https://literaryjuggernaut.org/2021/02/25/angel-of-the-wolf/ Here it is, as promised! I am grateful to have another one of my poems featured! 🥰🍁🐺📖💚 #AutumnWolfPublishing #AngelOfTheWolf #PeterSteele
For @docholligay’s February Same Prompt Party. I haven’t written in at least a year and had to restart twice, but I finished something this time so I could participate! Submitting it now so I don’t forget.
The prompt was: “Ami Mizuno: Love and Other Four Letter Words”
saith my heart, skin and bone
NABOO WAS a beautiful place.
such was known across the galaxy, but there was something to be said about seeing it for oneself. during her childhood, cora hadn’t aprecciated it fully— and, even if she had, she wouldn’t remember. there were those nights, however, where she caught fleeting glimpses of a time long past. cora often saw a woman. she was beautiful; a soft face and kind eyes, from what little she could see. one of those laughs that made everyone around her feel good inside. she was a wonderful woman— you only had to be around her for moments to see it. she had a pure soul, gentle as they came, and doted upon her child. she showered the girl with kisses and the special, fierce kind of love one only finds in mothers. those younger years of cora’s were some of her best, if only she could remember them— back then, they were a small family of three, the perfect visualisation of everything naboo stood for— they existed peacefully. mother and father were fully content with their cora.
during summer’s warm days, mother and child could often be found, hand in hand, wandering naboo’s luscious forests and fields. father would watch nearby, basking in the kind heat, admiring his two best girls. they were both beautiful. sunlight cast cora’s mother in a gentle glow and not even it could rival her warmth and intensity; she shone brighter than a thousand stars. flowers seemed to pale in comparison. everything seemed to fade away around her. and so, surrounded by summer’s cool breeze, she would usher her girl close, press their foreheads together, and reveal a small butterfly, perched elegantly upon her finger. the girl would make a happy sound, a cry of joy, and reach for it with the fumbling hands of a three year old. the creature would scare away, leaving cora with cries bubbling in her throat and spilling down her cheeks. her mother would hush her softly, wiping away her tears, and take her tiny hands within her own. the girl would look up at her like nothing else existed.
“you musn’t cry, my sweet girl.” she would coo, “we needn’t cry over those who leave us— if they love us, they will always come back. and if they truly love us, you will find that they never really left.” and, true enough, perhaps later that afternoon, or days later, or perhaps even weeks later, the butterfly would again descend upon the fields of naboo and land on cora’s nose. she would babble gleefully, reaching up with ever-so-gentle hands, and study the creature with the curious intensity found only in a child, a young thing, one who hadn’t yet succumbed to life’s cruel sting and cold grip. her mother would fight with the ferocity and fierceness of a thousand armies to keep it that way.
and so she did.
instead of taking her little girl’s tiny hands into her own, holding them tightly and staring into her eyes, she would clutch onto the gears of an x-wing, white knuckled, and picture those eyes when she most needed them. this was what she would fight for, what she would hope for— to see those little eyes again. those eyes, full of innocence and mirth, peering up from her bedside on those quiet mornings, before dawn, as her husband slept and softly snored. those little eyes above those little hands that would grab at her nightgown and lead her to the gardens; those little eyes that would glance back every few moments, just checking that she was still there, despite the toddler’s steady grip of her pointer finger. those little eyes that she would picture as her x-wing took a deadly hit. and time seemed to stand still. her mother tore the helmet from her head, silencing the shouts of her squadron, and pictured only those little eyes, as innocent and full of mirth as ever. she only hoped to see those little eyes again soon— perhaps the maker was merely a myth and she would be met by those eyes. that would be good. cora’s mother was content when she parted ways with this life.
and, that day, her father wept. and, that day, cora wept, too, for she could not stand to see her father cry. such a young thing, she did not understand— once the picture of calmness, he had been reduced to a shell of that man, a man filled with light, now cast in shadow. naboo was bright, it’s people celebrated for weeks, but one small home in naboo was dark. cora missed her mother. she would cry out at night. the best her father could do would be to pad across the room to her cot, take the child in his arms, and sing to her. at this, she seemed to settle, content with the presence of her father, the last person in this galaxy she trusted. the family of three, now the family of two; those little eyes, once full of innocence and mirth, were now filled with tears.
the grief was all-consuming for some time. slowly, however, for the sake of his daughter, the one he loved most in this world, cora’s father began to pick up the scraps and piece himself back together, piece their family back together. to any uninformed onlooker, everything was as it once was, but something had shifted. now, one could find cora and her father strolling the grounds, hand in hand. matured in the face of grief and loss, cora would babble away. her father would listen, offer his undivided attention. he would swing their linked arms, hoist the young girl onto his shoulders and hum quietly as she rested her chin on his head. butterflies came and went, that never changed, and cora no longer pawed at them or scared them away. seeing his little girl grow was a source of great peace for her father— he often meditated, reflecting upon the state of things. the girl would pull faces and wiggle her fingers before her father’s closed eyes. a smile would tug at his lips— joy radiated from her in waves. he would reach out to the girl and pull her into his lap, fingers dancing across her sides and eliciting squeals of glee. escaping his grasp, cora would reach up and gently pull her father’s eyelids open. he was met by those little eyes, those little eyes that his wife had loved so much.
perhaps, things would be okay, just the two of them. her mother’s presence came and went with the coming and going of spring, of summer, of the butterflies. perhaps, things would be okay, he reasoned, watching his daughter skip ahead. cora turned to meet him and he caught sight of those little eyes, those little eyes, matured, but still full of innocence and mirth. her mother’s eyes.
Let me talk about Alex for a minute.
Listen. Alex is Alex. I try not to play favorites too much with my characters, or at least rotate favorites, but ALEX. Alex is best boy. He is my first ever OC and my oldest and honestly, I’ve put so much of myself into him that I think more of me is in him than in me.
Mal is also epic. Mal rotates between soft cinnabun and soft Evil (technically) cinnabun. Mal is constant, even if sometimes they’re dead or the antagonist, they were always there at some point and Alex is always in love with them, head over heels.
Quinn is also constant. Quinn is almost constantly an antagonist, but sometimes- rarely- he’s an ally, if a prickly one. Most of the time, Alex and Quinn are childhood best friends turned rivals.
Alex himself doesn’t change that much from verse to verse. Most of the time, he’s morally grey at best, but a softie at heart. Almost always capable of murder. ALWAYS capable of theft, and actively enjoys it. Constant; frighteningly good at sneaky things. Constant; lone wolf with a network of people to lean on.
Sometimes he’s a SHIELD agent. Sometimes he’s a sorcerer or mage. Sometimes he’s a fae. Sometimes, a Jedi, or a superhero, or an Assassin, or a smuggler, or a pirate, or an anarchist… he’s a lot of things. But he’s always in favor of freedom and VERY MUCH against bigotry. Always.
Visually, his style changes drastically; earth tones, greys, blue and gold, simple, utilitarian clothes all the way to fancy outfits with a million tiny details. Often leans towards feather and bird iconography, though, or arcane symbols.
Physically, he’s generally pretty much the same. Sometimes, per verse, his height will change- for example, in a LOTR verse, if he’s an elf, he’s taller than his usual 5'5". His species changes, too, based on the verse; usually an elf or fae, when available, but most often just human. Sometimes an angel, sometimes a fallen angel, but not usually a demon. (Sometimes, though.)
Tan skin, sometimes darker or lighter depending on the setting. Messy dark hair, usually black or brown so dark as to be black. Sometimes longer, but usually short, and almost never past the shoulders. Eyes either olive green or glowing gold, depending on if it’s a fantasy verse or not.
Tattoos! He has one that never changes, but depending on verse, sometimes he has more. The one that’s constant is one of a bird, on his collarbone, above his heart. The specific style of bird varies; in a fantasy world, it might be a phoenix. Pirates, it’s a bird with a ship at sea in the background. Sci-fi, it gets more geometric.
Other tats are sometimes wings/feathers on the back or arms, compasses, arcane scrawlings or symbols, quotes he likes, skulls or flowers, fancy patterns like mandalas or stylized wind…
Scars! There’s only two that are Always There, but they have different causes depending on the verse. One is his thigh, which gives him a limp. It’s usually the right thigh, sometimes the left, but that’s rare. The other is his back, long, jagged marks that are usually left from a bad fall, sometimes from a creature, or something else, but always spanning his whole back and always messy. Besides this, there’s a scattering of other notable scars that vary by verse, and another host of smaller ones that come from just… work. His job, his day-to-day, etc. Being a SHIELD agent or an explorer gives one lots of nicks and marks to remember.
Rarely has piercings, but sometimes studs in ear. Wedding ring sometimes, either on ring finger or a chain around the neck. Occasionally bracelets, sometimes watches, sometimes certain special amulets on necklaces, again varied by verse.
Basically, my point is; Alex is Alex. Visually he may change, his backstory may shift a little around the fixed events that make him who he is, the story behind his scars or tattoos or career may change a little, but he’s still himself.
I love Alex very much, no matter what verse he’s stumbled into this time. :)
URL survey prompt #9: ur rexsoka prompt was *mwah something with ahsoka, hardcase, and fives? who knows all the chaos they would cause (last prompt - thank you everyone for submitting responses!)
Rex had taken one good look at the surviving Domino boys post-Rishi and two thoughts crossed his mind, in this order. 1) he was going to recruit them to Torrent if it killed him. 2) they could not be allowed to be alone with the Jedi cadet that his General had somehow acquired a few weeks back on Christophsis.
The first thing was accomplished easily. Cody found the right forms to approve the official transfer while they were still en-route back to the Resolute.
The second thing… was more difficult.
Fives and Echo had made a reputation for themselves pretty quickly among the rest of the 501st - they were ARC material, sure. But they were also conniving little osik’kovide who were going to give either Rex or Kix a heart attack one of these days. Rex was pretty sure there was a betting pool on which one of them it would be.
And Ahsoka, well… despite the rocky start, Rex couldn’t deny that the kid was good. But she was also gaining General Skywalker’s irritating ability to find trouble quicker than lightspeed. If Cody’s complaints over their private comm were any indicator, Kenobi was just as bad. Maybe it was a Jedi thing, or maybe it was particular to their Jedi.
In any case, Rex had relaxed minutely when Echo had turned up at his office, talking a mile a minute about the training regs during long hyperspace hauls, because as long as Echo was in eyesight, Fives couldn’t get into too much trouble on his own, right?
What Rex had forgotten to factor in was Hardcase.
So when there was a muffled explosion from the direction of the barracks and Echo barely even paused over it, Rex knew, immediately, that Fives and Hardcase were going to be at the center of whatever trouble was brewing.
He wasn’t surprised when he found Ahsoka covered in soot, grinning so wide with her sharp teeth that it was making the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably, standing between Hardcase and Fives, who were equally sooty.
“Commander,” Rex growled as he approached them, Echo trailing behind him and trying to stifle his laughter. “Report.”
Ahsoka shrugged, grin still stretched across her face. “We were experimenting with the droid poppers, trying to get a bigger cone of influence on them.”
“We shorted out the lights in the barracks ‘fresher,” Fives said, tone completely neutral, like he was giving a sitrep after any routine mission. “Junker in Engineering already has them back on, though, don’t worry.”
“And where did all the soot come from?” Rex demanded.
“We also had some components from our regular grenades with us, because those have a big blast radius,” Hardcase explained. Like Ahsoka, he wasn’t even trying to hide his smile, though at least his wasn’t as predatory.
Rex crossed his arms over his chest, deeply unimpressed with his three troopers. “Fives, Echo, Hardcase. Thank you for volunteering for latrine duty the next time we’re planetside. The entire next time we’re planetside. And, Commander Tano?”
“You and I will be going to the General. I’m sure he has plenty of creative disciplinary actions up his sleeve.”
Ahsoka considered this for a moment before nodding and stepping forward to follow him. “It was worth it.”
“Damn right it was,” Fives muttered.
Rex didn’t even turn around as he amended his statement. “The next two planetside missions, Fives.”
osik’kovide - roughly, ‘shitheads’
Please follow me on my insta @nazeku for more :)
It’s 5th grade
In the cafeteria it’s footlong hotdog day
And they just shepherded the boys into
So we could watch the sex ed video separately
Already setting the precedent
(I didn’t have to relocate my stationary)
But I felt a strong desire to clean or “do” “something”
To their sacrifice
Maybe bake a pie
Maybe make a good wife
And somehow even with
The line-drawn animations…
The hydraulic lift, and
Water cycle annotations,
Arrows and things…
I am still not quite sure thereafter
If what I think happens
And all I’ll really remember is the wheezy old man quoting, “sex is precious!”
And never lacking an appetite so much
In my whole damn life
Even as I read V.C. Andrews books
And fantasize about the power dynamics
Maureen Armstrong @haikkun
pairing: Fred Weasley x Female!Reader
summary: fred & the reader catch up as they explore the city! more about their history is revealed & a tiny bit of angst involving cedric ensues.
word count: 2.3k
setting: 1999, post war in paris
warning(s): cursing, angst if you squint, a most likely glamorized portrayal of paris (my apologies babes)
author’s note: hello!! i’ve actually really been enjoying this series & have kinda become invested the more i write on it. i have a general idea and goal for this so it’ll be around 5 parts long & probably have longer updates as well. i’m still very insecure about my writing, but am kinda growing into it. all of this is to say that i appreciate everyone who’s been following this story. let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts!
i appreciate any feedback from you & hope you enjoy! :)
“So what has the (Y/n) (Y/l/n) been up to?” Fred asked, still nursing his coffee from earlier.
The two of you were walking the streets and you were showing him some of your favorite spots around the city.
You weren’t sure how to answer his question, you’d spent the past year attending the stuffy kind of events that Fred loathes and were currently living rent free in an old money estate home with Cedric Diggory, who he didn’t really like much either.
“Well,” you started, “I’ve taken up some new hobbies.” You offered.
Fred quirked his eyebrows, “Hobbies?”
You nodded, “I paint now, I’m fluent in French and Italian, and I can play some piano.”
“What can’t you do?” Fred asked.
“I can’t dance.” You admitted.
“Really?” He said.
“Yes! I have two left feet. Even simple ballroom style dancing I struggle with.”
Fred looked at you with a smile, adoring how serious you took something as simple as dancing.
You continued, “I tried taking ballet classes, but after one lesson I gave up. I’m simply not graceful enough.” You explained.
“You’re too hard on yourself, but dance lessons? You really have been busy.” Fred mused with a small laugh.
You chuckled, “I guess so. I’m sure my activities don’t even compare to yours though. What has the infamous Fred Weasley been doing?”
“Not much, I’m afraid to admit. George and Angelina got married, so there’s more work for me at the shop, but I don’t mind. It keeps me occupied.” Fred responded.
“George and Angelina married!” You exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Fred frowned, “I didn’t know if you cared or not. It was right around when we lost contact, so.”
Fred didn’t have to finish the sentence for you to understand.
“Well I’m glad you’re doing what you love. It was always fun working with you, I miss seeing someone that passionate about what they do.” You said honestly.
“And here I thought Paris was known for its passion.” Fred commented.
“It is, I guess I’m just not there yet. I do enjoy painting though so I suppose that’s my ‘passion’ for now.” You replied.
“You should show me your gallery sometime. I’d love to see your work.” He said.
You smiled, “I’d like that. How long are you in town for?”
“I’m not sure actually. This whole trip was spontaneous, I’m staying out at a small motel, they’re letting me pay per night.” Fred explained.
“So basically I can be here as long as you’d like. I came here to see the city, and, well you.” He confessed.
“If my presence isn’t wanted though, I can leave you alone. I just, Godric, I’ve missed you (Y/n).”
You took Fred’s hand in yours and squeezed it reassuringly, “Your presence is always wanted. You’re not the only person who’s missed someone.”
Fred smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.
“So, where are you taking me next?” He asked.
“I have to pick up my gown for a gala tonight so we’re heading to my seamstress.” You answered.
“A gala and a seamstress? Who are you and what happened to (Y/n)?” Fred joked.
You laughed lightly, “I made good connections when I moved here I guess. But really, galas aren’t that bad.” You insisted.
“Well what kind of galas are we talking about?” Fred asked.
“The kind for getting dressed up and drunk.” You replied.
“Sounds like my kind of gala then.”
When you reached the boutique, it was fairly empty and your seamstress, Madame Austen, greeted you immediately with a warm hug.
“Ah, (Y/n)! C'est tellement merveilleux de te voir!”
Ah, (Y/n)! It’s so wonderful to see you!
You smiled kindly, “Vous aussi madame! Je suis tellement excité de voir la robe.”
You too madame! I’m so excited to see the gown.
She nodded, “Et qui est le bel homme que tu as emmené avec toi?”
And who is the handsome man you brought with you?
You smiled bashfully, “Fred Weasley, il est de Londres en fait et est venu me rendre visite.”
Fred Weasley, he’s from London actually and came to visit me.
Madame Austen’s eyes shifted between the two of you and she gave you a knowing smirk, “Ah, Cédric l’a mentionné de temps en temps.”
Ah, Cedric’s mentioned him from time to time.
Then she addressed a confused looking Fred, speaking english, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Frederick. Do you speak French?”
Fred shook his head, “I’m afraid not, but I want to learn.”
She nodded approvingly, “If you prolong your stay we can ease you into it. (Y/n) here is one of my regulars and comes often which means I’ll most likely be seeing you more.”
She led the two of you in the back and handed you the garment bag, “Try this on and let me make sure I don’t need to make any alterations.”
You smiled appreciatively and went into the dressing room with Fred following behind. He stayed outside the room, but was in close enough proximity to talk.
“Did she mention something about Diggory?” Fred asked.
“Um, yeah. He comes here for suits and stuff.” You told him.
“Huh, I didn’t realize he lived in Paris.” Fred commented.
“Well, he does.” You told him.
You had gotten the silk gown on, but the back needed to be laced up. Madame Austen normally helped you, but you could hear her with another customer.
“Freddie, can you lace me up?” You called out.
“Like right now?” He asked.
Fred approached the dressing room, but paused before entering, “Is it ok for me to come in?”
You chuckled, “Yes, Fred. You can come in here.”
He pushed the privacy curtain back and stepped into the changing room. You were holding the top of your dress up to keep it in place and looking at yourself in the mirror.
Fred was frozen as he gazed at you. He’d always been aware of your beauty, but right now it was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.
The dress hugged your body perfectly, the color was stunning on you, and complimented your skin tone perfectly. Fred met your eyes in the mirror and you were looking at him expectantly.
“Oh, um, right.” Fred tore his eyes away from you and focused on lacing the back of the dress up. His fingers ghosted along your back as he pulled the fabric through the correct loops, causing you to shiver slightly.
Fred stuck his tongue out in concentration and you chuckled softly, causing him to look up.
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing.” You said, biting back a smile.
“No, no, tell me.” Fred insisted. “If you don’t I’ll undo all of this handiwork.” He joked.
“Ok, ok!” You started, “You’ve done this forever and really I think it’s cute more than anything, but when you’re really concentrated sometimes you stick your tongue out.” You explained with a laugh.
“No I don’t.” He argued.
“Yes, you so do!” You mimicked him and stuck out your tongue, “Just like that.”
Fred shook his head, “I would be aware of that if I was doing it.”
“Whatever you say, Weasley. Just finish lacing me up.”
“Mm, I forgot how bossy you are.” Fred teased.
“I don’t remember it bothering you before.” You retorted playfully.
“Here, just tie these at the nape of my neck and you’ll be done.” You handed Fred the two strands to hold the top up.
“Yes ma’am.” He said.
He moved closer to you and you could feel his warm breath fanning across your neck. You realized how close you were and could feel your skin heat up, you hoped he wouldn’t notice.
He started to work with the fabric, but paused with his knuckles lightly grazing your skin. You inhaled sharply at the contact and hoped Fred didn’t hear. He didn’t react if he did.
“Do you want them in a bow?” He asked softly.
You nodded, looking at him in the mirror. His face, even deep in concentration, was extremely handsome. Fred gently tied the strands together and stepped back, proud of his work.
You examined yourself in the mirror, frowning slightly. Fred walked up behind you and rested his hands on your shoulders, facing the mirror as well.
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t look right to me.” You answered honestly.
“You’re wrong.” Fred said.
“You’re breathtaking.” He added quietly.
The two of you were interrupted by Madame Austen clearing her throat outside of the changing room.
“How does it look?” She asked.
Fred answered before you, “How do you say ‘beautiful’ in French?”
“De toute beauté.” She answered.
“Well then, she looks de toute beauté.” Fred said, although it was more to you than her.
You smiled softly at him, “Thank you.”
“Come out now, let me see it then!” Madame Austen said excitedly.
Fred opened the privacy curtain for you with a proud smile and Madame Austen clapped.
“Ah, c'est parfait!”
Ah, it’s perfect!
“Do a spin for me.” She insisted.
You smiled bashfully and twirled for her, earning applause from both the Madame and Fred.
“Ok, ok, as much as I appreciate the support, the real person who deserves the applause is you, Madame! I mean this is gorgeous and I know it took a lot of hard work.” You told her.
Fred nodded in agreement and she thanked you.
“Now, I’m gonna take this off before I mess anything up.” You said with a chuckle while entering the changing room.
Madame Austen nodded, “I’ll get your gloves for you. Frederick, come with me.”
Fred followed her into the main part of the boutique and chatted with her while they waited for you.
“So, what will you wear tonight?” She asked him.
“Oh, I’m not going with her.” Fred explained, “I actually just ran into her and now we’re here.”
She nodded in understanding, “So she’ll be going with Cedric then?”
Fred looked at her with a confused expression, “Why would she go with Cedric?”
“They normally go to these sort of things together.”She answered, but Fred’s baffled expression let Madame know he was out of the loop.
“He’s the one who introduced her to the lifestyle. I’m sorry, I thought she would’ve mentioned something.” She offered sympathetically.
“No, it’s alright. I guess she didn’t really have the chance.” Fred said.
Unaware of the conversation between Fred and Madame Austen, you walked up to the pair with the garment bag, “Thank you again, Madame. I don’t know what I’d do without you!”
“Let’s not even imagine that.” She joked.
Once you parted and it was just the two of you, Fred spoke up.
“So Madame mentioned something about Cedric going with you tonight?”
You pursed your lips, “Yeah, actually. I guess now that it’s been brought up, it’s a good time to kinda explain my situation.”
Fred listened intently.
“So when I first moved here I was staying in a small apartment owned by an old Italian woman when I ran into Cedric at an art show. We got to talking and he mentioned that he was staying in his Great Aunt’s estate and that he could use the company of a friend and welcomed me into his home.” You started.
“And now it’s been almost a year living with him and it’s amazing. His family connections allowed both of us to experience the richness of the city and enjoy its beauty. Ced has been the perfect companion. I’m lucky honestly.” You said.
Fred cleared his throat and kept his hands in his pockets, “Wow, that’s, uh, that’s awesome. I didn’t even realize you two were that close anymore.”
“Well, there was that period of time when you and George had left for the shop and I continued my studies at Hogwarts. Cedric was struggling, still recovering from all of the Triwizard Tournament stuff, and we both really connected and stayed that way up until graduation. So really it’s not that surprising.” You told him.
Fred considered what you said, it did make sense. And if he or George were to be absent in your life, it was always Cedric who filled that hole for the time being.
There’d always been a hint of jealousy that would lie under the surface when Cedric was mentioned, but Fred would just brush it off.
“I forgot honestly, but I’m glad you have someone familiar here.” Fred said.
You let out a sigh of relief, “I’m so glad to hear that, I was kinda worried how you’d react, given our situation and the not so discreet dislike you have for Ced.” You admitted.
Fred denied your claim, “I don’t dislike him, I just never got to know pretty boy Diggory.”
“Well if you stay here you’ll get to know him better.” You said excitedly. “He’s so great, you’ll love him.”
“That’s likely.” Fred mumbled.
You scoffed and bumped his shoulder, “Come on, Freddie. Give him a chance!”
“I guess I can try, but only for you.” Fred said with a groan.
You beamed, “Perfect because we’ve got to drop this off and he’s home right now.”
Fred cleared his throat, “Actually, as fun as this afternoon has been, I think I’m gonna head back to the hotel. Get unpacked and settled, that sort of thing.”
Your face fell, but you quickly hid your disappointment with a smile, “Oh, ok. Would you wanna do something tomorrow maybe?” You asked hopefully.
Fred smiled, “Of course. Wanna meet at the cafe, 11:00 am?”
“That sounds perfect.” You told him.
As you parted ways you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Seeing Fred made you the happiest you’d been in a while, though you’d never admit it aloud. He was your person all throughout your life and you’d forgotten how much you loved him.
Sure, Cedric was great in his own ways, and you didn’t regret leaving London, but Fred Weasley had a way of sweeping you off your feet and leaving you breathless. There had always been a spark between the two of you, and you’d considered dating back in your school days, but the timing was just never right.
Instead of enjoying the evening’s gala, surrounded by high society Parisians and their many vices, your mind was stuck reflecting on your afternoon with Fred.
It was wonderful.
You found yourself already missing him even though you had spent the entire past year burying your yearning for him and supposedly moving on from your past. But if one afternoon made you fall back into your old habits, had Paris really changed you like thought it did?
You knew that there was a special place you held in his heart and it was the same way for you. You were satisfied with the unspoken aspect of it. You didn’t want to have those feelings start up now though. Because the second you’d give in and commit to the love you’ve had for him since you were kids?
He’d ship back off to London and you’d stay in Paris, missing him.
Mabel grins. “Grunkle Ford, do you want to go on a road trip with us? One last adventure before we have to go home?”
Ford’s smile softens with sadness. He’d gotten so caught up in reveling in Bill’s defeat that he’d almost forgotten the kids were heading back to California at the end of the summer.
Ford shakes his head. “I would love to, but…” he frowns. “I’m not sure we have enough time”
The young twins exchange grins, like that’s exactly the response they were waiting for.
“I wouldn’t say that, Grunkle Ford” Dipper grins, looking like he’s struggling to suppress a fit of giggles.
“We have all time in the world” Mabel finishes Dipper’s sentence for him, and in perfect unison the twins pull out a roll of measuring tape from their pockets.
Notes: Here’s my belated entry for Week 3 of Forduary: Road Trip!! I absolutely love the road trip trope, and highkey wish Ford could’ve gotten to see some of Stan’s competitors just for the sake of how awful they were compared to the Mystery Shack. C'mon! Give Stan some credit.I also wanted an excuse for Ford to bond more with the kids before they went home, and what better way than through a never-ending roadtrip that somewhat breaks the laws of time and space?
I think too much
I’m thinking myself into insanity
and unfortunately persuading myself I’m some kind of tragic genius along the way
i could open the google doc with my philosophy project or i could open the google doc with my wip, which is so much sexier
Summary: Brown eyes are pretty. Also Nico and Will go on a date.
read on my AO3
notes: quite a few coffeshops around where i live (before covid obv) often had live music. it’s such a nice way to give local artists a chance to perform and i always loved it. i miss going to coffeshops literally that was the main reason i wanted to write this
also i always end up having to order things for people when we go out anywhere so i’m projecting that onto will he is now the designated Order Stuff Guy
Autumn was beautiful in New York.
It was so unlike Texas, where Will had grown up. The fall season in Texas was brief, and often carried the same heat as summer. Autumn in New York was full of color, and the air was ripe with a pleasant chill.
Will tolerated the heat fairly well—enjoyed it even—but the brisk air was a refreshing change. His naturally high body temperature permitted him to go out in only a light sweater without discomfort.
Title: acquaint ourselves with vice
Length: 1 chapter, 16,509 words
Pairings: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Summary: Garret Jacob Hobbs dies in an ignominious pool of his wife and daughter’s blood - it takes ten gunshots to do it. Will jokes privately to himself, which is to say he jokes to Evangeline at his side who he knows will understand because she is him, panting around her red mouth, that while he previously did not think he needed glasses, maybe he does now.
Will Graham’s hiding in a polite shell. His daemon is not. After the death of the Minnesota Shrike, it is advised that he seek professional help in resolving that.
Thanks for tagging me @queenofmoons ! Tagging anyone else who wants to do this with me.
“Well, I thought it was, anyway. But you know, all good things have to come to an end and all. But, I figured I should get a snack for the road! Wouldn’t you agree? It’s a long way back to Providence.”
She pulled out her fork and knife, wiping them off carefully with her handkerchief. A dark gleam was in her eyes as she carefully approached the chair.
“And I am STARVING.”