#I’m mentioning this because I keep seeing this line of purity culture and thinking popping up here

[frownyalfred]

all of the anons who told me, entirely unprompted, that I was a horrible fucking racist and I should kill myself because I’d never written a fic with Duke Thomas as the main character have been MIGHTY quiet since eye in the sky got published. just saying.

(this is your reminder that what people like to read/write doesn’t make them bad people irl. and just because someone hasn’t written a certain character does NOT mean they hate that character’s background or identity. I can’t believe I have to say that on here again, but here we are)

[lovenona]

and i repeat: anthropo-ceramics geto suguru is the type of toxic where he'd take your virginity, make a sculpture about the experience, then smash it on the ground as a metaphor

this ask is my entire life. this ask is my lifeblood. everyone please saddle up for the ride of a lifetime, otherwise known as 1500ish words of toxic geto featuring sukuna being a good fucking friend – please continue at ur own risk this absolutely contains geto being a pretentious toxic fucker and mentions of virginity/first time but yes i guarantee it does have a happy ending (link to the full college! cinematic universe here) 

let’s begin with the basics – why wouldn’t you fuck geto suguru? he has the type of beauty that lingers on the back of your eyelids even after you’ve long since departed from him; it’s the kind of fragrant, lasting beauty that you think sculptors muse over when they coax life from their marble. he’s smooth, like still water, and calming, like the sound of birds rustling and leaves swaying at dawn. he is helen: a beauty that nations would go to war over. 

and sure, he is pretentious, the kind of toxic pretentiousness that festers inside of all pretty boys who call themselves “leftists” but can’t be bothered to call their mothers or to care about their partners. but it’s the way he speaks, the way he looks at you with such fervor and attention in his eyes that you’re utterly willing to let him break your heart. 

and maybe it’s not often that someone looks at you the way geto does: it’s not often that someone looks at you like they want you, body and soul. and it feels nice to be cared about, to be flirted with, even if the figure doing the flirting condescends you in a way that is different, harsher, colder, than the way ryomen sukuna does. 

so geto suguru takes you on dates. after the avant-garde poetry reading, in which you feigned excitement as he recited a poem on global imperialism that you didn’t quite vibe with, he brings you to local bookstores with overpriced yuppie memoirs, farmers’ markets with organic fruit, human rights protests and philosophy meetings where greasy boys bitterly discuss the communist manifesto. he takes you to dinner, too, to vegan restaurants that you can’t help but rave about on yelp later and to bars where they serve your cocktails in mason jars. 

geto suguru, for all his faults, is incredibly lighthearted with you; he makes you feel beautiful and desirable and warm, even when he’s explaining anthropology to you with such intense vigor that you lose track of his meaning. after everything, you’d be lying if you said you regretted your time with him.

after awhile you let geto fuck you – and yes, he was your first time, which you were naturally quite nervous about. but you appreciated him because he waited for you; he never pressured you into behaviors you didn’t want; he never asked you for services you weren’t ready to provide. and so when you slept with him, after an invigorating open-mic night at the fair-trade coffee shop near campus, you felt ready for the intimacy. geto made you feel attractive, comfortable, safe. he praised you the whole night, gave you caresses that lit you up like fireworks, provided such a level of god-tier aftercare you still reminisce about it, even now. 

but that’s the thing about anthropology-ceramics major geto suguru: he’s quietly toxic. he’s a poison that sneaks up on you, infecting your bloodstream when you least expect it. 

you weren’t sure if geto wanted to pursue a relationship, either. you’d fucked, sure, and you went on dates, but he was always the type to avoid long-term commitments. rumors float around campus of the many partners he’s ghosted, of the relationships he exploited for his own “artistic musings.” they aren’t loud rumors, to be sure, but they hang around his aura like a strange, ghostly scent. 

geto is a pretentious little fuck. you’ve known it and agreed to enter his circle anyway. maybe you hoped, perhaps naively, that the rumors would simply not apply to you.

which was a stupid idea. three weeks after the experience, since which you have only spent one-on-one time with geto only a few times, mostly to talk about school, the art department hosts an art show. it’s a regular occurrence, where the art students show off their best works, grad students display their in-progress theses, and outsiders can browse the displays, drink wine, offer to give outstanding students jobs and internships. it’s truly a big fucking deal for the art department; many of the school’s the most successful artists received their first acclaim here. 

you’ve always enjoyed attending, even if the level of talent and expertise sometimes intimidates you, even if you know you’ll never be on this level. you know sukuna’s got a few paintings lined up to be on display – paintings you’ve modeled for, drawings you’ve watched him labor over for hours on end. you reckon that for all your begrudging time together, you might as well show your face in support. 

but what you didn’t count on was geto’s contribution.

at this art show, there are, every now and then, some interactive performances, speeches, explanations on certain works. so it happens that from the back of the auditorium you watch geto take the stage, wheeling a small, white sculpture behind him. from your perspective it could have been a flower – perhaps a lily, but you can’t be certain. 

(geto always did like sculpting precious, dainty flowers.)

he doesn’t call you by name, but he doesn’t have to. he talks at great length in that smooth voice of his about the construct of virginity, the purity culture plaguing the globe, the emotional sensitivity of having your first time. geto seguru tells an avid audience what you felt about fucking for the first time. he recreates the entire night for two hundred listeners: he recalls the foreplay, the insecurity, the orgasms. he doesn’t call you by name. he doesn’t have to. 

he may have asked for your consent the first time. but he certainly did not ask your permission to do this. 

you’re not sure if you should laugh or cry when geto dramatically smashes his own sculpture, citing the “destruction of virginity” and  the need “to demolish a social desire to classify one’s morality based upon their sexual activity” and “the symbolic popping of the cherry” among other phrases that are utter bullshit. you’re watching the fragments dance across the stage and you feel exploited. you feel used in a way that feels utterly worse than anything else geto could have done.

did he ever like you? or were you simply a muse for this moment? 

you’re about to ditch the art show and go wallow in self pity at your apartment when a familiar presence slides in beside you.

“that’s kinda fucked,” sukuna says, hands in his jacket pockets. he’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye. his tone tells you he’s joking. maybe he just doesn’t know. “no one gives a shit about virginity constructs anymore, idiot.” 

“yeah,” you respond, but the energy is gone. you feel strange, like you’re hovering outside of yourself. your head hurts: you’re angry. you decide you’d like to cry when you get home. “what a piece of shit.” it comes out strangled and lost. 

sukuna notices the dejection in your voice, the sag in your shoulders, the way you’re just barely able to hold yourself together. he may be arrogant, not ryomen sukuna is not mean.

a familiar arm around your shoulders, keeping your sanity together. “shit’s lame. let’s get the fuck out of here.” it’s a phrase that captures everything that remains unsaid between you: i’m going to beat the shit out of geto the next time i see him. that’s absolutely unbelievable.

you never explicitly told sukuna about your weird relationship with geto: you didn’t have to. it was always evident to the both of you. it was written in the way you’d look a little bit longer in geto’s direction, in the way you let yourself be strung along and become someone else. you’ve hung around sukuna long enough that you know his body language and that he knows yours. you’ve hung around sukuna enough that there are a lifetime of stories that never need to be told. 

you nod. “yeah.” thank you. i know. 

you’re both uncharacteristically silent when you exit the auditorium, when you collect sukuna’s belongings that are still lounging by his artwork as you prepare to leave. ryomen sukuna is famous for never shutting the fuck up. but as you button your coat, he’s silent, and it’s strange. comfortable.

“thank you,” you say with uncharacteristic softness as he throws a sketchbook back into his backpack and zips it shut. 

“why?”

“for asking my permission,” you say, gesturing to the gallery wall behind him, to the painting of you – “eros” – that you had posed for awhile back. even now, you find that it captures an essence you did not know you possessed. “he didn’t. ask, i mean.” 

ryomen sukuna has always craved your attention. and maybe he’s glad he’s got it back – but it feels sour. he doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking upset for you. he doesn’t understand why he wants so badly for you to be happy again. what he does understand is that he plans for retribution. 

“that’s fucked,” he settles on. “what bastard doesn’t ask for consent?”

you smile – and he does too, one that’s less feral and almost kind. and so you fall back into routine, already, some kind of weight lifting from your shoulders. ryomen sukuna may be a menace, but you can rely on him, trust him: that much you know. 

“you know,” sukuna says offhandedly as you exit the building and enter the parking lot. “i know where geto’s car is, i’m just saying. and i’d be lying if i said i didn’t have an extra precision knife in my backpack right now.”  

[ofprcngs]

BRANDON ARREAGA — Well, if it isn’t JAMES POTTER, the GRYFFINDOR superstar. For those of you who don’t know HIM, you can spot them sitting with the other SEVENTH years. Most people think that they’re CHARMING and INCISIVE, but they can also seem pretty DEPENDENT and INEXORABLE. Sometimes people call them the SHEPHERD. Sure, they’re a PUREBLOOD, but that doesn’t define them. 

i literally have 0 explanation for why i did this other than i’m in love with him. but also, he’s a mess, so jot that down. if you wanna know more about him ( protip: don’t ) then i recommend checking out his pinterest and then i dunno.... contemplate why i’m a punk ass bitch, i guess. enjoy this mess. plot with me. ily.

james henry potter ( named for two his two grandfathers, maternal and paternal respectively ) was born on april 4th, 1960 to two of the most loving parents a child could have.

fleamont and euphemia had been trying for a child for years. they’d been together for basically all of time, having been that typical good-looking, well liked couple in hogwarts that everyone always just assumes will get married ( spoiler alert: they did ), however had had to postpone kids due to fleamont’s brief stint as a professional quidditch player for eight years following their graduation. after that, they would try every month for a child, and after many years of disappointment, eventually gave up. it was during this time that fleamont developed the sleekeazy hair potion which only added to their immense wealth. 

finally at age forty-one, they were surprised with the arrival of james. obviously, they saw him as their miracle child, and as such he was pampered and completely spoiled from the moment he was born.

i cannot stress enough how much this spoiled upbringing shaped james into the person he is today. if you’re wondering why he was ever an arrogant prick, it’s because he was always used to getting absolutely everything he ever wanted. he grew up with money, he grew up with fame and with every bit of attention he could garner, and so it was really no wonder he was a bit of an asshole by the time he started at hogwarts.

obviously, james had a pretty cushy childhood, and as such, shit didn’t start getting real until he started at hogwarts. 

it took all of three seconds for the hat to sort him into gryffindor, and i guess you could say he pretty much considered himself to be the gem of the house. he was the absolute epitome of a gryffindor, basically considered him the poster boy and all but expected everyone to love him.

really did not help his ego to know that everyone did.

in typical sterotype-gryffindor fashion, james hated slytherin. he had always been taught growing up that purists were basically the root of all evil, and his father had had no qualms in lumping all these people in with the house of the snakes. james and his friends took a particular disliking to severus snape almost immediately for the poncy way in which he seemed to believe he was superior to all for his intelligence and his house status, and this dislike only grew when lily evans was tossed into the mix, too.

for basically the first four or five years of hogwarts, james really was that stereotypical arrogant asshole that he’s often made out to be. he always got everything he asked for, he was incredibly popular and incredibly intelligent, he had the most amazing friends and his eyes on the most amazing girl. he was set!! shit was good!!

shit was not good, though. definitely was not. 

despite having known of remus’ furry little problem since second year, things didn’t really start to settle in james how awful it was until third or fourth year. he hated seeing his friend in pain, he hated that he couldn’t help, and so he rallied the boys to put into action their worst plan yet!!!!

becoming animagi!!!!!!

it took fucking forever, obviously, but by the end of fourth year they did it!! we stan icons

except then in fifth year shit hit the fan again in just, like... so many ways

first, it was the whole severus ‘mudblood’ situation. honestly, james was absolutely furious. he’d always hated snape but this just made everything 1000 times worse. even if it had happened to anyone else, he would have been fuming. but for it to have happened to lily like... yikes. 

this was also a horrible time for james though because lily rejected him for the thousandth time. like, look, what a yikes thing to think when she was just called a mudblood, but frankly he was sick of being rejected and he was sick of being the asshole who kept pressuring her so that was the breaking point --- he gave up on her. 

and tbh, he changed a lot from here on out. grew up!! became a better person bc he saw how horrible snap was and decided he was sick of horrible people!! saw, recognised and acknowledged that just bc he was hot and intelligent and rich he wasn’t always going to get everything he wanted ( see: miss evans ) and just generally learned that oh shit the world doesn’t revolve around him!!!

oh and then there was that whole thing with sirius and snape and Remus the Werewolf and ohhhh boyyyy.... that infuriated him. 

he loves his bros so much and y’all know he would die for them, but to see his friend abuse remus’ pain and suffering for his own gain was heart wrenching. it just pushed him further to pull him in line, to realise that not everything was about games, or petty rivalry, or ‘ getting the girl ’ --- life  heartache and mistakes and it was never going to go the way he wanted it to.

now look, this isn’t all to say that james is now a Super Strict, Super Intense, Brooding Weirdo. he’s still a bit of a child, and he’s still a bit of an arrogant prick, but ultimately what wins out is his morals --- every time. he wants to lead the world to a better place, without war and without hate, he wants everyone to have the same opportunities he had as a kid and he wants nothing more than for blood purity to be eradicated.

get that shit outta my house!!! gross!!!!!!

now in his final year, james is always flipping between taking his role as head boy deadly serious and turning it into one big game of mischief. he’s still a marauder at heart, after all, and has definitely abused his power sometimes for the benefit of fun and games, but when it comes down to it, he can be very strict and lowkey paternal. the leader really just.... popped right outta him, it came to play and it came hard, and really you’d think he’s minister for magic with how serious he treats it sometimes.

i hate him.

he’s a lot less intense with his hatred for slytherin’s. he has come to recognise that not everyone from that lifestyle is going to be the same, not everyone who grew up a certain way or was sorted into a certain house is going to think with a deadly mind, and while he’s still a bit wary, he’s a lot more relaxed about it, especially as head boy ( gotta at least pretend shit’s fair !!! )

ok i’m so tired this is abt to turn into a rambling mess 

uHhhHHh he’s very dependent as in like... boi cannot go a week without his friends. he is used to having people to bounce off, that’s always the type of leader he has been, and as much as he would probably be amazing at anything on his own, he’s never really tried. too scared!! i hate him!!!!!

super unforgiving. like, if you have gotten on his bad side.... i’m sorry. it is going to be very difficult to return from there. his moral compass is pretty black and white, you’re either good or your bad, and if you’ve done something he considers bad wELL sucks to be you, i guess. sorry not sorry.

takes his quidditch very seriously tbh. so many people have told him he needs to be a pro like his dad, but he’s like haha fuck you i know what i wanna do ( hint hint: he wants to rule that goddamn auror office, make that shit far more efficient then he thinks it is now ). but srsly, he’s so intense abt the game and it really like... idk gets him in the zone, keeps him level-headed in amongst all this chaos. 

i don’t know what im saying anymore pls send help

uhhhhh he’s smart. i guess. straight a’s and shit idk. just very naturally intelligent, finds everything he does easy, like.. really is that asshole who is just good at everything he does.

i’ve run out of things to say, pls just love him

WANTED CONNECTIONS

girlfriend: i hate to expose myself as a whole ass jily stan but... here i am i guess. but also, listen: he really thinks he’s over her right now. like, he truly believes his days of pestering lily evans are behind him. it was just a crush! it’s gone! ( spoiler alert: it’s not ) BUT he is so convinced that he has got himself into this relationship which is really just... a mess. like highkey it’s obvious he could never fully love her bc his Heart Belongs to Lily or whatever but he does care for her deeply and has tricked himself into believing it’s love. it’s hard, man. he’s confused. send help.

ex-girlfriend(s): more of above but like... less intense? or more intense! who knows, frankly.

childhood friend(s): i’d die for childhood friends. jake/gina dynamic? iconic. just anything, really.

odd friend: ok like... as i mentioned, he’s still kinda wary of slytherins and ppl who grew up in purist culture, but i would love love love to see someone who was one of the first to show him that not all those people are so bad. like someone from a purist family or the like who was just chill and friendly and actually befriended this asshole even when he was... well, an asshole. it’d be fun, ig. also if they eventually do end up recruited for the de’s bc of family stuff or whatever... bonus points.

rivals: i’m tired. you understand.