#and then the countless allegations

[bugpilled0]

biggest pet peeve is when i post abt a ccs character and go OUT OF MY WAY to add "I do not support ccdream/sapnap/etc!!" and then proceed to get ATTACKED with unfathomable amounts of "oh but why not" "wasn't dream proven innocent" I CANNOT KEEP HAVING THE SAME FUCKING CONVERSATION

[am-ace-stelaire]

You should all go to brittany, its a great world where it almost always rain

Some might say it a rain world, but i wouldn't go that far

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

little rendezvous with older! retired john price

mentions of: cheating, vaginal sex, unprotected, john is a lil manipulator if you squint

it was no surprise that john moved on so quickly after his divorce, having a pretty thing under his arm the following week. some may say it was quick, too quick, that maybe, just maybe he cheated. though he justified it by saying that his marriage was loveless anyways, coming home to a cold angry wife made him spend countless nights at the bar, until a sweet thing like you came around. you batted your eyelashes at him, a sweet smile on your lips as you traced his rough stubble. he loved the thrill with you, it made him feel young.

it started off first as a distraction, taking a swig of his beer whilst having a pretty woman talk his ear off, not that he minded. after all, it was a nice change from his constantly irritated wife. you were always dolled up, pretty lashes and a nice gloss on your plump lips that made his eyes draft down every few seconds. he found himself addicted, he wasn’t a man that fell into temptation early, but having someone that showered him with affection and stared at him like he hung the stars in the night sky, it couldn’t help it.

john prides himself as a man with good morals, though that went down the drain six months ago when he took you back to his house before the divorce was even initiated.

“’m sweetheart, you feel so good.”

john groaned as his cock fits snugly into your cunt, your warm walls clenching around him as the bed creaked with each movement. usually, the two of you had your secrecy rendezvous in the shabby motel across the bar, though this time with his wife away for a work trip you were on his bed. guilt gnawed at the back of his head, his wife was blissfully unaware that her husband, her john was currently making love to another woman. your moans were muffled by his large hand, “quiet sweetheart, don’t wanna get caught do you?” it was a lie of course, though you believed every word he said when he told you that his wife was coming home any second just for the thrill. and here you were, so obedient, so quiet. it was a sick sick fantasy that john had, almost role playing as if he wanted to get caught.

“feel good?” you gasped when his hand finally moved, taking a big breath of air as you hiccuped slightly, your eyes slightly dazed as you stared at him. his cock swelled hearing your voice, so sweet, almost insecure and desperate for validation. “of course darlin’, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned as his cock abused your soppy hole, your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him in as he kissed your shoulder, your ankles digging into his lower back.

he knew it was wrong, god the thought of divorce was on his mind but he hasn’t even initiated it, meaning he was still, as of now a married man.

though he didn’t care, not when he found himself cooking breakfast for you that morning, something he never did to his wife. the slow mornings filled with lazy morning sex and cuddled before making you breakfast in bed greatly contrasted to the cold and silent mornings with his wife.

he filed for divorce the following week.

now, he proudly showed you off, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist despite the glares and whispers about his alleged infidelity. though he didn’t care, not when he had you by his side with his cum dripping down your inner thighs from your recent quickie.

[txttletale]

new gaiman allegations coming out has me preemptively exhausted for the countless tedious people ready to reveal their amazing x-men mutant power to tell if someone's a sexual predator based on what's in the wizard books they write

[reality-detective]

So let me get this straight…

Virginia Giuffre, Jeffrey Epstein victim, survives a bus slam into her, despite being given just 4 days to live. Then, once she bravely claws her way back from the edge of death and on the road to recovery, she suddenly commits suicide? 👇

One of the first to speak out, Giuffre became a powerful force in the fight for justice against Epstein and his network.

Her courage inspired countless others to come forward, breaking the silence that had protected abusers for years. 👇

Virginia Giuffre claimed she was forced to have s*x with several powerful men—including former Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak.

The allegation was revealed by Alan Dershowitz, who cited her claims while attempting to undermine her credibility.

Giuffre also named Prince Andrew, New Mexico’s former Governor Bill Richardson, MIT professor Marvin Minsky, Hyatt chairman Tom Pritzker, and others.

Dershowitz sued Giuffre into silence. 👇

Just a reminder that the late Queen paid Virginia £12 million in an out-of-court settlement so that Andrew didn't have to face a jury trial on claims that he sexually abused and raped her when she was 17. 👇

The Telegraph reported that the total amount was upwards of $16 million and included a contribution from the monarch from her private Duchy of Lancaster estate, which means it wouldn't be coming from taxpayers' money. (yeah right) 👇

If true... May she R. I. P. 🙏

I AM seriously NOT be-LIE-ving this story 🤔

[fairuzfan]

"The Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor said that the massacre at al-Shifa was one of the largest in Palestinian history, estimating that at least 1,500 people had been killed, injured, or reported missing, “with women and children making up half of the casualties.”* The organization also confirms that at least 22 patients were shot while in their hospital beds, while the number of displaced persons sheltering at the hospital who were forced to evacuate southward was estimated to include 25,000 people. Moreover, 1,200 housing units in the vicinity of al-Shifa were destroyed.

Despite the army’s claims about the al-Shifa operation’s strategic and military importance and the number of alleged Hamas and PIJ members it had arrested and killed, it obfuscated the real intended purpose of the operation, which was to destroy the health system in northern Gaza and worsen the already disastrous humanitarian conditions. The entire compound is now unfit for use. Even the morgue, containing countless bodies of the slain, was burned down."

[pearwaldorf]

People in fandoms* associated with Neil Gaiman are not showing each other the grace they should be in a stressful time, and I would like to remind people of some things:

Not everybody knows about the allegations because it is not being reported widely in mainstream media. Gaiman has engaged a PR/crisis management firm that has done work with Marilyn Manson, Russell Brand, and Danny Masterson to actively squash coverage.

The story broke on a site unfamiliar to a lot of non-UK people. There was confusion as well as outright misinformation about whether the site was a TERF outlet (it is not). While Rachel Johnson, the lead reporter on the story, is a TERF who has publicly clashed with Gaiman about trans rights, she has behaved responsibly and ethically as a journalist regarding this. I wrote more in depth about these things here.

Everybody deals differently with finding out creators are problematic. The method you prefer is not the only correct way of coping. Some people are able to divorce art from the creator and some people are not. This is an attitude that can change over time. And if you feel like you need to express frustration that somebody else's method isn't the same as yours? I would recommend shutting your fucking trap.

If people know about the allegations, it's shitty to assume they're ignoring them or think they're false until somebody explicitly says so. There are many things people don't say online, and you are not owed disclaimers or explanations.

Fandom is more than the work itself. Some people find strength in the community that has formed around it, and rely on each other to help cope with and grieve this loss. The love you have for the work and your fellow fans is not something that belongs to the creator. It never has and that can't be taken away.

Your personal relationship with a creator's work will change over time. That's inevitable regardless of whether they turn out to be problematic or not. And when those works are deeply significant and formative, like many of Gaiman's works are to me** and countless others? That's fucking tough. Be kind to yourself and others when working through this. I love you all.

--

* I have seen this in Good Omens most prominently, although I am sure there are other places where it is happening as well.

** I have been a fan of Gaiman's work longer than some of you have been alive. It has not been a great month or so.

[moyazaika]

tbh jaded lawyer darling trying to save yan crime kingpin from getting his ass thrown into prison for life — yet again.

he’s lingering at the court’s steps, entertaining the news reporters with a dazzling smile, the entire world waiting with bated breath to see whether this is the day his billion dollar criminal empire comes crumbling down—

“the whole world knows you did it!”

“are you ashamed of yourself?”

“do you really think you’ll walk away a free man after today?”

that gets his attention.

“darling, don’t ‘ya worry about me,” he turns to the journalist, and tilts his head to the side, pulling out his lollipop from between those lips, curled in a sly grin. “i ain’t gotta worry ‘bout no fuckin’ laws when i got the world’s best damn lawyer on my side.”

a young man, then. thick glasses and braces on his teeth. far too thin and lanky, for all his balls of steel as he speaks up. “are you implying that your lawyer is an accessory to your crimes? a corrupt lawyer for a guilty man on his way to the gallows?”

he hears you approach before he can think to respond. the familiar, expensive echo of the dress shoes he’d bought you the first time you’d won a case, before you’re there where he thinks you belong; right by his side.

“alleged crimes,” you correct, and your kingpin turns to greet you with a million dollar smile. “now, my client will not be taking any more questions. kindly, fuck off.”

cameras flash instantly and countless more mics are shoved into his pretty face, still mesmerised by you, even when you grab him by the back of his collar (unironed, you notice with absolute dismay) and pull him inside, away from prying eyes.

“you’re being tried for sixteen drug and weapons counts,” you hiss, digging your newly manicured nails into his skin, as you pull the lollipop he’s sucking on right out of his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and toss it to the side, seething. “when will you fucking get serious!”

he only dumbly stares back at you with a slack jaw, and stars in his eyes. his voice dips an octave lower, deep in his throat when he speaks. “oh, i could get very serious if you wanted to give me a kiss. or, y’know, maybe you could act as a replacement to that sweet lollipop of mine ‘ya just—oh, fuck!”

when you stride into the courtroom later, in your neat, pressed suit and slicked back hair, nobody dares ask why the infamous ‘alleged’ crime lord is following after you with a bruise blossoming on cheeks that flush a deep, deep scarlet.

-

the judge announces the jury's verdict, and you don’t even look up from the documents you’re perusing when he’s found ‘not guilty’ in a court of law, yet again—

“jesus fuckin’ christ, i knew you were gonna save me!” your kingpin jumps up from where he’s sitting besides you, pressing his face into your shoulder as he breathes you in with an elated, shuddering breath. “can’t even imagine which ditch i’d be rottin’ in without ‘ya, sweet pea.”

“excuse me, sir.” you pry his hands off you with a detached air of reservation you reserve for when the two of you are in public, but the way your knuckles are white when you gather the countless files and papers of yours scattered on your desk tell him everything he needs to know about how pissed you are. “hands off.”

he knows he’s in for it when the two of you get home, and yet, he looks forward to the sight.

it’s always more… exciting than it should be; when you’ve got him shoved right up against a well, going off about how ‘irresponsible’ and ‘immature’ he is, nails leaving his skin bleeding from how deep you sink them into his body, too caught up in your own irritation to notice or, honestly, care.

and maybe, he thinks, as he follows you out, tonight he’ll go pay a visit to someone after you’re done with him.

a man’s got needs, y’know?

he’s high off the rush of his latest win when he walks up the porch steps hours later. it's really only the latest achievement in a long line he attributes solely to you and your efforts.

he’ll make sure to repay you one day, with all you’ve done for him. he’ll take such good care of you; let you do whatever you wanted to him, as a token of his appreciation for how hard you've worked to keep him on the streets he rules and out of the prisons he knows he belongs in.

in fact, his efforts start right here and right now; on the steps of a nice, suburban house, that belongs to the journalist with thick glasses and braces and a wiry frame. the white picket fence and 'keep off the grass' sign do little to deter the man outside. then again, the poor bastard could have had gates of iron, and he still would have found a way to creep inside.

he never knew being a journalist paid so well. shit, maybe he should’ve gone down this path instead of, y’know, running a criminal empire. this bastard's got balls of steel, for what he had the nerve to say about you. but it’s okay! hey! he’s here to take care of it for you!

you don’t ever need to find out what he’s done in your name. ♡

he’s very adamant about this, choosing to see the job to completion all alone, slinking away from your critical, watchful gaze—only once he’s made sure you’re knocked out by watching you sleep, crouched by your bedside, for a few hours—to make sure the problem’s all taken care of.

the kingpin rings the doorbell, and patiently waits for the door to open with his scarred hands held behind his back. there’s a glock in his left back pocket, and a silencer in the right. a swiss army knife curled in his fingers, because he’s always been creative.

yeah, can you believe that? his teachers used to tell him he would make a great artist one day. and he is, he likes to think. only that his canvases are a little less traditional, and not in the banksy way. you know how it is! life imitates art... or some hippie shit like that.

there's no rules in art for what you can paint with, right? or what surfaces you can carve up into pretty shapes...

and so, when the lock clicks open, and the handle turns, it’s exactly like he said; a man’s got needs!

so sue him! really, so what if his needs mean his heavy hands are clamping over the journalist’s mouth, twisted into a silent scream—

so what if he knocks the smaller man back, a fist flying to his face, those wide eyes and all, slack jaw stupidly hanging open in disbelief—

so what if he shoves him inside and kicks the door behind them shut?

your kingpin knows what comes with the life he chose, and sullying his name is one thing—but nobody gets to drag your name through the dirt and live.

he makes sure of that, personally.

-

“where did you go last night?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the weekly newspaper in your hands. there, on the front page, a greyscale photo of you and your headache of a client, descending the court’s steps after the verdict. “and why didn’t you ask for my permission before you left?”

the headline, in big, bold letters, splashed above the picture; INTERNATIONAL OUTRAGE AS INFAMOUS DRUG LORD EVADES LAW YET AGAIN. SHADY LAWYER TO BLAME?

“just takin’ out the trash, lovely. don’t you worry ‘yer pretty little mind about it.” as he says that, he abandons his own breakfast, suddenly snatching the paper out of your hands and ripping it up, but not before noting the name of the article’s author, tucking it away for later.

shreds of the weekly paper you hadn't even gotten to read yet fall to the floor, fluttering this way and that. you close your eyes and smile. “haha. funny. well, my ‘pretty little mind’ is telling me to throw the coffee in my hands all over you.”

“tryna mark me up?” he purrs, “if you really wanna wake me up, can i suggest somethin’ else ‘ya could throw at me? or on me, really. but—”

“i’m going to kill you in your sleep, one of these days.” you deadpan, turning back to your food. he’s like a little kid, and you’re not about to indulge him by giving him the attention he so desperately wants from you.

“'yer serious??" he grins, hands flying to his face in elation, a curious blush colouring his skin a deep pink. “you mean you actually wanna step into my bedroom— at night— of 'yer own damn will?���

you take another sip of your coffee, fingers trembling around the cup. don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what—

“damn... guess i should start sleeping naked, then.”

extra; what if darling was a prosecutor instead?

[sipthegossip-if]

SIP THE GOSSIP! is a slice of life IF rated 18+ for explicit language, skippable sexual content, substance abuse, extra marital affairs and more. Best to be avoided if romance, drama and angst are not your cup of tea.

✭ DEMO (TBA) ✭ FORUM (TBA)

You have had everything in the palm of your hand since birth.

Fame, fortune and a last name that opened every door. Success kissed your feet, the billboards sang of your symphony and the public chanted your name.

Until they didn't. Until it all went up in flames.

After years of riding high on a streak of blockbusters— all conveniently produced by your beloved uncle— your perfect little world came crashing down when you found yourself tangled in a mess of scandal and allegations that left your reputation in shambles.

One fucking scandal. That is all it took to turn your carefully curated kingdom into a graveyard. You lost thousands of followers across all your social media accounts, all your endorsement deals and the industry turned its back on you.

But you persisted.

Once the dust settled, you clawed your way back. Starred in films that had no connection to your dearest uncle. You are more than your family name.

But here's the thing: they all flopped. Badly, at that.

And you found yourself, once again, at rock bottom.

But you see, you were born with this insatiable hunger in the pit of your stomach. It refuses to leave you alone. It's sunk its teeth deep into your intestines. You have tasted the top, and you're not afraid to bleed for it. So, you did what you thought was best for you at that time. Disappear from the public eye for a while.

Now, after a long silence, you've decided to make a comeback by doing what you have always been good at. Using your connections to gain a spot in the upcoming romantic drama TO THE MOON AND BACK with just enough buzz to restart your career. You know the right people. You know the wrong ones, too. And you're not above using either, pulling strings or calling in favors.

You will do anything to get your stardom back, even if it means getting your pretty hands a little dirty. Fame is a game. One you have played countless times— you're not about to lose now.

Play as male, female or non binary. Straight or queer. Customise your brand and appearance.

Choose the article that destroyed the reputation you spent years building.

Engage in a scandalous & fiery romance off and on set!

Use whatever means you can to avoid being teared to shreds on the internet.

It's been long since you have acted. You haven't forgotten how to bring those tear ducts to use, have you?

Give interviews. Because isn't that what the blizz and bling all about baby?

Engage with your fans. If they still haven't forgotten about you, that is.

Escape or annoy the unrelenting paparazzi.

Customise your public persona. Do things that transpire behind cameras differ from on camera?

Choose the plot of TTMAB.

⛓ THE BODYGUARD :

Kai D'melio. [he/him or she/her]

Single and in early 30s. Stoic and all business. It's hard to get a read of them. They are a constant in your life.

Tropes : Bodyguard romance, extremely slow burn, quiet yearning from distance, "crush" route, steel armour— soft core.

❂ THE VETERAN ACTOR :

Shiron "Shay" Hill. [he/him or she/her]

Married and in mid 40s, they continue to be a social media sensation to till this day. A friend of you and your uncle. They are the one who introduced you to the director and producer of To The Moon And Back and helped you score the lead role.

Tropes : Extra marital affair, steamy, age gap, forbidden romance, "married in name only," wedding band that feels like a chain and accidental touches that burn.

✵ THE DIRECTOR/PRODUCER :

Victor/ia "Vic" Alvarez. [he/him or she/her]

Single, former actor and in mid 40s. An incredibly close friend of Shiron. They have been attached at the hip since the two first began working together in the industry. All their works have proved to be the public's favourites and you hope that is also the case with T2MAB.

Tropes : Work romance, steamy, commitment issues, power imbalance, age gap, says "We can't do this," and does it anyway.

☼THE M/F LEAD :

Alexis "Alex" Sinclair. [he/him or she/her]

Co-actor and in late 20s. Charming and titled 'Industry's Budding Star' by People's Magazine. They seem to have a tendency to flirt with whatever that breathes. It would serve you best to not get involved with them, judging from their messy dating history.

Tropes : idiots in love, hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy, himbo/bimbo, friends/co-workers with benefits, "I will break your heart or, will you break mine?"

𝄞 THE SECOND M/F LEAD :

River Fox. [he/him or she/her]

Co-actor, singer and in late 20s. After having caught their now ex partner cheating on them, they seem to have a hard time trusting people. The fact that they dislike you for the means you used to get the role and the consequences it led to, doesn't help either.

Tropes : Slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, melting the ice king/queen, forced proximity, kind guy/gal who's mean to only you. "Your hurt recognises mine," in some instances.

☌ THE CAMERA(WO)MAN :

Arlo Kent. [he/him or she/her]

Single loyal to you and in their early 20s. They get all starry eyed and overly enthusiastic at the sight of you. More often than not, you have caught them not so discreetly keeping an eye you. You can only hope they are merely star struck and nothing more.

Tropes : Stalker/yandere fluffy romance. "I have always been watching," that somehow turns romantic. "You'll love me eventually," kinda horror romance.

[shuosen]

thinking about pretty boys who want to be broken so bad. pretty boys who touch themselves daily to the thought of you using them however, and whenever you want, pretty boys who can never look you in the eye when you talk face to face, because theyre sure if you hold eye contact long enough you’ll figure them out; you’ll realize they’ve been jerking their pathetic cocks to the mere thought of you- maybe they’re afraid you’ll realize you’re missing a pillowcase, your favorite shirt, maybe even your underwear- but what they don’t realize is that you already know. you know about the countless occasions where they’ve snuck into your room, the many nights your name was called into the empty air, and the multiple times they’ve turned in early to do something about the raging hard on inside their briefs.

thinking about pretty boys who, when you finally decide to do something about it, deny your allegations with their cock pressing uncomfortably against their pants, pretty boys who crumble the second you touch them, moaning like a whore when your hand so much as grazes against their dick, and pretty boys who beg for more, even though they’re all spent because they’ve been wanting this for so so long.

könig, gojo, geto, armin — your favorites

im scared to proof read this its so bad & v lazy i’m sorry

[teethfairyyy]

Corazon is a man of contradictions.

He’s a celestial dragon. He’s worked to earn almost everything in his life (Sengoku isn’t on that nepo baby shit).

He’s outgoing and loud. He possesses the power to mute himself and struggles with standing up for himself (at least as a child and with the family).

He is brightness incarnate and is the silliest goose to walk the land. He’s terribly haunted by his past and carries it like a dark cloud over his shoulders.

He has seen death after death after death since infancy to his OWN death. He values life and places an emphasis on continuing to live despite these deaths.

He’s a highly intelligent and cunning spy who survived for years in a (metaphorical) vipers nest. He NEVER beats the ‘dumb blonde’ allegations. (Both in canon and in fandom).

He’s an incredibly kind and caring man who values others above himself in almost any situation. He has burnt down countless hospitals (patents still inside).

He blends into the crowd as a profession, and prefers to hide his presence. He is nearly 10 feet tall and dressed like a former member of Buggy’s crew.

He is a model Marine who has flawlessly performed his duties as a commander for years. He abandons his mission and betrays the Marines the SECOND a sick kid with an attitude problem reveals his name.

He can undergo and withstand truly Herculean amounts of pain without so much as flinching. If he were to receive so much as a paper towel with ‘you only sort of suck’ written on it in crayon (curtesy of Law ofc) he would spend the next five hours happy crying.

This crusty ass man probably bathes twice a week MAX. Somehow his lipstick game is unbeatable?

He’s the primary role model and (semi) parental figure of Law’s late adolescence. He was 27!!! He should have been at the club!!! Law’s the same age now and I’m never getting over it:(

This got more and more headcanon-ey as I kept writing, but I had fun and Cora lives in my head so I figured I might as well still post it.

Reminder that Cora is BOTH a buff, terrifying, dangerous man, AND a silly, clumsy, lighthearted loser<3

[sayruq]

The chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Court announced on Monday that he is seeking arrest warrants against two top Israeli leaders for crimes in the Gaza Strip. Karim Khan said that he had “reasonable grounds to believe” that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and defense minister Yoav Gallant “bear criminal responsibility” for a number of international crimes committed since 8 October, including starvation as a weapon of war, murder, intentionally attacking civilians, extermination, persecution and other crimes against humanity.

While there will be relief that finally Israel’s shield of immunity and impunity is being punctured, Khan also charged several leaders of the Palestinian resistance movement Hamas with various crimes. Khan claims that Hamas politburo leader Ismail Haniyeh, its Gaza leader Yahya Sinwar and the chief of its military wing Muhammad Deif are responsible for crimes including extermination, murder, hostage-taking, torture and rape. The political nature of the charges against the Hamas leaders is clear from the fact that Khan has charged more Palestinians with crimes than Israelis. A cynical view might be that Khan only charged the two Israeli leaders that Washington wants to see gone, while letting countless other Israeli political and military officials off the hook – at least for now.

It is notable that while Khan explicitly charged the Palestinian leaders with “torture,” that word does not appear in the charges against Netanyahu and Gallant, even though there are many credible reports of systematic torture against Palestinians on a horrifying scale, including in closed detention camps. Most glaringly, Khan failed to lay any charges against Netanyahu and Gallant under Article 6 of the ICC’s founding Rome Statute – the section that deals with genocide.He only charged them under chapters 7 and 8, which address crimes against humanity and war crimes – the same articles he used against the Hamas leaders. Khan could also have filed charges related to Israeli crimes elsewhere in Palestine, for example Israel’s construction of illegal colonies all over the occupied West Bank – a crime that has been ongoing for decades. By failing to do so, he is feeding the false impression that history began on 7 October 2023.

But this will also be of no surprise to anyone, least of all Hamas leaders, who would have expected to be charged as the price of obtaining some measure of international justice for their people. In January, for instance, Mousa Abu Marzouk, a senior leader of Hamas, wrote, “Since 2015 Hamas has repeatedly expressed its interest in appearing before and being judged by the ICC not on the basis of unsubstantiated allegations and screams but evidence and facts. Israel has not.” Abu Marzouk added: “Hamas stands ready to appear before the ICC with witnesses and live testimony and bear the burden of any judicial finding against it or its members after a full and fair trial with rules of evidence; with examination and cross examination into what we have done or not over the many years of our leadership as a national liberation movement. Is Israel?”

The arrest warrants – which have still to be formally issued by the court’s judges – will have no immediate impact on Sinwar or Deif, whose whereabouts as underground resistance leaders is unknown. Arrest by the ICC is the least of their concerns. As for Hamas politburo chief Ismail Haniyeh, he lives in Qatar, which is one of only a handful of countries that is not a member of the ICC and is therefore not legally obligated to arrest him and hand him over. Hamas is already outlawed and subject to sanctions by the United States and across Europe so it is not as if the movement’s leaders would have been moving freely anyway.

And although Khan has pulled his punches, the arrest warrants will have an enormous impact on Israel and its leaders, who now find themselves ostracized and constrained in unprecedented ways. Netanyahu and Gallant will be unable to travel to dozens of countries, including most of Europe, without fear of arrest. European countries, in particular, which purport to uphold international law, will either have to detain them and hand them over to the court, or openly defy their legal obligations. This includes Germany, which provides arms for Israel’s genocide while purporting to be a champion of international law.The damage to Israel’s reputation and its descent into even greater pariah status is assured, despite Khan’s every effort to soften the blow. The United States, Israel’s chief arms supplier and accomplice in the genocide, is also not a member of the ICC, and it will not cooperate with the arrest warrants. But even for a government as heedless of international law as Washington, the leaders of its closest ally being charged by the ICC increases both the domestic and international political cost of supporting Israel unconditionally.

[unethicalpeacemonger]

Hello everyone, have a Gerard fanart while I talk about the current situation here in Indonesia

Press down here, please read all the way through if you can

Hello, I am A, I'm Indonesian. I apologize for my terrible grammar. I will be using initials due to future safety concerns.

Right now Indonesia is going through a massive change under the reign of our new president and his vice, and I can't say its a good thing. Our elected president, initial P. S. is an alleged human rights offender due to his participation in the kidnapping of several activists back in 1997 and 1998 during Indonesia's "New Order", under president Soeharto and a known Zionist. Meanwhile his vice, G. R. Is the son of our previous reigning president, a pro AI leader and generally seems to be underqualified to be a vice president.

It has been a little bit over 100 days of P. S. and G. R.'s reign over Indonesia and country has been in shambles. During their campaign, they promised the people a free nutritious lunch program that won them a massive following of supporters. However, the program turned out not as expected with the food being barely nutritious and even bad at times. But these are not only the problem Indonesia has been facing these past few months.

Some of these problems are; the government cutting education funds, countless of mis-use of AI in spaces it shouldn't (AI-art, AI competitions), even things like the shooting of a highschool student by an armed police officer, and silencing any form of art that criticized the governmental corruption. All happened in the span of more or less 100 days under the reign of our newly elected president.

However, the country reached a new low in the past 2 days. The parliament recently discussed a new bill that contained a revision to military personnel, letting them take part in socio-politics departement. The discussion was done closed, in a fancy hotel and not in the official government office. And just yesterday, they approved this bill.

If you're unfamiliar with this, Indonesia's military system had this exact system back in The New Order, under Soeharto's dictator reign. And according to history, this has done greater harm than good, increasing the probability of violence by the cops and military, silenced journalists, kidnapping and murder of activists, and ultimately, according to Indonesian history, a riot that killed several college students from Trisakti University.

Yesterday, several riots were planned, mostly by college students in Jakarta and they were met with violence by military personnel keeping track of them (mostly beatings). This alone has proved the escalated risk of violence by military personnel.

Please spread this as far as you can. And if you can, please do your own research because I am also not invincible to misinformation and/or propagandas. I'd like for people outside of my country know what is happening to us incase something greater than us happens.

[kissingraine]

would u ever consider writing for the stealth yautja from Killer of Killers?👀

TAKE THIS AND RUN—

No proofread (bcs I can't afford a proofreader) also, multiple parts! I reached the word limit😬💔

CONTENT WARNING; 18+, xenophilia, scent marking, oral (f receiving—yes he has a tongue), size diff, overstim, belly bulging, Oni protecting you (read: stalking)

First Love/Late Spring — Oni x Geishaf!Reader

• Shadows have long since followed you ever since you became a geisha. Other girls praised you for learning the shamisen quickly and often joked that it made up for your lack of conversational skills. It's not because you can't talk, you have countless topics for conversation starters. No matter how weird they may seem to the customers. It's because you have no idea how to react to the want of a young lord or the fact that they would want you for your body. Your earlier years were spent under the berating words of your drunkard father who reminded you daily that no one ever wanted you. Not even him. You had grown used to words like knives that cut emotional scars into your chest then.

• When he sold you to the Kurogane teahouse in late spring to earn money, fully intending for you to become a yujo—the madam mentioned that such a frail body wouldn't be cut out for that kind of work so she turned him away. She turned him away and took you in. That was the first time you ever felt wanted by someone other than your alleged father. Now he's just another man to you. People like those didn't deserve names or be remembered, the madam of Kurogane house would tell you nightly.

• The nearby daimyos preferred you and other courtesans when it came to entertainment. You played the shamisen well though not one of his colleagues could ever hold a conversation with you, your head always lowered as you strummed the strings carefully. Their lord preferred that. Until one day you witnessed a scene that no one should ever have. The quest for land and power had grown stronger each day. So too did the bodies. You didn't mean to exist there in the right place at the wrong time. Where other girls have fled, you remain frozen in place and your face nearly pressed into the tatami matted floors.

• Maybe the daimyo didn't see you. Or pretended not to. The only thing that snapped you out of that fear-stricked haze was the sound of the door sliding open then close. You were spared, but not for long.

That's when you'd first met him.

• A failed third attempt at your life and you mourned it with a single red camellia hairpiece situated in your hair. The air thick with fog and moonlight, your geta shoes resounding against stone steps with each movement forward. A lantern being your only source of light. You had ran from the teahouse, unsure if you should even return and risk the entire establishment. Thinking maybe you should've been struck by that sword that night. Those short endeavors by assassins ruined by a mysterious force. At first you were thankful for luck siding with you. Until the second one came and this time in a display so gruesome it took you and the girls weeks just to scrub everything out.

• They surmised a murderer had been set free. A bloodthirsty killer with an obsession for spines. They moved you to another room then, turned the old one into a storage closet. It could have been a ronin because cuts so clean like those didn't belong to something so simple as a knife-wielding man. Then: a soft thud makes itself known to you. A gurgle. A wet sound before silence ensues.

You turn and see it.

Blood splatter that hovered in midair.

• It defied reason. A spatter suspended in the night, floating before you as though the air itself had bled. Like a will-o’-wisp. Made of crimson. Your breath caught. Taking a step closer, heart pounding in your throat like a drum. That light of the lantern flickered against it—ruby droplets glistening over... nothing?

No. Not nothing. Something.

• The blood had stuck to a shape. A silhouette in the air. Faintly shimmering. Massive. Towering over you while its presence hummed, like the low resonance of a thunder held in check. Never had you been more resentful of your instincts until now. But it's like you're possessed when your hand lifts before you can think. Slow. Reverent. You reached out and touched it. The smear of blood is warm under your fingertips. Moving, it smears across skin? Not flesh, however. Something tougher. Hot, ridged, almost armored. Even though your hand trembles, you continue to feel.

• Feel until the shape inhales and so do you. More out of shock than an unconscious movement. A patch of color begins to spread under your hand, spreading across a surface and in multiple places. The light catches on plated muscle, tarnished silver armor—one you've never seen before, and thick strands of hair decorated with rings that sprawl across broad shoulders. Ending just below its collarbone. Its gaze glared right down at you through a steel mask. A man- no. Evil spirit? An eight-foot-tall demon? Whatever it was, your fingers were still pressed against its chest. Heel of your palm to midriff.

• You didn't scream. Couldn't. But you flinched when its head moved. Staring up at him as your palm remained slick with blood and rested on the strange, mesh covered torso of something utterly not human. This... being, never shared a word with you but it would listen. Intently. To every word you spoke as if entranced. Was this the one who had been chasing off your pursuers? All ending in a bloodbath whose process you didn't want to know? You wiped down the smear with a handkerchief and he let you once you apologized for touching him so carelessly. Not that he seemed to mind.

“I've known many hunters,” you said, eyes fixated on that strange mask. “But none who watched from the trees like a kami.” A few clicks was all you got. Low. Almost a purr.

• That night your cheeks flushed from reasons unknown, just that the proximity of this beast and you felt like something deep inside your chest was finally waking up. No matter how ugly it was, you didn't have the strength to push it back down. Not when he lowered himself on one knee just to meet your gaze. He could've killed you. But didn't and instead decided to protect you. Not one man had kneeled for you like he did and maybe it was wishful thinking but you finally felt like someone else. You know who you were. A performer. A listener. Keeper of too many secrets. A woman whose value was often misjudged—and whose dignity had angered the wrong man.

• But that fateful evening, under the witness of clear starry skies. You were just you. You returned to the teahouse eventually and confined yourself to your room. Looking back on that moment once every few moments. What if he had killed those men to save you for the last? For reasons you don't know. And you know there must be something very wrong with you to wish that he had. That's why you offered to leave a light every time he'd hunt your shadows. Under the pretense that it was to thank him, not so that he'd find your room quicker.

• It was foolish to think that a single meeting would render you so smitten. Even the thought made you recoil. But what word would be able to describe the way you stand under the old plum tree nightly? As if waiting for someone. You convinced yourself at one point that it's just to bask in the evening breeze. After all, the moon was exceptionally beautiful these past few nights. And just when you thought you had been able to regularly meet clients, his presence comes back to haunt you. The grass barely stirs as a presence stands behind you.

• You look over your shoulder and there he was. Heart nearly leaping out of your throat, sleeves lifting to shield his shape from the veranda's view. “You shouldn't be here,” you whispered urgently. “Someone might see—” He leans in and your breath catches. The long armed weapon in his grip placed against the trunk of the plum tree. It does little to distract you when he lowers his head to your throat. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just deliberately controlled. You hear the hiss of something opening and then you freeze. The sensation of his breath, hot and even, ghosting along your jaw.

• Hands curling in your sleeves. You can hear his nostrils flaring. Smelling you. Scenting you. Could feel as he dragged his face just above your skin, from beneath your ear to the curve of your throat. Slow and possessive. You stiffen at the thought—then trembled. The contact indirect, his skin never touched yours but it didn't have to. You didn't know when your hands were finally lowered towards his shoulders just shy of resting them on him. He presses something against the side of your neck and you swallow the squeak that threatens to leave your lips. It's not a weapon. But it excreted heat and a thick musk. A subtle, but alien fluid that brushes against your skin in a quick swipe.

• The scent immediately struck you with a gasp. Rich. Dense. It made you slightly stagger back with parted lips. “You... marked me?” He pulls back—mask clicking into place and tilts his head in that same curious manner, stance unwavering and tall under the tree. Fully visible under the moonlight filtering through the leaves. A predator laying claim. You swallow.

“I'm not your prey,” you insisted but your voice betrayed you. Soft. Throat-tight.

• He steps forward again, slowly. Shadow stretching over you due to his towering figure. Another click. Not a warning or a threat. An affirmation. That, yes, you aren't prey. You were never supposed to be. Asking him if he was trying to protect you only made take another step until your back was pressed against the plum tree. You had to tilt your chin up to keep looking at his face. Or a lack thereof. Trapped. But you didn't resist. A low purr rolling off him in waves when your breath hitches.

• Low, thrumming, barely audible to people who weren't within three meters from him. But you felt it in your chest. Body answering with a flutter you hadn't expected. Your knees weakened, a wetness forming between your thight and heat pooling low within your stomach. This time, he leaned so close your breaths mingled. Forehead brushing against yours while your breathing stuttered. The intent behind his actions was searing. With parted lips, he steps back and the pressure vanishes. With him alongside it. He was cloaked in a shimmer of refracted light, leaving only the deep musk on your throat and the ghost of his warmth.

• And you stood there for what seemed like a long time, you hadn't noticed you'd been barefoot in the grass, body flushed and trenbling. You lift a hand and brushed the back of your knuckles to inhale the scent on your skin. Owned. But not broken. Claimed yet not lessened. Next time, you'll leave the door open.

Next

[sourcherrybites]

Legally Binding Affairs

Character: Jason Todd x DA! Reader

Disclaimers: My knowledge of the US legal system is based on Law and Order, Criminal Minds and Legal Eagle. I wrote more words than I usually do so the end is kinda sloppy, my apologies babes

Word count: 1.181

➜ Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist

Jason hates you; he despises your very existence because you make his job miserable and eight times more complicated than it should be. Ever since you got to Gotham, you have caused anything but trouble for him, his family, his business AND his crime-fighting activities.

It all started when that dumb fuck of New Jersey's governor announced that to fight the overwhelming crime rate in Gotham they would appoint a brand new DA, the starlight, the ace, the beloved child of the country's justice system; you. A prodigy since law school, with a 98% conviction rate, not reaching 100% because not even you could fight the unfairness when prosecuting rich folks or false allegations.

There you were, standing next to the Governor on TV with a serene look on your kind features, and a body language that said nothing could disturb your peace, a suit tailored to your shape, clean and ironed until perfection, fixed and organised hair and a straight pose. You. Were. Perfection. And maybe that's why they sent you off to Gotham —you were just too good. (suspiciously good)

You made it your goal to turn the Gotham court system into your personal renovation project, From the very moment you stepped out of that courthouse, determination etched on your face, the whole City watched as you won case after case. Your conviction remained unshaken, even in the pervasive corruption that seemed woven into the very fabric of the city. Nothing could stop you —not even the countless attempts to end you. In fact, you managed to reduce Gotham's crime rate by a staggering 1% in just two months—an achievement that was basically historical. (and again, suspicious)

You were stubborn and couldn't mind your own business, and Jason didn't really care; at the end of the day, you became a small spark of hope for Gothamites — that until you threw one of his guys behind bars, then it became personal.

Were you just that stupid that you couldn't grasp the danger you put yourself into by going after high-profile criminals? He was sure that every Rouge in Gotham had a bounty on your head, and you didn't care! You just didn't care! Like you were some sort of masochist, suicidal maniac! But he would make you care, on God, he would; one, because no one wanted the new favourite child of the city becoming another Harvey Dent, and two, he was just absolutely tired of you messing up his stuff.

Drug operations were busted, fights for keeping territories were more common, and the attempts to get the most clients by dealers became more desperate, selling harder and harsher drugs. You were just messing it all up! You just had to stop before you got everyone killed.

"Pretty nice home you got here. The federal government pays well, it seems." His modulated voice echoed through the emptiness of your apartment, it wasn't expensive, you weren't one of the luxurious lifestyles because you just couldn't afford it, but it was neat and well taken care of, the most expensive thing you had was your Computer on your desk, a long, caramel coloured structure next to the window looking at the city.

"Should I add trespassing to your file, Mr. Red Hood?" You asked calmly, in the same calm voice you used when talking to the defence attorneys. He was sitting on your couch, manspreading on your couch, one hand on the back of it to keep up the relaxed posture and the other on the gun that sat comfortably against his left thigh. "Funny little one." He let out a smug chuckle, an edge of annoyance in his voice that couldn't be hidden by the modulator. He stood up, the thud of his boots loud as he approached slowly, probably trying to make you feel smaller, which it did because he was the size of a double refrigerator, but you were, by far, more worried about the files hidden under your couch, in the special plastic pocket in which it usually is the information about the furnishing, him finding that made you nervous.

"Should I offer you a glass of water, sir?" You asked with faked courtesy, barely holding back the subtle shake of your voice, to which he chuckled again. "Thank you, doll, but I have other things to talk with you." He said, clenching and unclenching his fists.

He took another few steps, "You're tense. Are you scared?" Yes, absolutely terrified, about to pee in your expensive suit pants that you wore only once every millennium. You wanted to jump out the window before spending half a second longer with that beast. "Somethin' to hide?" He inquired again. You shook your head, keeping your eyes locked into the whites of his mask. And then you looked back at the couch, a little too low.

Shit.

Both of you pounced at the same time, struggling for two different reasons, you were doing your best to keep him from reaching the files and him barely struggling to keep you away with only one arm. You kicked, pulled, pushed, and clawed at him to keep him from flipping the couch. Meanwhile, he barely did some force to keep you away with the arm which was holding the gun.

He reached one of the files from under the couch, and you yanked his hand away, twisting his elbow at a painful angle and making all the pages fall and scatter around the floor. "You little sh-" He wanted to growl, looking over the mess on the floor until his eyes met the deep blue ones of a picture. Bruce's picture. He violently pushed you away, making you hit the floor with a thump and kicking the air out of you whilst he read the notes, and every page he read made him panic more. Somehow you had noticed things no one else picked on, his pattern of picking up children just at the same time as a new robin hit the streets, analysis on his posture, his voice, coincidences and discrepancies you had found. You had figured The Batman out.

He grabbed another file, the one labelled Grayson, the same story. Drake. Damian. Gordon. Brown. Sionis. Todd. There was no point in keeping the helmet on now so he just took it off and threw it somewhere else in your living room as he flipped on his file. You knew who he was, you knew who his family were and for the first time since he knew about you, he panicked.

"How did you get this....?" He muttered, barely above a whisper, his shaky hand pointing the gun at your face. "Did you show this to anyone else?" His grip on the barrel tightened, his index pressing against the trigger as he snarled. You coughed, placing a hand on your chest. "Lower your gun... and I tell you..." you managed to gasp, sitting up against the wall. "Let's just... talk... Mr. Todd... and I promise I'll explain everything." And that was it, He just needed to hear you out.

But would he?

©sourcherrybites 2025

[g1rld1ary]

5 people james didn't mean to kiss (and one he did) ; james potter x fem!reader

➻ first james fic!! i love reviving old fanfic trends <33

➻ word count: 4494

➻ synopsis: says it on the tin baby!

➻ warnings: swearing, allusions to sex/dirty jokes, era typical homophobia (basically nonexistent)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

James Potter was a very affectionate person, everyone knew that. His love language was absolutely physical touch — everyone knew that too. It was also assumed, therefore, that James Potter had an extensive list of kisses. That assumption wasn’t necessarily wrong, but a good chunk of them weren’t exactly what you imagined when thinking of the great James Potter kissing someone. They were often impulsive when he didn’t know how else to express his feelings. His very first kiss, for example, wasn’t exactly the cheesy, romantic soap opera that he often advertised providing for girls.

Sirius Black

The Marauders sat in their dorm room, early on in second year. While first year was packed with ridiculous adventures and the forming of their friendship group, second year brought a new awareness of girls, romance and especially kissing. That was the topic of discussion as the boys all packed into one bed, hypothesising about what it might be like. James and Sirius led the discussion with much bravado and false confidence whilst Peter looked decidedly scared. Remus, to his credit, just looked rather amused at it all.

“But where do you touch her?” James asked, eyes still wide and innocent and twelve years old, “I can’t just stand there with my hands at my sides like a twat!”

“Don’t be stupid, you hold her like this.” Sirius bent his arms in a direction that looked borderline painful. Remus huffed and climbed off the bed, pulling both the boys with him.

“If you’re gonna kiss a girl,” Remus instructed, “You have to hold her gently. Don’t push her around like she’s dead weight. James, put your arms around Sirius’ waist like that, now Sirius, you put your arms around his neck.”

“Pete’s gonna think we’re bent,” Sirius grumbled, a red hue on his cheeks.

“You are bent, you poof,” Peter quipped from his spot on the bed. He was right, of course, but that wouldn’t come to light until fourth year. James thought this was hilarious though, and began miming exaggerated — rather sloppy — kisses. And since James never failed to cure Sirius of his moods, he did the same. Remus rolled his eyes as the two boys acted out a passionate scene, loose tongues and all, until they were no longer acting.

All four boys in the dorm were frozen as James and Sirius’ mouths had accidentally connected in their stupidity, none of them sure what to do. Seconds passed as the two stood, lips locked against each other, no one daring to move. At least, until Remus let out a long, uncharacteristic wheeze, which dissolved into a fit of giggles that he would usually be mortified by, but there was no way he was outdoing the kiss anytime soon. Peter followed along momentarily, laughing so hard barely any sound actually came out, silent heaves punctuated by gasping breaths.

Released from their stupor both boys leapt apart, wiping their mouths with their forearms. Both had comical expressions of disgust, still slightly too stunned to verbalise any of it.

“We,” James heaved, “Can never speak of this again. Ever.” Sirius agreed in a heartbeat, still unable to completely wipe the blush from his pale complexion. He probably would have dwelled on those feelings if James wasn’t James, beginning to see the humour in it soon enough. By the end of the night it was an inside joke that would proceed to be referenced countless times within the walls of Hogwarts.

So although James would tell the story of his first kiss quite differently — he alleged it was with a Ravenclaw named Keeley a few weeks later, his proper first kiss will always have been with one Sirius Black in the Gryffindor dormitories on an otherwise unassuming Tuesday evening. And that secret was held onto dearly by all four marauders until, of course, Sirius’ best man speech at James’ wedding, where the anecdote received uproarious applause, loudest of all by James himself.

2. Remus Lupin

The Marauders had all known about Remus’ ‘furry little problem’ since their second year — first for the most perceptive of the bunch. Nevertheless, the group were insistent in helping Remus in any way they could, though it was a difficult task when his alter ego had no resistance to killing them. Until Sirius had come to them with the idea of becoming animagi. It was difficult no doubt, advanced magic far beyond the teaching at Hogwarts, but the four of them were exceptional wizards each in their own way, and the project seemed somewhat manageable with four brains chipping away at it over the course of two years.

When they finally did get it, hardly any of them could believe it, least of all Remus. He had never imagined that the human side of him was worthy of this much love and devotion, let alone the monster within him. However, despite how they tried to play it off, the achievement didn’t come easily to any of them. Sirius was the first to get it, big black dog accompanying the group around the castle and becoming an unexpected staple of the Gryffindor common room. You in particular liked to cuddle up with him on the couch and spoil him with head scratches when you were stressed from school — at least until the secret was revealed and you hit him upside his human head for deceiving you.

James was second to get it, though much less gracefully than Sirius. The whole group of Gryffindors had been hanging out together down by the Black Lake, enjoying the slowly warming weather after class one day. James had the misfortune of being sat between you and Lily, which made things very confusing for his hormonal body and brain. His eyes were trained on his hands, too afraid to actually talk to either of you and embarrass himself which was what usually happened. You and Lily, however, were hell bent on making that occur. While James had had a well known crush on Lily for the last few years, ever since you’d come back to school that year post-puberty you could both tell that James was both emotionally and physically confused. You both delighted in this and used it to your advantage, Lily finding him the most annoying man on earth and you delighting in his flustered expressions (secretly finding him actually pretty cute).

After thirty minutes of torture, James couldn’t take it. You’d made one too many dirty jokes directed at him and he was a blushing mess, fidgeting awkwardly between you and Lily laughing gleefully. He excused himself quickly and uncharacteristically quietly, hurrying off to be out of sight of his friends. You all laughed as you watched him go, and Remus reluctantly stood, muttering something about making sure James didn’t drive himself crazy.

Remus headed straight to the Forbidden Forest, knowing the privacy would be what James desired in the moment. Sure enough there he was, taking a moment to breathe against a tree.

“Easy there, Potter, don’t cum in your pants,” He joked, obviously amused by the whole ordeal. James turned quickly, devastated at Remus seeing him so sexually frustrated.

“Sod off, Lupin. It’s not my fault! They both just sit there looking so fucking good, talking about all these unholy things and you expect me to just be fine with it? It’s so—” Instead of the exasperated groan Remus expected, he was met with a stag standing tall in front of him. He couldn’t help his mouth dropping open, the animal far more magnificent than he could have expected out of the fourteen year old boy.

In a weird shift of figure the deer was back to boy, and James only had a moment of shocked stillness before he was whooping and yelling in the grass. Remus joined him, the two of them yelling and dancing around like idiots in their joy. James pulled him in for a hug, appropriately masculine until he pressed a kiss onto Remus’ lips, still grinning ecstatically as they pulled away. Remus scowled in a way he hoped was convincing.

“I hate it when you do that, Potter,” He grumbled as the two of them returned to their friends.

“Yeah, right,” James laughed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s a blessing to be kissed by my sexy arse.”

3. Peter Pettigrew

While all four of the Marauders were undoubtedly exceptional wizards, that didn’t always translate into their grades. For example, being so ahead in the curriculum made James Potter get lazy, often submitting subpar essays simply because he figured it was already common knowledge and he was more interested in higher level magic. He always ended up with top grades from outstanding extra credit projects, but the point still stood.

Peter was similarly a great wizard. Perhaps not so much a prodigy like James or Sirius, and didn’t dominate the class ranks like Remus, but he did well for himself and was pretty exceptional in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. However, he was failing History of Magic. All four of them had chosen the subject for their OWLs, assuming it would be an easy O because of the ghost professor. They couldn’t be more wrong. Binns was a useless teacher and Peter especially found it difficult to teach himself the material just from the textbook, and was falling dreadfully behind, each essay earning a worse grade than the last.

James had offered to help tutor him before their exams, and the two buckled down in the library almost every day in the weeks leading up to exam season. Peter made pretty good progress, eager to catch up with his friends and prove he was on their level. Still, everyone was nervous for the test and its outcome.

When results were released, you and the Gryffindors were all together. Whilst you and the girls all got the reveal over and done with, the boys all waited with bated breaths. Most of the grades weren’t shocking — three of them knew they could easily get top grades from the little effort they put in, but they were all waiting on Peter’s History of Magic grade. The blond boy opened his paper with shaky hands, eyes scanning frantically over the information contained. Slowly he raised his head, nervous smile apparent.

“I got an A,” He said, and within an instant the boys were on top of him, congratulating him with strong hugs or by clapping him on the back. James grabbed both of his cheeks, pressing them together and pushing a kiss onto Peter’s lips.

“Prongs!” Peter moaned, pushing his face away half-heartedly.

“I’m just proud of you, Wormtail,” He cooed, appearing much like his mother whom you all adored.

“Oi, Potter,” You interrupted, waving your sheet of results around. “I got an O in Potions — where’s my kiss?” James immediately broke your eye contact, and you pretended you weren’t charmed by his embarrassed little smile. He mumbled a response that had his friends ripping him to shreds, egging him on whilst simultaneously teasing him and his alleged manhood. He pressed a gentle peck to your forehead and you raised an eyebrow.

“Not what I meant, but ok.”

4. Regulus Black

Regulus Black had a difficult relationship with the Marauders, to say the very least. By his fifth year — the rest of the boys’ sixth — Sirius had been at the Potter’s for months and Regulus was still reeling from the impact. He was noticeably quieter and more sombre than in years previous, and a dangerous resentment for his brother and his friends bubbled under his skin.

James Potter connected these dots quickly. However, he didn’t really know what to do about it. He wasn’t sorry that Sirius was living with him, but he didn’t like that Regulus was left all alone with their wicked parents, regardless of their personal differences. That brought James to you.

You sat together on the couch, his head resting next to your thighs, curls just brushing against your skin in a way that you couldn’t stop thinking about. He was lamenting about his mental struggles as you worked on your crochet, thinking quietly as he rambled on.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” You asked suddenly, and James tilted his head to look up at you, holding back his laughter at your upside down appearance.

“What?” He asked, “I can’t talk to him, he hates me!”

“When has that ever stopped you before? Lily hates you and yet you bother her all the time,” You said, smile playing on your lips.

“That’s not true!” James protested, “I don’t bother her that much anymore!” You rolled your eyes playfully and turned back to your craft as James continued to ponder the situation.

As usual, he decided you were right. And so he sent a short letter to Regulus, asking for a meeting on the Astronomy tower at midnight. Surprisingly he’d agreed, and the two boys were standing awkwardly across each other on the tower. Regulus refused to start the conversation and so stood in silence, staring down James in an effort to scare him off. James wouldn’t be deterred.

“I just wanted to talk about what happened last year,” He said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose nervously.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“C’mon. I know we’re not friends, but I also figured none of your friends are the talking type either. So, I thought you could talk to me — full confidentiality. I don’t know, blame me, yell at me, I just don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

“How sweet, Potter,” He sneered, “But I don’t need to talk about any of my feelings.”

James Potter was nothing if not persistent.

“Ok, well if you don’t want to talk, how about you listen?” To his surprise, Regulus stayed. One perfect eyebrow raised, he slowly sat next to James, legs dangling over the edge of the tower. After a gesture for him to go on, James started. He began to talk about the process of having Sirius live with him, the feelings they both had about it, and the guilt they both felt about leaving Regulus alone. At that Regulus looked up, eyes pooling with hope.

Then without any warning, Regulus was talking more than James had ever heard before, spilling what he supposed must have been the younger boy’s darkest secrets and vulnerabilities. James was unprepared, not actually expecting him to engage. At one point James had put a comforting arm around Regulus’ shoulder, words failing to express any of the feelings he had inside. Regulus didn’t pull away as James expected, instead only starting to cry. James just watched in disbelief as Regulus cried into his chest. Awkwardly, James arranged himself to press a gentle kiss to Regulus’ forehead right as Regulus moved to look up and speak, resulting in a ridiculous kiss between the two of them.

They jumped apart in less than a second, both with horrified looks on their faces.

“Oh my God—”

“That was an accident I swear—”

“I’m really sorry—”

“I was just trying to comfort you—”

Both boys stumbled over their words as they clambered up to their feet, putting a strictly heterosexual amount of space between them.

“Um, I’m just gonna go,” Regulus settled on, backing up towards the door.

“I’m seriously sorry, Black. It’s just something I do — doesn’t usually backfire like that.” Regulus just nodded, leaving quickly.

“Potter?” He stopped halfway through the door and James looked up. “Thanks.” James didn’t get any time to reply as Regulus was long gone, leaving him to cringe on his own. Neither of them would be telling anybody about the incident. Ever.

5. Lily Evans

You and James had been doing your will-they-won’t-they thing for a long time. Not quite since you met, but once you’d both started to notice the opposite sex you’d been participating in a battle of who could resist the longest. Teasing and cajoling were staples of your relationship. Whilst it had started as a way to pass the time; James had been in love with Lily since second year and you just liked to tease, at some point the feelings crossed over into a real and dangerous territory. However, neither of you wanted to do anything in case the feelings weren’t reciprocated, and truthfully hadn’t realised the true depth of them.

You and James were the only ones not to see the obvious: the feelings were absolutely reciprocated. It was tearing your friends apart, trying to get one of you to finally confess before you finished school forever. There were bets in place, pep talks and everything else the Gryffindors could think of to finally cause the event they’d been hoping for. Eventually, Lily had had enough.

One day you were all hanging out in your dormitory, most of you doing your homework and Marlene fiddling with a record player, trying to get it to come back to life.

“So, what would you guys think if I gave James a chance?” Lily asked, too coy to be genuine, but you were caught off-guard enough that you didn’t notice. “I mean, I know I’ve said some terrible things over the years, but now that he’s backed off he’s actually a really nice guy.”

“But… James?” You asked incredulously, essay immediately forgotten.

“Yeah, why not? He’s the hottest guy in our year, and if all goes to shit it’s only a few months until we graduate and I’ll never have to see him again.”

“But it’s James!” The rest of the girls had caught on to what Lily was scheming and delighted in joining in.

“Why shouldn’t she? It’s not like you like him, right?” Mary asked, studying your expressions. You hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. And just when they thought Lily had finally succeeded in getting the ball rolling you answered: “No, of course not. You go ahead, Lils.”

What started as a ploy to get you to admit your feelings only snowballed from there when Lily realised she couldn’t just back out now. And so she hatched a plan. Everything was going perfectly; Sirius and Remus had made sure the common room was devoid of younger students so no unhelpful rumours could be spread, and Marlene had been hanging out with you all evening to make sure you stuck to the schedule she’d devised.

With perfect precision, you and Marlene entered through the portrait just as Lily came down from the dorms.

“Hey, Potter,” She called, and James looked up curiously from his game of wizard’s chess. The redhead marched over to him, cupping both of his cheeks and kissing him strongly. Your jaw dropped open. You couldn’t believe Lily was just going for it like that, but even more you couldn’t believe the sick feeling creeping up from your stomach. You looked at Marlene, who only looked marginally less shocked. A glance around the room proved similar. Although they all knew Lily’s plan, it was two entirely different things to hear about her scheme to get the two of you together and seeing Lily Evans kissing James Potter.

“I’ve, uh, gotta go,” You mumbled, somehow finding your footing to run from the room, desperate to get anywhere where you didn’t have to see that, and the subsequent (or so you believed) union of a happy couple.

Lily pulled away from the kiss, eyes immediately trying to find you and she was puzzled when she couldn’t. A look at Marlene told her all she needed to know and her heart sank; she’d failed. James was looking a little more dazed than the head girl, and suddenly looked terribly awkward in his seat.

“Look, Lils. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t feel that way about you anymore. There’s— there’s someone else, and I, I have to go.” With that James headed up to his dormitory, and the rest of your friends stood in a thick silence for several moments.

“I think I just made everything worse,” Lily said, and then the chaos started.

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen?” Sirius asked loudly, running a stressed hand through his hair.

“I don’t know! I just figured maybe they’d have an epiphany and both realise they’d rather be kissing each other!” Lily cried, throwing herself into an armchair.

You

Lily was right, she’d unintentionally made everything worse. You were upset at what you’d seen and the story you’d attributed to it, and even more so at your terribly timed realisation of your feelings. Because of this you’d started avoiding James in an effort to get over him, which only made you more miserable that you couldn’t talk to your favourite person. James, in turn, hadn’t seen you enter the common room on the night of the kiss and so believed —and dearly hoped — that you were blissfully ignorant, and so was equally perplexed and distraught at the space between you. He’d tried to approach you about it but you evaded him or turned him away every time.

“Hey, love, can we please—”

“It’s fine, James,” You interrupted him, “It was all just a bit of fun, right? All the flirting, the being touchy. But now you’re with Lily and I’ll back off, I get it, don’t worry. I wish you two every happiness.” You tried to sound as genuine as you could while sadness bit at your heart, and left James standing astounded in the corridor. Now he knew that you’d seen the kiss the issue was obvious, but the solution remained a mystery to him.

You’d taken to Marlene to get your feelings out, and she listened patiently as you rattled off a monologue about your childish jealousy and broken heart. Luckily, she’d discussed how to handle this with Lily — who knew you wouldn’t go to her because of her alleged involvement with James, and set off (hopefully) your friend’s last attempt to get you two together. She finally shook you out of it, frustrated with the lack of action.

“They’re not together,” She said, stopping you in your tracks.

“What?”

“They’re not together,” She repeated, making intense eye contact with you. “It was all this dumb plan Lily had to get the two of you together. She thought if you saw James getting with someone else you’d finally realise your feelings for him. And you did, but you were supposed to stick around to hear Potter reject her and say that he liked someone else, you.” You were shocked into silence, what could you say to that?

“So,” You started carefully, “What do I do now?”

James was in a similar situation with the boys.

“She saw Lily kiss me and now she thinks I like Lily when I like her! Plus, she won’t even be in my presence long enough for me to explain that it’s all just this huge misunderstanding and it’s her I want to be snogging!” James lay dramatically across his bed as the boys sighed.

“Prongs, isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asked and James cocked his head to the side, looking remarkably like a confused puppy. “Do something she can’t ignore. Make a grand gesture to prove your feelings for her.” James thought about it, it made sense. If you wouldn’t hear his explanation, he’d just have to make you.

“How?”

You and James went into the following Saturday with the same goal. It was Gryffindor’s quidditch semi-final, so there was a party being held whatever the outcome. It would be the first time you’d see each other since you’d realised your mistake since training was taking up all of James’ time.

Gryffindor had won, thankfully, which had both of you in higher spirits. The party was already in full swing by the time you got there, opting for a smoke first to calm your nerves. You’d spotted James almost as soon as you entered, always the heart and soul of a party. You marched towards him with a purpose, but as soon as he set eyes on you he jumped up to stand on a table. Someone had lowered the volume of the music — not silent, but low enough so you could hear him yelling over it. He said your full name, clearly and intentionally in a way that had surrounding people look at you curiously.

“I love you,” He said suddenly. “I am in love with you, not anyone else, and whatever made you think that’s not true was just a huge misunderstanding. Because I love you so much, and all I want to do is snog you until I’m the only name you remember, baby.” You let out a short laugh at his vulgarity and the cocky smirk that accompanied it, but a cheek-splitting smile won out when you thought about the preceding words and the sincerity he’d instilled in them. Before you even knew what you were doing you were racing towards him, gratefully taking Peter’s hand to join James on the table.

You honestly couldn’t tell who had initiated the kiss, but you were suddenly so intimately joined together it was like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs, compressing your body in an effort to fuse to his. His strong arms around you couldn’t shield you from the confetti being thrown around (for the match, of course, not just your kiss), nor the catcalls of your friends. You only pulled away when you felt James’ tongue start exploring a little too far, mindful that half the people you knew were watching. You wore matching grins as you parted, foreheads still pressed together and breathing heavy.

While it might have taken four years, innumerable (accidental) kisses and one failed set-up plan to get there, you were sure in your heart that James Potter was the only boy you ever wanted to kiss. And so you did, over and over for the years to come, and you cheered and applauded enthusiastically as the seemingly never ending list of friends and family told stories of receiving a coveted James Potter kiss throughout the years, knowing you were the only one who got to be his bride.