#checks all mars typical boxes

[seafoamreadings]

week of june 23rd, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: although typically you have not a lot of natural affinity for ceres, this week she activates you as a cardinal sign and, later, by interacting with your ruling planet mars. focus on nurturing. yourself first, then others. it doesn't mean getting spoiled - it does mean having what you need, physically, emotionally, and in all ways.

taurus: it is a good earthy week. you may not see other astrologers (who tend to ignore ceres, and even lilith) talk about it, but ceres in capricorn is busy this week and that's great news for taureans. similarly lilith (i don't post about her on the blog but i do on patreon!!) is active at the end of virgo. these things add up to you breaking past long-held obstacles and freeing yourself, healthfully, to grow like a cute little flower.

gemini: the shift to cancer season takes, so to speak, a lot of the air out of your sails. you don't have to hurry or hustle. you don't even have to think so much. focus on cultivating, not checking off to-do list boxes.

cancerians: the retrograde of ceres through capricorn means changes in your relationships, especially being that it is now cancer season and planets in your sign make oppositions to ceres. focus on nurturing and how that bonds you with the people you love, regardless of what kinds of relationships exist between you.

leo: any recent burnout gets a little bit cleared away by the aries moon during this week. there's a lot else going on, though, and the moon does always require emotional support and nurturing, so don't let these things slide.

virgo: ceres is unusually busy this week, in some aspects which many will find tense but which overall bring you benefit when it comes to social circles and having a good time. so a little solitude is okay, but try to take advantage of any little sociable moods you get this week.

libra: the venusian vibes are spicy and sparkly and sultry this week. it may be a little more excitement than you normally want, but in a good way. meanwhile lilith makes her ingress into your sign this week. if the femme fatale vibe is not welcome in your sphere, you may have some struggles.

scorpio: old man saturn is a renowned party pooper. his retrograde in pisces this week signifies that this is not a period for having fun. not that you can't have any, but you will have duties, chores, and structures to maintain. try not to complain too much, he doesn't like that. next week will be a little more lighthearted.

sagittarius: you're typically so easygoing that any stress this week is going to seem magnified. people might perceive you as a stick in the mud, but you can't be so lackadaisical 24/7. it's temporary, so don't let opportunists pile too much responsibility on you. but it's a good time to make sure your physical abode is in good repair.

capricorn: melancholy is pretty common when your ruling planet saturn takes a retrograde station. but on the bright side, nurturing ceres in your sign is making many helpful aspects this week. you can't expect to be fed by light and air alone, but a little nourishing assistance will go a long way at this time towards chasing away any excessive blues.

aquarius: the first few days of the week involve the moon in your sign. it's secret laboratory vibes. those divine insights may help you and others but they aren't exactly meant to be shared, certainly not meant to be broadcast. by the end of the week you'll likely be grateful for them, though, because the air gets thin. but more like underwater than at a mountaintop.

pisces: you get a little mercurial boost just before saturn turns retrograde in your sign. you're pretty accustomed to this by now, the way the leaden, soggy, almost moldy atmosphere sometimes kicks in and you have to find ways to make the best of it. fortunately by the end of the week you clear most of the overly melancholic humor and find your way back to whatever purple misty nebula you like to call home.

[grubloved]

But the most insidious source of the anti-trans movement in this country is, quite simply, liberals. Butler, in their survey of the political landscape, misses the liberal faction altogether. I suspect this is because the anti-trans liberal sees himself as a concerned citizen, not an ideologue. He is neither radical nor a feminist; he is not so much trans-exclusionary as he is broadly skeptical of all social-justice movements. He is a trans- agnostic reactionary liberal - a TARL. The TARL's primary concern, to hear him tell it, lies in protecting free speech and civil society from the illiberal forces of the woke left, which, by forcing the orthodoxy of gender down the public's throat and viciously attacking anyone who dares to ask questions, is trafficking in censorship, intimidation, and quasi-religious fanaticism. On trans people themselves, the TARL claims to take no position other than to voice his general empathy for anyone suffering from psychological distress or civil-rights violations.

(...)

Now, to be clear, the TARL will typically acknowledge the existence of a group of fully developed adults whose medically verified gender dysphoria is so persistent and distressing that the argument for compassionate care outweighs the Hippocratic prohibition on harming a perfectly healthy body. The basic strategy here is to create a kind of intake form with exactly two boxes on it. Every trans-identified person is either a participant in a craze or certifiably crazy. (Checking both boxes is permitted.) There is a touch of genius to this approach. It draws a bright line between the kids who say they are trans and the kids who really are while pathologizing all of them as either delusional or dysphoric. This line is as old as gender medicine itself, which for decades was careful to distinguish impersonators and fetishists from the "true transsexual." So in most cases of gender variance, the TARL informs parents that it is perfectly healthy for boys to wear dresses and for girls to climb trees regardless of their biological sex, which need not be altered after all. He reassures them that the risk of suicide among trans-identified youth has been inflated by cynical activists trying to blackmail the public; what he means by this is that he does not think most kids are suicidal enough to be trans. In those rare instances of true misery, he advises the practice of "watchful waiting," preferring to see the patient through the often- irreversible changes of puberty to adulthood, when her childhood experience of gender incongruence will finally acquire the weight of medical evidence. If only she had said something sooner!

Andrea Long Chu, "Freedom of Sex: The moral case for letting trans kids change their bodies." Mar. 11, 2024, for New York Magazine

[rruhlreviews]

Book Review - The Bromance Book Club by Lyssa Kay Adams

I must preface this review with the fact I have a certificate in women and gender studies.

Some context is important when discussing the success of this book. This novel was a blockbuster on BookTok, so we need to examine what makes something a sensation for the BookTok audience. The basic elements of a BookTok success are a high concept, diverse representation, a heavy emphasis on tropes, and use of contemporary language and/or pop culture references. Strong plot or character arcs are a secondary focus of the BookTok audience.

A story about a baseball player sports-bro who has to read regency romance to be a better husband. This high concept is the selling point of this novel. What makes this appealing to BookTok? Toxic masculinity is a hot topic in society right now. Despite being parents, the characters are young, which appeals to the burgeoning new adult audience. We’ve got feminism and a strong female lead who loves art and activism. Sports romance is popular as well. I can see how an online audience who’s used to the jargon online would think the author was clever for using terms like “mansplaining.”

The premise was appealing and I was genuinely excited to read the book. I appreciate what the author was attempting to do! The part with Gavin doing the grand gesture and Thea playfully saying she wanted to was very sweet. Unfortunately, thepremise fell short of its potential for me. Contemporary romance isn't my typical read (though I have read and enjoyed it before), yet I went into this with an open mind. My reaction can best be summarized by: when I learned this was a BookTok fav, all of the criticisms I had made a lot more sense. BookTok is a site where trends change constantly and the media consumption cycle lasts a month if you’re lucky. How to market to this constantly shifting audience? Sell them bite-sized ideas. Emphasize tropes. A new take on the sports romance. Useless man fights for empowered wife. Unpacking toxic masculinity. Woke romance. Men are from Mars and women are from Venus, but it’s done in a feminist way this time, we promise.

Have I mentioned I don’t ascribe to the whole idea of gender?

I digress. My point is, the entire book seemed to be just these few tropes and premises. The narrative never got into the emotional depth I needed to make me care about the characters. Miscommunication as a plot device can be done well, but if you removed it from The Bromance Book Club, the entire narrative would fall apart. If the reader ever stops to wonder if men and women aren’t from two different planets, the narrative falls apart. I’m not making excuses for Gavin being oblivious to his wife’s happiness, but I must point out that Thea never communicated either. She told him to leave, so he did, then she was mad at him because he wasn’t supposed to actually leave.

The plot and characterization were weak. I was interested in Thea’s trauma, but it seemed to be glossed over to push a heavy-handed “strong woman” theme. It’s like a cake made out of all frosting. That’s the thing. BookTok wants easily consumed frosting, not a cake that requires a longer attention span or the contemplation of important concepts such as diversity and inclusion beyond a surface-level discussion. Being able to check off boxes on a representation clipboard doesn’t make a book a strong story, but that would be news to BookTok. I hate the term “woke” because it misses every single point of real social justice work, ergo it is the perfect term to describe the attempt at feminism in The Bromance Book Club, which didn't feel super feminist at all. Ultimately, the tension and comedy in the book rely on the belief that women and men are inherently different, and if you and your partner struggle to speak the same love language, it isn't a communication issue but a gender issue. Honestly, while reading, I kept thinking about the sitcom Home Improvement from the 90s which I know wasn't the intended effect. Mentally, I call this phenomenon "girlboss feminism," where the quest to create a strong female lead falls back on buzzwords and a couple tropes and ultimately has little new or interesting to say about gender.

The voice in The Bromance Book Club was a voice I recognized from other BookTok successes I’ve read. Its attempt to be witty was just edgy. The voice was self-aware, ironic, and almost felt to be poking fun at the genre as a whole, which made me wary of its sincerity. It's like when a musical has a character point out "why is everyone singing?" Personally, I'm a fan of just enjoying a genre without breaking the immersion. We’re all here to read it because we know and enjoy the general formula, and you don’t need to hit us over the head with anything. Additionally, there were sections where the author's voice bled through and it felt more like reading a rant about injustice than a story.

As a final nitpick, Courting the Countess used the phrase “male gaze” at one point and I was irked by the anachronistic language. It’s 1820, not 2020.

In conclusion, while the high concept and premise of The Bromance Book Club caught my attention, it fell short of its potential, trading a dynamic plot and characters for appealing buzzwords and a superficial attempt to discuss feminism. Because of the culture on BookTok which desires speed, surface-level representation, genre fiction that “isn’t like other genre fiction,” and easily consumed media, it was the perfect favorite for that audience. The book ultimately lacked sincerity to my eye. It felt to be showing off how not like other romances it was, and lost the heartfelt storytelling for me. TikTok as a site is all about flashy appearances with less depth.

Here I am, turning an unrelated piece of writing into a rant about society after criticizing The Bromance Book Club for doing the same thing. But this discussion is indeed part of a larger concern of mine. I worry about BookTok's potential to influence a trend of declining quality in the fiction market. I worry about the negative impact on the mental health of its userbase, afraid to show or feel things against the status quo.

Maybe I'm just not in the target audience, in which case these criticisms mean little. Maybe I read it as trying to be more than it actually was. In any case, it just wasn't for me, and that's okay, and I'm free to pick up another contemporary romance with different themes. This book certainly achieved what it meant to achieve, given its success, which I respect.

[sethan-obsession]

one thing that doesn't come up very often when anything about Neco-Arc comes up is the characters' position in the actual games they're in

while Melty Blood isn't something that a lot of people are very versed in (especially amongst people that like the little =3 cat, myself included), outside of meme culture and story mode funnies within the series, the characters are almost entirely a nonsequitur

Neco-Arc and Neco-Arc Chaos (the latter abbreviated to NAC and the former abbreviated to usually "Neco", for later reference) typically occupy the bottom 2 position in whatever game they're in, approximately, between their 3 moons. moons are a "groove" system in melty blood similar to that found in CVS2, or otherwise it's similar to the differences between Shadow and Normal characters in Persona, essentially mixing around your characters' set of universal mechanics and general moveset, though especially strongly associated signature attacks are usually kept between all moons.

some specific characters are considered worse on their "bad moon(s)" than the Necos on their "good moons", but generally those characters' "good versions" outshine most anything any variant of the necos can do.

their general pros between them are "annoying" and "small and difficult to hit or combo, conditionally". they typically attempt to play a zoney, pixie-esque air focused game, but the common theme between much of the necos' kits are that they seldom function, and are a traditional hardcore style "joke character" like street fighter Alpha Dan.

i want to generally focus on NAC for this because i find them more interesting (and they look cute & unique, design and personality wise), the character generally deferred to as bottom 1 with the worst moon in the game amongst popular opinion.

on Mizuumi (for those unaware, a "poverty" FG wiki equivalent to sites like Supercombo and Dustloop), NAC's strongest moon in Crescent (shorthanded to C-NAC) has a wall of cons and a short burst of pros which sum up to "annoying" and "so bad that people don't have match experience to know the matchup".

even at their absolute best or with their most "complete" kit that forms the most functional gameplan, NAC is still marred with some of the funniest shit ever. check these green boxes out:

all of these are incredibly slow normals and mostly the only epitome of "range" NAC has, with other buttons literally extending a few pixels in front of their silly little cat sprite. they extend their gigantic hurtboxes before they're active and up until NAC is actionable again in most cases. only normal you can actually play footsies against in melty blood.

C-NAC focuses on specials that do passable zoning (though generally easily disrespected, and low reward). the other moons, however, are quite dire.

Half Moon Neco-Arc Chaos (H-NAC) can be generally surmised by the first thing at the top of their page, before even their normals:

it's no exaggeration, either. Skeleton is pretty much the only person who even has H-NAC games on record. there are a few here and there, mostly some locally recorded matches between friends, but in the modern day, this is your guru, and the only advice they have is "Please do not pick this character". splendid. extremely funny.

H-NAC generally suffers from losing out on important things that allow NAC to play as a "worse than almost everyone else but still almost functional Melty character", such as having a functional airdash or backdash, but hey, they've got a command throw in case someone's response to not knowing the NAC matchup is to hold downback instead of mashing (if you find an individual of such criteria, i'll give you ten dollars.)

F-NAC, however, is the worst it's ever been. take a gander at this:

lol

H-NAC lacks the ability to really do much of anything, and is blessed with an EX move which does *zero damage*, has a superflash as Melty EX moves do, and is -20 on what, on meterless variations, is meant to be a pressure reset special. in exchange, if you hit with it point blank (and i mean it, your pushboxes have to be touching in most cases) it can cause Circuit Break (no meter usage or gain for x amount of seconds) on the opponent, but that's meter you can spend on bad reversals instead, since your abare is terrible. if you don't hit with the Circuit Break point blank hitbox, it instead builds a ton of meter for the opponent on hit, drains yours, and does zero damage, leaving you in a bad oki situation after.

four hit jumping mid which has the same terrible hurtbox rules, isn't very active considering NAC's bad jump arc and airdash, and fails to combo into anything beyond that usually. good move.

[israelplays]

THE BEST Guide TV URL For Tivimate 2024

If you use the Tivimate IPTV app, which is a top app for all Android devices, including Android boxes and Amazon Firesticks, because of the beautiful The app's visually appealing design and user-friendly interface are occasionally marred by a minor flaw.. Make sure your Tivimate app is running the greatest IPTV so you can enjoy high-quality films and IPTV. A potential drawback to consider is that not every IPTV service provides the necessary Electronic Program Guide (EPG) URL, which is required to access the TV guide feature within the Tivimate application. But don’t worry we will show you some workaround below for you to get the TV guide working on Tivimate.

Obtain the URL for Tivimate's television schedule from your IPTV provider.

Typically, IPTV service providers share their Electronic Program Guide (EPG) URL, allowing you to access the TV schedule and view upcoming programs on all channels offered by your IPTV provider. See Compare IPTV Smarters Pro and TiviMate to determine which IPTV app reigns supreme.

To acquire the EPG URL for your Tivimate app, it's recommended to first, as they can readily provide you with the necessary information. This approach is generally the most straightforward and efficient way to obtain the EPG URL. If your IPTV provider doesn't furnish an Electronic Program Guide URL, but you have the server address, port number, username, and password, you can use this information to construct a custom EPG URL that's compatible with your provider's specific requirements. http://SERVERULR:PORT/xmltv.php?username=USERNAME&password=PASSWORD For instance, let's assume your provider supplies you with the following details. Server URL = http://example.com/8080

Username = john123 Password = smith321 To update the EPG URL we previously displayed, follow these steps: http://example.com:8080/xmltv.php?username=john123&password=smith321 Then you would just enter this EPG URL in the Tivimate app settings and it should now work fine in the TV guide. See our article on TiviMate Firestick

In the event that your IPTV service is not offering a functional Electronic Program Guide (EPG), don't worry - there's an alternative solution that we'll explore in the following section. See Check Out How To Use Tivimate To Record IPTV

How To Use Tivimate With A Paid TV Guide URL

The last and most effective way is to utilize a paid TV guide on your Tivimate. You can sign up for a website such as israelplays which will allow you to make custom playlists and also get the EPG (TV Guide) working with any IPTV app.

Here Are Some Other TV Guide Websites Below:

Can These EPG Sources Handle .gz Compression?

The EPG sources and Tivimate discussed earlier in the conversation support the .gz compression format, which can also be used with the Tivimate IPTV app. When Tivimate retrieves the TV guide, it comes in a compact zip folder, ensuring a quick download process. This format prevents the guide from being bulky and slow to download, making it efficient for Tivimate to access the necessary information.

See our article on "Enjoy top-notch entertainment on your Firesticks and Android devices with the innovative TiviMate Companion app.. Enjoy experience with our user-friendly interface and exclusive features."

Other EPG Sources To Use With Tvimate

Another way you can get EPG to work if your IPTV provider does not have a full EPG set up is to sign up for this website below This will let you add your own EPG sources in as well as take away any IPTV cateries you don’t want as well as move around channels and even delete them. Best Free EPG Source You can go to this URL below and then download any countries EPG list using the .gz compressed version and add into your IPTV playlist controller such as XeeV. EPG Share

Final Thoughts

Now you know how to use a TV Guide for Tivimate and also where to find EPG sources to use directly with Tivimate or any other IPTV app you wish to use. If this guide has helped be sure to give it a quick share. Read the full article

[wilbertlamb354]

Client Success Stories: How [Estate Agent Name] Transforms Real Estate in Coventry

In the dynamic world of real estate, few things are more inspiring than witnessing the remarkable transformations that can occur when a skilled and dedicated real estate agent partners with their clients. [Estate Agent Name], a leading real estate professional serving the Coventry area, has carved out a reputation for delivering exceptional results that go beyond the typical real-estate transaction.

Client Success Story: The Langford Family

The Langford family had been considering a move for some time, but the prospect of navigating the complexities of the real estate market had left them feeling overwhelmed. That was until they connected with [Estate Agent Name], who quickly put their minds at ease and developed a tailored strategy to ensure a seamless experience.

"Working with [Estate Agent Name] was like having a trusted ally in our corner," recalls Sarah Langford. "From the moment we first reached out, they listened to our needs, understood our vision, and mapped out a plan that gave us complete confidence in the process."

The Langfords' primary goal was to find a larger home that could accommodate their growing family, while also maximizing the value of their existing property. [Estate Agent Name] got to work, meticulously analyzing the market, identifying key trends, and providing the Langfords with a comprehensive overview of their options.

"[Estate Agent Name] didn't just show us listings," Sarah explains. "They took the time to really understand what we were looking for – the perfect balance of space, location, and value. That level of personalized attention made all the difference."

Through strategic pricing, targeted marketing, and a keen understanding of the local market, [Estate Agent Name] was able to sell the Langfords' home quickly and for a price that exceeded their expectations. With that success in the rearview, the team then focused on finding the perfect new home, scouring the market and presenting the Langfords with a curated selection of properties that aligned with their needs and budget.

"The level of service we received was truly exceptional," Sarah says. "At every step, [Estate Agent Name] kept us informed, provided expert guidance, and ensured that we felt empowered to make the best estate agent coventry decisions for our family."

The Langfords ultimately found their dream home, a spacious and beautifully appointed property that checked all the boxes. The seamless transition, from the sale of their old home to the purchase of the new, is a testament to the skill and dedication of [Estate Agent Name].

"We couldn't be happier with the outcome," Sarah reflects. "[Estate Agent Name] didn't just help us buy a new home – they helped us find a place that we can truly call our own, a space that will allow our family to thrive for years to come."

Client Success Story: The Wilsons

For the Wilson family, the decision to relocate to Coventry was driven by a mix of professional and personal considerations. As seasoned real estate investors, they understood the importance of working with an agent who could navigate the local market with precision and expertise.

"We've worked with our fair share of real estate agents over the years," says Michael Wilson. "But when it came to Coventry, we knew we needed someone who truly understood the nuances of the market and could help us maximize our return on investment."

Enter [Estate Agent Name], who immediately impressed the Wilsons with their in-depth knowledge of the Coventry real estate landscape and their ability to identify lucrative opportunities.

"From the very first meeting, [Estate Agent Name] demonstrated a level of professionalism and attention to detail that set them apart," Michael recalls. "They listened closely to our goals and objectives, and then developed a comprehensive strategy to help us achieve them."

That strategy involved a multifaceted approach, including thorough market analysis, strategic property selection, and meticulous negotiation on the Wilsons' behalf. [Estate Agent Name] worked tirelessly to ensure that each transaction was executed with precision, ultimately helping the Wilsons build a diverse real estate portfolio that has continued to generate impressive returns.

"[Estate Agent Name] didn't just find us properties – they found us the right properties," Michael says. "Their ability to spot emerging trends and identify undervalued assets has been instrumental in the success of our investment strategy."

But the Wilsons' relationship with [Estate Agent Name] extends beyond the purely transactional. The team has become a trusted advisor, providing invaluable guidance on everything from property management to tax planning.

"They've truly become an extension of our business," Michael reflects. "Whenever we have a question or need a fresh perspective, we know we can count on [Estate Agent Name] to provide sound, actionable advice."

As the Wilsons continue to grow their real estate empire in Coventry, they remain grateful for the partnership they've forged with [Estate Agent Name]. It's a relationship built on mutual trust, respect, and a shared commitment to achieving outstanding results.

"Working with [Estate Agent Name] has been a game-changer for us," Michael concludes. "They've not only helped us build wealth, but they've also made the process of investing in Coventry real estate a truly enjoyable experience."

Client Success Story: The Smiths

For the Smith family, the decision to relocate to Coventry was a pivotal moment in their lives. With two young children and a growing desire for a better quality of life, they knew they needed to find the perfect home – one that would provide ample space, a safe and welcoming community, and easy access to the amenities they valued most.

That's when they turned to [Estate Agent Name], a real estate professional with a reputation for delivering exceptional results.

"From the moment we first spoke with [Estate Agent Name], we knew we were in good hands," recalls Sarah Smith. "They listened to our needs, understood our vision, and immediately got to work on finding the perfect property for our family."

The search was not without its challenges, as the Coventry market was highly competitive, with desirable properties often receiving multiple offers. But [Estate Agent Name] remained undaunted, using their extensive network, keen market insights, and savvy negotiation skills to help the Smiths secure their dream home.

"[Estate Agent Name] never gave up on us," Sarah says. "They were constantly proactive, exploring every avenue to ensure we found the right property at the right price."

The Smiths were particularly impressed by the way [Estate Agent Name] prioritized their family's long-term happiness and well-being. Rather than simply focusing on the transaction, the team went above and beyond to understand the Smiths' lifestyle, preferences, and aspirations.

"They didn't just help us buy a house – they helped us find a home," Sarah explains. "They took the time to really get to know us, to understand what was important to our family, and to ensure that the property we chose was the perfect fit."

The attention to detail and personalized approach paid off, as the Smiths quickly settled into their new community, immersing themselves in the local amenities and forging strong connections with their neighbors.

"The transition has been seamless," Sarah reflects. "Thanks to [Estate Agent Name], we've been able to enjoy all the benefits of our new home and community, without the stress and uncertainty that often comes with a major move."

As the Smiths look to the future, they know they can rely on [Estate Agent Name] to be a steadfast partner, providing guidance and support as their family continues to grow and evolve.

"[Estate Agent Name] has proven time and time again that they're not just a real estate agent – they're a trusted advisor, a champion of our family's wellbeing, and a true partner in our journey," Sarah concludes. "We couldn't be more grateful for their expertise and dedication."

Conclusion

The client success stories presented in this article demonstrate the transformative impact that a skilled and committed real estate agent can have on the lives of their clients. [Estate Agent Name] has consistently shown the ability to navigate the Coventry real estate market with precision, providing personalized service and innovative solutions that help their clients achieve their goals, whether they are selling a home, investing in property, or finding their dream residence.

Through these compelling narratives, it becomes clear that [Estate Agent Name] is not just a real estate professional – they are a trusted partner, a strategic advisor, and a champion of their clients' best interests. By leveraging their deep market knowledge, negotiation prowess, and unwavering dedication, [Estate Agent Name] has transformed the real estate experience for countless individuals and families in Coventry, delivering exceptional results that go well beyond the typical transaction.

As the real estate landscape continues to evolve, [Estate Agent Name] remains at the forefront, constantly adapting their approach to ensure that their clients can navigate the market with confidence and achieve their desired outcomes. Whether you're a first-time homebuyer, a seasoned investor, or a family in search of the perfect place to call home, [Estate Agent Name] is poised to be your trusted guide, empowering you to make informed decisions and unlock the full potential of the Coventry real estate market.

[denimbex1986]

'...Get Ready to Cry

Award seasons are strange. There are movies that are nominated for everything, then swiftly forgotten once the last trophy is handed out. In three months, will any of us remember that Maestro exists? (A fun game to play at the end of each award season is to try to name the actors who actually won the awards the previous year without Googling.)

Then there are the movies that spent the season championed by a contingent of cinema fans and awards enthusiasts who cheered for them, begged for voters to pay attention to them, and just plain wouldn’t shut up about them. Oscar nomination morning is a deflating experience when, despite the films’ worthiness and the passion of their fans, they’re passed over for the typical Academy-friendly fare that was rubber-stamped at every precursor award show.

The thing is: These are the movies that last. Because they’re so good—so special—that the word of mouth never ends. People discover them when they hit streaming. They’re revisited, sometimes often, whereas the litany of snoozy biopics that did get awards attention essentially disappear. (On Mar. 11, Nyad swims off into the abyss, never to be heard from again.)

There are a few titles that I predict this will be true for from the 2023 award season. I’ve already noticed in my social circles that people are starting to check out—and then rave about—Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret. The movie that the most people in my life have watched and wanted to talk with me about is Theater Camp. And then there is the film that I, personally, feel is the best movie of 2023, a gem that I think a lot of people are going to be talking (and crying about) in the coming months: All of Us Strangers.

The poignant, haunting romance, written and directed by Andrew Haigh, is available to stream on Hulu as of this weekend. I can’t recommend enough that you go to the store, pick up a jumbo-sized box of tissues, and then return home to watch the movie.

Andrew Scott plays Adam, a lonely writer living in a near-empty skyrise in London who is working on a screenplay about his childhood. After a fire drill one night, he meets Harry (Paul Mescal), who seems to be the only other person living in the building. Despite Adam’s early resistance, they spark a connection, which develops into a passionate romance that cracks Adam open emotionally, seemingly for the first time in a long time.

He travels to the house he grew up in to reconnect with his parents (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell), but there’s a strange twist: His parents died in a car crash 30 years before. How is it possible that they can see each other? None of them are sure, but they seize the opportunity to get to know each other again, this time with Adam as a grown, successful, gay man.

The relationship with Harry dovetails with the interactions with his parents’ ghosts, allowing Adam to heal old wounds and come into himself in ways that his past pain had stalled. The process is as gorgeous as it is heartbreaking, creating a viscerally cathartic viewing experience; just as Adam’s feelings are finally unleashed, so are yours. At least that’s what the Kleenexes that are suddenly soaked suggest.

Haigh is no stranger to this kind of film, one that was small, cut championed at its release, but which would eventually capture more and more attention—and be truly cherished—as years pass. His 2011 romance Weekend is a foundational film for LGBTQ+ millennials, especially, while his once polarizing HBO series Looking is, 10 years after its premiere, experiencing a cultural reexamination. All of Us Strangers doesn’t need to be reconsidered—it’s already beloved—but expect its impact to only continue to grow as more people get to watch it. (Which, again, you can do right now on Hulu!)...'

[kissofcashmere]

I’m sharing a secret today:

Three little Teddy Bears 🧸

I’m getting very bad palpitations/racing heartbeats so I’m not in the state to write much this is exactly why I wish I had someone to talk to in person. I have high fever too… and shallow breathing again. It’s very difficult to get Teddy bears in India because someone has banned certain imports and huge reliable places like Hamleys… inspite of their “quality check” has become another Reliance Mart, they don’t have official Hamley toys 🧸 the banner is good for nothing all you get is cheap roadside stuff which for some reason is impervious to our stringent quality norms, you get all these tacky, garishly coloured bright red, green and raspberry pink Teddy bears (be it in Hamleys or Amazon etc. etc.) in that cheap quality synthetic fabric where they use toxic dyes, as if they are very healthy made out of vegetable colouring, as if the beetroot red is edible for children? On Amazon they only have what Indian girlfriends usually want… all those typical cheesy 6 ft bears that’s it. Anyway, long back when I was putting together something for Harsh https://twitter.com/dutchesstruffle/status/1610306604037201922?s=46&t=XBKt3GjCDr2f0CTNaF_y2w & https://twitter.com/dutchesstruffle/status/1610299643216429056?s=46&t=XBKt3GjCDr2f0CTNaF_y2w

When I had put everything together for him I had taken a mini birthday cake Teddy bear (15 cm) but it arrived late so I decided to keep it as a keepsake (I feel like sitting with him & crying) and I gave him a proper sized Teddy bear, for the next birthday I had grooming stuff to give ‘cuz what else would u give guys… I was like where will I find a Teddy bear in a Bath Robe? And then I heard myself saying aah that’s impossible even in places which are popular for Teddy bears 🧸 and then guess what? One should never believe anything’s impossible, everything is possible our world is full of surprises, a week later I came across a Bathrobe Teddy (the last of Hamleys that we had) and I immediately got it for him to put it there in my box with all the grooming stuff

Ever since then I have been getting the most perfect Teddy bear that too always at the right moment it’s as if it has created a stroke of good luck or a catalyst (like most other things in my life) I was looking for a Teddy for my car (I don’t have one yet nor am I in the state to drive) so actually for my future car… I have drafted an article (I had written it long ago last year) in case you’d want to read more about cars, but I haven’t published it on my blog cuz that car hasn’t arrived yet in Indian market… anyway I got this Teddy bear 🧸 which will be combined with those mini cushions and other stuff to make someone as comfortable as possible and there will be refreshments too, I’ll share all the details once my post is up, it looks like a perfect little chauffeur Czar is my pseudonym and instead of Car I’ve kept Czar as the title there (not yet published the article) you can read it next year on 23rd Jan, “24 cuz whatever cars I was comparing… well one of them didn’t get launched in India even though it was supposed to (during Auto expo)

That’s just a quick glimpse, I wanted the car to be fully equipped with all this stuff and it’s inspired by luxury hotel rentals/airport shuttles.

Here’s the third Teddy…

So Ralph Lauren Bears are for 10k even from the kids section and I wanted a Barista bear to be precise… I again thought to myself “It’s not that realistic you know, finding something like that especially in India.” Anyway I had already come across whatever I wanted for my theme in the exact same as shade as Ralph’s and then I eventually found a bear too which was quite unexpected, he’s wearing a gingham shirt in the same bottle green colour and grey dungarees, I can also make it sit. He is very cute & adorable 🧸 I have put a pic in my moodboard which will be there in www.lilacnights.com/post/my-little-barista I am not sure if I’ll be able to fulfil this dream but you can read it on 7th Mar it has been pre-scheduled.

Another Teddy: Looks like this month I’ll be spending on Teddy bears… no I got that Ralph and then this, the rest were purchased ages ago. I didn’t want to miss out on this one because nowadays you don’t get bears with the same coloured nose, they all have that cheap white nose that too in a different fabric not fur. This bear costed me around 990 inclusive of the extra ribbon and 100 shipping.

I saw a blogger who has a cottage somewhere & I realised I wasn’t the only one obsessed with bears other than Ralph Lauren, she too has Teddy Bears in every nook and corner of the house and some other blogger just posted a Teddy Bear sitting on her bed, looks like we’ve all got this Teddy Fever together - Zara Sauleh

[fumiko-matsubara]

A Timeline of the whole messy Kaho + Maehara + Seo situation

Just trying to make sense of what was shown and hinted in the manga.

Because Class E students typically don’t graduate by the end of the school year, they are officially expelled from Kunugigaoka by the 3rd Trimester (Jan-Mar), which is all about high school exams preparations. The Class E building will then instead be occupied by the future Class E students for accommodation purposes.

The sorting for future Class E students among the 2nd years will likely occur a little after the announcements of their final exam results, which was in December.

Which means that Kaho and Maehara likely dated before December 2013.

Maehara basically ghosted Kaho ever since dropping to Class E.

Maybe until somewhere in May 2014.

And within those 5 months of ghosting, he probably even dated a bunch of girls behind her back. It explains why Nagisa described Maehara as someone who is so popular that the girl he’s seen with constantly changes.

He cheated on her 4 times the whole time they’ve been apart.

And it also explains why nobody was under the impression that he and Kaho have been dating for a long time, even though Maehara is notorious for his extensive dating history.

Hell, I’m sure that people barely even knew that they dated, or that they had already forgotten that they were dating by the time the new school year began.

Enter Seo, the new guy in the situation.

Who is also unaware of Maehara’s relationship with Kaho for some strange reason despite having a whole wide network of people to tell him what’s going on.

Horrible temper, verbally abusive, incredibly rude, and his appearance couldn’t even make it up for his horrible personality - not a single box was checked in Kaho’s criteria for the kind of guys she’s famously into (Ikemen).

So, no fucking way would she date him.

But, here’s the catch: Seo is a virtuoso - his incredibly high social standing in Kunigigaoka’s student hierarchy despite his horrible personality canonically makes everyone uncomfortable.

And Kaho is just another student from the most average class in their year.

But she’s incredibly pretty.

It could be to make himself look good in front of others for having a beautiful girlfriend or whatever. Regardless of what Seo’s reasons are for dating her, the extreme power imbalance between the two of them gives Kaho no choice but to date him at his demand.

This could have happened in April 2014, when the new school year solidifies Seo’s standing as among the virtuosos.

Fast forward.

It was in June 2014 when some of the current Class E students spotted Kaho and Maehara walking together under the rain.

That makes it more than 6-7 months of dating.

And yet, for some strange reason, none of the present Class E students where under the impression that they were dating for a long time. In fact, Kaho was made seem to be a new girlfriend of Maehara’s instead.

Which could mean that Maehara waltzed back into Kaho’s life fairly recently.

I’m just gonna assume it’s somewhere between late May to early June.

The 5th time he cheated on her, was when he scheduled that date with a girl from another school, when they are actively dating.

Because there is no other way he could schedule a new date that quick right after Kaho officially broke up with him, when preparations still had to be made for Class E to execute their revenge plan.

And he looked guilty as fuck.

Kaho and Seo most likely broke up after fighting over who gets to use the bathroom in the convenience store.

As shown in the baseball arc, Kaho openly hates him to the bone.

Since then, she has been actively going after other boys she finds cool.

Then summer came.

According to Gakushuu, if Class A had won the bet against Class E, a truth that Maehara specifically isn’t allowed to lie about when asked was the fact that he had been cheating FIVE TIMES.

(I used a raw scan I have saved in my gallery, because the two available English scanlations online translated that question in such a vague way you wouldn't have caught it - how many times you've "lied/been distracted" - when the first two characters here ���気 translates to anything that literally means "cheating (in a relationship)").

Meaning, by the time summer came, not even Kaho knew about this.

Note: There's a chance that the amount of times Maehara had cheated in a relationship isn't actually exclusive to just Kaho herself and it might just be in general.

But the way that the people around them were seemingly under the impression that Kaho is a more recent girlfriend of Maehara's, when they've been actually dating for half a year, just solidifies the theory that he had been seeing other girls behind her back all this time.

But whether that theory is correct or not, it doesn't change the solid fact that he still cheated on her at least once, which was when he already had that other date scheduled.

This arc... pisses me off. I know I've said that many times already. And I will still say it.

What initially seemed to be an arc about Maehara's early character development because he was the focus here... ended up blatantly showing how much of a hypocritical trashy guy he instead actually is.

Because how shameless are you to be going around cheating left and right without any regard for your current girlfriend's feelings, but the second you're on the receiving end of a cheating matter, you didn't even hesitate to expose her just so you wouldn't get the blame?

And for that alone, Kaho throwing him under the bus right after was honestly DESERVED.

I would have found this arc less pointless if the deleted Valentine's arc with Okano was instead the follow up, where Koro finally gave Maehara a piece of his mind about this whole non regard for a girl's feelings after realizing that the kid learned absolutely nothing from the situation with Kaho.

None of that whole bullshit about being completely transparent in Maehara's report card just to motivate him to do something. I just want Maehara to set things right with Okano on his own accord. No outside influences or whatsoever. Because that report card threat just made everything seem not genuine and it would really hurt to be Okano in that situation.

I don't mind the retaliation arc being left unchanged if it was instead used as a motivation to set things right in the future.

[mentally-in-northern-italy]

Wrong Idea — James Potter x reader

***not my gif***

Summary: You have a big crush on James Potter but have to live with the ‘fact’ that James is smitten with your best friend, Lily. But is this really the case, or have you just got the wrong idea?

Word count: 2.9K

A/N: Hi! Second fic, whoooo! No one really requested this but it just came to me. Again, a bit too long for my liking, but it’s okay. Any feedback is very much appreciated. Requests are open, so feel free! Enjoy!!

_________________

“He is totally staring at you, Lily,” you whisper to your friend as you stand beside her, both pretending to be overly concentrated on finding just the finest box of Chocolate Frogs that Honeydukes has to offer. 

“He is not,” Lily whispers back, acting as if this prospect sounds ridiculously unbelievable but you could see her small smile as she tried her best not to glance at his direction. She continued to act as though she was very carefully examining a box of Chocolate Frogs as you chuckled quietly, trying to ignore the faint pang in your chest.

James Potter. Star Quidditch player. Self-appointed ‘mom’ of the Marauders. Personification of the very cliche, but fitting phrase, “messy hair, don’t care”. And, of course, a very famous lady’s man.

And, lastly, your ‘former’ crush who was now seemingly smitten with your best friend, Lily.

You weren’t sure when it was exactly when you had realized that you were inordinately conscious of how you looked whenever he was around, how you stole quick glances at him throughout your shared Potions class, hoping he wouldn’t notice, or how much the thought of the raven-haired boy consumed your mind. Slowly, but surely, your crush on James had developed into something so strong and overwhelming, you couldn’t even think of confiding in anyone else. Not even your best friend, Lily Evans. 

When you had heard about the rumours and gossip circulating around the school, about how James was supposedly head-over-heels for a certain red-head, you had tried your very hardest to force those feelings out of you. You couldn’t have a crush on James. He liked Lily. End of story.

You felt even worse when Lily would blush mildly, her cheeks turning as red as her hair, whenever James stopped you two to talk in the middle of the hallway. How Lily would talk your ears off about how much she hated James, and how annoying and arrogant she perceived him to be, but you knew better. You knew Lily liked James too, maybe not as outwardly as James liked her, but enough to make you feel like a terrible person for liking the same guy as your best friend of five years.

And now, you couldn’t help but notice the way James’ eyes seemed to follow you two, as he stood by a shelf at the entrance of the shop, watching you both weave around the shelves stocked with sweets and treats in Honeydukes, talking quietly amongst yourselves.

“Lily, you like him, he likes you,” you try to tell her once again, ignoring how it made your heart sting a little every time you thought of them together, “why, in Merlin’s name, are you acting so oblivious?”

“[Y/N],” she scoffed, feigning offense, “I’m not acting oblivious. And I don’t like him. I just don’t… mind him.” 

“Mhm,” you hummed as you picked up a cauldron cake off the shelf, “I totally believe you, Lils.” 

“Believe what you want, [Y/L/N],” she retorted with a clever smile but the smile started to falter as she started to look more nervous, looking steadily at something behind you.

You turned around to look at what it was exactly that had her looking so alarmed and were just as alarmed when you saw James approaching you two, after abandoning the display he was previously taking a close look at, with a confident smile set on his handsome face. 

“[Y/L/N],” he greeted as he smiled at you for a millisecond too long, sending butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy, “Evans.”

“Potter,” Lily greeted him back curtly, her face set into a smile that conveyed politeness but not necessarily obvious interest.

Maybe it was your failure to repress your intense feelings for James, but you could’ve sworn that he was looking intently at you, perhaps in the hopes that you would also acknowledge him in some way. But, you didn’t trust yourself to be able to speak without melting into a stuttering mess so you stayed quiet, averting eye contact, and fidgeting with the packet of the cauldron cake in your hands. 

“Did you need something, Potter?” Lily questioned, raising a single eyebrow. James’ gaze still hadn’t left you but he was forced to tear his eyes off of you to address Lily. 

“Oh, no, I don’t need anything,” he remarked, regaining his confident (bordering on arrogant) composure as his eyes involuntarily shifted to you once again, “I just wanted to ask something.”

This captured your attention as your eyes jumped up from the cake in your hands to the sly smile that James was sending you and Lily. This is it, you thought, he’s going to ask her out and--

“Is there any chance, [Y/N],” James started out, sending you a sincere look, making your breath hitch in your throat, “that you could give up that Cauldron Cake?” 

“Huh?” you say in surprise. Cauldron Cake? 

“The one you have in your hand,” he smiled, “Uh, Padfoot, apparently, has been craving one for a few weeks and, unfortunately, that’s the last one they have. I looked all over.” 

“Oh,” you said, a bit awkwardly, evidently struggling to find the right words for this unusual sort of situation, “yeah, I guess you can…” 

“Y’know, I told him that’s not how cravings work,” he tried to crack a joke as you handed the cake to him, his hands slightly brushing against your own, making you weak in the knees, “but he claims I wouldn’t get it. It’s just a dog--, uh, a Sirius thing, I guess.” 

He laughed an incredibly awkward laugh, while you and Lily stood there, clearly unsure of what to do. It would not be correct to say you didn’t laugh because  you thought what James had just said was unfunny… no, it was more about the fact that you hadn’t understood it at all. This wasn’t like James. Sure, James’ jokes weren’t hilarious but they certainly weren’t as… dry as the one he just told. If you could even call it a ‘joke’. It sounded an awful lot like he just winged it -- came up with a half-assed joke just for the sake of coming up with one. Not a typical James Potter move, that much you knew. 

Lily was watching this exchange occur with weirdly curious interest. She wasn’t sure what was happening but she also couldn’t tear her eyes away from darting back between you and James. It didn’t take her too long to get a general gist of what was going on… she was the brightest witch in her year, after all.

“Right,” you say, attempting to swiftly leave this incredibly strange conversation, “I’m afraid Lils and I should get going now. Enjoy the… cake.”

“Oh,” James looked down at the cake, as if he had entirely forgotten he had it in his hands and then back up at you, “yes. Thank you, by the way, for the cake. I’ll see you back at the common room, [Y/N]. Evans.” He nodded in Lily’s direction, while he mentally cursed himself for acting so awkward.

Before anyone could say anything else, you took a hold of Lily’s gloved hand and started to lead her towards the exit of the shop, ignoring whatever it was she was saying to you. You shook your head a little as ridiculous thoughts started flooding your brain. Why did he use my first name and not Lily’s? Am I reading into this too much? Am I going crazy? 

You had decided that the latter two were more likely to be the case when the corner of your eye caught an entire shelf in front of the entrance of the shop, stocked with Cauldron Cakes. And the display wasn’t too far away from where James originally stood. In fact, that’s the very display he was checking out when you had noticed him staring. 

________________

You groaned as Marlene and Lily dragged you out of the dorm room, against your will, mind you, insisting that it was absolutely crucial that you abandon your History of Magic of homework and follow them.

“We have a test coming up!” you tried to reason with them, “Lily, Mar, come on, we should be studying!”

“Studying can wait, [Y/N],” Marlene said to you, matter-of-factly, “Quidditch cannot.”

They dragged you by the arm, through the Gryffindor common room, to the Quidditch game, which was just about to start. Today was a big day; the first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. 

You, of course, knew what this meant. 

James Potter. Flying around on his broom. Being a brilliant chaser.

You had never been a particular fan of the game, but when you had started liking James, you found yourself going to the Quidditch pitch quite often. That is, until you deemed your feelings for James to be forbidden. Now, Quidditch games were just about the same as rubbing salt to your, very deep, wounds. 

The way he would look over at Lily, who stood right beside you, and wink at her made you angry. And not angry at Lily or James, but angry at yourself. All the glances he would send her way only made you get mad at yourself for ever feeling this way about someone who was so far out of your reach.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Lily said as you snapped out of your thoughts, leading you through the hallways in the direction of the Gryffindor stands.

“Yeah,” you mutter under your breath, with a twinge of sadness, making sure she wouldn’t hear, “for you.”

_______________

Gryffindor had won the match. Hufflepuff played exceptionally well, but it was no match for the Gryffindor’s brilliant offensive tactics. 

As the Gryffindor seeker had caught the snitch, the cheering in the stands rang out. You, Lily and Marlene jumped up, screaming and clapping, overjoyed at this brilliant win. 

“Come on,” Marlene said excitedly, “let’s go down to the pitch!”

“What?” you asked, alarmed. You did not want to be in close proximity to James right now. Not when his jersey would be clinging onto his body and his hair would be all sweaty and his face all red, making him look even more hands-

“Yes! Let’s go,” Lily agreed instantly, dragging you by the arm. 

You groaned once again but you knew they wouldn’t listen. As you three, no, as you two were walking down, -- Marlene was practically skipping -- thoughts of the Quidditch match in action flooded your mind. James sent so many winks and smirks in Lily’s direction that you could’ve sworn by Merlin that some of them were to you. Or this was just wishful thinking. After all, Lily was sitting right beside you. You decide that this is just you getting confused -- but then again, why did Lily always glance your way after James smiled at you, as he scored a goal, expecting you to react in some way? And why did she look genuinely pleased, instead of having even the hint of jealousy in her eyes? 

There’s nothing for her to be jealous about, you told yourself repeatedly, he was looking at Lily. 

As you three reached the Quidditch pitch, you could see clumps of students, crowding the Quidditch players, congratulating them excitedly. 

“Lily, I came to the match,” you tried to whisper to her as you two stood there, unsure of where to go, “can I please go study now?” 

“No, [Y/N] [Y/L/N]!” providing special emphasis on your full name, yelling loudly, capturing the attention of everyone on the pitch. Everyone’s head turned to look at you as you seemed to shrink into yourself and Lily wore a proud smile on her face, looking at you slyly. 

The mention of your full name had attracted a lot of unwanted attention. But it also, almost immediately, seemed to attract some wanted attention as well. 

Well, not wanted, that wasn’t allowed as per your rules, but appreciated, nonetheless. 

James’ head turned to you as he diverted his attention from some excited first-years to you and Lily. Your eyes had widened remarkably, your face had started to heat up and the butterflies in your stomach who had seemed to be asleep previously, had now woken up. 

“Oh, would you look at that,” Lily said quickly, “Thomas Lee looks dashing, I’m going to go tell him congratulations!” And with that, she walked away from you and towards Lee, the Gryffindor keeper.

James had started walking over to you as you stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do. Do you meet him halfway? Do you keep standing there? Merlin, why did this have to be so difficult? 

“[Y/N], so glad you could make it,” he smirked at you as he pushed his sweaty hair back. 

“Uh, yeah, congratulations,” you said, trying to keep yourself from looking at his figure, “you played really well.” 

“Thanks!” said James, with, what looked like, genuine gratefulness, before the look in his eyes turned cocky again, “Although, I’ve played better. This game was a piece of cake.” 

“Of course,” you couldn’t help but smile softly at his words. This is the James you knew. The James you liked. The James you shouldn’t like.

“Speaking of cake!” he exclaimed suddenly, trying to salvage this conversation from turning awkward, “Thanks again for that cauldron cake! I was so bummed when I found they had run out.” 

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” you told him politely, when you remembered something. 

They hadn’t run out of cauldron cakes. In fact, they had them all piled up on the shelf right in front of the entrance. Before you could say anything, James started speaking again.

“Y’know, there’s a Hogsmeade trip coming up,” he started out confidently, but the slight shaking of his hands and the easy-to-miss quiver in his voice indicated otherwise.

“Yes, I know,” you told him, quietly. Was he telling you to ask Lily for him? Godric knows you would never be able to do that. “Lily knows too, so… you can ask her. I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

“What?” he looked very surprised, his eyebrows had furrowed as if he had no idea why you had mentioned that. 

“The Hogsmeade trip. You should ask her. She might seem like she would say no but she’ll say yes.” You ignored the feeling of your heart sinking. 

“But, I don’t want to.” he said with a slight shake of his head.

“What?” 

“I wanted to ask you.” his voice had gotten unusually quiet.

You were in absolute shock, to say the least. James Potter wanted to ask you? To Hogsmeade? What about Lily? 

“What about Lily?” you asked, confusedly, “I thought-- everyone thought--”

“I like you, not Evans,” he told you with no hesitation, “who said I liked her?”

“Literally everyone thinks so.”

“Well, they must have gotten the wrong idea.”

“But--”

“[Y/N], for someone so bloody smart, you are incredibly oblivious,” James said, with the slightest bit of his irritation showing through, “Didn’t you see me staring at you? Winking? For Merlin’s sake, there wasn’t a shortage of Cauldron Cakes back at Honeydukes! I just wanted to talk to you.” 

“But you were staring at Lily,” you say defensively, “not me. Why would you do that?”

“Because… I like you?” 

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!” 

You shook your head in frustration. You couldn’t do this to Lily. This is not what best friends do. No, there is no way you would act on these feelings.

“Lily!” you turn away from James and make your way over to Lily, “we need to go.” 

You drag Lily away from Lee and start making your way off the pitch, leaving Lee and James staring at you both in confusion.

“So, did you say yes?” she asked you as you tried to walk as fast as you could without making it seem like you’re running away.

“What?” you turn to her. 

“To James? He asked you out, didn’t he?” she asked eagerly. You were surprised to see she wasn’t sad. At all. In fact, she seemed happy for you. 

“But you like James,” you tried to tell her, trying to work this whole situation out, standing only a few feet away from James and Lee, who were watching this interaction intently. Didn’t she?

“I thought I did,” she told you, “but I think I only convinced myself that I did, because I thought he liked me. To be honest, I really don’t. And all those times you tried to tell me he was staring at me? It was always you, [Y/N], I just happened to be standing right beside you every time.”

“But, I--,” you struggled to find words. 

“Look,” Lily said as she put a hand to your shoulder, “I know you like him. I also know he likes you. Why, in Merlin’s name, are you acting so oblivious?” she said, imitating your words from that trip to Honeydukes.

“You really don’t like him?” you asked, unsure of what you wanted the answer to be. On one hand, you would love to go out with James, on the other, you never wanted to hurt Lily’s feelings.

“No! Not even one bit,” she reassured you, “I’m a bit relieved, really, plus, I think I’ve found myself a keeper.” She turned away from you to face Lee, still stood a few feet away from you two, and smiled. Lee winked back. You laughed at this and reluctantly turned your head to James, also stood a few feet away from you. He stood with his confidence a little diminished, looking defeated. But he still gave you a small smile and waved awkwardly.

“Go! Say yes,” Lily told you, chuckling, “We can even go on double dates together.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully at Lily before you took a deep breath in and started to make your way towards him. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Um.”

“Let’s start over,” you told him as you straightened your posture and fixed your hair. 

“Start over?” he asked, regaining the arrogance.

“Ask me out again, Potter,” you told him, having found confidence yourself after your talk with Lily. You no longer felt bad about liking James. And you felt even better knowing he liked you.

“Oh, yes!” James plastered his smirk back on his face, “There's a Hogsmeade trip coming up, [Y/N].” 

“Yes, I’m aware,” you nodded and smiled, stifling giggles from erupting.

“Let’s go together.” he said cockily, his eyes twinkling.

“That was pathetic, James,” you said as you started to laugh softly.

“Hey!” 

“But yes. Let’s,” you told him with a mischievous smile, “Maybe this time, I can help you find the very noticeable, hard-to-miss Cauldron Cake display.” 

“Deal.” He sent you his infamous James Potter grin at which you grinned back.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Pet Owners Part 1

Owning pets is rare for nations because a true nation’s pet has a bond with their owners as much as they do the land. Many of their pets don’t really have something they represent inexactness, it's just they were there when the nation was born, and they bonded. No one can really explain how they come to find their owners, both parties just know.

Some nations don’t have the nation pet, but instead either found a mythical creature or own regular pets that will eventually die.

America – A big black shaggy dog. Allen has owned Makwa since he was a small child. No matter where he went Makwa would follow. This mini mammoth is very protective of Allen and has bitten Oliver many times. This dog has even followed Allen into war zones. Their bond is as deep as man and dog can go.

He is Allen’s best friend and more often than not the wall he bounces off of. Whether he is venting, planning, or just sleepy mumbling, Allen takes the time to talk to Makwa.

England – Flying Chocolate Bunny (FCB) and Flying Strawberry Bunny (FSB). These mythical evil bunnies are downright monsters. Unlike his 1p that has only one, Oliver has two. Both nations discovered their bunny allies together, but instead of taking just one. Oliver decided to take two. They were found when the nations were about 150 yrs old.

Since mythical creatures have longer lifespans, they aren’t nation pets and die much later than an average pet.

FCB has red beady eyes and is the color of dark chocolate. His wings are shaped more like raptor’s wings and have a white chocolate underside to his wings. FCB often twitches and drools and looks like he is about to eat the nearest piece of flesh. He is known for being wilder and more chaotic, he does some of the dirty work for Oliver by getting physically involved. Scratching and biting Oliver’s victims, slowly driving them mad by wounds made from an unseen force.

FSB on the other hand is much sweeter. She is a light red with small yellow spots. Her wings look like a swan's, and have a light green underwing. Her eyes are small beady and green. FSB looks like a toy rabbit, small and fluffy. She is Oliver’s eyes and ears. She spies on whomever Oliver asks her to and takes the time to ensure that Oliver has whatever information that he needs. When Oliver had many colonies she was the one sent to spy on them. She is quick and knows how to use magic to shorten her fly time.

Oliver loves his bunnies and feeds them a lot of cupcakes and meat. He spoils them with fancy beds and toys. Though he does expect them to earn their keep with various tasks given by him.

Canada – A big white polar bear. Kuma is Canada’s oldest frenemy, over the years they have traded blows and saved each other. The amount of trust these two have is unrivaled by any other nation and their pets. Kuma has been with Canada since he was about a week old. Kuma is a typical adult polar bear with a scar across his left shoulder and it splits his fur.

Canada’s scars on his chest come from Kuma. They got really intense in a fight one day and came at each other for blood. That same fight gave Kuma his scar. Both winded up extremely wounded and ignored each other for a week before making up.

Over the years Kuma mostly follows Matt’s orders. But occasionally Kuma acts like a brat and ignores Canada. Kuma has his own little house outside that Canada built, but he also has a huge mat on the floor inside Matt’s cabin.

Japan – Koi. Like it’s been said before, Japan likes koi. They are beautiful and he owns many. He has been keeping them since he was physically about 12 years old. He has a pond that connects to a tank within his home. It is a huge tank that has all the proper fixings that allow for a comfortable space for his fish.

He invests heavily in the industry and always checks the farms himself when he has the time. Many family farms know of Kurai, at least a fake name he puts out, and newer farms hope to receive his blessings. His name carries a lot of respect and honor for the koi industry and those that don’t meet his standards close shop quickly.

Every so often he will enter his koi in contests. He loves to know that his are the best and has many ribbons from the past ones he has either won or come close to winning.

Germany – A small brown tabby. Luther loves his tiny kitty and spends many a nap with this little baby on his lap. His little tabby is called Winzig and her name is literally her size. Winzig was found by Luther one night after making his way home after a night of drinking about a year ago. She was small and hiding under a box by his apartment. In his drunken stupor, he picked up the kitten without thinking and brought her home. She is actually his third cat.

There were two others he had owned in the past. His first was a calico that was named Schnurrhaare (Whisker). She was very aloof, but they too napped together often. She sadly died in the year 1901. His second cat Axel came to him about 1950 and was a gift from his boss. Axel was a big Mainecoon that looked like a burnt cookie. He acted more like a dog than a cat and Luther loved him. They played fetch together.

None of Luther’s cats have been a true nation pet. So, each one has passed, Winzig is still young and very lively so she has a while still with Luther. Though the other two, Luther has kept their collars and buried them behind his father’s house. He leaves little bits of string on their graves for them.

Rome – This old man had a lion. Not just any lion, the extinct European lion. Mars was the name of this old boy and Rome had him from the time he was a child. At first, Mars was unsure about Rome and chased him. Over time the two became close. Mars didn’t have a huge mane it was more of a gentle fluff around his head and down his chest. His body and head were covered in scars. Mars was known to have a light pale coated rather than the deep dusty color of many of his brethren. He had a regal air about him and Rome cherished his lion a lot.

When Rome passed Mars lived on, but not much longer than Rome. He lived about 5 years while being taken care of by Luciano. Mars being old then, didn’t do much and seemed to enjoy the calm final years that Luciano offered him. He got a bigger and cooler grave than his master did.

Prussia – Alvin is an old destrier and looks like a Percheron. Lightly colored with dark grey boots and muzzle. Alvin has been with Wil since he was born, this stocky little foal just showed up outside and has been with him ever since. Alvin has been Wil’s first pick of steed into every battle that used horses and Alvin like his owner is brave and loyal.

Both master and pet love spending nights together riding through the woods. Prussia gives Alvin lots of training and treats. They are so close that more often than not spend many afternoons together. Alvin is also trained for various horse competitions.

Spain – So we all know this man owns a bull. Idiota is special to Armando even though he won't admit it. When Armando is tending to his fields Idiota is there giving a presentation of an old friend. Many believe that Idiota is a nation pet because of how long he has lived and Spain agrees. As much as he gets angry at his bull being stupid he could never bring himself to part with the bull.

The centuries of being petty with each other make it interesting to both parties. Though in times of danger both have each other's backs. Once during a siege when Spain was young, Idiota was all that stood between him and Rome. Though despite losing, it took Rome impaling the bull and beheading it to keep it from defending a young Spaniard.

Netherland – He has a snake. It’s a simple grass snake that often hangs out with him at home. He loves his little snake and named him Hazel. He says his snake looks like a Hazel. Baas and Hazel go on many adventures when the weather is ok for Hazel. He takes him to the store, to meetings with his boss, and other places. They spend lots of time gathering info on people and just pulling pranks. Baas believes that Hazel enjoys it as much as his master.

 Hazel has a huge terrarium with plenty of space, heating lights, and pools of water. It takes up a whole wall in Baas’ home. It also contains fish and other small creatures that make the tank self-sustaining. 

Baas relates to his danger noodle; in that, he sees himself almost the same as his snake. Both are hidden predators that take care of nasty rats. Which happens to relate to his favorite thing to do with Hazel, feed him.

Austria – A Greater Mouse-Eared Bat, I mean what could be better for him. Austria found Krampus around Christmas time when he heard some noises coming from his attic. Krampus had found his way into the attic and freaked out trying to get out. This caused a tear in his wing, and Austria being surprised by this tiny nightmare.

Austria feeling the spirit of Christmas was compassionate and took care of the bat. First, he forced his way into a vet clinic and had his little Krampus looked at. Krampus's huge tear would heal, but it makes it difficult for him to fly again. That was the vet’s opinion and then went off to call a sanctuary to come and collect the bat. Well, Jon didn’t like that and ran off with Krampus.

Since then Jon has done a lot to ensure his little friend was becoming better. Eventually, the wing healed, but not well enough for flying. So Jon has a little bat that can glide short distances and has a little cave in his home. Krampus gets all the proper nutrition and cleanings.

Though shortly after bringing Krampus home, Jon did call Matt. Matt had some words for Jon when he found out what he did.

Switzerland – This man loves goat cheese, so obviously he wanted goats. He and his 1p own a small herd together that they both manage. Vash does most of the physical labor while Hans makes them look good for competition and takes care of their papers. 

They are all Swiss breeds and earn their keep by giving milk. They have a great life with all the latest things for goat care. Hans even personally watches the new items get installed to ensure that it is done right and that his goats are given something nice. 

Hans pets them often and coos to them as he does. He keeps plenty of treats on hand, to the point all the herd runs toward him wanting treats.

Iceland – Mr. Puffin or Puff as Iceland calls him. This is puffin is nothing like his gangster 1p. He wears a small top hat and monocle. He is much more gentlemanly and often speaks about how Iceland could be better behaved. He often says things like stand straight, address the lady with respect, and so on. Unlike most nations and their pets growing up at the same rate, Puff was an adult when he met baby Iceland. Which concerned 2p Norway, because he could have been some kind of monster trying to destroy his new colony. One of the few times Norway showed concern for Iceland.

Though being the typical expectation for nation pets, Iceland loves Puff. They spend time together going about and causing havoc and attempting to win Norway’s attention. Though Puff still tells Iceland that there are better things to do than pursue Norway, but Iceland wants his brother’s love and acceptance.

Puff does his best to keep Iceland under control and professional, but he fails often. Though he refuses to give up and rather would keep on taking care of his young ward.

[forthehpfanboys]

Quidditch and T

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him; transmasculine reader.

Summary: Harry surprises Ron with tickets to the Quidditch World Cup after the war, after Hermione and after finding out Ron has a crush on the first professional trans masculine the Chudley Canons or the World Cup has ever seen. 

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol, tiny amount of transphobia?? super long, focuses on Ron more than it should, super long and probably really bad.

Notes: Trans masculine reader again! We love to see it- No one asked for this but I liked the idea. Also, Ron has long hair because I love him and Harry is a good friend. The bestest of friends.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Even with the second wizarding war years behind them, everyone struggled to regain control over themselves. Loved ones were lost far too soon, strained relationships came crashing down and businesses all but shattered like glass, but that was a year or two after. Families were beginning to recover and move forward, but some struggled. It was only natural, that was why the Ministry decided to bring at least a tiny bit of normality back to everyone's life with the Quidditch World Cup. They thought it would bring some light in the barely lit times everyone lived in.

While life for some was morphing back to a semi stable state, times were transitioning to a new era. Of course, no one batted an eye or fought against her when the Hermione Jean Granger demanded rights for wizards, witches and sorcerers who were, for lack of a better word, different. Not after everything she’d done for the world with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and especially not after S.P.E.W.  The world really was shifting for the better.

She created two acts for equality. If house elves can have it, why can’t magical humans who just- feel different. Hermione called it S.P.L.A.T.E.R, also known as Sorcerers Lover Protection Against The Everyday Routine, and it was meant to protect wizards and witches who desire relationships with the same sex against discrimination. The talented witch went on to create a similar movement against portraying gender and identity; The Sorcerer’s Typical Identity or Gender May Alter Shield, better known as S.T.I.G.M.A.S. Both were very welcomed by the public, which happened a good year before the game would be returning, and that led to you gaining your dream job.

You were able to join the Chudley Cannons, your dream team despite their reputation. You were naturally talented on a broom and weren’t afraid to pull some risky stunts to get the golden snitch, plus it fueled your ego to hear the crowd gasp, go silent then cheer loud enough to be heard from Mars. The team and their fans didn’t care that you were the only trans masculine player, in fact, they loved you! The team was very proud to have you be their seeker and it was even better when the Cannons got into the World Cup. You basically carried the team, and they fucking knew it.

Your face made the front page almost weekly, quoting comments from your games and showing off your merchandise like it was no big deal. While you caught the attention of many wizards, witches and magical humans in between, there was one who was absolutely fascinated, maybe borderline obsessed, with you. You somehow stuck in his head, causing him to repaint his room in his shared flat bright orange just like his childhood bedroom. The ex-auror even went as far as getting your newly printed poster. He would glance at it when he was writing letters to his mother, but then would spend a good few solid minutes staring at it, daydreaming about meeting  you and lose track of time. Life got a little harder with the moving poster in his room. Of course you had no idea the famous Ron Weasley was a die-hard fan of yours.

The youngest Weasley son ended up being the first out of three up everyday just to read the newest info about (Y/n) ‘Point Breaker’ (L/n) and the rest of the team. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew enough about you to be considered a borderline stalker and couldn’t help but spew facts about you to his twin brothers. Those very twins would tease him about his newly found crush but were secrealty very happy that he was getting over his heart break.

Ron and Hermione, more Hermione, had decided splitting and remaining friends was better for them, leading to the poor bloke locked in the spare room of his older brother's flat for a solid week. They told everyone it was mutual, but it was clear to Fred, George and Harry that it was most definitely not a decision that they were both fond of. Harry could still remember the frantic howler he got from Fred and George saying their little brother all but stopped functioning as a human.

He only started eating and showering once he heard the team was up and running again. He figured that was why Harry showed up to the flat one afternoon with tickets to the sold out game. When Ron asked his best mate how he got them, he just smiled and said something about knowing people and favors being exchanged. The ticket was more like a bandage encased in clear plastic and stuck to a lanyard, which is what Ron was fiddling with the day of the game when his best friend suddenly appeared in the middle of the flat.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron screeched out as he steadied himself in his chair. His hand gripped at the shirt on his chest and chose to ignore the head rushing to his cheeks. “Could’ve sent me a warning!” He let out a slow sigh, trying to steady his rapid heart beat. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Harry laughed out. The professor had his hands in his jacket pocket, a sly grin across his face. “Come on then! Game’s gonna be starting soon!” The raven haired male all but yaned his freckle covered friend out of the chair.

“Ok! Ok, sheesh. Let me grab a jacket.” The red-head knew this was going to be a game that leaked late into the night. Both teams were itching to get the trophy and forget about their troubles- It was gonna be absolutely beautiful. 

Grabbing his coat and reaching into the pocket, Ron pulled out an elastic band and put his hair up into a messy bun quickly before tucking the jacket into his arm. He walked over to Harry, who was gazing at the photo-covered walls of the flat.

“If you want, I can take ca-” Harry was cut off by Ron grabbed his hand.

“No, it’s fine. I like it like this.” Ron shook his head back and forth causing the messy ball to swap back and forth. “Come on. You were the one rushing us.” Harry let out a simple chuckle before apperating them to the field. 

“Tadah!” Harry did a fancy little wave, gesturing to the crowded field and began to make his way down the hell, passing by the old boot. Ron looked down at it as they passed before looking back at his best friend.

“Damn, it has been far too long.” Ron sighed out. A smile broke out across his face when he saw little kids running around with paint covered faces and happy couples sharing tea outside of their tents. “Do we have a tent?” 

“Nope, won’t be needing one this time around.” Harry shoved his hands in his pants pocket.

“No ten- Blimey, Harry, this is a game! This is going to go on for hours-”

“Ron-” 

“Won’t need it my arse. Hours, Harry. Where are we going to sit? The damp ground?” Ron was flaring his hands about.

“We get to spend our time in the Minister’s Box, Ron, relax.” Harry shook his head in mock disapproval before adjusting his glasses and moving forward. 

“Minister’s Box-” Ron’s voice stuttered out.

“Yeah! Isn’t that cool? We’re gonna be in the middle of the action!” Harry waved to a child who had recognized him with a smile.

“Ministry box-” Ron was’t used to such luguries, even after working with his brothers at their shop. Harry figured he’d never get used to being spoiled like this. It made him choke back a soft snicker.

“Yes, Ronald, the Minister’s Box, now hurry up! I told them we’d get there before the game started so we can chat.” Harry grabbed the lagging boy’s wrist and proceeded to maneuver through the crowd with him. 

“How did ya score this, Harry?” Ron all but yelled over the crowd. Once Harry dragged them through the crowd and to the front doors of the stadium, he spoke up.

“Remember when we went on that assignment to stop LeStrange again? Just before her Dementors Kiss about a month before we quit?” He handed the ticketier his lanyard to check over. Ron did the same before they both entered.

“Yeah? What about it?” Ron’s blue eyes glanced across the crowded inside. Gods, it really had been a while since he’d been here. It felt normal, like he almost hadn’t lost Fred to an explosion, like Harry’s life wasn’t on the line everyday, like every day wasn’t terrifying. Ron turned his attention back to his friend when he spoke up again.

“Well just before that, I went on a loner mission. This one involved taking care of some dark witch who was claiming she could bring back the dead and threatened to bring back Voldemort and the Death Eaters, so they sent me down to check it out.” Harry led him to an elevator, where the gate opened allowing the pair to step in. There was an exhausted looking male standing in uniform, most likely a worker from the Ministry himself. “Ministers Box, kind sir. Thank you.” The gate closed with a shuttering rattle and soon they were moving upward. Green eyes turned back to blue to finish the story. “Anyway, turns out she was actually trying to resurrect the noseless twat, but instead of over time or promotion, I asked for this and the best seats in the house. Figured this would be a good gift for you.”

“Gift? Harry, bud, mate, my fuckin best friend.” Ron placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to do this for me. You’ve already done your fair share of helping me. Blimey, I’m not worth this.”

The gate opened again, allowing the two ex-aurors to step out but not before tossing a few sickles to the poor man who looked bored out of his mind. Ron casted him a short wave before he was sent back down.

“You deserve more than a crummy game and a nice seat, Ronnie. You literally helped me destroy Voldemort.”

“I didn’t do that much and besides it’s not a crummy game!” Ron took his hand away from Harry's shoulder. They walked down the short hallway to the door leading to their seats, but paused just before opening it. “That’s fuckin wild, isn’t it?” Ron grumbled out. “Was she smooched by a Dementor in the end?” 

“Yup. All her research was swiped and burned. Anyone and everyone she knew was obliviated. Now enough talk about old work, let’s relax.” Harry spoke before opening the door and allowed Ron to walk in first. 

The room was bigger than Gred and Forge’s flat, Ron was sure of it. It had silvery blue walls and a huge open window in the front, showing off the screaming fans and showed the entire field which held the perfect view. He couldn’t help his eyes from darting across the fancy black leather seats and the buckets of ice holding expensive bottles of wine, flasks of firewhiskey and glass pitchers giggle water and suddenly Ron wanted to cry and simultaneously brag to Malfoy. Sure, he hadn’t seen the blonde in a year or so but it’d be nice. The red-head didn’t realise he was drifting toward the giant window until someone spoke up, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Ah! Mr. Potter! Mr. Weadley, I’m so glad you could make it!” A wizard dressed in a suit came scurrying over, his chapeign glass almost overflowing with foam.

“It’s Weasley, actually.” Harry didn't hesitate to speak up. “But of course! I was thrilled when Ron decided to come with me! I couldn’t have caught that witch without him. Anyway, where will we be seated?” Harry was using his Auror Voice™ while Ron stood there, trying to recall how on earth he helped his best friend with a case he wasn’t even on.

“I did wh-?” Ron was interrupted.

“Ah. My apologies. Of course, of course.” The man in the suit adjusted his tie before gesturing to the window in the front with his glass.. “Front row, just as you requested.” He took a sip from his glass before walking off to the seat he came from, talking to the witch next to him. 

Harry thanked the man before grabbing Ron’s wrist and bringing him over to their seats. He sat Ron at the seat right in the middle of the big opening. Harry could actually see his friends blue eyes gloss over with tears, causing Harry to chuckle into his hand.  It was so worth fighting that witch and staying in St. Mungos for a week with a concussion, broken hand and a stupid spell that nearly killed him.

“Bloody fucking hell, Harry. What did you do to get these seats?” Ron’s voice did little to hide his excitement. Harry released a chuckle over his friend's excitement, but the sound got louder when Ron literally threw his jacket haphazardly onto the seat only for it to fall to the tiled floor.

“I already told you. Don’t worry about it.” Harry took his seat as he grabbed a bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the coffee table at their feet. He examined the label before nodding his head and popping open the cork.

“Wish I had a camera. Ginny would’ve loved this.” Ron walked past the table to the window, resting his hands on the railing and leaning over, looking across the field.

“Ron, she’s a professional coach-” Harry rolled his eyes, testing the wine with a small sip. He set the dark, tall bottle down on the table with a clank.

“Fred and George then.” Ron turned back to his friend and walked over, plopping himself down in his seat with confidence. Harry snorted, almost dropped his drink all over himself. This was therapeutic; he got to spend time with his best friend without the ever looming death threat of Nose-less Snakey Man breathing down his neck. 

“Yes, I’m sure their jealous tears could flood the shop.” Harry’s voice was filled with sarcasm and it had Ron laughing too. Harry checked his watch while the giggling red-head grabbed an empty glass at the table in front of them and poured himself a shot of firewhiskey. “It’s about 5:53. Game should be starting at 6 something.” He turned to Ron, casting him a smile while he brought his glass to his lips. “Wanna talk about your newest boyfriend or should I ask him for the details myself?”

Ron almost spat out his drink, his hand coming up quickly to catch the dribbles falling off his lips. Blood rushed to his cheeks, ears and before he knew it, he was bright red. He wiped his hands on his jeans, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth.

“I’m sorry, my what? Harry, I’d be lucky if he gave me the time of day let alone be my boyfriend!” Ron ran his hands through his hair, his eyes cast downward into his drink. “I mean, have you seen me lately?” He gestured to himself. “I’m a bloody mess. He could do better anyway.”

“You’re not a mess, Ron, anything but. In fact, you’re probably more put together than I am. Ginny would beg to differ, but I’m sure it’s true.” Harry shook his head in disapproval before taking another sip from his glass. “Besides, you’re a good guy. You did get Mione to fall for you and you are kinda well known, aren't you? I say you got a better chance than most.” Once the niorette male finished, he turned to look at his friend who nodded his head in silent agreement before deciding to change the topic.

“How is Gin, by the way?” 

Harry answered with a long explanation that she was good, but one of her chaser’s kept giving her trouble and didn’t believe Ginny was good for the team. The Harpies would be starting their first game soon and Ron made a note to buy a ticket. The questions came around to his brothers, of course, so Ron 

“Hey! Good for them!” Harry refilled his drink once it was finished and put the glass back in the ice bucket. “And good for you.” Harry checked his watch again when it beeped out, indicating the change in hour. “Game time!” 

The room went silent as the minister walked over to the window, doing his usual speech, but no one was really listening. Ron's legs were bouncing with excitement while his eyes looked across the white, green and orange fans waving flags. Ron should’ve known it would've been the Kenmare Kestrels duking it out against the Chudleys Cannons.

The crowds were going absolutely ballistic over the Kestrels and the screaming only seemed to get louder once the Cannon’s made their appearance. He watched the players zoom past the window, felt the air rush past him and before he could control himself, Ron was back at the railing, practically leaning over. His eyes bounced around the orange and black colored players for the new seeker.

“Harry!” Ron gestured pathetically behind him. “Harry! Come here! Look-” Ron pointed across the field to the seeker who was taking circles in the middle, taking in the crowd. He couldn’t help but stare at your confident smirk as you pulled the goggles over your eyes, casting the crowd a wink. The red-head basically melted.

“Godric, your smitten, aren’t you?” Harry was leaning against the railing next to his friend, his glass still in hand. A smirk came across his lips when his friend turned red again.

“Shut it.”

“You a Cannon fan, Mr.Wealsey?” 

The two ex-aurors turned to see the man who approached them earlier coming to Ron’s free side. The man held a cocky grin and a new drink in his hand, most likely giggle water. The red-head turned back to the game once the whistle sounded.

“Yeah. Have been for years.” Ron didn’t take his eyes off the field.

“Huh, even with their sour reputation? I’m more of a Bats fan, myself. Wouldn’t count this game in favor of the Chudley’s though, new seeker and all.” The man scoffed before sipping his drink. “Good seekers are hard to find. Hogwarts was lucky to have you though, Mr. Potter. Should’ve played Quidditch professionally, if you ask me.”

The two males shared a look with each other and came to the conclusion it’d be better to not fight the man on his clearly biased opinion and clear ass kissing. The pair gazed on, ignoring the crowd forming behind them the longer the game went on. Ron almost shoved his friend over when the announcer yelled you spotted the snitch. Ron blinked and you were standing on your broom, balancing perfectly, leaned over, golden snitch just a few inches from your fingertips.

“He’s a risky bloke, isn’t he?” Harry spoke up, hands going to his chaotic locks. “Gdoric, he’s gonna fall!” He squealed out when your foot shifted just a little too far on the broom.

“He’s bonkers.” Sir Pompous sneered out over his fancy drink, causing Ron to audible groan. 

“Sod off, will you?” Ron was so fucking sick of this man. “Stop bein’ pissy he has more balls than you and he was born without them.” He shot the suited wizard a glare before turning back to the game.  He let out a cheer when you finally grasped the snitch, plopping yourself down on the broom. The freckled male turned to Sir Pompous and smirked. “So.. Wouldn’t put this game in their favor, huh?”

The wizard turned on his heel, grumbling what the two friends assumed to be insults as he walked shamefully to his seat. Harry and Ron clinked glasses, giggling like school girls as they took a victory shot. They sat back in their seats, discussing games and just over all basking in the win. 

“Godric, I could get used to living like this.” Ron sat back, spreading his legs and just feeling confident. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I can’t afford to do this all the time, Ron.”

“I can dream, can’t I?” Ron didn’t blink twice when the door to the ministers box opened or when two voices spoke up. He was busy relaxing.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Coach Dorkins! The Chudley’s have always been my favorite-” The same kiss ass from earlier, spewing the same pompous bullshit as earlier. Ron was gonna fake a gag, but he hesitated. Coach Dorkins? Coach of the- of his favorite team? 

“Ah, well, thank you, but I’m just here to drop off Point Breaker.” As your coach went on with his arm now wrapped around you. Ron whipped around, his jaw was dropping to the floor. “Got a favor to fill in for an old friend. Ah, there he is! Potter!”

“Nice to see you again.” Harry stood up and shook hands with the coach. Ron’s blue eyes bounced between his old friend, his favorite coach and his favorite player. What the fuck was going on? Ron shrunk into his seat when you glanced over. He was acutely aware of his messy outfit and hair and- did he brush his teeth? “Ah! I should introduce you to my good friend, Ronald Weasley-” Harry waved over to his friend, a smile on his face. Ron stood up as well, but almost fell into his chair when he saw you shaking hands with his old friend and suddenly everyone was turning to him.

“Uh-hi-” When did his voice get all high pitched and creaky again. He cleared his throat, wiping his hands on his jeans before shaking hands with the coach. “Sorry, big fan.” 

Dorkins shook his head, saying how he understood between deep chuckles. The male then turned to you, who was standing by his side. He introduced you to the red-head while you held a similar, nervous smile on your face. You held your hand out as you spoke up finally. 

“I know all about you, Mr. Weasley. Well, no not- Wait, not everything like.. Like everything everything, like um- I.. well- Ok, let me start again.” You cleared your throat, shaking the ex-aurors hand. “Hi, I’m (Y/n). I’m a fan, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron was just kinda shaking your hand, confusion filled in his brain. He was just running over your rambling and was so confused. 

“You’re a fan of me?”

“The famous auror? Of course!” You were grinning now and he found himself just staring at you. The two of you missed how Potter and Dorkins were chuckling about star struck fans and wondered somewhere else in the room.

“You played great today-” Ron almost blurted out, his voice turning prepubescent again.

“Thank you! You don’t think it was too much? Too flashy?” 

“No, no, I’d say it has the perfect amount of flash.” Ron shot you a lopsided smile. The smile allowed you to relax some, the star struck tension between the two of you almost dispersing completely as you joked back and forth. You soon found yourself sitting in Harry's abandoned seat, chatting away like you had been friends since your school years. 

“So then- then- hold on, stop laughing-Haha! No, shh! We stole my dad's car just to save him! My brothers didn’t even try to talk me out of it! The only thing my older brother said was “yeah, get the car. We’re gonna find out if it’s considered kidnapping if we’re children"! Mum really chewed us out when we got back that mornin’!” Ron finished his 7th story that night while you were enjoying a nice glass of cold water. You couldn’t get over his terrible impressions of his brothers. More than a few times his stories led to you almost choking on your drink or just letting out a loud laugh.

You told him some stories about your life at home too and only got encouraged by his snickering behind his own drink. You were so open with him, telling him stories of quidditch practice and the strange gifts you got from fans, his favorite being a bra with your face hand painted on it. 

More time passed by as you chatted, finally coming around to just playing 20 questions just day to day stuff. Now, it was your turn to ask a question and honestly, the game shouldn’t even be called 20 questions, it was more like 500 questions.

“Ok. Ok. Is it true that you had a thing for Krum?” You grinned when his cheeks turned red. “I heard from a chaser that you were here when we got on the field and our  keeper was willing to bet his life on this rumor that you had a fling with Krum.” 

“N-no, no fling! Just uh- more of a sexual awakening, if you will.” Ron snorted out, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes turned away from yours for the first time that night, casting his gaze out across the empty field.

“Ooh! What is the great Ron Weasley’s sexual preference?” You leaned forward, your grin turning to a teasing smirk. You put a hand on his shoulder when he started stuttering over his words. “Come on! You can tell me! I don’t spill secrets.”

“Would hot quidditch players be an acceptable answer?” Ron was playing with a spare ponytail holder on his wrist now, his face turning redder.

“I’d say so.” You smiled, setting down your water glass. 

“What about you?”

“What?”

“I told you mine. It’s only fair, Point Breaker. Spill it.” It was Ron’s turn to get cocky as you blushed. 

“May or may not be hot ex-aruros, but who’s keeping track.” You were not going to admit you’d been fanboying over the red-head since his face came across the Daily Profit. While he knew a lot about your game stats and quotes, you knew about the dark wizards he fought against, how he helped Granger and Potter and decided fighting was too much.

“Oh really?”

“I said maybe. Don’t get cocky. Besides, I could mean Harry-”

“I have a feeling you don’t mean him.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“How about a date?” Ron leaned back in his chair, gauging your reaction. He mentally sighed when you didn’t appear grossed out or scared.

“Hmm, let me think. “ You pretended to count stuff on your fingers before smiling at the red-head. “Leaky Cauldron?”

“Sure! Tuesday?”

“I’m free after 6.”

“Done.”

[peachyteabuck]

slaughterhouse // bucky barnes x reader

summary:   “ Slaughter it in the Lord’s presence at the entrance to the tent of meeting. Take some of the bull’s blood and put it on the horns of the altar with your finger, and pour out the rest of it at the base of the altar. Then take all the fat on the internal organs, the long lobe of the liver, and both kidneys with the fat on them, and burn them on the altar. But burn the bull’s flesh and its hide and its intestines outside the camp. It is a sin offering.” - exodus 29:11-14

or, the real story of how the winter soldier lost his arm

pairing: winter soldier!bucky x reader

words: 2,035

trigger warnings: heavy gore, explicit references to propaganda use, smut, snuff films, sub!bucky, use of restraints and suicidal thoughts, extreme dehumanization, allusions to breeding 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

A woman Soldat had never seen and likely would never see again stood confidently in front of him as she delivered the news. Every member of Hydra (at least, the ones that joined willingly) had the same stance – chest out, shoulders back, face blank. None of them needed emotions because the organization felt for them, so their mouths only twisted themselves into smiles when another pro-America politician ate a bullet.

He listened diligently as he could, watching her with eyes long gone dead. The scientist coat she wore – branded with the Hydra insignia – was freshly laundered, covering most of her shapeless black bodysuit. It was the standard bulletproof one all agents wore, including Soldat.

“If we want to form a successful regime,” she explained, “Propaganda is necessary. Simply relying on the organization itself to crumble is a short-sighted approach. Do you understand?”

Soldat nodded, grumbled something akin to a “yes” as he traced the cracks in the cinderblock wall behind her. He had made them, there was no need to map them out once more, but it gave him something to look at besides the middle-aged scientist in front of him – so he continued.

“And, given you’re the most successful case of bodily rejuvenation with the serum,” she paused for a moment, waiting until Soldat’s eyes met her own. “We need you to step up and help Hydra.”

His brow furrowed. Hadn’t he already done enough? He’d given up his freedom, his life, his will to live…what else would this place possibly take from him!?

The woman shook her head and sighed to herself. “Perhaps I’m not explaining myself correctly…”

The guard, who had been silent enough Soldat had forgotten about him, stepped forward. His finger never left its resting place on his weapon and held it close to him as he spoke. Soldat knew for a fact that the man spoke at least ten languages – but somehow his English remained heavily accented and broken in the typical Eastern European style he’d come to know quite well. “We need common man. Common man watch porn. We make porn. You star in porn. Get it?”

Soldat narrowed and his fingers gripped the steel bedframe he was sitting on. He heard the distinct creak of metal bending as he did so. In his own black bodysuit, he felt his cock hardening at the proposition. It had been, what? Months? Years? Decades? Since he buried himself in a tight, hot cunt. Surely this offer was too good to be true – they wouldn’t just film him fucking some snatch and leave it at that…

But he knew, even if there was some weird catch, he wouldn’t have a say in whether or not he had to abide.

So Soldat – all 200 pounds of him – gives a small shrug. The woman seemed relieved. The guard seemed to not care very much either way.

“Good,” the woman says with bated breath, turning to her colleagues. She addresses them with the same tentative, small voice, as if she’s ashamed of what she’s saying. “Go prep the room, I’ll meet you there once it’s done.”

The rest of them, all except the guard, give her a single nod as she exits, waiting for her footsteps to fall out of earshot before they leave. Soldat and the single man are left alone, then, staring at each other with equally bored expressions.

It’s a while – an hour or so, maybe – when the guard gets a radio transmission, a crackly voice speaking Russian requesting for “the transfer of the Soldat to room 4527BW.” The Soldat has never heard of the room – the letters indicating its location in the west wing of the basement with numbers telling him it’s in the part of the Hydra base even the Soldat hasn’t been to. He’s heard murmurings of it, of words like Americans and genes and perfect human male. He remembers overhearing two younger, female scientists giggling about what he was packing, which didn’t make much sense to him. He never had to pack anything, he wore the same clothes the entire mission and guns were either strapped to him or handed to him by a Hydra operative.

No matter his confusion, the Soldat follows the guards to the room previously mentioned on the radio, obediently laying down on a medical table that was slightly wider than what he was used to. He lays there, silently, as he’s strapped down with the special material Hydra had made specially for him. An IV is attached to his left arm by a nurse he’d never seen before, the fluid flowing into his veins soon making everything below his shoulder feel…heavy, somehow.

The same nurse takes out a pen, moves it close to him, and asks him if he can feel that.

Soldat shakes his head once. Then the nurse disappears, and all the ceiling lights go off except one; one single, bright bulb that illuminates the doorway he had walked through just a few minutes prior.

Someone yells “актион!,” and then someone else walks through the door.

He’d seen you before, Soldat realizes as you step into the low lighting. You were, are, a scientist – the one who checks him out every so often after a particularly hard mission. Each visit was never as bad as he’d come to expect from the others; you and your clipboard and your perfectly sharpened pencil were somehow kinder to him in the minutes it took to jot down any external injuries that the others subjected to the serum could suffer. The healing process was documented thoroughly as well, his bruises and broken bones and stab wounds measured and noted on a chart he assumed you had stacks of copies of in your office. He imagines you pulling one off of the large pile each time you were notified he had returned from his “danger-cations,” as you called them. You always said it with a small smile, one Soldat always attempted to mimic once he had left.

The large men, the even larger guns, the numerous cameras and the noises all the objects quickly turn into background noise as you step closer, clad in a skintight dress that makes Soldat’s mouth go dry.

If this was many, many years ago (how many, exactly, he couldn’t tell) he might’ve delivered some smooth line about wanting to take you out on a date, maybe ask you what a good dame like you was doing in a place like this. Maybe he’d give you a nice half-smile and lean against the wall, do something else smooth and flirty.

It’s been a long time since Soldat was like that, since he had that instinct that made him so good with women. All of that melted away the first time he was thawed, revealing some bare canvas for Hydra to paint whatever it is they wanted him to be over his cold, hard skin.

So now he was laid bare, his legs spread out and his arms tied straight out, kept in place by the mythical metal everyone keeps talking about – the thing that makes that dastardly Captain America’s shield so legendary. You clicked them into place just before he was given the cue to keep quiet, shoving a single thin finger between his wrist and the slowly warming material. For a moment, Soldat did not understand why you were doing it and tensed with the anticipation of what was he thought would be a sedative or worse. None of the millions of scenarios that ran through his head included you looking down at him with wide, attentive eyes and asking if the cuffs were too tight.

Soldat just laughed dryly. “What would you do if they were?”

You didn’t respond, just turned back to ask something from a superior that Soldat didn’t bother listening to.

Somewhere between you walking away (and his eyes flitting down to the short hemline of that black dress) and you returning (and his eyes flitting up to the deep neckline of that black dress), you had discarded the matching lace panties that dropped them onto the center of Soldat’s face.

The fabric is soft, softer than anything Soldat had felt in years. He can smell you, too, the deep, heady scent snapping him back to the reality he had been attempting to distance himself from.

“You like that?” you coo, nails now painted some deep red as they trail across his chest. All Soldat does is gulp, his nonverbal actions met by a slap and you grabbing his jaw and forcing his eyes to meet yours. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” He gasps out, voice thick and broken from lack of use.

“Yes, what?” you scream, your face so close to his he can feel the fake rage that settles over your skin.

It takes all of Soldat’s power not to lean forward and kiss you – using all his willpower to keep his body flat on the table instead of wrapping himself around you. “Yes, Mistress!”

You smile and the Soldat swears he feels proud of himself for the first time he can remember.

“Now stay perfectly still, and only speak when spoken to, and maybe I’ll reward you…” your words feel like silk against the man’s skin, soft against his scars and burns and marred flesh.

He nods and keeps himself static, watching as you hike your dress up just enough to reveal your bare pussy. If the Soldat was given permission he’d moan and tell you it’s the most beautiful cunt he’s ever seen; but he wasn’t, so he just watches you with desperate, wide eyes as you climb onto the table he’s strapped to, and then onto him.

You mount him with a look of disgust painted on your face – a single raised brow and bared teeth making Soldat’s cock jump inside of you.

“It’s always a dirty Russian,” you hiss as you slap him again. “Poking around in places you know you shouldn’t be.”

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters. “I’m so sorry!”

A smirk paints itself across your face. “You want to impregnant me, don’t you? You want to pump me full of you, want to make me round with your children?”

The Soldat, finally, moans out a “Yes! Mistress, yes!” as you tighten around him, the feeling making his head spin.

“But first,” you reach down while the Soldat’s eyes remain trained on your hands. A large knife – one larger than the one he carries but the same shape – is pulled from the holster on your thigh, previously covered by the fabric of your dress. “We need to get you into proper form.”

Still inside of you, the Soldat is too focused on the feeling of you around him to notice the blood dripping down from the table, or the cuff’s heavy metal latch being undone, or the loud THUD of something hitting the cement ground. He feels none of it – too pumped full of hormones and whatever else Hydra mixed into the clear bang hanging from the pole next to him to care at all about that you were doing. As long as he could feel your velvet walls around his aching cock…you could do anything to him, and he’d thank you profusely.

“You going to cum in me, Russian?” your voice is breathy, satisfied. “You going to fill me up with your dirty Russian cum?”

It doesn’t take much longer before the Soldat comes the hardest he ever has, screaming louder than an airplane at takeoff as his thrusts become harder, deeper before he stills at his very peak.

“Oh, Иисус Христос,” he moans, the arm that’s left moving to cup your face. His thumb moves to swipe at your bottom lip and you leave a kiss there, smiling blissfully. Soldat’s vision darkens just as he finds the energy to smile back.

“I love you,” he whispers, knowing he’s fading fast. It’ll be his last words – and he’s okay with that.

“I love you, too,” you tell him in an equally low voice, the reply music to his ears as the world falls apart around him. It’s the first time he’s felt at peace for years, he quickly realizes. Somehow, it’s not as pathetic as he thinks it should be.

[escapewriter]

pairing : jaehyun x reader x taeyong

synopsis : He knew that falling for his new neighbor was risky, but it was something that he had no control over. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t contain the shade of red his ears turned into. And even though that was all in the past and you had forgotten him, his ears managed to give him away the next time he saw you.

genre : slight fluff, angst

warnings : none

wc : 3.2k (3216)

a/n : hi everyone! this is my first nct oneshot! i am not sure if i will write for nct because time plays such a factor and i write for a few groups already. i cried a lot when i wrote this. neway, this oneshot is part of @jaeyoonurl collab!! be sure to check it out mar’s work and all the other writers who participated in the collab as well!! but neway, i hope you all enjoy this!

this is now playing collab

Jaehyun walked along the sidewalk, kicking the tiny pebble in front of him. His eyes never left the ground as he didn’t want to lose the small stone. His earphones were connected to his phone as he listened to his new favorite song, ‘Japanese Denim’ by Daniel Caesar. He softly hummed to the tune, listening to the somber lyrics of a love that should have lasted a lifetime, much like how denim lasts forever.

He was on his way to get some lunch with an old high school friend. It has been a few years since he last saw him, as he had lost contact with many of his high school mates, so it felt nice to plan to meet up with him. Jaehyun was curious about what his old best friend had been up to.

The small cafe they planned to meet at was quite far from his apartment, so he left his house early because he wanted to walk and enjoy the fall breeze. He inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of dead leaves as he strolled through a large park.

The song had just ended, but he had clicked the icon to have it repeat over and over again. It was perfect for the weather and the occasion of meeting with his friend because of how it brought the feeling of nostalgia and memories that he wished he could forget. But he can’t help but be reminded of what he went through all those years ago.

I don’t stand in line, I don’t pay for clubs, fuck that

But I wait for you.

I don’t like to drink, I don’t like to think, fuck that

But I ponder you

~ It was the summer before junior year. Jaehyun watched the new neighbors from across the street unload boxes from the large truck. His eyes wavered, debating if he should go out and help, but the decision was made for him when his mom came into his room and said to go out and introduce himself.

He made his way out the door and across the street. He said hello to the two adults and introduced himself politely. “Do you guys need help with carrying the boxes?”

“It might be too heavy, dear.” The woman shot him a worried look before turning to glance at her husband.

“It’s okay, I won’t give him anything heavy.” He watched as the older male hopped into the truck, retrieving a typically small box, and handed it to Jaehyun who was waiting on the floor. “You got it?” He nodded and followed the woman to the house before stopping in his tracks.

Jaehyun’s mouth fell agape, his eyes never leaving you as you emerged from the door and into his line of sight. “Oh! Jaehyun, this is our child.” She put her hand behind your back, bending over a bit to whisper in your ear. “Go and introduce yourself to the nice young man sweetie.”

You smiled shyly before saying hi and telling him your name, “It’s nice to meet you.”

He gulped, sending you a soft smile as he felt his ears turning into a bright red. “I’m Jaehyun.”

Your mom smiled at the interaction, happy that her child has a new companion in this foreign neighborhood. “You guys can talk later. Go help your father, and Jaehyun follow me. I’ll show you where you can put the boxes.”

//

Jaehyun sat on a chair on the porch in front of your house. He drank the water your mom had given him after helping your dad assemble the dining room table. He took a deep breath, sighing as he felt the warm summer air cool his sweaty face. His eyes traveled from the front yard of his house across the street, to you who was watering the grass and plants.

He said your name softly, thinking about how it rolled off his tongue. He smiled to himself, thinking that you two would become good friends.

He watched as you turned to look at him from across the yard, curiosity in your eyes as you smiled at him. His ears turned red. ~

Jaehyun turned the corner, the pebble he was kicking earlier long forgotten. He avoided stepping on the cracks of the sidewalk because he really believed his mom and her ‘superstition’ about breaking her back anytime he stepped on one. He shouldn’t believe it now that he’s older, but that fear lingers in his brain.

He looked around the open space of the park seeing children play in piles of leaves and dogs running around as their owners threw a ball to play fetch with. It was a calm and beautiful sight — the sight of love and happiness.

I’m bending it over,

You’re my four-leaf clover,

I’m so in love, so in love

There’s no one up above,

Forever’s a long time, yes

~ Jaehyun looked up at the door after hearing a knock. He took a bite of his pancake as he saw his mom open the door. He thought it was the mailman, but when he heard your voice greet his mom, he choked on his food.

He watched as you entered the house, a smile on your face as he gulped down his glass of water. “Jaehyun, sweetie,” he looked at his mom, and from the corner of his eye, he saw you take a seat in front of him, “I heard from their mom that they’re attending your high school. You should walk to school together and maybe show them around.”

Jaehyun nodded his head slowly, his eyes not knowing where to focus. “You two should get going. You don’t want to be late on the first day of school!” She leaned down to Jaehyun’s level, “Don’t forget to skip the cracks on the sidewalk.”

Rolling his eyes, he took the last bite of his pancake before he stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder, kissing his mom on the cheek before heading out the door with you following behind. He stepped off the porch and began to take long strides to the direction of the school. “Hey! Wait up!” He turned his head and stopped for you to catch up. You ran up and stood next to him, a bright grin on your face, “I know we’ve met a few times, but we never really talked, you know?” Jaehyun didn’t know what to say because he was more afraid of what he would say. “Let’s start over,” you held out your hand, introducing yourself to him, “I hope we can become good friends.”

He shook your hand, nervously smiling as he shook it. “I’m Jaehyun. I hope we can be good friends too.” His ears turned red. ~

Jaehyun checked the time on his watch. He had a decent amount of time since he left early, so he decided to sit at the bench in the park.

The cool breeze ruffled his hair and made him shiver as he hugged his jacket closer and tighter around his body. Hearing the leaves on the trees rustle, he looked up as a cluster of orange, yellow, and brown leaves cascaded down with the flow of the wind. His eyes followed one leaf as it slowly fell to the floor, then began gliding along the pavement and soon onto the grass. Next to it was a little girl.

She spun around, arms wide open and head tilted back. She giggled as a few leaves fell on her face. She let out the loudest laugh as her father picked her up and spun her in the air, her mom close by, capturing the entire moment on her phone. It was such a beautiful sight, and it was also rare to find.

My blue jeans,

Will last me all my life, oh yes

So should we

I’m spending all this time

~ Winter has approached quickly and the school year is going by fast. Jaehyun had become your best friend. After he had shown you around school and introduced you to some teachers and classmates, he also took you to explore popular places that students usually go to after school. From that point on, the two of you were inseparable — that is until after winter break.

Jaehyun was currently in the kitchen making you a snack as you waited in the living room. Today was the last day of school for winter vacation which lasts two weeks. Jaehyun was especially excited because it had been snowing and both of your yards were perfect for snowball fights, making snowmen, and snow angels. He was excited to make this winter memorable with you.

What he didn’t know was that was the most he would get from you.

He entered the living room and handed you your snack, sitting down next to you on the couch and looked at the TV. “What are we watching?”

You took a bite of the sandwich he made, chewing a bit before speaking. “There’s Christmas movies playing. I haven’t been able to see one in so long.” Jaehyun nodded his head and also took a bite of his sandwich before subtly looking at the side of your face.

You were too into the movie to notice his staring.

His eyes moved from the top of your head, down to your piercing eyes, to your slightly smiling mouth. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. And he really wanted to because he felt that he had already been obvious enough with going the extra step of doing things like bringing you breakfast because he knows you don’t have time to make some yourself, or making sure that you remember to water the plants like your mother had asked because you tend to be very forgetful.

He shouldn’t even be thinking of you in this type of way. But when you turned your head to look at him to point out something from a movie, he couldn’t bring himself to look away as his ears turned red. ~

Jaehyun slowly got up from the bench and began to walk down the pavement to the direction of the cafe. He chooses to give himself some time though by stopping in an antique store to keep himself occupied.

He enters the cramped store, slowly strolling through the narrow aisles. He looks at the little knick knacks displayed, thinking of how cute they are. A certain picture frame caught his eye.

Inside the frame was a painting of a boy in the middle of the desert. He had nowhere to go and had no idea where to look — he was by himself, alone.

Jaehyun stared at the picture, thinking about how he ended up like the boy in the painting. It was such a simple piece of art and he doesn’t know why he connected to it so much. But he took it in his hands anyway.

Met you at the shop, sun was getting hot, I’m lonely

I’m in the city on my own

Never would’ve thought you’d be the one, I got a homie

But that’s the way it goes

~ It has been two weeks since Jaehyun returned to school from winter break. And in the span of those weeks, you had managed to get yourself a boyfriend; Taeyong. He didn’t know when his two best friends began to like each other, let alone get one anothers number, but he is the one to blame for his own heartbreak because he introduced you to Taeyong.

But you are happy. And that’s all that matters to Jaehyun.

He entered the school gates, head hung low as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to endure. He quickly walked to his classroom and sat in his assigned seat next to the window. He looked outside the window, seeing the flakes of snow fall to the ground before being taken away by your booming voice.

He looked at the door, watching you walk in, hand in hand with Taeyong. He smiled softly and forced his eyes to not look at your connected hands. You sat in the chair of the desk in front of him, Taeyong sitting at the desk right next to you.

You leaned your head on Jaehyun’s table, looking up at him with a pout on your lips. “I’m sorry that you have to walk by yourself to school. Taeyong picks me up now.” He watched as you shot your boyfriend a cheeky smile before turning your attention back to him. “It’s okay right? You didn’t wait for me?”

He shrugged, showing you a sign that it was okay. “Only a day, but once I found out about you two, I didn’t wait because I figured he takes you to school.”

“Oh! I’m glad! I’ve been so,” you looked at Taeyong, “distracted lately,” you returned back to Jaehyun, “that I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you.”

He shook his head indicating it was fine and that he didn’t mind. What a big lie.

Taeyong cleared his throat, “I can always give you a ride too, Jaehyun. It’s kind of cold, I mean, your cheeks and ears keep turning red.” Jaehyun smiled in embarrassment of his cheeks turning red because of the freezing weather.

“Thanks man, but I’m good. I like walking in the snow.” His ears are a completely different story. ~

Jaehyun stood at the register of the antique shop, the painting in his hand. He doesn’t know what brought himself to buy it, but he felt like he needed to. He felt too much of a connection to it to let it just continue to sit in this antique shop and collect dust.

He smiled at the cashier, paying for the item and putting it in the bag. He quickly made his way out of the store, taking in the autumn smell as the breeze blew against his face, turning his cheeks a light shade of pink.

It was half an hour before noon and he still had a long way to go. He turned up the volume on his phone, humming to the tune of the song.

I’m reaching Nirvana

Goodbye sweet Rwanda

High school was never for me

I say let it be, let it be

Forever’s a long time

~ [ Jaehyun felt warm as he slept in his bed. It might have been because spring had ended and summer was starting.

His eyes snapped open when he felt an arm wrap around his torso, hugging him closer to their body. He looks to his side, his eyes widening when he sees you there smiling at him. “Good morning, baby.”

He thought this must be a dream — it has to be a dream. You’re dating Taeyong, this can’t be real. “You okay Jaehyun?” He watched your hand come up and cup his face, your thumb running over his cheek. His heartbeat calmed down, eyes closing as he leaned into your touch.

“I’m here with you. Everything is oka—” ]

“Jaehyun~” His eyes shot open, for real this time as he looked at his surroundings and then next to him. You weren’t there.

“Jaehyun, sweetie,” He looked up at his mom who was putting a damp towel on his forehead, “don’t get up. I was trying to wake you up for school this morning, but you got a fever. Must be from walking in the cold so much. I’ll drive you to school from now on until winter is over. Just rest today, honey.” He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he realized it was all a dream.

You weren’t there with him, you didn’t greet him good morning, you didn’t cup his face in your palm and soothingly stroke his cheek, you weren’t with him. You were with Taeyong.

He let his head relax into his pillow as his mom got up and left the room, closing the door softly. He looked over at the empty spot on his bed, wishing that you were actually there to take care of him.

No, he shouldn’t be thinking like this, especially since you’re dating one of his best friends. Friends don’t imagine themselves with their best friends' significant other. That’s just wrong in so many ways.

But he couldn’t help but think about how you would take care of him when he’s sick. Thank god no one saw his ears. ~

My blue jeans

Will last me all my life, oh yes

So should we

I’m spending all this time

Jaehyun reaches the cafe on time, spotting his old high school friend sitting at a table outside the shop. “Jaehyun! What’s up man? Been a while hasn’t it?”

Jaehyun laughed slightly, giving the other male a hug as he took out one side of his earphone, “It definitely has man, it definitely has.” He took a seat across the older, sighing as he put his bag with the painting on the chair next to him. “So, what have you been up to lately, Taeyong?”

He watched intently as Taeyong leaned back in his chair and sharply inhaled. “Well, I opened my dance studio.” Jaehyun’s eyebrows shot up as he mouth fell open in shock. “I hired a bunch of talented dancers and we give lessons to kids and even some trainees from different companies too. It’s a big accomplishment.”

He nodded his head, “Wow Taeyong, I’m sure it is. I’m so happy for you! You’ve had this dream for so long and you finally achieved it!” Taeyong laughed slightly as he looked around.

Jaehyun felt the breeze blow again, the autumn leaves flying past as the speed of the wind picked up, similar to the tempo of the song as it closes to an end.

“By the way Jaehyun, I forgot to mention,” He looked at Taeyong, his hand playing with the other on his lap, “it was disclosed, not many know about this, but I wanted to tell you.”

You don’t even know me

You don’t even know me

“I got married.” The bells of the cafe open as someone walks out with three drinks in a cup holder. They approached the table, giving Taeyong a kiss on the cheek before setting down the drinks.

“I hope you boys like hot chocolate! Long time no see Jaehyun!” Jaehyun looked up at you, his heart shattering as his eyes moved down to the ring on your left hand. “Oh! You told him babe?” You lifted your hand so Jaehyun could get a better look, “He proposed on our seventh year anniversary.”

Jaehyun looked at the ring, forcing out a smile, “I’m so happy for you both.”

The wind blew harder, the leaves and dust now flying in the air. Taeyong stood up, “Hey let’s all go inside, Jaehyun’s cheeks and ears are turning red again.”

The pair made their way into the cafe as Jaehyun grabbed his bag with the painting in it. He hugged it close to his body, feeling lost now that he knows his love will never be enough. He breathed heavily, trying to get the ringing in his ears to stop.

Upon entering the cafe, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing all his energy onto something else, something that will make him breathe and feel better.

I’m hanging from the tree

I’m hanging from the tree

His ears were no longer red.

[fascination-street-writing]

She Rings Like a Bell Through the Night | Yan!Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

You remind him of a cat - and he has always had a pension for strays.

100 Follower Giveaway 2nd Place Piece

Content Warnings: Not S/F/W Content, Yandere Behaviors, Stalking, Non-Con Elements (Non-Consensual Touching & Dubious Consent), & Homelessness 

You are glad for the distortion of the puddle’s reflection – if instead you had a mirror, you might simply wither in the alley where you stand. It is better this way. Truthfully, you would rather not know how positively filthy you have become since taking to the streets. The space between Il Cestino del Pane and Via dei Libri – a bakery and a bookstore – is your domain. You do not call the covered niche betwixt two dumpsters your home; it is simply the place you happen to come back to every night.

At the lip of the alley, she stands. An entity, you suppose, though she does not speak to you. And yet, you are utterly convinced that she is capable of reading your very mind. She acts without command – she behaves in a way you find deplorable; but, without her, you would starve. You have before you the necessary evils of survival.

You observe the bustle of the market, eyes flicking from patron to patron: a child clutching a doll as her mother argues with a vendor over the price of goods; an elderly woman ushering a greyhound by a worn leash; a man lifting a spoon filled with gelato to the mouth of his partner, who accepts the treat gleefully. No one catches your eye . . . Until a man clad in an open-chest white suit steps out from the bakery and joins the rabble on the street.

His clothing practically flaunts his wealth. His bobbed dark hair, completed with two gold clips, is exquisite, and not a single strand falls out of place. You think that he would make a lovely target – and she agrees.

You are careful to leave a considerable amount of space between yourself and him. You know little of your entity’s capacities; however, the copious amount of times you have used her to steal food, never to be traced back to you, has taught you that she is invisible to everyone.

Everyone except for you, of course.

You do not consider yourself a thief, for it is not your hand slipping into the pocket of the man’s jacket. An accessory to crime, maybe, but never the thief. You rationalize your actions as this: he should have known better than to venture towards this end of Napoli dressed in such a way – one making him stand out amongst the locals. Anyone who comes here knows pickpocketing is a common practice.

You can feel the wallet through her touch – firm leather to your fingertips. She appears before you, dropping the stolen article into your waiting palm. With a grin, you look up to offer a silent gesture of appreciation.

Only to be met with the glare of two sapphire-blue eyes.

You freeze, dumbfounded. Never have you been caught before. The wallet feels like a lead weight, practically scorching your skin. Out of fear? Guilt? You do not dwell on the possibilities pulsing in your racing mind. Instead, you turn on heels covered with a set of mismatched shoes and run. A cold sweat saturates your spine. The clattering of rushed footsteps echo behind you. A crash resonates, followed by the accusatory spats of the vendors. You weave through the crowds with no true destination in mind. Yet, as if coerced by muscle memory, your legs carry you to your shelter.

Somehow, amidst the market congestion, you have lost him. You slink down the alley and hide behind a heap of discarded cardboard boxes. The passage of time is indiscernible, and so you count the steady ticking of waterdrops from the rainspout attached to the bakery. It is only after you reach a hundred do you decide you are finally safe. Standing, you open the wallet to count your prize.

As you dig for loose lira, the brick wall before you separates; a diagonal golden zipper appears seemingly out of nowhere, and the man steps through the black void created by the incision. In your state of confusion, the wallet clammers from your hand. You stumble backwards and trip over a broken trashcan lid. The asphalt meets your hip with bruising force.

The man says nothing to you. He reaches for the wallet, which has earned a newly acquired scuffmark. With no means of escaping the situation, you helplessly watch him check its contents. Wordlessly, he produces a stack of bills and extends it to you. Suspicious of his intent, you do not move to take the money. You scuttle away, whimpering at your newfound pain.

“My name is Bruno,” he says to you. Though you struggle to create a greater space between you two, he does not move to approach you. “Take it.”

You shake your head. He holds the wallet in his opposite hand, emphasizing its presence.

“You wouldn’t have stolen this if you didn’t need the money.”

Bruno is absolutely right. But you do not trust him. After moments of refusal pass, he sets the money on the ground and steps away. It is only once you deduce that he cannot grab you do you snatch the money. You bound off in a hobbled sprint, vacating the alley and leaving him behind. He is unable to tear his gaze away from the shabby heap of boxes you typically dwell beneath. Your apprehensiveness is undeniably disheartening, but nothing to lose sleep over, for he will do whatever it takes to earn your faith in due time. He knows you cannot be blamed for your actions; to Bruno, it is obvious you have been beaten down by the very system that has forced many women into the same circumstances as yourself.

A mound of tattered blankets makes up what he believes is your bed. Cans of half-finished, spoiled foods collect in a heap by the foot of your bedding. You remind him of a cat – and he has always had a pension for strays.

Days later, Bruno returns to the alleyway of Il Cestino del Pane and Via dei Libri carrying a basket filled with fresh bread and softened figs. It is a mere gamble that you might have returned after the incident. Before your shelter, he catches the sight of you hunched over a rusted water pail. You splash water on your face to cleanse the grime from your skin.

He wonders if you stayed because you wanted him to find you.

You know he is there, yet you do not cower. Still, you grow tense in his presence. You allow him to come close enough so he might, for the first time, gaze upon your cleaned face. He realizes just how beautiful of a woman you are – his Medusa, cast from the holy temple by the ones who scorned you; reduced to living on the streets with narcotic addicts and rapists, as if you are one of them.

A woman like you deserves to be loved. You deserve the very worship he is so willing to bestow upon you, in a home shared with you alone.

He opens the basket and bequeaths to you its contents. You salivate at the loaf of bread in your grasp, though you refuse to eat. You will not do so until he is gone. Begrudgingly, he takes his leave, though not before offering you a kind smile.

One day, he reckons, you will return the gesture.

When the sun sets over Napoli, the city transforms into a haven for the less reputable members of society. Men and women of the brothels take to the corners at the behest of their procurers. Cab drivers lie in wait of drunken tourists to scam with overpriced fare. Would-be human traffickers hide in the blackest pools of alleyways until a pretty foreigner is unlucky enough to walk by.

And you have learned how to avoid them all – the prostitutes and the pimps, cab drivers and tourists, human traffickers and foreigners. There is not much a homeless woman such as yourself can offer to any party of the night.

Not for anyone, except Bruno Bucciarati, the young Capo of Passione. From the shadows, he watches as you make your way through the street of shops and send your entity to collect food and other necessities. You carry on until your arms are full. He admires your resilience.

You do not see the division in the sidewalk until you have already fallen to the ground. Your collection of stolen goods scatters across the cobblestone street, lost to the darkness. On your hands and knees, you scramble to gather anything that has not split open or fallen into puddles. A man with a pocketknife in his hand and pock marks on his arms approaches, unbeknownst to you – but very known to the ever-aware Bruno.

It is not an uncommon practice for the homeless of Napoli to prey on each other. The man wielding the knife wants nothing more than a scrap of the food lying before you. To Bruno, however, he is a potential threat to what limited sanctity you might have. The man creeps closer, closer, closer.

And he is gone before you have the chance to turn around. The remnants of a zipper mark the spot where he once stood. You are alone again. Grateful that the night is still young, you send your entity to another vacant market stall to replace what has been lost.

Bruno emerges from the earth like a child born. He brings a white handkerchief to his cheek to wipe away the smudge of blood marring his skin – the evidence of his indiscretion. Carelessly, you wander ahead as if you were not in such a compromising situation only moments ago. But then again, you cannot be blamed for ignorance: how could you have known, if not for Bruno interference?

Grinning faintly, he folds the soiled handkerchief and tucks it into his pocket, beside his wallet – the catalyst and inspiration for his conquest of your affection. He is your protector when you cannot be.

It is a gratification that fills him with unmeasurable delight.

Bruno has lost track of how many times he has visited you; he has made a habit out of bringing you food every day that he can. It does not upset him too terribly much when he fails to find the time in his arduous work schedule to visit you, because he trusts your capabilities of stealing necessities with the aid of your Stand.

However, he cannot deny the nagging feeling blooming in his belly, reminding him that you should not be in the position of scavenging when he is perfectly capable of providing for you – of spoiling you – himself.

Today, he gifts to you cactus pears from Catania and homemade piadina ­– his mother’s recipe, no less. As always, you refuse to eat whilst he gawks at you. You do not notice the way his jaw clenches in utter vexation this time, or how his long, manicured fingers curl into a tight fist. In truth, he has grown frustrated with your antics. Bitterly, he contemplates his options: to whisk you away here and now would be far easier than playing this game any longer.

Finally recognizing his rigid composure, you back away from him. As if struck, Bruno releases his hand and sighs. He could not do such a thing – it is foolish thought. Trust is built upon honesty, and honesty alone. The legitimacy of such a bond cannot be fabricated. Per habit, he leaves you to your meal.

A light drizzle hails from the grey sky. The further he strays from the alleyway, the heavier the rainfall. Bruno supposes that the inclement weather must be the cause for the near vacancy of the market street. Despite the pattering against the sidewalks, he catches the sound of clumsy footsteps behind him. A pair of eyes practically bores into his back.

He stops to turn. Separated only by a narrow row of stone-crested townhouses, you stand there, watching him. You, too, have ventured far from the security of your alleyway. You cower behind a streetlamp, as if it could mask the pleading look in your gaze.

Please, don’t leave me.

Bruno’s mouth falls agape. Perhaps his gattina randagia is ready to come home, after all. 

The water pools around your bare form, concaving to every curve and crevice of your body. Though you graciously allowed Bruno the role of bathing you, you keep your knees bent and taut to your chest, refusing him to look upon your intimate regions. It is a most uncomfortable feeling to expose yourself to someone else; yet, you do not wish to be left alone, for you are beholden to his company.

He shields your eyes with his palm before pouring the basin over your shampooed hair. You practically lean into his touch. He is glad you cannot read his mind; it is a battle within his conscience to contain himself. He maintains his collected façade – despite how badly he wants nothing more than flip you onto your stomach and take you, forcing your body to rim of the bathtub.

The hand on your eyes falls and dips into the water. Bruno pulls his arm back and forth, tracing a figure-eight in the water. His mind has wandered, to be sure. In his other hand, he holds a washcloth, which he has been using to wash your skin. Slowly, he drags it over the backs of your thighs, gingerly scrubbing.

You push his arm away when the cloth ghosts over your slit.

“Give me the soap,” you suddenly demand – the first words you have ever spoken to him, full of malice no less. Bruno frowns. “I can do it myself.”

He grabs the bar of soap; however, he does not pass it to you. Instead, he slathers the washcloth and brings the linen back over your thighs. He wants to take care of you. This time, the hook of his finger brushes against your folds. You lash out and grab his arm, nails biting into his skin, leaving crescent-moon shaped marks as a receipt of the transgression. With far more force than before, you shove his arm away.

“Stop it. Give me the soap.”

Bruno pulls away and slumps against the side of the tub. You hug your knees tighter, expecting an apology from the man who took you in off the streets. Something dark flashes behind his eyes, and you wish you had enough room to scurry away.

“I just want to take care of you, mia gattina,” he insists, his eyes pleading with you. “Won’t you let me do that?”

His words do little to ease you. The third time he touches your folds, you strike him across the face with pruned fingers. In a flurry of black hair, his neck whips to the side. It is only when you attempt to rise from the tub that he snaps out of his stupor and throws his arm against your chest, pinning you down and leaving you with no choice but to expose yourself to him.

The water sloshes as you thrash around. Water collects in the delicate threads of Bruno’s attire, soaking him as you do the faux-marble tiled floors. Nothing seems to faze him. “Please, let me take care of you,” he begs, his grip unrelenting. You whimper, begging him to let you go. He denies you: “No, no. It’s all I want.”

Again, he palms your slit, only now you freeze and accept that you cannot stop him. You grip the edge of the tub to keep your head above the water. The coloring leaves your knuckles. A single tear rolls down your cheek.

“Don’t cry, dolcezza. Sii una brava ragazza per me.”

At once, a finger from the very hand that kept you fed for so long slides into your core with ease. Your walls involuntarily clench around him, and you grimace in pain. Whining, you attempt to buck your hips to dislodge him; he mistakes your defense for eagerness, and with a sigh, he inserts another and curls his fingers inside you.

He works you until a familiar, albeit long forgotten, throbbing sensation claims your womanhood, and incitement builds within you. Eventually, with each stroke of your folds, you relax and release the edge of tub. Your snivels of an insistence for him to stop become mewls, imploring him to continue. It has been far too long since you felt affection like this, and you find yourself melting at Bruno’s touch – as if you are a candle and he the flame.

“Brava ragazza.”

The arm on your chest disappears. Bruno braces it around your shoulders, pulling you into a seated position. When his thumb rubs your hardened nub, you whine and call his name. A prayer for him; he groans, holding you tighter.

Your hands reach out and at once, you pull his face towards your own so that your lips might meet. You allow him to explore the cavern of your mouth, and he swallows every moan blossoming from your throat. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, swiping his tongue over the swollen blush before breaking away to admire the way you huff at the command of his fingers, your eyes shut tightly. Pleasure or distress, he knows not why – though, he suspects the former.

He reaches the deepest nook of your core. You respond to the intrusion with a breathless cry, and you bury your face into the damp crook of his neck to satiate the noises escaping you, while gripping the silken tendrils of his primp hair.

“Brave ragazza. Brava gattina, il mio amore.”

His words – his praise – send you over the edge with a shudder. The coil in your belly snaps, and you come undone on Bruno’s hand. He lets out a sigh. Slowly, he detaches from your core and moves to embrace you. Exhausted, you veer into his touch, practically buzzing with spent arousal and fervor.

Around you, the bathwater has gone cold, but Bruno’s arms are enough to keep you warm. You allow him to rub his palm against the soft skin of your back. He presses a kiss to the crown of your hair, lingering as if debating whether to do it all again.

Content, you concede and drift away, lulled to sleep by the whispering of praises in your ear.

“Il mia bellissima gattina. Ti amo tanto.”

| 3048 Words |

[noocturnalchild]

A Ruined Movie Night

pairing : Modern!Ben Solo X Modern!Rey

Rated : Teens and up

Word count : 1K

No warnings. Just small silly writing...

This is the first piece I write for this fandom...

Hi I'm back... dunno XD

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Can I sit by your side, Ben?”

Rey tried to make it sound as casual as she could manage, and she regretted even asking. She could just take her seat casually by his side, like friends do, after all, didn’t she?

“I charge by the hour”

He seemed unbothered, face focused on the action scene that broke out suddenly and she took advantage of his moment of inattention to move carefully on his side of the sofa.

“Prick, move your ass.”

Ben swallowed as she sat beside him. She was wearing that sweater he liked so much. With the three buttons on the back, starting from the collar down her neck. They were so tempting, these little three buttons, like round little candies wrapped in mauve, begging to be popped.

Ben aggressively dumped a handful of kettle corn in his mouth.

“Easy, angry bear! We haven’t even made It to the first half of the movie. Think about your smaller forest raccoon friend.” She leaned to grab some popcorn from the box on his lap and he ducked, swiftly lifting the box out of her reach, hiding it behind the sofa arm.

“Raccoons are cocky thieves, they say.”

“Bullshit !” She shouted, “They are the most ado-“

“Hey! Look, you made me miss how they blow up that ship!” Ben’s scream was tainted with laugher. “Can’t you keep still for a moment? Jesus!”

“And they are cute! AND you are definitely the one ALWAYS fidgeting in your seat! If my sofa could talk, I’m sure it would fill salty complaints against your flat ass!”

“My flat what?!” Ben mumbled curses under his breath.

“I can HEAR you.”

“I know.” he smiled.

They fell into a comfortable silence again, before Ben put the popcorn box in her lap, casually not moving his hand off.

“Just a precaution, forest thief.”

She gave him a faux dirty side look, followed by a lopsided smile as they refocused on the space opera playing on the screen.

Warmth flooded Rey’s space and she relaxed, limbs limp and head empty, lids heavy with sleepy comfort. His hand and technically, half of his arm were still on her lap. Damn, the man was warmer than her central heating. She wondered if he was conscious, or if people noticed. If his other friends teased him about it, if his exes…she chastised the latter thought, and corrected her stance. She was leaning a bit too much into his shoulder, she noticed as a dull pain started to numb the nape of her neck.

Rey tried to crack her neck a number of times, wincing at the pain that didn’t seem to lessen, but to increase. She sighed in discomfort, touching the painful place to find it ice cold. Fuck her premature cervical arthrosis.

“You alright?” Ben seemed to watch her for a while now.

“Yeah, just a light neck pain, 8 hours at Plutt’s do that to you.”

“Doesn’t seem to be light, to me.”

“I told you it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not, look at your face, your wince looks like a that of middle age martyr on a burning stick!”

“History nerd. I don’t look like that.”

“A constipated raccoon then.”

“Ok, I have arthrosis.”

“What?”

“As I told you, dumbass.”

“Are you 80 or something?”

“You idiot, it has nothing to do-“

“I know, I know that wasn’t funny. Where does it hurt?” Ben paused the movie.

“The nape of my neck, mostly…”

“It worsens when it’s cold huh?”

“Yes, exactly, and today was just…”

“Yeah, let me check if we forgot one of the windows open or something.”

“Yeah fine.” She winced again at the loss of heat when he moved to check the windows.

When Ben came back, he found her literally crumpled on herself, arms wrapping around her and shivering.

“What? I leave you one second and you transform into a snail?”

“Fuck you Solo.”

“Closed the kitchen window. You’re welcome.” Ben flopped down back into the sofa beside her, making her bounce in her place.

“Slow, I’m sick.”

“It’s your neck that’s hurtin’ not your ass- You fucking finished the popcorn!” He exclaimed at the empty box lying neglectfully now at her feet and she shrugged, not sorry the slightest.

“I’d crack you neck good if it wasn’t already fucked.”

“You’re rude!”

“Let me finish the movie, you should too.”

A few minutes later …

“Feelin’ any better?” Ben paused the movie again.

What a ruined movie night, Rey thought as she shook her head, eyeing the empty second popcorn box. In the end, none of them was really focused on the events anymore.

“Nah, to be honest. I’m so done.” She sighed.

“You should try heat patches.” Ben talked seriously now, concern visible in his chocolate eyes.

“Too tired to go and try this now, just wanna zone out on that couch when the movie is over, eugh.”

She slumped further onto the cushions. her cheeks were so red, and her hair all tousled and messy and he found himself staring and starring, a bubble of tenderness swelling in his chest at the sight before him.

“Ok, we can try something else…” words fled his mouth before he could catch them.

“Liiiike?” She pinched her brows, confused.

Ben showed her his hand.

“I… don’t… understand” she said slowly. Ben sighed, a pretty blush raised to his cheeks. In the faint light coming from the Tv, he hoped it wasn’t that obvious.

“Can …can I put my hand on the nape of your neck?”

Rey was dumbstruck for a second or two, looking at him with round eyes and Ben felt so stupid, the stupidest he felt for a while, to say the truth.

“Please?”

No, now he felt like the dumbest creature in the galaxy.

What kind of earthly idiot would ask their roommate to use their hand as a heat patch? Ben wished they’ve already created that damn time machine so he could hide his shameless face in the past and disappear from history, once and for all.

But here she was, surprise flipping to impish amusement. In her eyes was a flame twinkling in the feeble light of their small living space.

“Ok” her response came against all odds, and he had to metaphorically reboot to register it.

“Ok” Rey said again, no hesitation in her voice whatsoever, eyes wide open. Was he mistaken somehow, or was that a smirk she was giving him now?

No, she must be as stupid as him, that’s the only explanation.

“Hey, Venus to Mars? Ben?”

“Oh, hello”

Idiot.

“You offered. I’m waiting” she said firmly, an exaggerated grimace as she turned slightly, offering the base of her neck to him, pointing at it impatiently.

“Of-of course”

Hesitantly, Ben reached out, but before he could take his time playing his stupid self, Rey took his hand and pressed his palm resolutely on her soring spot, instantly groaning in relief.

“Fuck Ben, that’s definitely one of your rarest good ideas” She flexed her neck again, hand always grasping his, keeping it firm against her skin, like to absorb the maximum heat.

He should have thanked heavens she kept her eyes closed; his face resembled more that of a clown now, he knew. He had to return to cool Ben, have a grip on his running thoughts. He coughed a little.

“Oh, It’s uncomfortable?” Rey opened her eyes finally, seeming to realize he was struggling with their current position. She released his hand.

“No, just…just turn around... we could just sit like we were and you can use my hand as a neck pillow as much as you want”

“ So generous when you feel like it” Rey teased and the sparkle in her eyes returned. Ben really struggled to pull himself off the searing feeling he was lost in all of a sudden as his chest expanded with unfamiliar bubbles.

“Huh, guess so” he replied vaguely, still pretty much distracted by the placement of his hand on her skin. Damn, he had to find conversation, and soon. Silence wasn’t an option now.

Fuck. Make it awkward Ben, that’s it.

Ah right, the movie. Ben reached for the remote and pressed resume.

The sound of spaceships explosions echoed in the tiny living room walls. Rey and Ben both jolted in their place. They didn’t even remember putting the movie on pause in the midst of that action, mind on other matters. They both burst into laughter when the first shock subsided and Rey leaned a little bit onto him. She was visibly feeling better now. Her muscles seemed relaxed and warm and she looked…genuinely happy. Ben wished the smile he saw then on her face to never fade away. He promised himself that it wouldn’t, as long as they were together.

“So…Ben…” Rey sweetly sang-song after some moments of silence. “Since today is the day I apparently entered in your good graces … remember that little favor I asked you about …the history exam?”

Fucks sake. Not that. Now. That was too good to be true.

“No, Rey. Happens that I don’t remember that.” Ben refrained from rolling his eyes. He actually remembered well her very specific request to get help from him, and no, not to study...but to cheat.

Rey sighed, dramatic.

“At least I tried.”

“You should rather try and study, for a change.” Ben said firmly, trying and successfully hiding his amusement behind a frown, one of his stern ones.

It was almost comical now; the number of times she tried to get him to help her cheat on an exam, begging, bribing, without results, but never backing down. Typically Rey, he thought with fondness.

“So how long are we staying like this, anyway?”

“Just a lil bit mooore. next time think twice before you offer” Rey whined.

“You little scrounger” Ben mumbled between his teeth.

“I heard you!”

“I know” and he smiled.