaves it away in favor of his horrible mangling of the exact literal sentence I am saying at that moment.
He says:
"There's clearly a story here, but it's being buried. There's a lot of stuff that's leading towards... 'oh, you watched this movie and this movie and your parents did this and your fuckin' teachers did this, and that's why this is happening.' That's like the fuckin' undertones of this video, [but] the main takeaway is supposed to be that this movie... I dunno, makes you f.. is supposed to feel like how fuckin' animal people feel like they're... whatever, I don't, I don't... whatever."
He grabs at the subtext, the story I'm obviously telling with the surface level anecdote of my experience seeing Pom Poko when I was young. I say obviously, because he and his chat both understood it. But then he discards that, assumes it was unintended, and importantly, he doesn't have a good answer for what I'm actually saying divorced from that. Because... what's even left after you remove the subtextual story I'm telling with this anecdote? The anecdote itself? Of course he's empty handed.
Other notes:
He can't decide whether I'm an over zealous recruiter trying to call everything furry, or that I'm a gatekeeper trying to force robust definitions of 'furry' into the general lexicon. This isn't very important, it's just kind of funny.
He is dismissive of me saying I won't report news if my only source is Kiwifarms, but he doesn't really give a good reason for it. I am having trouble summarizing his argument for why I should have referenced a website whose users doxxed me. He hilariously suggests that I should negotiate with them to have my address taken down, as long as I'm not a "lolcow" about it. I'll be charitable and say that I don't think he's thought this through very much.
He hates that I "compare autistic people to animals," when that really just doesn't mean anything on its own. A comparison is a comparison, a follower of mine pointed out to me they could say that trans people are like cockroaches & it could either mean they are doggedly resilient in the face of harsh circumstances or that they are pests that need to be exterminated. I meant something specific by using an animal metaphor to describe my autistic identity, and it transcends the literal reading of "calling autistic people animals."
He derisively calls Echo a "gay furry sex game" when it simply is not. I'll forgive him for this because he hasn't played it, but Echo isn't porn, it's a horror game. There's sex in it, and it has the framework of a dating game, but it is far from the main appeal. I'm not saying this to elevate Echo above the degrading label of "porn," because Adastra is definitely porn and it's almost as good, just not as easily recommendable to outsiders.
He thinks its commendable that Sean Booth bought my album, which is nice.
Overall, I don't think DeadwingDork is outwardly hateful, but he is quite gullible. He accepts hate speech at face value and buys into narratives useful for hate movements. There's echos of trans groomer panic, that old "you're the reason people are transphobic" chestnut, and of course, using Kiwifarms as a news source. He said he came into the video knowing nothing about me and had no reason to be approaching me in bad faith, but he clearly doesn't trust me enough to think the main rhetorical thrust of the video was intentional.
bad stream lol
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saibug1022 · 21 days
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For Magnus, Apollo, and that FINE AS FUCK lavender bg3 mc:
I am obsessed with the how others see them, vs how they see themselves, vs how you the all-knowing creator see them.
But also like, with symbolism (ex as a cloud/as a flower/as a type of water, etc) 👀👀👀
THIA I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOU. I'm about to talk so fucking much. So I loaded some classification things into a randomizer and used one for each character
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let's do this
Magnus (Windverse/LoA) - Animal
If you asked other people what animal Magnus is, they'd say a panther, something intimidating and powerful, yet elegant and reserved.
But if you asked Magnus himself, well first he'd refuse to answer because he'd think the question is ridiculous, but then he'd say an owl because they're known as clever and tend to represent wisdom, which is the piece of himself he's put so much value in and relied on his whole life.
However, I've always associated Magnus with butterflies, specifically blue butterflies. Butterflies obviously represent change and rebirth which Magnus has done multiple times, breaking free from his old life for a new one and becoming someone new. But blue butterflies also represent joy and love, and the love of others (both platonic and romantic) and Magnus's own love are what showed him the joy in life and let him become one more version of himself: a happy one.
Apollo (The Elementalists) - Flower
If you asked most other people what kind of flower Apollo would be, they'd say a sunflower for pretty obvious reasons. Apollo is bright, kind, and passionate, and I mean. It's literally called a sunflower. It's very surface level but unfortunately most peoples' view of Apollo is very surface level.
If you asked Apollo what kind of flower he'd be, honestly he'd probably say a sunflower at first too, but if he thought about it for a second, he would say a hibiscus. Hibiscus flowers are bright and colorful and grow tall in warm climates. But they need sun to to bloom and even then only bloom for a day, closing again by night which is exactly how Apollo sees himself. Without his sun attunement, aka his power, he would be nothing. To go even further, when people look at him he's bright and beautiful but as soon as he's alone he's terrified and sad and stressed.
For my assessment, I'd say a lotus flower. I may be biased because it's my second favorite flower but Lotus's bloom up through muddy water and still come up beautiful which is exactly what Apollo did (symbolically at least). He was hunted by Raife from the moment he was born, had his memories erased and childhood stole, lost his parents, was lied to his entire life and was raised without magic and his twin, finally found somewhere he felt he belonged only to be hunted again, nearly lost his friend and almost died, then he was accosted by Kane and tortured, then (in my version of canon) ended up losing his mentor and hunted by his own people. But he came out of it beautiful and bright
Kieran (BG3 Durge) - Element
Most people when asked would definitely say Kieran is fire. Dangerous, unpredictable, (hot-) and passionate, maybe warm, but destructive.
If you ask Kieran themself, they may also say fire honestly, for the same reasons as every one else. But if you find them in a nicer mood they might say earth. Dark caves and sharp things but equally full of life and beauty. Something determined and strong.
But I would say water because more than anything Kieran is adaptable, no matter what situation they end up in, no matter who they're with who what they're facing, they always end up on top. More than that, Kieran just has this deep sadness within them that is best reflected in water. Water is also a symbol of transformation and healing which is a summary of Kieran's entire arc. Even better, it's what he evokes in so many of the people around him, not just themself.
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ampedupkaon · 5 months
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World Of Our Own Chapter 1
Title: I can see what's happening, and they don't have a clue
AN: So... found this idea on a tumblr I follow, and decided to make it a reality. They keep my head fuelled with Monderi content and to be quite honest, I wanted this to exist as much as they did. Enjoy @sydns this is all for you! I didn't forget, I just have too many ideas; so it's hard to find time to write them all! Fic title is a song by Westlife. If I don't say which song the lyrics I use for the chapter title come from in the ending note... the lyrics are from 'World of Our Own'.
“Where are you going Annie?” One of the villagers asked her.
“Isn't it obvious? She's going towards that barn again.” Another one said. The first grumbled.
“Must you go to them? Haven't you heard about what happened in Liones? Or Camelot? Or Ordan?” Annie shook her head.
“They're my friends.” She answered simply, as though that would explain everything.
“They're monsters is what they are. They steal babies in the night and feast on their hearts.”
“Have any babies from this village gone missing since I took them in?” Annie asked. She knew smugness went through her when the complainer didn't answer.
“They're waiting for us to drop our guards, that's all.” The complainer went off, the other villager swiftly following him. Annie didn't particularly care what they thought. She knew different. She knew the reason that bear wasn't bothering the village any more, even if no one else believed her. Besides... she'd made plans. To teach her friend how to make shortbread. In heart shapes, because she hoped that would fluster her other friend. She'd saw how he looked at her! And Annie's books said that was true love! She would have skipped, but caught herself. She knew today was going to be fun, but that didn't mean that she needed to be mocked more by the other villagers. She reached the barn and knocked on the door. She got no answer, but this didn't mean there was no one in. She pushed the door open, finding only one of her friends here.
“Hey Derieri. Where's...”
“Said something about picking flowers for the vase you left on the window ledge.” Good. He did listen to my suggestion then. I hope he gives them to Derieri first... Annie grinned, earning a slightly confused look from her friend.
“Are you ready?” Derieri nodded in answer and Annie lifted out the ingredients. She figured that if she was going to teach her friend to bake, she'd best start with something simple. Hence, shortbread. It only had three ingredients and was... relatively easy to make. And if her friend got it wrong... it wouldn't be hard to correct it. Annie handed Derieri an apron from her basket of things, grinning when she saw the hearts on it. It was cute, and it would look cute on her. At least... she hoped he would say so. This wasn't for her; it was for him. Hence the shape of the cutter.
“So... what do I do first?” Derieri asked her, eyeing the butter, sugar and flour with a confused expression on her face. Annie pointed to the butter and the sugar.
“They need creaming together.” She got another confused look and she realised that made no sense to a demon who had clearly never done anything like this before.
“You put the butter in the bowl, followed by the sugar and mix them up until the butter looks a lighter colour.” Annie told her. Derieri did so, becoming a little annoyed at how much stirring it was taking to get the butter to change colour.
“There! Now we need this.” A bag of flour was carefully put on the surface, followed by a sieve. Derieri looked to be confused by the bag.
“Do you need me to get this open?” She asked, fingers of her darkness arm sharpening into claws.
“No! I can do it.” Annie opened the bag, sure that Derieri would get flour everywhere had she done it. She had a feeling her friend was going to get flour on herself, however.
“You need to sieve this into the bowl with the creamed butter in it, then stir it together.” Annie closed her eyes, sure her friend would take the instruction too far and hence would get covered in flour. She took a nervous peek and saw that Derieri was carefully tipping flour into the sieve. She appeared confused by the sieve being full of flour, but not much of it going into the bowl.
“Is that right?” She asked.
“You need to carefully pick the sieve up and gently shake the flour through it.” Annie was going to watch this. This would be when her friend would get covered in flour. Derieri followed her instructions, but some of the flour still managed to end up on her due to the amount in the sieve. Annie grinned, her grin widening when some of that flour found its way on to Derieri's cheek from the back of her hand. Flour now sieved, Derieri started mixing it into the creamed butter. Thankfully, the dough it formed stayed in the bottom of the bowl, not too sticky, not too dry.
“Now this needs to go on the surface to be rolled out.” Annie patted the work surface and Derieri scooped out the dough. Annie normally winced a little doing that, because the dough was always sticky when she did it. Derieri had no such problems, placing the dough on the surface and looking at Annie expectantly. Annie retrieved the rolling pin from her bag of things.
“My mother informs me this is good for threatening cheeky husbands with. Make sure you use it on him if he's teasing too much, alright?” Annie grinned at the soft blush this drew to her friend's cheeks.
“He's not my...” Not yet. Thought Annie. She'd saw how he looked at her! She... didn't know if demons did marriage but... she could tell he loved her. Hence the trying to get him to say something! Derieri claimed the rolling pin, using it to flatten the dough out. Annie retrieved the cutter from her bag, placing it beside the rolled out dough.
“That's probably flat enough. Now you use this to cut out the biscuit shapes. You push it into the dough and lift out the shape.” Annie grinned when she saw the blush darken.
“Why are they heart shaped?”
“Why not?” She asked. She knew it would fluster him, that was the real answer.
“Right. So I cut these out like this...” After a short while, there were about a dozen heart shaped bits of dough resting on the tray.
“What do I do with this?” She pointed at the leftover bits of dough.
“Roll it back together, then flatten it out again. You do that until you can't make a bit of dough that you can push the cutter into. Then you shape what's left into the last biscuit.” After a short while, there were about 25 biscuits sitting on the tray, a small bit of dough left.
“Make that into a little heart too.” Derieri's cheeks flushed a little, but she carefully moulded the dough into a little heart shape. It got placed beside the others on the tray, Annie grinning at them.
“Looks good. Now we just need to put them in the oven for a little while.” Annie spotted that the oven was lit. Derieri carefully scooped the tray up, carrying it over to the oven. The tray was pushed inside, before the door was closed. Annie knew how long they took to cook, so found a chair to settle in with her book. It was about an angel and a demon; who totally fancied each other, but neither of them said so. It reminded her a little of the two friends she'd made.
“Are they done yet?” Derieri asked after about five minutes. Annie could see the other girl was fidgeting, possibly not used to sitting still for so long.
“Not yet. Give it about... ten more minutes.” Annie heard a noise of assent, so went back to her book.
“Are... are they still bothering you?” Derieri asked her after a couple of minutes.
“Not really. They don't trust you though.”
“You don't have to keep coming here, you know.” Annie felt a little annoyed.
“Why shouldn't I come to see my friends? That they don't agree with that is their problem, not mine.” Annie caught the hint of a grin on Derieri's face.
“Just saying, they might accept you more if you cut ties with us.” Annie shook her head.
“Perhaps. Perhaps they should try to accept two people who've done nothing to warrant the whispered words and evil glares they keep getting.” Annie almost shouted.
“Humans aren't very trusting of demons. Besides... both of us have done things to warrant what they are doing. Things we haven't told you about.” Annie didn't appear to care.
“Not since you've come here you haven't.” She said; Derieri not having a dispute for that. Annie stood up, heading over to the oven. A quick glance inside confirmed the biscuits were cooked. She went to her bag, grabbing the oven glove. She lifted the tray out of the oven once she'd put it on, placing the tray on the surface they had used to make the biscuits on. Derieri immediately scooped one off the tray, almost immediately dropping it afterwards.
“They're hot. Leave them to cool for a little while first.” Annie told her, before sitting reading her book. Derieri kept looking over at the biscuits.
“What's that about?” She asked, Annie glancing at her over the top of her book. Her friend was still eyeing the biscuits like she wanted one now.
“An angel and a demon working together to save the world from ending.”
“Where do people get these ideas from?” Derieri pondered.
“Legends of what happened during the Holy War, perhaps?” Annie suggested. Derieri shook her head, again eyeing the biscuits.
“Shall we get them off the tray? They might cool quicker then.” Annie had to grin at how quickly Derieri jumped up to do just that. She used her claw to lift the biscuits up, placing them on the surface beside the tray. The tray was quickly moved to a large metal bowl in the kitchen that Annie guessed the dishes went in until one of them could be bothered to do them. Sure enough, the mixing bowl and spoon went over there too. Annie tucked the sieve and rolling pin back in her bag, along with the leftover flour. Derieri was eyeing the biscuits again and Annie grinned.
“If you can pick one up with your flesh hand without burning yourself, you can eat it.” She told her friend. It didn't surprise her that Derieri immediately grabbed one. Said biscuit had been munched before Annie could ask about it.
“'S good.” She remarked, reaching for another one.
“Derieri! Make sure you save some for Monspeet.”
“There's plenty there.” She had another biscuit in her hand and Annie shook her head. That biscuit got gobbled up as well.
“If you eat too many of them you'll get a tummy ache.” She said quietly. It didn't escape her notice that Derieri didn't eat any more after that though, so she must have been heard. The other girl made her way over to the chair beside her, before sitting down.
“What's happening?” She asked, indicating the book in Annie's hands.
“The four horsemen of apocalypse have just gathered and are heading to the same place as the angel and demon.” Annie answered, Derieri shaking her head at it.
“Madness.” She muttered, lowering her head into her hands.
“We don't have to hang around here, you know. We could go look for Monspeet.”
“He'll be back shortly. Even if he has gotten lost, he'll find his way back here.” To you. Annie added in her head. She'd spent a fair bit of time with these two since they'd arrived in the village... and what she'd observed made them seem like a married couple. She could tell Monspeet doted on Derieri... probably loved her if demons were capable of love. Of course, Derieri was oblivious; but Annie could tell she cared for Monspeet too. As if thinking of him summoned him, there was a knock on the door.
“Are you in here Derieri?” He asked calmly. Annie grinned, knowing what was probably coming.
“Yep. Got a visitor.” She called back. The door was pushed open and he came in. Annie's grin widened when she spotted the arm behind his back. Flowers for his girl... She thought.
“What you got there?” Derieri asked, trying to peer around him. He looked a little flustered, to Annie's delight. God, he has it bad, doesn't he?
“For you.” He held out what he was hiding, a small bouquet of flowers picked from the fields near the village. Annie had spotted most of the kinds on her own walks... but one flower in the middle stood out. A burgundy coloured rose. If Annie remembered her flower meanings correctly... that particular shade meant 'devotion'. Though... she knew there were no roses growing anywhere near the village. Which made her ponder where he'd gotten it from. She did also note the carnations and tulips were red too... though she'd never spotted red ones on her walks.
“Thanks.” …Was she blushing? Annie wasn't sure. She was sure she caught the hint of a smile on his face when Derieri accepted the flowers.
“Don't recall seeing red ones on our walks... And I know there's none of these around here.” Derieri commented, indicating the rose in the middle. Annie grinned, sure she caught a hint of a blush on his cheeks this time.
“Red makes me think of you. Burning bright. And I recalled that flower from the capital and... I morphed a different one into it.” Liar! Red tulips and carnations mean true love just like roses do! And burgundy roses mean devotion... like I know you have for her! Annie added in her head. Why couldn't he just say it in plain Britannian? Was it really so hard to say 'I love you'?
“They're nice.” She said, before putting them in the vase on the window ledge. Annie pondered whether Derieri was clueless or she honestly didn't know what he was doing meant. Men always got flowers for women they liked. She knew her father tended to pick flowers for her mother when he was in trouble (and sometimes this got him out of trouble, but other times it didn't).
“Made something for you too.” Derieri scampered over to the surface with the biscuits on.
“I see you managed to get some on you too...” He'd made his way over beside her and brushed the flour off her cheek with his thumb. It looked so adorably tender that Annie had to bite her lip so she didn't squeal. And Derieri was definitely blushing this time.
“I'll go wash up later then.” She told him, before picking up the biscuit which was made from the leftover dough, the one that was slightly odd shaped. Her father always helped himself to that biscuit when her mother made biscuits. When Annie had asked him why he always took that one, he answered that that biscuit was shaped by her mother's hands and hence was made with the most love. And Derieri was offering that one to Monspeet. How can you two be doing adorable things like this and not be a couple?! Annie thought, trying very hard not to make a sound at how adorable this was.
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“For you.” She mirrored his words, holding out the oddly shaped biscuit. He looked a little hesitant.
“She made them for you, go on.” He jumped, apparently not having realised Annie was sitting there.
“Apologies for not seeing you there, Annie.”
“It's fine! But you need to try those biscuits.” You were too caught up in your lady to notice me, after all! She added in her head.
“Yeah, they're nice.” Derieri held out the oddly shaped biscuit again; the one vaguely heart shaped, but not cut by the cutter. The one she'd shaped into a heart to match the others. He didn't hesitate this time, taking the offered biscuit and munching on it.
“Annie showed me how to make them.” Derieri told him while he was munching.
“These are nice, thank you.” He told her once the biscuit had disappeared.
“It's fine, Derieri wanted me to show her how to bake and... shortbread is the easiest recipe I could think of to start with.” She told him, seeing another soft smile on his face. Annie knew it was probably the right time to head home. Kissing was more likely to happen without an audience and she'd finished showing Derieri what to do.
“Anyway, now I've done that, I'd best be heading off before my father comes looking for me again!” She told them, heading for the door.
“Thanks for showing me that. Maybe we could try making one of those pie things next time?” Annie grinned softly.
“Sure, might be easier if you had a helper though.” Annie unsubtly looked at Monspeet.
“If Derieri would like my help, I'm happy to give it. Safe journey home, Annie.” She grinned again; knowing exactly how to set them up.
“See you both next time.” She said as she went out of the door. She was busy plotting a few things to try and help them get together. Or maybe to finally give him the kick up the butt he needed to say 'I love you' to the woman he obviously loved.
AN: The book Annie is reading here is meant to be 'Good Omens' (which is such a brilliant book and is so fitting with this series I had to include it in a fic). I got most of the flower meanings from here: link but I googled rose meanings. Every site I saw says burgundy roses mean devotion or passion. I say 'biscuits' not 'cookies' because I'm British (to me a cookie is a biscuit with chocolate chips in). Lyric used for this chapter's title is from 'Can you feel the love tonight?' from The Lion King (and it won't be the only lyric from that song used!).
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elliewiltarwyn · 9 months
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🌻 [SUNFLOWER] Where would your OC get lost in the moment/beauty of the place? For nature question!
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🌵 [CACTUS] How physically resilient is your OC? 🌱 [SEEDLING] What new passions/hates is your OC discovering? …. These too as well plz if u are okay with that 😆🙈
Of course, thank you! :D Let's see...
🌻: Ellie has a fondness for the calm of the forests, as that's where she ended up after the nadir of her life and began to recover. In conjury training she learned to both aetherically attune with the elementals and literally attune by sitting in quiet meditation on a large boulder, preferably somewhere near a flowing, bubbling brook. She prefers it way more than the griminess and hustle of the Steps of Nald'thal in Uldah, but she did grow up in Limsa Lominsa, so she's not averse to the kind of city that's on the sea with a slightly salty taste in the air, either. Mia, for reasons I haven't fully worked out yet >.>, is enraptured when they go to Elpis, feeling attracted to the surface-level beauty and purity of the unsundered world in spite of herself. Lily's answer is probably similar to Ellie's, she definitely doesn't like loud noises and civilization. I think I'm realizing they're all "disappear into a hut in the woods" kind of girls as I'm typing this xD
🌵: Ellie started out as fairly well-built as most roegadyns are, but didn't put it to much use until she began to follow the path of the dark knight during Heavensward. When she realized she was committed to it, she began to really focus and train to hone her resilience so she could stand at the vanguard to protect everyone, and she's utterly ripped now as a result and extremely proud of it. Which annoys Mia somewhat, because she was doing that from the beginning having always been a gladiator and paladin, but Ellie's results were much more obvious. Lily, having always focused on being swift and lithe over muscular strength, can get laid low by any decently powerful punch to the face, which she's not particularly proud of :3
🌱: Ellie starts to find herself fascinated by the technical details of the sorts of bonkers gadgets Cid and the Garlond Ironworks come up with, especially things like her coffee machine. I don't think this means she signs up with the Ironworks, but she likes to poke at those appliances to see what makes it work; ...I think in a modern AU she'd be really into building her own PC xD. Mia hasn't read through a full book in years and really wants to just sit down and relax with one. I think when things have died down, Lily, wanting to put her hands to good use, starts to get into gardening; she knows jack all about kinds of flowers and the intricacies of growing your own fruits and vegetables and all that, but she's enjoying figuring that out on the fly. I think this means she does the gardening manually on the island sanctuary instead of having the mammets do it automatically.
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*rises slowly up out of the sink* what was your favorite setting from the wings au?
*vibrating a normal amount* oh there are so many settings which one to pick...okay not the big main facility because I got totally turned around on the interior and was fudging my way through the last chapters despite trying to work it out on paper
I'd say...either the abandoned facility (because I love the being <3) or the gnome village they all live in.
I love that facility because it's alive--for those who haven't read it, I mean that pretty literally. The being has become the facility, and it's such a desolate, lonely thing I can't help adoring it. But also there's something not quite real about the place, it's got secrets and infinite hallways and unexplained things going on there. Like why doors opened for certain people and not others (which does have a logic to it!), and the mystery of the hidden tunnels where Biana disappeared without warning and reappeared unconscious but Off. I get to mess around with things and its so fun
Then there's the gnomish village, which I got to think about more than anywhere else because it was the most consistent location. It does have the downside of I didn't keep track of the layout so I'm not quite sure where everything is there, but like. I got to give everyone their own little personalized house how could you hate that! Wylie's got big windows and Fitz has a second story and Biana's house is covered in flowers and Dex has zebra floors and Tam's is hidden between the trees and like!! It's so fun! And indulgent!
But also! The village in itself is such a big part of the story, it holds so much more importance than just being a location. The evidence of what happened there before them just beneath the surface, the broken pieces they patch together and the meaning that holds. Finding the little stuffed bee and the crystal and the diary that gave context. The village was empty of people but so rich in storytelling potential. I hope I did it at least some justice
So it's probably one of those two, they stand out immediately. They're probably obvious answers but I just like them so much--I mean, the story kept coming back to them, so. anyway I'm sooo normal about the wings au I'm totally not thinking of rereading the whole thing and talking about every single chapter as I do so
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containatrocity · 1 year
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Familiar Scars
Gore tw, mentions of kidnapping.
He's never been obvious about it.
"What's your name, kid?" "Tyler..." "Okay, Tyler, well, it's cold out, and it's late, and you're naked as the day you were stitched, so why don't you come on down from there, an' me and you will have some cocoa at th' ranger station?" "Okay." And that had been how it started, hadn't it? A spacy teenage boy close to dark, out in the woods where he didn't belong. Duck had dressed him in clothes too big and made him a spot in the ranger station during his watch. He would have done it for anyone, kind despite his personality and temper- but Tyler was different- he saw the world through a lens that Duck could never pretend to understand, one that saw good in everything he encountered, where Duck himself saw only the cruelty of others, idling below the surface- mankind was capable of just as many horrors as the monsters outside, and Tyler had experienced them. but still he loved the world and the people in it with a fervor that almost made him... jealous.
He's never been obvious about it.
"Mr. Duck!" "Hey, Ty, just bringin' by some kills we ain't using for the commune." He had held up a bundle of rabbits, and the young man- not a boy anymore, really- had run over, hugged him around the waist. "You behavin' yourself?" "Sure am, Mr. Duck! Here I can help you carry stuff, man." Duck allowed it, passing over a few rolls of pelts and leather, leaving the hanging creatures slung over his shoulder. They'd made the walk around the commune to find Sunflower together, Tyler telling him about his day, Duck happy to listen. It was often a lot of listening, on his part, letting Tyler ramble and ask questions as they occurred to him- and Duck did his best to answer dutifully, when the time came- no matter how odd they may have been. He doesn't stay long- his aid to the commune extends only to his extra catches- not listening to Sunflower preach about safety in numbers, or whatever it is she uses to recruit- and he takes his leave, fluffing Tyler's hair gently. "you be good, now." "Yessir Mr. Duck, sir." Duck knows he means it.
He's never been obvious about it.
"Why do you keep goin' out to help me?" "Because it's the right thing to do, Ty." "You act like you're so mean all the time- you've never been mean to me, man." "Because you haven't earned it... Go to sleep, kid, I've only got 2 hours before I'm back on watch." "Okay. Hey, Mr. Duck?" "Yeah, Tyler?" "I love you man." "......" He learns quickly that Tyler is loose with love and affection, in a way Duck never could be. He never returns the favor in words, but actions, keeping the younger man out of trouble- answering calls to come get him, when he's dissociated somewhere, the association with safety he's garnered with Tyler one he doesn't take lightly. The world had failed him time and again- had him kidnapped then stranded in Huntsville, arrested him in his youth. It's why when he sees him at the hoedown dressed to his best with flowers for Kitty between his own dance with Percy, Duck can't help but smile- watch him love the way he feels like only Tyler can. They're cute, he reasons, and if anybody in this town deserved to be happy, unashamedly, unquestioningly happy- it was Tyler.
He's never been obv- THE DOOR!
Hysterics and chaos. Duck glancing up from where he and Tyler had been conversing- the younger man tucked close to his side- to witness the rush for the door, Rusty abandoning his place to book it with the group- Duck withdrawing his sidearm and starting off behind the swarm desperate to shut the door- only for his knee to tweak because he dares to run. He tries to ignore spires of pain but reaches the door late- just in time to watch ghostly hands grab Tyler by the shoulders and yank him outside- just in time for Alice to collapse into his chest. He takes a moment, to look for his daughter- Where's Wren he wonders, through the madness- spotting exactly what Rusty had been bolting for now- the girl held far away from the madness in the ranger's iron grip-, his hands over her ears. He'd likely been looking for Sissy- but too far from her at the time to help- he'd found Wren instead. It takes only seconds to calm that fear and focus on the moment.
Blood streaks snow and the sound of skin tearing and bone cracking is one he knows well, prepping meat on his own- watching unlucky fools who ignore the town's warnings wander off into the woods at night. But its different here. He wants to go out behind him, wants to throw that door back open and find some way to save what surely was one of the few kind hearts still left in this town. He knows better than to obey that want, holding Alice close and trying his best to comfort an old friend.
Tyler falls quiet. and the beasts lose interest, moving back to stare into windows and whisper to the people inside. Duck's mind goes numb, and he untangles from Alice. He walks to a table, sitting down and reaching down his thigh- unholstering a flask he'd left alone for weeks now. He unscrews the lid now, emptying the contents and trying to focus on the way it burns his throat and chest instead of the way he aches. The screams. The knowledge that when the sun comes up, and the storm passes, it's a friend he'll bury, not some out of town idiot. He wonders for a moment, as tears sting in green eyes, if he should have been more obvious about it.
"Okay. Hey, Mr. Duck?" "Yeah, Tyler?" "I love you man." He grunts, rolls over. It's only when Duck's alarm wakes him, and Tyler is still fast asleep, wrapped in a blanket on a cot hundreds of feet up in the air, that Duck sighs.
"Love you too, kid."
He just hopes he did enough, while he could. "Alright, everybody, show's over." He calls, voice strong despite the way he aches. "Everybody move back from th' door. Don't look out the windows, you know the drill." The least he can do is keep Tyler's memory something comforting.
Not a husk in the snow.
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cocomere · 5 months
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Happy anniversary to @valravntheravenwolf trying to guess The Askblog Secret and in the process making me answer thusly;
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I earned the right to laugh about this because I led Trias to the water so many times, and they got so close...and then suddenly veered off course.
I think I spent like two weeks being progressively less subtle. I had thought the answer was, like, pretty easy to guess? If you had a few pieces??
In the year since then I have learned that, no, my twists and turns are not actually obvious.
Still really surprised nobody called me out for the flower symbolism titles in Blood & Gold's interludes. The ominous chapter summaries, I thought, would make it obvious there's an overarching theme beyond the surface level meaning.
The answer is that they're all associated with death btw. I was spelling out what happens to Tubbo from the get-go.
The Askblog Secret is like 200 times weirder and requires some logic leaps that Are Not Obvious, because (depending on what you're noticing) the truth might have changed on a meta level multiple times over.
The cosmos is weird, the cosmos is infinite, the cosmos has an industrial sized tub of white-out and has decided to use it extremely liberally.
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theradicalace · 2 years
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yknow, i have to wonder, what type of flower ARE the golden flowers in undertale? they look like buttercups, but the fact that “golden flower tea” exists means they cant be, or at least, they can’t ONLY be buttercups, because buttercups are toxic. i wonder if they might be a few different types of flowers together, and monsters just call them golden flowers as a catchall?
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nonstoplover · 3 years
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happily ending catastrophies ~ Fred Weasley
summary: Fred is accidentally (and fortunately) at the right place in the right time, and is able to save a muggle girl's life.
pairing: Fred Weasley x muggle (female) reader
words: 5K
meaning of: (y/h/c) means 'your hair colour'
(kinda) warnings: (1) this plays after the war and Fred lives, because i refuse to accept anything else; (2) i'm not from the UK so excuse the possible mistakes i made about the underground; (3) also there are a couple time jumps, i didn't want to drag it for too long and had quite a few ideas i wanted to write
a/n: this was an idea born whilst i was studying for this year's most difficult exam at uni lol but i thought it was worth giving a shot so here it goes xx
my masterlist
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(y/n) wakes up to the sweet scent of some kind of flower filling up her nose and lungs. Despite the panging in her head she cracks her eyes open to find the source, though as soon as she takes in the totally unfamiliar room around her, the flower immediately gets forgotten.
What the hell?
She frowns, pushing her upper body up on her elbows to get a better look around. She has never seen this room ever before. Or has she? Suddenly she's not so sure as a foggy memory appears in her mind. Her glance travels across the cardboard boxes beside the wall on the floor, piled high on top of each other, then a desk, a wardrobe, arriving to the bedside table that has a lamp and several strange things - looking like some foreign country's small candies in colourful wrapping - on the wooden surface.
Sitting up fully she tries to move her legs to place them on the floor, but finds that it's much harder than it usually is - than it should be. All her attention turn to her legs now and the weird feeling that surrounds her left leg she hasn't noticed before. Carefully she lifts the covers that wrapped her body in a warm embrace to see what's wrong with her leg. A gasp leaves her lungs right away as her eyes fall on the cast wrapped around it from her knees straight to her toes.
In that exact moment the door slowly opens and her eyes snap towards the entering figure - a flaming red haired young man - whilst her fingers scramble to get the blanket back on her lower body, hiding the lack of clothing she's wearing as she's in nothing else but her underwear.
"Ah, you're awake! How are you?" He asks when his eyes connect with hers and slightly widen.
And his voice brings back everything. Literally everything to her mind about how she got here, all the memories flashing by in front of her inner eyes.
- - - - - - - flashback - - - - - - -
Friday the 13th. The day of misfortune and disasters. (y/n) huffs as she makes her way down the street towards the underground station to go back to her apartment. Now she knows this fact from experience.
She woke up a bit late that morning and didn't have time to drink her usual morning coffee in the comfort of her home, so she had to wait until her first break at work to drink one. When she just finished brewing a cup for herself in the small kitchen at her work, the handle of her favourite mug she kept in there broke and the now handle-less mug full of the brown beverage fell to the ground and shattered to a thousand tiny pieces, and if it wasn't already bad enough, the coffee splashed on her white shirt, colouring it light brown and leaving a wet stain behind all across her chest.
After that she managed to get through the day quite normally, right until 3pm, when her boss called her in to his office.
"The company is facing a hard time," his voice still echoes inside her head, making her shiver in sadness and anger. "I'm sorry, (y/n), the performance you showed us in the past two years was truly great, but you gotta understand that I have to decrease the number of employees. And that unfortunately includes you. I'm sorry."
If the way she worked was actually 'truly great', then why do they fire her and not someone else?
Well, probably her boss told the exact same thing to everyone he kicked out today, she thinks, but it doesn't help at all - it doesn't get her her job back.
So half an hour ago she packed everything in a box and set off to go back home, mentally raging about the cursed day. She has never believed in any superstition like this, but today she's changed her mind. Maybe all these things are true.
And that's when the next string of catastrophies starts.
As she's moving along the pavement next to the tracks at the station, the heel of her shoe breaks and she stumbles, her box flying away from her grip, all the contents of it scattering all over the ground. (y/n) tries gaining her balance back, taking a couple steps back, but the pavement disappears from under her feet as she reaches the edge, completely unaware of it.
She falls back, down to the tracks, and an impossible pain shoots up from her left leg as she lands, the air totally knocked out from her lungs. As she tries catching her breath, her hands move to lay flat on the ground so she can push herself up, but the world around her seems like it's spinning and she feels too weak to move a single muscle in her body.
Everything decelerates into slow motion and she glances around to see what she could do when something bright catch her eyes. A shiny warm yellow circle in the distance, getting slightly bigger and bigger with every second. She observes it carefully, thinking about how pretty it looks as she wonders what it might be. It only takes a second or two for her mind to catch up and suddenly she's more than aware that a train comes towards her and she's not capable to do anything to stop the collision from happening.
Friday the 13th.
Out of nowhere she feels a presence next to her, and just as she turns her head that way to see what's going on and her eyes fall on locks of bright red hair and a freckled face, the man has already grabbed her arm and with a fierce pull hoisted her up to a standing position. It feels like her arm is ripped out from her body, for a moment even the unstoppable hurting from her leg fades out to give space for the one in her upper body and she gasps before everything goes black.
- - - - - - - end of flashback - - - - - - -
The following events go by as a dozen of blurry pictures (y/n) can't make out in her mind and she blinks a couple times to get back to the present, to reality. She focuses on the redhead again, the last person she clearly remembers seeing.
"Where am I?" Her voice comes out hoarse and quiet and she clears her throat, waiting for his answer, knowing how she behaves quite rude completely ignoring his question, but she just can't help it.
She hasn't a clue where they could be, she's never seen a place like this in her entire life. It's obvious it's not a hospital. And after what happened it's just as obvious that she needs hospital treatment.
"The Burrow," he replies with a small smile playing on his lips.
And though she thought his answer would help clear some of the fog inside her head, it only confuses her more. Fred bites back the chuckle that threatens to burst from him seeing her cute frowning expression and waits for her to ask again, knowing it'll soon happen.
"The what?" The girl speaks up again, her voice now much clearer.
"My family home."
The confusion still stays on her face, and Fred truly can't blame her for it - who wouldn't be distraught after waking up in a stranger's home? Still, seeing the same expression he first ever saw on her face brings him back to the Tube station in London.
- - - - - - - Fred's flashback - - - - - - -
He's rushing down the stairs to catch the apparently soon arriving underground train, cursing his twin brother under his breath for winning the bet that resulted in the usage of any and every magical thing being forbidden for Fred for this whole week. Now he has to run errands adjusting to the timetables of muggle public transport and he's running out of time. Everything takes so much more time in the muggle world, and in the past few days he's grown to appreciate being born into the world of magic more than ever.
Arriving next to the tracks he catches sight of a dozen or so people there and relief fills his body. So the train hasn't left yet. He slows down to a walking pace and tries to catch his breath, and that's when he notices something weird about the people, something he has never seen in the past days when he used the Tube. They're all moving closer to each other, slowly making a tight circle, all of them looking in the same direction, as if something was on the tracks.
Curiosity rises in Fred and he makes his way to the edge of the crowd, standing on his toes to tower over it and glance down. His eyes immediately fall on a young woman lying there, one of her legs twisted in an abnormal way. She's looking to the side, towards the tunnel from where the train should arrive any minute now. Her expression displays confusion and slight fear, but her breathtaking beauty is still obvious, and it makes his heart skip a beat. His eyes slowly turn to where she's looking and he can see the light that swiftly grows brighter and brighter inside the usually dark tunnel, but his mind can't comprehend what he sees as all his thoughts are still only about the gorgeous woman lying there.
"The train's coming!" Somebody in the crowd shouts and that's what wakes Fred from his daze. His head snaps back and forth from the tunnel to the girl a couple times, so fast it's a miracle his neck doesn't break.
His body moves before he can fully think about his actions and suddenly he's pushing people away to make a path for himself in the crowd and he jumps down to the tracks. He hears a couple gasps from behind him, even a couple voices trying to inform him again and again that the train is actually soon there, but he doesn't care. All he focuses on is the task in front of him.
Squatting down he grabs one of the woman's arms and drapes it around his shoulder, standing up again as fast as he can, pulling her with him a bit harsher than he intended. She lets out a gasp in obvious pain, but he knows there's no time to be more gentle. Both of his arms move around her, one around her shoulder blades and one around the backs of her thighs to lift her up bridal style as he knows one of her legs is broken and she can't stand on it. And he's thankful for his own speed and thoughtful actions as he feels her body go limp as she faints.
The head-splittingly loud sound of a horn fills the air just as he turns around, signalling that they were noticed by the people on the train. As he takes the first few steps back towards the pavement he glances up, seeing two or three men already there bending down with their arms stretching in his direction. Fred quickens his pace as much as he's able to and practically throws the woman in the waiting hands, helping them pull her up by pushing her body from under, the screeching of brakes, iron on iron being the only sound that can be heard.
He stays on the tracks until he's completely sure that she's safe, than he grabs the edge of the pavement and swiftly pushes himself up, crawling on the cold surface until his legs are lying there as well. He feels a breeze moving against his back as the train arrives to the station, but he doesn't care about it, neither the cheering that erupts from the people around him, celebrating his heroic act, not even the burning feeling in his muscles from being strained. He just pushes himself up and stumbles to the woman, falling back down on his knees to be able to get a better look of her.
From up close he can see how she's even younger than he has thought, probably close to his age. She's obviously falling in and out of unconsciousness every other second. The word 'ambulance' enters his ears from the people around them, and he finds himself with a new task ahead of him. Somehow he has to get the girl away from this place and back to the shop so he can take her to the Burrow. Muggle hospital treatment isn't enough now, the wizarding world offered much better methods of healing. His mother will know what to do.
- - - - - - - end of Fred's flashback - - - - - - -
"And why am I here?" (y/n) continues asking.
"You broke your leg."
"Yeah, I figured, but shouldn't I be in a hospital then?" She tilts her head, raising an eyebrow.
"This is better than a muggle hospital," the young man shrugs.
"Mu... a what?"
"Ah, sorry. Slipped out," he let out a small chuckle, scratching the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.
Here comes the moment he dreaded. When he has to explain the existence of magic and the wizarding world to a completely clueless person and trying to do that without making a complete fool out of himself in front of the angel-like girl when she won't believe him - which he's sure she'll do.
"Wait, who are you? I don't even know your name," she speaks up again. "And how could I truly thank you for saving my life if I don't know even that?"
"There's no need to thank me," Fred protests.
"Of course there is!" (y/n) squeals as loudly as her weakened state allows. "Not everyone would jump down to the tracks when there's a train coming to save a complete stranger."
"Yeah, well, true," he mumbles, thinking back to how nobody did anything for her, anger filling his veins. Then he clears his throat, shaking his head to get rid of the negative thoughts and to focus on the girl again. "I'm Fred. Fred Weasley."
"Thank you for all you did, Fred. I'm (y/n) (y/l/n)," she sticks her hand out and a smile makes it's way to Fred face, matching the one on hers as he steps closer to shake her hand.
- - - - - - - 2 months later - - - - - - -
"I'm absolutely fine, Freddie, stop acting like I'm made of porcelain. I'm totally able to walk down the stairs on my own two feet," (y/n)'s giggling voice fills the air on the second floor of the Burrow when the redhead gently pulled her arm around his neck as he's done so many times in the past weeks.
"Alright, alright, I get it," Fred puts his hands up in surrender, backing away as laughter erupts from his throat and he turns his head away to hide the blush forming on his cheeks from the nickname she used.
Unfortunately he only gets completely face to face with his smirking twin brother who winks his way before pushing past him, a knowing chuckle sounding from him as he rushes downstairs, past (y/n), who follows him right away, only a bit slower, with Fred's careful, watching eyes trained on her back.
"See? I told you," the girl glances back at him over her shoulder after arriving downstairs, not stopping on her way to the dining table, only to stumble in a shoe someone left in the way. Fred immediately reaches out to grab her elbow and stop her from falling. From the strength of his attentive pull on her arm, instead of flying to the ground she crashes into his chest.
"I don't know, I'm not so sure," he teases, looking down with a smirk playing on his lips.
(y/n) moves her head up to connect her eyes with his, and Fred glances around her face, taking in the pink colour of her skin on her cheeks caused by the embarrassment of almost falling, then as his eyes reach the sight of her lips, he suddenly becomes almost too aware of how close the two of them actually are, and the breath hitches in his throat.
"Come on, kids, dinner's gonna get cold!" Molly's voice breaks the moment they shared and (y/n) regains balance, then gently pushing the boy away she turns around and limps the rest of the way to the dining table.
All of the Weasleys are already sitting there, watching the two of them appear in sight, and (y/n) has to bite back a giggle, still not used to the seemingly infinite number of redheads, all smiling wide and sweet at her. George pulls the chair she has always sat on ever since she was able to get downstairs out for her, offering a helping hand knowing that it's harder to sit down with only one properly working leg. Fred reaches out for her other arm just as she makes contact with George's hand, and the two of them don't let go until she's stopped moving.
She glances back and forth between the two boys sitting on either side of her, rolling her eyes at how overly protective both of them behave, when she's already told them hundreds of times that she's able to get by on her own.
The meal is delicious and the company is entertaining, just like it has always been since (y/n) stepped foot into the Burrow. Conversation flows without a hitch, only the occasional laughter breaking it for a second or two, and the (y/h/c) girl finds it hard to think about the inevitable - the moment that's coming fast, the moment when she has to leave these people and go back to her normal life. The Weasleys has become like a second family for her, and she fears that if she walks out that door, she'll never see them again. They're living a different life, in a completely different world. Their paths most likely will never cross again. She tries to brush off the sad thoughts, knowing that she'll have all the time to mope and grieve when she's back in her (ordinary and plain) flat on her own.
As she's helping Molly clean the dishes after the family finishes dinner, (y/n) pauses for a moment to glance at the redhaired woman. "Thank you for letting me stay here and for taking such good care of me."
"Oh, sweetie, you're more than welcome. It's our pleasure to have you here."
"That's true," Ginny chimes in with a joyful grin on her face as she places another dirty plate in front of her mother. "Your presence brightened up our boring lives."
"Boring?" (y/n) lets a loud laugh escape her throat. "Your lives are nothing even close to boring. Everything around here is breathtaking and spectacular."
"Is it though?"
"Try living my life for a week or so, and you'll know what boring really means," she shakes her head, the different memories and thoughts swiftly filling her mind as she turns around to lean the small of her back against the counter top, her eyes instantly connecting with Fred's, who's still sitting at the table, shamelessly watching her with searching eyes.
"I still can't believe there's a whole world of wizards and witches that we have absolutely no clue about. It makes me wonder how many things are there that's hidden from us. And it makes me scared how clueless we all are in the muggle world."
(y/n)'s only able to stand the intensity of his gaze for a couple seconds before she has to turn her head away, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks and heat them up. She swallows, only hoping that it stays unnoticed by the boy, but when she finally dares to glance back for the shortest of moments, she catches sight of a small smirk playing on his lips and she knows that nothing has gone unnoticed by him. Clearing her throat she tries to find something else to say, speaking the first words that come to her mind.
The newly learned word still rolls uncertainly from her tongue, not sure if she says it correctly, but when her restlessly moving eyes accidentally catch Fred's again, she sees a new kind of glint sparkling in his eyes, and it's enough to let her know that she used it correctly.
"It's not your fault," Ginny places a hand probably destined to be reassuring on the older girl's shoulder. "We're just too good at hiding it."
The two of them share a laugh, and unbeknownst to (y/n), it turns the shape of Fred's eyes into something that very much resembles a heart. His own heart flutters at the sound, the temperature of the room suddenly feeling too hot for him to bear, and he abruptly kicks his chair back, standing up and swiftly moving out of the house to get some fresh air and somehow try to cool the fire that's burning inside of his chest.
(y/n)'s eyes follow him, an eyebrow raised in question, deep in her thoughts right until the door closes shut again behind the boy. The sudden noise brings her back to the present and she shakes her head to get rid of the things running around in her head.
"Anyway, I gotta go upstairs and pack. I really have to go back home now," she sighs, pushing her body away from the counter.
"I'll come help you," Ginny immediately offers, hurrying after her.
Two and a half hours and a heart wrenching goodbye later (y/n) and Fred come to a stop outside her apartment's door, both of them feeling a previously never felt sadness fill their hearts.
All (y/n) can think of is flashing images of the flaming red haired boy. The way he sat at the edge of the bed she was lying in, telling her everything about the wizarding world. The way he lifted her up so effortlessly as if she weighed nothing to bring her downstairs when she was unable to walk in the first weeks. The way he walked her around the house and the garden, showing her everything and explaining things to her, adjusting to her extremely slow pace without a word. The way he showed her multiple of the products he and his twin brother sell in their shop, sometimes only speaking of their effects, other times even showing her, not caring with the fact it caused something inconvenient for himself as long as he made her laugh - which she did so many times and so hard that it made her sides hurt. The clothes he let her have when winter set in and her own became too thin to keep her warm, and the way the material smelled like him. The lingering touches of his calloused fingertips against the skin of her cheeks when he thought she was fast asleep - when in fact she was completely awake, fighting back the urge to press her face further into his touch.
In the meantime all Fred can think of is flashing images of the gorgeous muggle girl. The genuine curiosity that sparkled in her eyes whenever he told her about the world he's living in, the endless amount of questions she's asked him about anything and everything, the pure interest she showed from the first time he told her about the existence of magic. The way she bonded with each and every member of the Weasley family, finding a common thing with all of them and eventually making them all grow fond of her. The way she told him all about the muggle world and her own life, sharing all the details with him without hesitation - trusting him right away. The way his name rolled from her tongue - even more when she called him Freddie. The bubbling, loud laughter that erupted from her throat when he told her about the shop and all the pranks George and him did back in Hogwarts or when he showed her the products they now sell in the shop, the laugh that always made his heart skip a beat, the laugh he couldn't help but adore along with the fact that she seemingly didn't care the slightest bit how loud she is or how funny her laughter might sound. The way she looked in his clothes, always taking his breath away, making him wish nothing more in the rest of his life than to see that very sight every day as long as he lived - and possibly even after that.
"Well, thanks for getting me home," (y/n) points at the door behind her back as she looks up into his mesmerizing eyes. "And for jumping down in front of a train for me. And for letting me into your family home. And for taking care of me."
"It was the least I could do," Fred smiles sheepishly, his mind spinning, trying to come up with something to say that would keep the girl in his life.
"Bye, Freddie," she hesitates for a moment, then decides it doesn't matter anymore and leans in, pressing a soft kiss on his left cheek.
Fred's eyes flutter closed, heart bursting with the sudden feeling of love from both her lips touching his skin and the oh so loved nickname. He freezes, unable to think anything else than eight very important letters.
The girl moves back, fiddling with her keys to find the correct one, pushing it in the slot and turning it, gently shoving the door until it's wide open. She steps in, her eyes taking in the furniture and decoration she once loved but now finds unbelievably plain and mundane. A sigh escapes her lungs and she turns around to close the door - and wave once more the boy.
Fred still stands in the exact same spot, obviously not moving even the slightest bit since she backed away from him. (y/n) raises her hand to wiggle goodbye with her fingers at him whilst moving to close the door with the other hand, already feeling the tears blur her vision as she tries to take in the sight of him as best as she can to be able to remember him forever.
"Wait!" Fred exclaims, placing a palm flat against the wooden material to stop it before it fully closes.
This time (y/n)'s the one to freeze, hand pausing high in the air and she even holds back the breath in her lungs as she waits for him to continue.
"Can we meet again?"
Her eyes widen in surprise. She always thought that he'd never want to see her again. That he'd be happy to finally get rid of her and be able to continue his life as before. He wants to meet with her again?
"I... y-yes, of course," she stutters, heart stammering inside her ribcage so wild and loud, she's almost sure he can hear it.
The extremely wide smile that splits his face in two hearing her answer makes it impossible for her not to mirror it, her own lips curving on their own accord. Fred, feeling the previous nervous shyness evaporate from his body and the always present confidence fill his vein up again, takes a step closer to her, then another until he's right beside the door, gently pushing it wider open again. (y/n)'s hand on the door handle inside goes limp, and she lets it fall down to hang loose beside her body as Fred steps inside.
When he's so close that she can feel the breath coming from his nose reach the skin of her face, his lips open again to let out a whisper. "Can I kiss you?"
The already abnormal rhythm her heart beats in gets even more uneven, and her head moves in a nod as she breathes out the word 'yes'. Fred's eyes sparkle up even more, and his hands slowly start moving up, one reaching out to gently caress her cheek whilst the other wraps around the small of her back. Slowly, extremely slowly he leans down, pausing for a second just before their lips could touch, and as a wave of impatience rushes through the girl, she raises her head and presses her lips against his.
Fred lets out a muffled chuckle at her eagerness before tilting his head and snaking his arm further around her torso to pull her flush against his own body, his hand that's resting on her cheeks moving slightly further back until his fingers completely disappear in her (y/h/c) locks, his lips moving passionately against hers.
She completely melts into his touch, feeling like she's floating in the air, as if she's only dreaming. But when they both run out of oxygen and pull away to fill their lungs again, their foreheads pressing against each other in search of support and their eyes connecting without problem, looking deep into his beautiful brown orbs (y/n) grows sure right away that it's truly reality, not just a dream.
"I love you," he breathes in-between his quiet pants, but it's enough to make (y/n) totally dizzy as a love-struck grin spreads across her face.
And in that very moment they both know that their story is just starting.
.::the end::.
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reachfolk · 2 years
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If you're still doing asks bestie,,, 3, 13 and 14 for the twins? And maybe Isobel if you're feeling up to it!! I adore them
do the twins have any kind of crafting skills that aren’t in-game?
answering for both the twins together for this one bc they're both musicians!! we all know robin's a thief and has some pretty nimble fingers bc of it, so he also took very well to instruments like the piano and lute. marci on the other hand is a trained singer (fun fact: while i was describing her voice in the fic, the song that i listened to on repeat was i wonder lol). the two will often put on little performances if they ever have some guests over. unlike with most things their mother pushed them into though, they do actually really enjoy music!
does isobel have any kind of crafting skills that aren’t in-game?
art!! when she was in karthwasten, she loved to gather rocks and paint on them, and she kept them in a little box under her bed or even lined them along the karth river. she also painted bones if she ever went hunting with her parents. her favorite piece was a deer skull she skinned and cleaned herself, then painted flowers all along the surface. whenever she was in markarth, she convinced ursula to let her stand on her shoulders so she could reach high up the walls and paint their clan's symbol. she still paints to this day, though she mostly keeps it to pottery and canvas.
do your oc's have any particular rivalry or mutual dislike with any npc?
i MEAN the obvious answer is thonar and thongvor for sure. they weren't too thrilled to welcome a bunch of reachfolk into the silver-blood family, and they see isobel and her kids all as a sort of threat to the empire they've built. rivalry is a very weak word to describe it though.
robin is ready to throw down with a ton of people honestly, especially rich and/or noble people that have their heads shoved up their asses. maven black-briar, elenwen, erikur, siddgeir, etc. are the ones that come to mind right off the bat. they're stuck up, entitled, and altogether shitty people. he's definitely stolen from them plenty of times, pulled countless pranks on them, and done just about everything he can think of to get in their way. he's been caught a few times, and it doesn't escape their notice that something always happens to go wrong when he's around, so they all dislike him in equal measure.
for marceline, she might occasionally get roped into robin's antics, but generally she keeps to herself, so she flies under people's radar quite a bit. she definitely has a lot of people she like... side-eyes though, and they're usually just about anyone who's an ass to robin. people make it very clear when they look down on him as the screw-up in the family, and she hates those people a LOT.
as for isobel, she generally tries to not get on anyone's bad side, so i'd say there isn't anyone specific that stands out to her as being a rival. but she definitely doesn't like a lot of the people she has to engage with, including the people i listed above for robin. they're all very condescending to her about her parenting and some of them are pretty clearly prejudiced against her people, but she just tries to be polite in the face of it all.
how well-liked is robin? what is his reputation, if he's well-known? is he simply liked/disliked, or is he respected but feared, or personally liked but not taken seriously, etc? do major factions consider him an important player?
robin is not very well liked, and he's pretty well aware of it. for the most part, it's people he doesn't like that don't like him back (for the same reasons i mentioned above), so he can't be too upset by it, but given the fact that that's the majority of his social circle, it does sting. he likes to make friends with the less fortunate people around the cities he visits (beggars and thieves and what have you, thanks nocturnal) and he generally gets on well with them, but there's definitely this underlying sense that he'll never understand their struggles, so a lot of them dislike him for the privilege he was born with. in general, his reputation is very much "the bad kid in the family / the black sheep." as for major factions, he gets pretty deeply involved in the reachfolk uprising later on in the story!!
how well-liked is marceline? what is her reputation, if she's well-known? is she simply liked/disliked, or is she respected but feared, or personally liked but not taken seriously, etc? do major factions consider her an important player?
marceline puts on a facade of a very quiet, introverted, polite girl, so most people buy into it. i guess you could say she's well-liked in her station, if a bit muted and hard to read. she very rarely shows any aspects of her personality, so people don't have much to say about her. she's definitely known, given her family's status, but she manages to fly under the radar pretty easily. she... does a complete 180 on this by the end of the story lmao, girlie gets her glo up moment <3 in terms of which factions consider her a major player, she also ends up playing a big role in the uprising.
how well-liked is isobel? what is her reputation, if she's well-known? is she simply liked/disliked, or is she respected but feared, or personally liked but not taken seriously, etc? do major factions consider her an important player?
isobel's reputation is something she's very, very hyper-aware of. she carefully curated this image of herself as strong but not threatening, elegant but not delicate, confident but not stuck up. if it sounds like it'd drive someone insane, that's bc it would <3 for the most part, she's successful in building this reputation. most people in her social circle quite like her, save for a few of the least savory of the bunch. having said that, there are definitely some rumors she's desperately trying to quash that she bewitched her husband or something to gain social status. she's the talk of a lot of unpleasant gossip.
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emmerrr · 5 years
Note
heyyyy if you wanna write a pynch vday fic, how about one where they're like... both trying to be sneaky about planning sth for valentines day and so both think the other has forgotten about it and they're both like ://// but it all uhh works out in the end?? x
what a top notch suggestion, absoLUTELY i can write that 💕💕 (uhh heads up this got kinda long, i’ll put it on ao3 too and reblog with a link later)
-
Adam sat alone in a corner booth of Nino’s, History notes open on the table before him. He’d written VALENTINE’S DAY?? in the margin, underlined three times. He frowned at the words, wondering why he was fixating on them, and turned his head to stare listlessly out of the window instead.
Blue was there working, but she’d been too busy to come and say hello so far, simply offering him a harried wave when she spotted him walk in, pointing him towards the table he was now seated at. The other staff at Nino’s never bothered them anymore, knowing Blue would cover their table. Adam had heard them being referred to as “Blue’s Boys” on more than one occasion.
He was currently the only one there, having beaten Henry and Gansey out of the school gates. He assumed they’d got held up by a traffic light or two, and Ronan had further to drive than the rest of them so would likely arrive last anyway.
Thinking of Ronan immediately returned Adam’s thoughts to the words written in his notes and he scowled at the parking lot. On the surface, Valentine’s Day didn’t seem like it would be Ronan’s thing. Adam wasn’t even particularly sure it was his thing. But the fact remained that Valentine’s Day was a week away, and Adam didn’t know what, if anything, he was expected to do for it.
He tried to think back to previous years and remembered receiving an anonymous card from someone back in the seventh grade; a generic heart-shaped thing that simply said ‘Will you be my Valentine? x’ inside. He was fairly certain the sender was a girl in his English class who had never said a word to him but blushed every time she caught his eye. Adam didn’t see how he was supposed to answer whether or not he’d be her Valentine if she never told him she had sent it. And of course, she never owned up, and he didn’t want to suggest it was her in case he was wrong, and he didn’t actually want to be her Valentine anyway. So it was never mentioned again.
The difference here was that Ronan was his actual boyfriend. Didn’t that mean that they were each other’s Valentines by default, then?
Adam didn’t know. He’d never navigated Valentine’s Day before. Not like this.
He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear Henry and Gansey approach until they were right there.
“Oh, History notes,” Henry exclaimed. “Can I borrow them?”
Adam turned his head to see Henry already sliding the notebook towards him. “Your notes are always make more sense than mi—” Henry cut himself off, eyes widening at something on the page. Too late Adam remembered the VALENTINE’S DAY?? in the margin and slapped his hand over it, snatching back his notebook.
Henry was grinning at him. “Big plans?”
“No,” Adam muttered. “No plans at all.” He stuffed the notebook into his messenger bag.
Gansey had slid into the booth opposite Adam and watched the exchange with raised eyebrows. “What have I missed?”
“Nothing, apparently,” Henry said easily. Adam was grateful that Henry clearly wasn’t going to push it (at least not with an audience), but reasoned he could perhaps use some advice.
“So,” he started. “Valentine’s Day. Thoughts?”
“I’m glad you asked, Parrish,” Gansey said. “It was originally a Western Christian feast day honouring a couple of early saints called Valentinius—”
“Yes, thank you, Captain Wikipedia,” Henry cut in. “I’m not entirely sure that’s what he meant.”
A jug of Iced Tea was plonked onto the table without ceremony and they all looked up to Blue Sargent as she handed out glasses.
“It’s a dumb holiday invented by Hallmark to sell more cards,” she said, obviously having heard the tail-end of the conversation.
“Well, obviously there’s that too,” Gansey said, beaming at her. 
Adam sighed. They were all monumentally unhelpful. 
“Why the interest, Adam?” Blue asked, a knowing glint in her eye.
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I’m just…okay, with Ronan, do I just treat it like any other day? Do I get him a card? Will he think it’s stupid? Do I think it’s stupid?”
There was a short silence as the three of them blinked back at him, and then Blue carefully said, “Do you think it’s stupid?” 
Adam wasn’t sure how to answer that. The truth was that he sort of did think it was stupid, but he also thought he wanted to acknowledge it anyway. He thought doing nothing at all kind of made him look like an asshole.
In the end, it all circled back to Ronan, and whether he would care. Did he have anything planned? Was he having an internal crisis over it as well?
In lieu of an answer, Adam shrugged again.
“Speak of the devil,” Henry said, and nodded towards the entrance.
Ronan, dressed all in black (of course), had just stepped inside. He scanned the restaurant without turning his head but when he spotted Adam, his shoulders relaxed, and he smiled just a little.
Adam didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing that.
“Oh god, you two are the worst,” Blue scoffed as Ronan started to make his way over.
“What?” Adam said without looking at her.
“You know exactly what, Adam Parrish. You and Ronan with the googly eyes. Jesus Christ, you’re in public. Tone it down.”
“You tone it down,” Ronan said jovially, hip-checking Blue as he drew level. “What are we talking about?”
“The origins of Valentine’s Day,” Gansey said delicately.
Ronan snorted derisively. “Valentine’s Day,” he said with as much scorn as he could muster, “is capitalistic bullshit invented to sell cards and flowers and chocolate.”
“Hey man, that’s exactly what I said,” Blue said, sounding pleased, and she and Ronan fist-bumped. Adam rolled his eyes. They really were two sides of the same coin.
“You’re in my seat, Cheng,” Ronan said.
“Sit by Gansey, I was here first.”
Ronan shrugged. “Fair’s fair.” He stepped up onto the seat and over Henry and squeezed into the spot between him and Adam.
“Ronan Lynch,” Gansey hissed. “You’ll get us kicked out!”
“Calm down, Dick, no one noticed,” Ronan said. He had both arms stretched out across the back of the booth, and Adam and Henry were both leaning into him a little thanks to the lack of space.
“This is cozy,” Henry said cheerfully.
It was Blue’s turn to roll her eyes and she pulled her little notepad out of her apron pocket. “Alright, I have to actually do my job now, what do you want? Gansey, I’m assuming you want your usual half-avocado monstrosity?”
“You’re a millennial, Blue, you’re supposed to like avocados.”
Her disgusted expression was answer enough. The rest of them rattled off their food order and then Blue went off to put it through.
“Doesn’t anyone want to come and sit by me?” Gansey asked. “It’s lonely over here.”
“Oh, don’t pull that face, Gansey, you’re making me sad,” Henry said, swapping sides. He scooched right the way over to Gansey and draped an arm around his shoulder before sighing loftily. “It’s hard being this popular.”
“But someone has to do it,” Adam said drily, earning him a quicksilver smile.
“And I do it so well.”
Ronan was stopping at Adam’s for the night, but they had each come to Nino’s in their own cars so separated in the parking lot to drive over to St Agnes in a convoy.
Ronan was already peeling out of the lot by the time Adam reached his shitbox, and he was held up further by Henry calling his name. He turned and Henry jogged over, Gansey nowhere to be seen and most likely still inside saying goodbye to Blue.
“Oh, sorry,” Adam said. “You wanted my History notes, right?”
“No, that’s not — well, yeah, actually, thank you,” he said, taking them when Adam handed them over. “I actually came over here to give you some unsolicited advice.”
“About the Valentine’s Day thing?”
“That’s the one.”
Adam shrugged. “It’s not entirely unsolicited. But anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. You heard him.”
“Yeah, I heard him. Sounds like posturing to me.”
Adam tilted his head to the side. “You think?” Ronan certainly was prone to posturing.
“Sure. I mean, I have no doubt that he really does think Valentine’s Day is what he said in there, but I wouldn’t let that put you off doing something, if you wanted to.” Henry waited for a response, and when Adam didn’t offer one, he prompted, “You do want to, don’t you?”
Adam smiled wryly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only if you know what to look for,” Henry said, but before Adam could think on that too much, he continued. “Look, I don’t know Ronan as well as you do, but even from the outside, it’s clear how he feels about you.”
Feeling himself blush, Adam immediately looked down at the ground. He did know how Ronan felt about him. It was often whispered to him in the middle of the night when it felt like they were the only two people in the world. It just took him off guard to hear it so plainly from someone else.
“Think about it, Adam. Regardless of how Ronan personally feels about what Valentine’s Day stands for, do you really think he’s going to let a day when he’s practically green-lit to be as obnoxious as possible about you just pass him by?” Henry shook his head. “Not the Ronan Lynch I know.”
Well, when it was put that way. “Did he say something to you? Do you know something?”
“Not a thing,” Henry said, and Adam believed him. “It’s just an observation and an educated guess.”
“Huh,” Adam said thoughtfully. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and tossed them in the air, catching them again, ideas already forming in his head. If Ronan was going to be obnoxious, Adam could be obnoxious too. “Thanks, Henry. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t lose my notes.”
“I will try my level best.”
Adam gave himself three rules for Ronan’s Valentine’s gift:
1) It had to be heartfelt.
2) It also had to be in good humour and not take itself too seriously.
3) It had to be cheap.
He was too sensible to spend money he didn’t have on some arbitrary gift Ronan wouldn’t appreciate. Not to mention that Ronan was impossible enough to buy for as it was; firstly he was rich enough to buy himself pretty much anything he might want, and secondly he could literally manifest his dreams. It was going to make future birthdays and Christmas’s an absolute nightmare.
(But what a wonderful problem to have.)
What it all basically meant was that Adam had to go homemade, and given that he had school and work (and Ronan) to work around, he didn’t have a whole lot of time to do it.
He borrowed Gansey’s laptop during lunch-break on Monday at Aglionby and made Ronan a mix-CD of the cheesiest love songs he could think of. It featured such classics as You Make My Dreams by Hall & Oates, Heaven by Bryan Adams, True by Spandau Ballet, and many, many more. It wasn’t even remotely Ronan’s kind of music which made it funny, but as embarrassing as some of the songs might have been, they did actually somewhat echo Adam’s own feelings. He got to be a sap in the guise of it being a joke, and Ronan would get a kick out of it.
Obviously, he also added the Murder Squash Song for good measure.
Next up was a card. He could have bought one — his budget would have allowed it — but all the store ones were godawful and Adam couldn’t even imagine giving one of them to Ronan ironically.
Luckily he had an ace up his sleeve.
The first time that Ronan had stayed over at Adam’s after they were together in the very early days of their relationship, Adam had woken up to a frozen Ronan with a handful of strangely lovely flowers, the exact shade of blue as Adam’s eyes.
Adam had kept them in a cheap vase on the windowsill until they died, but unbeknownst to Ronan, he’d also taken one and pressed it to make a little print; his own private memento.
He was obviously keeping the original for himself, but he took it into the school library a couple of days before Valentine’s Day and scanned it, printing it out on some high quality photo card he’d ‘acquired’ from one of the Art rooms.
Once the ink was dry, he folded it down the middle as carefully as possible and put it inside his heaviest textbook to keep it folded and flat until he got it home.
He spent longer than probably necessary trying to decide what to write, but in the end, he went with:
Ronan,
I think maybe it was always you. I think it always will be. Happy Valentine’s Day (gross).
Love, Adam x
He didn’t have a nice envelope to put it in, so it had to go in a bigger manila one that Adam still had lying around. He slipped both the card and the CD inside, and wrote Ronan’s name in capitals on the outside.
He looked at his offering. It somehow didn’t seem enough.
Valentine’s Day was on Thursday, so on Wednesday— after school but before a shift at Boyd’s— Adam found himself in the kitchen of 300 Fox Way. He’d bought everything he needed to make chocolate brownies before he’d realised he didn’t have a tin in which to cook them in. He was also severely lacking in several other kitchen utensils, to be honest. One panicked phone-call to Blue later, and he had everything he needed and a helping hand.
Well, ‘helping’ was a strong word.
“Why brownies?” Blue asked from where she sat perched on the kitchen table.
“Because brownies are the best,” Adam said, frowning at the recipe he had printed out.
“Alright, can’t argue with that,” Blue said reasonably.
Adam was aware of her watching him while he slowly got out everything he needed and started weighing out ingredients. He felt unreasonably nervous about it, even though he knew that provided he followed the recipe, everything would be fine. Baking was a science, after all, and Adam was good at science.
But looking at it all now with Blue scrutinising his every move, he felt flustered and unmoored.
“I thought you were going to help,” he said pointedly.
“I am helping. I’m supervising,” Blue said.
Adam smiled at that. “I see. Are you the kind of supervisor who can grease this tin for me?”
“I suppose so,” Blue said loftily as she launched herself off the table.
Blue started chattering away after that which helped Adam calm down and focus on what he was doing, and it didn’t take long to make the mixture after that. Adam tilted the pan while Blue used a wooden spoon to scrape the mixture out and into the brownie tin.
After that, they just had to put it in the oven and wait.
Blue brewed up some of Maura’s least offensive tea as they sat and waited, and Adam finally asked what he’d been dying to all week.
“Do you know if Ronan has anything planned?”
Blue smiled and shook her head. “Honestly, Adam, I have absolutely no idea. He hasn’t said a word. I’ve barely seen him though, and never really without you there.” She shrugged. “If he’s got a plan he’s keeping it close to his chest.”
Adam nodded; he’d assumed as much. “I just want to know if I’m doing too much, or not doing enough? I dunno, it’s stupid. It’s only Valentine’s Day.”
“Yeah, but it’s your first Valentine’s Day together,” Blue said, not unkindly. “I get it.”
“What are you and Gansey doing?” 
“I made him a card and found him a couple of ‘slovenly’ t-shirts at the thrift store. I’m gonna hazard a guess that he’s getting me flowers, and he told me to keep the evening free so he’s probably taking me somewhere. Wherever it is, it better not be expensive.”
Adam grinned. “Maybe it’s Nino’s.”
“God, don’t even joke, I’d murder him. Again.”
He started to laugh, and after a couple of seconds Blue joined in. When it died down, Blue put her hand on his arm.
“Don’t overthink it, Adam. Ronan will love whatever you give him, because you’re the one it’s coming from. It’s not about the gifts you get or the meal you have or how much money you spend. I think it’s more about the gesture. That’s what’ll mean the most to Ronan.”
Adam managed a small smile. “I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” Blue opened a drawer and gasped, then pulled out a heart-shaped cookie cutter. “Oh my God, Adam, you have to.”
She held out the cookie-cutter towards him and he took it, sighing. “Really?”
“Yes! This way, they’ll all be exactly the same size and I get to eat all the cut-offs. Y’know, as my fee for helping.”
And that’s how Adam ended up with nine perfect little heart-shaped brownies.
Adam didn’t see Ronan that night, thanks to finishing late at Boyd’s and then having homework after. 
When he woke up in the morning, he was hit by the realisation that he and Ronan hadn’t even arranged to see each other that day at all.
He half expected Ronan to show up at St Agnes unannounced with a bouquet of dream flowers and some donuts or something. But that didn’t happen, and Adam slowly packed his messenger bag for school, remembering to include the Tupperware of Valentine’s brownies and the envelope with its enclosed card and CD.
He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to give them to Ronan, but it was better to be prepared.
Adam walked down to his car, scanning the parking lot and the street to see if there was any sign of a shark-nosed BMW. But there was nothing, and there was nothing on the way to school, and Adam made it all the way through to lunch without seeing or hearing from Ronan.
Obviously, he had no phone, and Ronan hated his own phone. But Gansey had a phone, and Ronan could have got in touch that way if he had felt so inclined.
Adam didn’t know what he’d been expecting; that Ronan would show up at the Aglionby gates with a boombox over his head blasting out Lionel Richie songs? That he’d get back to his car after school and find out his favourite hooligan had broken in and left him a giant teddy bear and a box of chocolates?
It all seemed stupid now, and Valentine’s Day was stupid, and Adam was irritated that he’d let the pressures of the day get to him. It didn’t matter. It was a meaningless day.
So why did he feel so deflated?
At the end of the day, he caved and asked to borrow Gansey’s phone.
First, he sent a text that said: it’s adam, i’m about to call you so answer the phone
He gave it a minute until he’d seen that Ronan had read the message, and then pressed the call button.
“Parrish,” Ronan said in lieu of a hello.
All at once, like always, Adam was happy to hear Ronan’s voice. And yet he still couldn’t quite shake his irritation, even though the one who’d got his hopes up was himself.
“Hey,” he replied. “Listen, were you planning on coming over tonight?”
“Nope.” It was a little difficult to tell, but Adam thought Ronan’s tone was just a little off. “You come here.”
Adam sighed. “Ronan, I have school tomorrow so I wouldn’t even be able to stay that late. Can’t you just come here?”
There was a long pause. “Opal wants to see you.”
“So bring her with you.”
“Are you kidding, Parrish, she’s filthy. She’ll mess up the interior.”
The BMW wasn’t exactly spotless inside so this seemed a flimsy excuse. Adam started to wonder whether Ronan even wanted to see him at all.
“If you don’t want to see me today that’s fine,” he said, tone clipped.
“I didn’t say that,” Ronan said, tone just as clipped.
It felt like they were heading for a fight. Adam didn’t want to fight. He wanted to give Ronan the stupid sentimental CD he’d made. He wanted Ronan to make fun of him for the brownies. He wanted a hug.
Adam was abruptly exhausted, and it didn’t matter that he’d gone to the effort and Ronan hadn’t. He just wanted to see him.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna go home and shower but then I’ll head over to you.”
“Okay, good. See you in a bit,” Ronan said, and hung up.
The sun was down by the time Adam pulled up at the Barns. The heating in Adam’s car was dodgy enough on a good today, and today wasn’t a good day. It had barely come on, so his hands were like ice as he got out of the car.
He walked straight in when he got there and made his way to the kitchen. He hovered in the doorway; Ronan’s back was to him, a tea towel strewn over one shoulder, straining pasta over the sink.
Adam rapped his knuckles against the door-frame and Ronan turned around.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” Adam replied. “You cooked?”
Ronan shrugged. “It’s just spaghetti.” He gestured to Adam’s messenger bag. “You brought homework with you?”
All that was in the bag was the Valentine’s gifts for Ronan, and he shook his head. “Nope.”
“Okay,” Ronan said with another shrug. “Sit. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”
Adam pulled himself a chair out, and it scraped against the floor noisily in the otherwise quiet. He waited for Ronan to finish serving up and then asked, “Where’s Opal?”
“No idea. Haven’t seen her since this afternoon.”
Adam took a bite of his food. It was good. “I thought you said she wanted to see me.”
“She always wants to see you,” Ronan said smoothly. “I’m sure she’ll turn up when she spots your car.”
They finished eating in near silence, Adam waiting for Ronan to say something— anything— to acknowledge the day. But he didn’t, and the longer the silence dragged, the harder it seemed to break it.
Adam started towards the sink to do the washing up afterwards, but Ronan stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Just leave it, Parrish.”
“But—”
“Leave them. I’ll do them in the morning.” 
Adam sighed, uncomfortable in the tension. He didn’t know what to do now. Did Ronan just want him to leave? And if so, why had he told him to come in the first place?
“Look, do you know what day it is?” Adam asked, unable to take it any longer.
“It’s Thursday,” Ronan said, chin jutted out, arms crossed. Adam glared; Ronan clearly knew exactly what day it was.
“Okay, great,” Adam said tiredly. He opened his bag and pulled out the Tupperware and the envelope. “Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess.”
He put them on the table and stepped away, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. He watched Ronan’s face, the expression on which had softened immediately. He looked to Adam, stricken.
“Parrish, I—”
“It’s fine, Ronan, just open them.”
Ronan snapped his mouth shut, and pulled the envelope over to him. Adam immediately felt self-conscious about his meagre homemade gifts.
“It’s not much,” he said quickly.
Ronan’s only response to this was a slight furrow in his brow. Then he took the CD out, quirking a smile at Adam’s inscription: LYNCH’S CHEESY LOVE SONG SINGALONG. It was surrounded by lots of hand drawn love-hearts that Adam now thought seemed excessive.
Ronan looked up and raised an eyebrow at Adam, a half-smirk on his face. “No track-list, Parrish?”
“It’s a surprise,” Adam said, smiling weakly, but relieved. “You’ll have to play it to find out.”
“I’ll do that,” he said with a sage nod. He put the CD down and reached for the Tupperware, pulling the lid off and tossing it aside. He looked inside and snorted. “You’ve really stuck with a theme here, huh, Parrish?”
“Hey, Valentine’s Day is all about the hearts, apparently. And to be fair, the heart-shaped brownies are Blue’s fault. She found a cookie-cutter and insisted.”
“She knew about this?” Ronan said.
“Yeah, she helped me make them.”
“That little sneak...” Ronan trailed off and let out a sharp laugh. “I asked her if she knew whether or not you were doing something, and she swore blind she had no idea.”
Adam thought about asking why Ronan had even wanted to know, but instead he pointed at the envelope. “There’s a card in there, as well.”
“In here?” Ronan turned the envelope upside down and the card slipped out into his hand. Adam watched as he took in the flower on the front, smiled a little, then did a double-take, glancing at Adam. “Hold on. Is this what I think it is?”
Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, uh, I pressed one, before they all died. I wanted to keep it, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Ronan said, something akin to awe in his voice. “I dream about them all the time.” He opened the card and read what Adam had written there, then dropped his face into his hands. 
“Parrish...” he mumbled. “I feel like a fucking asshole.”
Adam went over and gently pulled the card out of Ronan’s hand, sitting down on Ronan’s lap. Ronan’s arms circled his waist automatically and he tucked his face into Adam’s neck.
“You are a fucking asshole, Lynch. I love you anyway.”
Ronan grumbled something incoherently against Adam’s skin, and Adam smiled. “What was that?”
Ronan lifted his head so he could be heard. “I said I love you right back.”
“Good,” Adam said.
“I thought you’d forgotten. And I didn’t...I didn’t want a big deal, and this day is a fucking joke or whatever, but you didn’t mention anything. And I even thought you might borrow Gansey’s phone and like, text me or something this morning? But then you didn’t and when you finally called me you sounded annoyed and I didn’t know why, and I didn’t even think you wanted to come over. So then you finally got here and you seemed mad, and so I was mad and...I’m sorry. I was here thinking you didn’t give a shit and you made stuff for me?” He hung his head, penitent. “I love my gifts. These lame brownies smell great. I’m fucking sorry, Parrish.”
“Hey.” Adam cupped Ronan’s head in his hands. “It’s fine that you didn’t get me anything. Honestly I think I just let this whole day get into my head as having to mean something when it doesn’t. I don’t need a special day to let you know how I feel. And I’m sorry if I seemed mad. I just didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t mean to make it weird.”
He leaned in and kissed Ronan briefly. “And Lynch, you cooked for me. You made me a whole meal. I’m pretty sure we’re even.” He kissed him again, until Ronan pulled back and covered Adam’s hands with his own.
“Um...you should come with me,” Ronan said, and he almost sounded sheepish.
They stood up and Ronan swiped the mix CD off the table and shoved it in the pocket of his hoodie, before taking Adam’s hand and leading him out the back door.
Confused but intrigued, Adam followed closely behind, clutching tight to Ronan’s fingers. It was cold outside and neither of them had their coats on, which Adam was about to point out when they walked around the corner of the nearest barn and he was rendered speechless by the sight before him.
In the middle of the grass was a small gazebo tent, the base of which was covered in luxurious looking blankets. There was a laptop in the middle of the floor, hooked up to a projector which was pointing at the outer-wall of the barn. A precarious tower of DVDs was piled up next to the laptop; Adam couldn’t see the titles from here but imagined Ronan had assembled a variety of choices. There was a big thermos, contents unknown (coffee? Hot chocolate?), and various other treats; big bags of marshmallows and Hershey’s Kisses and Reese’s Mini Peanut-Butter Cups.
And everywhere, there was light. Ronan’s twinkling little dream lights, some in jars under the gazebo, others hanging in the air, changing colour, like little fireflies.
“Ronan,” Adam finally managed hoarsely. “What the fuck?”
Ronan smirked. “You thought I hadn’t done anything.”
“Uh, yeah, because you let me think that!” Adam said. He was struggling to process how cosy and romantic it all looked. Let it never be said that Ronan Lynch wasn’t an absolute sap.
“I didn’t let you think anything, you jumped to that conclusion all on your own.”
Adam scowled. “Now I feel like a fucking asshole.”
“Don’t,” Ronan said, pressing a kiss to Adam’s temple. “Anyway, this is nothing.”
“It is so far from nothing,” Adam said. He stepped forward and took a turn around, taking everything in as he walked in a slow circle, stopping when he was facing Ronan again. “I thought Valentine’s Day was capitalistic bullshit?”
“Oh, it is,” Ronan said happily. “But for one, I didn’t spend a penny. And two, a whole day where I can spoil you as much as I want to and you don’t get to complain about it? Sign me the fuck up for that.”
Adam burst out laughing. “You’ve just reminded me of something Henry said.”
“What did he say?”
“I told him that I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d do anything because we hadn’t talked about it, and he said, and I quote: ‘do you really think he’s going to let a day when he’s practically green-lit to be as obnoxious as possible about you just pass him by?’”
Ronan was grinning now. “Cheng’s pretty smart.” 
“Yeah,” Adam said. He caught one of the floating lights in his hand and then let it go again. “Just for the record, I think your dreaming abilities give you an unfair advantage when it comes to stuff like this.”
“Excuse you, Parrish, the only thing I dreamt up was the blankets because they’re heated. Oh, and the projector. And the gazebo. But that’s it.”
“‘That’s it’, he says.” Adam rolled his eyes, then accusingly added, “You dreamt up the lights.”
“Well, yeah, but not for this. I already had those. And the food was stuff I already had in the house, and the DVDs are ones I already own. I didn’t want to go overboard.”
Adam stared. “You are ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head. “Come here.”
Ronan went, without question or hesitation, and Adam wrapped his arms around his neck.
“This is the sweetest thing anybody’s ever done for me,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Ronan whispered, kissing a line up Adam’s neck and across his face, the tip of his nose, his forehead, “for the brownies, for what you wrote in the card...Jesus, Adam. It’s the same for me. You know that, right? It’s always you.”  
Adam squeezed tighter, feeling dangerously overcome. He breathed in the familiar, comforting smell of Ronan, and then released his grip. “And for the CD, obviously,” he said.
“Of course,” Ronan said, and smiled sharply. “Speaking of...” He pulled it out of his pocket and walked over to his laptop. “I’ll let you pick a movie in a bit, but first, I wanna listen to my present.”
He popped the CD into the drive and pressed a couple of buttons on the mouse, and a moment later the opening track started to play: I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston.
Ronan laughed, once, soundlessly, then came back over to Adam and held his hand out. 
“Well?” he said when Adam didn’t move. “Are you dancing?”
Adam grinned. “Are you asking?”
“I’m asking.”
“Then I’m dancing.” He took Ronan’s hand and together they swayed, far too slowly for a song this upbeat, but Ronan didn’t seem to mind, and Adam certainly didn’t.
They didn’t speak while they were dancing, both perhaps a little shaken at the near-miss of an argument, both relieved they hadn’t let it get that far. Both content to be in each other’s company, away from prying eyes and expectations.
It was still early days. They were still learning how to do this, navigating firsts and futures and each other, but they were both quick studies, and Adam couldn’t think of anything more worthwhile than building a foundation— and a life— with Ronan.
There were trickier days to come, but for now, they’d survived their first Valentine’s Day as a couple. As they lay curled together in a blanket watching The Princess Bride projected onto the side of a barn, Adam thought he’d have to mark this one down as a win.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Parrish,” Ronan whispered into Adam’s hair.
“Ugh,” Adam said, and kissed him. “Happy Thursday.”
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