ashleigghh

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In my dorlene era I love lesbians

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I have an idea for a fic so good that I'm terrified I won't do it any justice

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Can I Call You Tonight? - wc: 505 - @leeny-leens @rosiesangel @accio-sriracha

Regulus Black stared at the slow, hypnotic rotation of his ceiling fan. The blades cut through the air in an unhurried cycle, doing little to stir the stillness of his apartment. It was the only movement in the room, the only thing dictating the passage of time, and yet, instead of pushing it forward, it seemed to stretch it out indefinitely. Each slow turn, a reminder that time was not merciful. That it would not carry him past this moment, past these thoughts, past the person who had burrowed so deeply into his mind he could no longer dislodge him.

James Potter.

The name settled over him like an ache, like a weight that pressed against his ribs whenever he breathed too deeply. His brother’s best friend. The person he had sworn to keep at a distance, to keep in that hazy, untouchable space between familiarity and avoidance. But James had never respected boundaries, had never understood the concept of distance. He had a way of closing the space between them, of worming into Regulus’ thoughts without permission.

Regulus let out a slow sigh and turned onto his side, the motion making his mattress creak. The ceiling fan still whirred above him, its vibration barely perceptible but grounding. It was something to focus on, something tangible to latch onto instead of the ever-growing spiral of thoughts looping in his head.

His eyes flickered to the nightstand where a fidget spinner rested next to a half-empty glass of water. Without thinking, he reached for it, letting his fingers find the familiar, smooth edges. A flick of his wrist sent it spinning, the quiet whir of its motion joining the hum of the ceiling fan.

It was a distraction, a useless one, but a distraction nonetheless.

The problem with thinking about James Potter was that once he started, it was impossible to stop. James was like a firework, a burst of brightness and noise that left an imprint long after the sparks faded. He laughed too loudly, grinned too easily, and touched too freely. Regulus had spent so much of his life avoiding things that burned, but James had a way of setting him alight and making it feel like he wanted to burn.

The fidget spinner wobbled in his grasp, its momentum slowing, the motion uneven. His fingers twitched, and he flicked it again, watching the metallic shine blur into motion. He wondered if James would find this stupid. If he would take it from Regulus’ hands just to fidget with it himself. If he would tease him for having it in the first place.

A sharp breath. A blink. A slow realization that this was a losing battle.

He could keep spinning the toy in his hands. He could keep staring at the ceiling fan, willing time to move faster, to take him further away from this moment. But none of it would change the fact that James Potter was under his skin, and Regulus wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get him out.

[ashleigghh]

IM GOING TO SEE LUCY DACUS ON THE 26TH JUNE AND NOAH KAHAN ON THE 27TH I WIN 🙏

[ashleigghh]

I have never and will never use AI to write for me in any capacity - from uni essays to fics I post it will always be MY work. If you insist on killing our planet to generate fanfiction instead of just reading what hundreds of actual people have poured their hearts into THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS NOT UPLOAD IT TO FUCKING AO3 JUST LEAVE YOU DUMB FUCKS

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Have some Dorlene Marauders fan art🤭

(You can buy this as a print on my shop which is linked in my bio if you’re interested)

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girls with big sad brown eyes can't be convicted of crimes

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pastel dorlene for a belated valentine’s day 🪻💌

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no I don't want a husband I want a room full of le creuset and kitchen aids

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ill while on my period for the second time this year already someone put me down

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chapter - february 5 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 315

Regulus had been acting weird for days.

Of course, he was always a bit weird, but not in the normal way James adored. No, he seemed…agitated. Nervous. More on-edge and grumpy than usual.

When James asked, the younger boy refused to entertain the idea that anything was wrong. He rolled his eyes and told James to be quiet, and cuddled back into his arms. But James was fluent enough in Regulus-speak to know that that was simply not true.

But he was also smart enough not to push.

So he waited and reminded his boyfriend that he cared and he was there for him whenever he needed to talk. And one day, he was rewarded with a very anxious and angry-looking Regulus who approached him and slammed a book down on the table.

“What’s this, love?” he asked lightly, blinking and deciding not to point out that the book had nearly broken his finger, which was only about two centimeters away. 

“Chapter twelve,” Regulus said firmly, still standing above him.

James tilted his head. “You want me to read it?”

“Yes,” Regulus snapped, and turned without another word, nearly sprinting away. 

Completely flummoxed, James turned to the chapter in question. He had no clue why Regulus wanted him to read this book….it seemed like some sort of old romance novel. But he also was curious enough to find out.

When he got to the right page, his eyes found a phrase that was underlined several times, with little stars next to it and the word James scrawled in a familiar script. It said:

“....I loved him…I was terrified to love him, and yet it felt easier and more certain than breathing. But telling him this simple, petrifying fact seemed impossible.”

Staring at the page, James read and re-read the line several time before exhaling and beaming, a little laugh bubbling out of his mouth. Oh.

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I want my septum pierced so bad but I can't work out how to check if I have the right anatomy and I don't want to pay a deposit for an appointment if I can't even get it 👹

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January was a tough year but we made it

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I CANT WRITEEEEEEEE I'm giving up and dying in a ditch

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I know it’s not hard to point out reactionaries hypocrisy when it comes to like safe spaces or hug boxes or whatever but genuinely how much of an echo chamber do you have to exist in for you to think this is a reasonable thing to say

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no way ppl are using ai to write ao3. what happened to being a tortured writer. what happened to blood on the page. what happened to the ao3 curse. people used to get run over, have their houses burned down, break their entire spines and they still put in the work to finish a chapter. fuck you, using ai. y’all are weak