#feel free to ignore or just like in solidarity i just need to put this somewhere

[ziorite]

hey guys what do you do when your best friend of eight years is slowly abandoning you for a boyfriend that’s been historically manipulative and an asshole to you because you actually speak up when he does shitty things? and you love her but it doesn’t feel like love and you don’t even remember what made you want to be friends anymore and you don’t feel at ease around her because you’re afraid to say the wrong thing or talk too much. and it’s been so long and you’ve changed so much that it feels like all your edges scrape against each other where they used to fit nice and snug. and she doesn’t want to be touched but it hurts so much when she cringes away from you and she says that she’s in your corner and that you’re her best friend but it feels like you’re a younger sibling or naive cousin that she has to humor. and you’re terrified of not being good enough or bad enough or cool enough or funny enough because it doesn’t even seem like she cares about you anymore or like she wants you around? just asking for a friend you know :))

[goldfades]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐌𝐄 ───── LAMELO BALL

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.7k (i got a bit carried away per usual)

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | lamelo spots you courtside, turning in the game of his life just to impress you. what starts as playful banter at an afterparty quickly turns into a connection that neither of you can ignore.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | lamelo being COCKY AF, ummmmm... mentions of drinking, banter, allusions to lamelo being a hohohoho, just very banter-teasing heavy

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | i'm feeding the secret lamelo ball fangirls out there cause i see you and i fw you a lot cause ur just liek me, i hope yall enjoy !!!

The buzz of the Spectrum Center feels electric tonight. Maybe it’s the high stakes of the game, or maybe it’s just the way Lilah’s energy rubs off on you—effortless and magnetic, like she was born to thrive under these arena lights. You sit beside her, court-side, her gold bracelets jingling softly as she waves to someone across the court. Her husband, Miles is warming up, all easy confidence and sharp focus. He catches Lilah’s eye, grins, and points toward the two of you, a silent “this one’s for you.”

Lilah leans in, her voice just audible above the noise. “Miles is going to kill it tonight. He always does when I’m here.” She nudges you playfully. “You’re my lucky charm, though, so don’t go thinking you’re off the hook.”

You laugh, shifting in your seat as the players take their positions. Basketball’s never been your scene, but when Lilah called and begged you to come as her plus-one, you couldn’t say no. Something about her insistence—“You need to get out more!”—made it impossible to refuse. And now, as the lights dim and the announcer’s voice booms through the arena, you’re glad you came. The energy is infectious, the atmosphere electric.

Then, your attention shifts.

Number one, LaMelo Ball, steps onto the court. He’s hard to miss—tall, sharp-cut features, and an aura that makes it seem like he knows everyone’s watching him. Which, let’s be honest, they probably are. He moves with a kind of casual arrogance, his presence larger than life even among his teammates. You’ve heard his name a dozen times, always tied to words like prodigy or superstar, but seeing him in person is something else entirely.

And then it happens.

As if sensing your gaze, he glances your way. It’s quick, just a flicker, but enough for his eyes to find yours. Time slows—or maybe it’s just your imagination—because for a moment, it feels like he’s staring straight through the noise and chaos of the arena, right at you. There’s something in his expression—curiosity, intrigue—that makes your breath hitch.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth lifting in a way that’s almost imperceptible, then turns his attention back to the court. But you notice the difference immediately. His movements become sharper, his energy more focused. Every pass, every shot, every step is precise, like he’s putting on a show and you’re the intended audience.

Lilah nudges you again. “I think LaMelo just checked you out.”

You laugh it off, but your pulse betrays you, thudding a little too hard against your ribs. You’re overthinking it, you tell yourself. It’s just a coincidence, an accident.

On the court, LaMelo thrives in the rhythm of the game. He’s always been good at this—reading plays, threading passes, finding space where none should exist. But tonight, something feels different. There’s a spark under his skin, a hum that makes every move sharper, every decision quicker. He knows exactly why.

Between plays, he glances toward the courtside seats again, where you’re sitting with Lilah Bridges. He doesn’t even know your name, but he can’t stop looking. There’s something about the way you’re perched there, so effortlessly composed, your laugh soft but luminous whenever Lilah says something funny. The arena lights hit your face just right, making you impossible to miss, even with the chaos of the game surrounding him.

“Yo, Melo,” Miles mutters during a timeout, smirking as he catches LaMelo glancing toward the sideline. “You good? You’ve been zoned in all night.”

LaMelo grabs a water bottle and takes a quick sip, playing it cool. “I’m always locked in.”

Miles doesn’t let up, chuckling as he leans closer. “Nah, not like this. You’ve been balling like you got something to prove. Who’s got you locked in like that?” He follows LaMelo’s line of sight, and when his gaze lands on you, his grin widens. “Ahhh, I see. You’re been peepin’ Lilah’s friend.”

LaMelo doesn’t confirm or deny it, but the way he smirks back says enough. “Who is she?” he asks, keeping his voice low, casual.

Miles shrugs, wiping his face with a towel. “That’s Lilah’s girl. She’s cool, real chill. Don’t know if she’s your type, though.”

LaMelo raises an eyebrow, his confidence peeking through. “What makes you think she’s not my type?”

Miles laughs, shaking his head. “Man, I’m just saying. She doesn’t seem like the type to get caught up in all... this.” He gestures vaguely to the court, the arena, the larger-than-life spectacle that comes with being LaMelo Ball.

LaMelo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he lets his eyes drift back to you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward when he catches you clapping at something Lilah says. There’s something about you that feels... different. It’s not just the way you look, though that’s definitely a big part of it. It’s the way you carry yourself, like you’re perfectly content to stay in the background, even though the spotlight would suit you just fine.

“She doesn’t have to get caught up in all this,” he finally says, dribbling the ball idly as the timeout winds down. “I just wanna know her name.”

Miles shakes his head, chuckling. “Good luck with that, man. Lilah’s probably gonna run interference if she thinks you’re trying to pull something.”

LaMelo grins, his confidence unwavering. “Guess I’ll just have to ask her myself.”

When the whistle blows and the game resumes, he’s locked in again—but this time, it’s with a purpose. He’s not just playing for the win. He’s playing to make sure he earns your attention, the same way you’ve unknowingly captured his.

The ball is in his hands again, and LaMelo moves like the court is his stage. Each dribble echoes, every pass and shot calculated to perfection. He’s already good at this—great, even—but tonight, he’s playing like he’s got something to prove. To himself? Maybe. To you? Definitely.

He steals a glance toward the sideline during a lull in the game. You’re still there, leaning slightly toward Lilah as the two of you talk. Whatever she just said has you laughing, your head tilted back, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as if to stifle the sound. It’s unguarded, genuine. LaMelo feels his focus falter for half a second, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“Yo, stay with me!” His teammate barks as he claps his hands, trying to pull LaMelo’s attention back to the game.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” LaMelo says, waving him off. And he is good—better than good, actually. He’s in a rhythm now, and the team is feeding off his energy. Every basket he scores gets the crowd louder, and every assist he dishes out has the bench on their feet.

But you’re still there, just at the edge of his vision, a quiet distraction that’s becoming harder to ignore.

By halftime, the Hornets are up by ten, and the arena is buzzing with excitement. LaMelo plops down on the bench, catching his breath. Sweat drips from his hairline, and he swipes at it with a towel. As the coaches huddle the team together, his thoughts drift back to you.

Miles is the first to notice. Again.

“You ain��t slick, bro,” Miles says, shaking his head with a grin as he grabs a Gatorade. “I saw you peeking at her all through the second quarter.”

LaMelo scoffs, though he doesn’t bother denying it. “I wasn’t peeking. I was glancing. Big difference.”

Miles laughs, the sound low and knowing. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself. I’m just saying—don’t let Coach catch you getting distracted out here.”

“I’m not distracted,” LaMelo shoots back, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. His smirk is quick, confident. “I’m locked in. You see the score?”

“Yeah, yeah, we see it,” Miles says, rolling his eyes. “But don’t think I didn’t catch you asking about her earlier. You really gonna make a move on Lilah’s friend?”

“Why not?” LaMelo’s answer is immediate, like he’s already decided.

Miles shakes his head, taking another sip of his drink. “She doesn’t look like the type to fall for all that charm you’re so proud of.”

LaMelo just grins, leaning back against the bench as the coaches wrap up their halftime pep talk. “Good. That’s the fun part.”

The game resumes, and LaMelo’s energy is sharper than ever. The crowd roars with every shot he makes, every assist he dishes. He’s putting on a clinic, and it’s impossible not to notice. The announcers are hyped, the fans are on their feet, and even his teammates are feeding off his fire.

And yet, every time he scores, his eyes flicker back to you.

It’s subtle—so quick that most people wouldn’t catch it—but Miles does. And so does Lilah, apparently. By the fourth quarter, she’s leaning over to whisper something to you, a sly smile on her face. You glance toward the court briefly, and for a split second, your eyes meet LaMelo’s again.

That’s when he knows.

The final buzzer sounds, and the Hornets walk off the court victorious. The energy in the arena is electric, fans cheering as the players exchange high-fives and congratulations. But LaMelo’s already thinking about the afterparty.

As he heads to the locker room, he catches up with Miles. “So, what’s the move tonight?”

Miles raises an eyebrow. “Why you asking me? You don’t usually roll through these things like that.”

LaMelo shrugs, keeping his tone casual. “Just curious. Lilah’s coming, right?”

“Yeah,” Miles says slowly, catching on. “And I’m guessing her friend will be there too?”

LaMelo doesn’t answer, but the look on his face says it all.

Miles chuckles, shaking his head as they head down the tunnel. “Man, you’re bold. Good luck with that one. She’s way out of your league.”

LaMelo smirks, the challenge lighting a spark in his chest. “No such thing as out of my league.”

As he steps into the locker room, his mind is already racing. He doesn’t know much about you yet—just the way you look when you laugh and the fact that you’ve already got him playing like he’s got something to prove.

But he’s determined to find out more.

The afterparty is in full swing by the time you and Lilah walk in, the pulsing bass of the music vibrating through the floor as laughter and conversation fill the space. It’s one of those places that feels effortlessly cool—dim lights, plush leather seating, and enough space for the players to spread out without it feeling cramped. You weren’t planning to have too much fun tonight, but the energy in the room is infectious.

Lilah tugs you along toward the bar, her arm looped through yours. “Okay, first rule of these parties,” she says, grinning as she leans in close, “always let me order your first drink. Miles swears I have good luck when it comes to the bartenders.”

You laugh, watching as she flags someone down with a wave and effortlessly orders for both of you. A minute later, a glass of something bright and fizzy is pressed into your hand. You take a sip, pleasantly surprised by how smooth it is, the citrusy kick warming you from the inside.

“Good, right?” Lilah asks, already sipping hers.

You nod, letting the drink loosen you up as you glance around the room. The players are scattered across the space, some tucked into booths with their significant others, others leaning against the bar, laughing and clinking glasses. It’s easy to spot LaMelo. He’s tall, for one thing, but it’s more than that. He has this magnetism about him, like the energy of the room shifts wherever he goes.

And right now, his attention is on you.

You notice it immediately—the way his eyes seem to find you no matter where you stand. He’s subtle about it, leaning casually against the bar as he talks to one of his teammates, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. But every so often, his gaze flickers in your direction, lingering just a beat too long before returning to his conversation.

At first, you try to brush it off. He’s probably like this with everyone, you tell yourself. Smooth, confident, the kind of guy who knows the effect he has on people. But the longer it goes on, the harder it is to ignore. Each glance feels deliberate, like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see how you’ll react.

And you can’t help it—you start to react.

You catch yourself standing a little straighter, your laugh a little more unguarded, the occasional glance in his direction just to see if he’s still looking. He always is. It’s a game, one that you didn’t realize you’d started playing, but now that you’re in it, you can’t seem to stop.

“Okay, spill,” Lilah says suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. She’s leaning against the bar beside you, her lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Spill what?” you ask, trying to sound casual as you take another sip of your drink.

She tilts her head toward LaMelo, who’s still standing across the room, his attention now fully on you. “Don’t play dumb. I saw the way you two were eyeing each other. What’s the deal?”

“There’s no deal,” you say quickly, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you.

“Uh-huh.” Lilah doesn’t look convinced. “He’s been staring at you all night, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you keep looking back.”

“I’m not—” you start to protest, but she cuts you off with a laugh.

“Relax,” she says, her tone playful. “I’m not judging. I mean, it’s LaMelo. He’s... well, you’ve seen him. But I’m just saying, if you’re into it, I’d say the interest is mutual.”

You glance back toward him, and sure enough, his eyes meet yours. This time, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he raises his glass slightly in a silent toast, his smirk deepening when you feel yourself falter under his gaze. There’s something disarming about the way he looks at you—confident but not cocky, curious but not overbearing.

“See?” Lilah teases, nudging you with her elbow. “I told you.”

You shake your head, laughing softly as you turn your attention back to her. “I’m just here to have a good time, Lilah. That’s all.”

“And you should,” she says, her smile widening. “But just so you know, if you’re not careful, he’s going to be the highlight of your night.”

You don’t respond, but the way your pulse quickens at her words tells you she might be right.

The party is in full swing now, the music loud enough to vibrate through the soles of your heels, and the energy in the room has shifted into something more electric. A few drinks in, you’re feeling looser, lighter. Lilah’s infectious laughter and Miles’s constant teasing have you at ease, your initial hesitations about the night fading into the background.

You’re seated now, perched on one of the low leather couches with Lilah on one side and Miles on the other, their banter flying back and forth like a friendly game of verbal ping-pong. You chime in every now and then, mostly to laugh or roll your eyes at one of Miles’s exaggerated stories about life on the road with the team.

“Tell me I’m lying,” Miles says, leaning back with a triumphant grin after his latest tale.

“You’re lying,” Lilah shoots back immediately, taking a sip of her drink.

You laugh, shaking your head as you reach for your own glass. The world around you feels pleasantly fuzzy, the edges softened by the buzz in your veins.

“Y’all don’t believe anything I say,” Miles grumbles, though his tone is more amused than annoyed.

“We believe the parts that make sense,” you counter, flashing him a teasing smile.

“Oh, she’s got jokes now,” Miles says, nudging you with his elbow. “Lilah, where’d you find her? She’s got a little spice.”

Lilah grins, leaning toward you conspiratorially. “You should see her when she’s really on a roll. She’ll have you questioning your whole life.”

You laugh again, the sound light and unguarded. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this carefree, and you let yourself sink into it, the atmosphere wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see him.

LaMelo.

He’s making his way across the room, his long strides purposeful but not rushed. He’s dressed casually—ripped jeans, a designer jacket, and a chain that catches the light just right—but there’s something about the way he carries himself that makes him impossible to ignore.

“Yo, Miles,” LaMelo calls out as he approaches, his voice cutting through the hum of the party.

Miles looks up, grinning as he leans back against the couch. “What’s good, Melo?”

LaMelo stops in front of the group, his hands tucked into his pockets as he nods toward Miles. “Just making my rounds. What’re you over here talking about?”

“Oh, you know, just telling these ladies about how I carried you last season,” Miles says, his grin widening.

LaMelo rolls his eyes, his smile lazy and amused. “Yeah, sure. That’s why your stats were looking real pedestrian, huh?”

Lilah laughs, nudging Miles. “Don’t let him come over here and do you like that.”

“I’m gonna let him have it,” Miles says with a wave of his hand. “Only because I’m in a good mood.”

LaMelo chuckles, his gaze sliding over to you for the first time. His smile softens, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

“And who’s this?” he asks, his voice dropping just slightly, the playful lilt in his tone unmistakable.

Lilah jumps in before you can answer, her grin smug. “This is my girl. Be nice, Melo.”

LaMelo raises his hands in mock surrender, his eyes still on you. “I’m always nice.”

You can’t help but smile, the warmth of his attention settling over you like a spotlight. “I’m [Your Name],” you say, your voice steady despite the way your pulse has quickened.

“LaMelo,” he says, extending a hand toward you. His fingers are warm when they close around yours, his grip firm but not overpowering.

“I know,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His smile deepens, a flash of teeth that somehow feels both charming and dangerous. “You know, huh? Should I be flattered or nervous?”

“Depends,” you reply, your lips curving into a sly smile. “Do you usually get nervous when someone knows who you are?”

Miles lets out a low whistle, shaking his head as he looks between the two of you. “Oh, this is about to be good.”

LaMelo chuckles, leaning slightly closer, though he’s careful not to invade your space. “I don’t get nervous,” he says, his tone easy but confident. “But I gotta admit, you got me curious now.”

“Curious about what?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“About you,” he says simply. “Lilah’s been holding out on me.”

“Oh, don’t drag me into this,” Lilah says, laughing as she raises her hands. “You can ask her whatever you want. I’m staying out of it.”

The conversation flows easily after that, his questions playful but sincere, your answers just teasing enough to keep him on his toes. The world around you fades, the music and the chatter of the party becoming a distant hum as you go back and forth.

Every now and then, you catch Lilah watching you, a small, knowing smile on her face. You can feel the heat of LaMelo’s gaze every time he looks at you, and you’re not sure if it’s the drinks or the chemistry between you, but you find yourself leaning into it, letting the moment stretch and unfold in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

And when he laughs—low and genuine—you realize you don’t mind it at all.

As the conversation flows, Lilah gives you a sly smile and stands, tugging on Miles’s arm. “Come on, babe, let’s grab another round,” she says, her tone overly casual.

Miles glances at her, then at you and LaMelo, and smirks knowingly. “Oh, I see how it is. Melo’s about to show off his ‘game,’ huh?”

“Go,” Lilah says, rolling her eyes and shoving his shoulder lightly. She looks at you one last time, her expression smug. “Have fun, girl.”

You watch them disappear into the crowd, your laugh trailing after them, but the moment they’re gone, you feel the shift in the air. It’s subtle, like the space between you and LaMelo suddenly carries a different weight.

“Guess it’s just us now,” LaMelo says, leaning back against the couch with an easy confidence.

“Looks like it,” you reply, glancing at him over the rim of your glass.

“So,” he starts, stretching the word out as his eyes flicker over you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, “how long you been friends with Lilah?”

You set your glass down on the low table in front of you and cross your legs, meeting his gaze head-on. “Long enough to know she’s trouble.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, Miles says the same thing, but I think they balance each other out.”

“Definitely,” you agree, your lips curving into a small smile. “She keeps him in check, though. You should’ve seen her last week when he left his sneakers in the living room. I thought she was going to throw them out the window.”

LaMelo laughs, shaking his head. “Miles? Yeah, that sounds about right. Dude’s messy as hell. He leaves his stuff everywhere in the locker room too.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “And you’re not messy?”

He smirks, leaning forward a bit. “I didn’t say that. But I’m smarter about it. I know when to clean up.”

“Oh, so you’re strategic about your messiness,” you tease, the corner of your mouth twitching upward.

“Exactly,” he says, his grin widening. “You get it.”

There’s a pause, not awkward but charged, the kind of silence that feels more like a question waiting to be answered. His eyes stay locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze softened by the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“You’re not what I expected,” he says finally, his tone thoughtful.

You blink, surprised. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, leaning back again, his arms draped casually along the top of the couch. “I don’t know. Most people at these parties, they’re either trying too hard to impress or acting like they don’t care at all. But you… you’re different.”

“Different how?” you ask, narrowing your eyes slightly.

He tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re real. Like, you’re here, but you’re not trying to be seen, you know? And you’re funny. Most people wouldn’t call me out for being messy two minutes into a conversation.”

You laugh, feeling a flush of warmth creep up your neck. “Well, maybe you’re just easy to tease.”

“Oh, I am?” he asks, his eyebrows lifting in mock surprise.

“Definitely,” you say, your tone playful. “You’ve got that vibe.”

“What vibe?”

“The kind that says you’re used to getting your way, so you don’t know what to do when someone gives you a hard time.”

He lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Damn, you don’t hold back, huh?”

“Not really,” you admit, shrugging. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

“I don’t,” he says, his voice softening just enough to make your stomach flip. “I like it.”

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade, the noise of the party dulling to a distant hum. He’s leaning slightly closer now, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room. And maybe it’s the drinks or the way his smile feels like a secret he’s letting you in on, but you find yourself leaning in too, just enough to match his energy.

“What about you?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What about me?”

“Why are you here tonight?”

You laugh softly, gesturing toward the general chaos of the party. “Lilah dragged me, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he echoes, his smile turning teasing. “But you’re staying. That means something.”

“Maybe I just like good company,” you counter, raising an eyebrow.

“And am I good company?” he asks, his tone dipping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You meet his gaze, holding it for a beat longer than you probably should. “You’re okay,” you say finally, your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“Just okay?” he asks, feigning offense as he presses a hand to his chest. “Damn, I thought I was doing better than that.”

“You could be,” you reply, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Guess you’ll have to step up your game.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Alright, I see how it is. You’re a challenge.”

“Is that a... bad thing?”

“Not at all,” he says, his grin softening into something more genuine. “I like a challenge.”

And just like that, the banter shifts into something deeper, the playful teasing giving way to a quieter connection. You can feel it in the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to memorize every detail, and in the way your own walls start to lower, letting him in just a little more than you expected.

And for the first time that night, you wonder if Lilah was right. Maybe this party was worth it after all.

The night deepens, the party’s energy settling into a comfortable rhythm as conversations grow louder and laughter fills the spaces between songs. The buzz of a few drinks has made everything feel lighter, easier, and you find yourself more at ease than you’ve been in a while.

LaMelo is right there with you, his laughter rich and unrestrained, his eyes lighting up every time you say something witty. You’ve lost track of time somewhere between his playful teasing and the stories you’ve been swapping, your banter feeling less like a first meeting and more like reconnecting with someone you’ve known forever.

“You fell off a jet ski because... you weren’t paying attention?” you say, your laughter bubbling over as he shakes his head, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

“I wasn’t paying attention because my brother was trying to race me!” he defends, leaning forward as if his explanation will make it sound less ridiculous.

“And how’d that work out for you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He laughs, shrugging. “It didn’t. Clearly.”

You shake your head, the grin on your face refusing to fade. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he says, his gaze steady on yours. There’s something in his tone, in the way he looks at you right then, that sends a small thrill through you.

As the conversation flows, the space between you feels smaller, even though neither of you has moved. The music thumps steadily in the background, but it’s like you’ve created your own bubble, the party fading into a distant hum.

At some point, Lilah and Miles return to your little corner, Lilah plopping down next to you with an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, I’m officially tired,” she announces, though the glint in her eye suggests she’s anything but.

“You’re always tired,” Miles teases, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t start,” she warns, though her smile softens the words. Her gaze flickers between you and LaMelo, and you can see the gears turning in her head.

“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her suspicious expression.

“Nothing,” she says, dragging the word out as she leans closer. “Just noticing how much fun you’re having over here.”

“Lilah,” you warn, though you can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t mind her,” LaMelo says, his voice easy and warm. “She’s just jealous I’m better company than she is.”

“Oh, please,” Lilah scoffs, though she looks thoroughly entertained. “Anyway, we’re heading out soon. You two wrapping this up or what?”

You glance at LaMelo, unsure how to answer, but he beats you to it. “Not yet,” he says simply, his eyes still on you.

Miles chuckles, standing and pulling Lilah to her feet. “Alright, we’ll leave you to it. Don’t have too much fun now.”

“We won’t,” you say, rolling your eyes as they walk away, though you can feel your cheeks heating.

LaMelo leans back, his expression unreadable for a moment before he smiles. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “They’re just... nosy.”

“They mean well,” he says, his tone easy. “But they’re definitely nosy.”

You laugh, and just like that, the playful atmosphere returns. Another round of drinks later, you’re both laughing over some absurd story he’s telling about a teammate, the kind of laughter that makes your stomach ache and your eyes water. You can’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable with someone so quickly, and it’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

As the night winds down, you find yourself sitting closer to him than you were before, the warmth of his presence almost tangible. When the conversation finally slows, he looks at you, his expression softening.

“This was fun,” he says, his voice quieter than it’s been all night.

“It was,” you agree, smiling.

“I should probably let you go before Lilah comes back and drags you out of here,” he says, though there’s a reluctant note in his tone.

“Probably,” you say, but neither of you moves right away.

After a beat, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, holding it out to you. “Here. Put your number in.”

You hesitate for only a second before taking it, your fingers tapping at the screen as you save your contact. When you hand it back, he glances at it, his smile widening just slightly. “Got it.”

You stand together, and he walks you toward where Lilah and Miles are waiting near the entrance. LaMelo lingers as you say your goodbyes, his hands tucked into his pockets and that easy smile still on his face.

“You heading out too?” Miles asks, clapping LaMelo on the back.

“Yeah, in a bit,” he says, his eyes flickering to you briefly.

As you step outside into the cool night air, Lilah hooks her arm through yours, a knowing smile on her face. “Well, that went better than I expected,” she says as you walk toward the car.

“What do you mean?” you ask, though you can feel your heart beating a little faster.

“I mean,” she says, drawing the word out, “that Melo doesn’t usually exchange phone numbers. He usually... invites girls over.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice softer than you intended.

“Oh,” Lilah mimics, her grin widening. “Girl, he’s interested. And don’t act like you’re not, too.”

You don’t reply, but the small smile that creeps across your face says more than words ever could.

The morning sunlight filtered through your curtains, warm but unwelcome as it coaxed you awake. You squinted at the brightness, groaning softly as you turned over in bed. The faint hum of last night’s energy still lingered in your veins, memories of laughter and teasing banter replaying in fragments. Your mind, unbidden, drifted back to LaMelo. The way his smile had crinkled the corners of his eyes, the low timbre of his laugh, the quiet confidence that seemed to fill the space around him.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand, swiping it open almost instinctively. No messages. Your stomach sank a little, disappointment curling low in your chest. Not that you were expecting anything—not really. Still, you’d exchanged numbers. It wasn’t unreasonable to think he’d reach out. A simple “good morning” or a follow-up joke from last night. Something.

But the screen stayed blank.

With a huff, you tossed the phone aside, telling yourself it didn’t matter. You barely knew him. He owed you nothing. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the slight pang of rejection. Shaking off the feeling, you got out of bed and set about your day, throwing yourself into work to keep your mind from wandering too much.

The next few days passed in a blur of tasks and deadlines. You kept busy—busier than usual, if only to distract yourself from the lingering thoughts of LaMelo. You told yourself you weren’t thinking about him, that you didn’t care whether he texted or not. But every time your phone buzzed, your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat before you realized it was just an email or a message from Lilah.

By midweek, you’d all but convinced yourself to forget about him entirely. Clearly, whatever connection you thought you’d felt hadn’t been mutual. And that was fine. Disappointing, sure, but fine. You’d move on. You always did.

It was late afternoon when it happened. You were sitting at your desk, half-focused on your laptop while sipping from a cup of tea. Your phone vibrated on the table beside you, a faint buzz you almost ignored. But something made you glance over.

One new message.

You picked up the phone, the screen lighting up in your hand. And there it was.

hey, it’s lamelo

Two words. That was all it took to send your heart into an unreasonably giddy tailspin. You stared at the message, your mind scrambling for a response even as your pulse quickened. You tried to play it cool, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal. But the stupid smile tugging at your lips betrayed you completely.

For a moment, you just held the phone, rereading the message as if it might disappear. Finally, you started typing back, deleting and retyping several times before settling on a response.

hi, took you long enough

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the send button. Was that too flirty? Too casual? But before you could overthink it any further, you hit send, the message disappearing into the ether.

The wait for his reply felt endless, though it couldn’t have been more than a minute. When your phone buzzed again, your heart leapt.

had to make sure you’d still be interested

You laughed out loud, shaking your head at his audacity. It was classic LaMelo—cocky but somehow charming enough to pull it off.

and what if i wasn’t? you shot back, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

His response came almost immediately.

guess i’d have to work harder to change your mind

You smiled, biting your lip to keep from grinning too widely. If there was one thing LaMelo knew how to do, it was keep you on your toes. And, despite yourself, you realized you were more than okay with that.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[psychotrenny]

This summary post will be the last post on Aaron Bushnell unless something else comes up. I've been talking a lot about it recently because I've been quite frustrated with the consensus opinion that has emerged among digitally active Western progressives, even those who claim to be materialists.

At this point I don't have any problem with the man himself; even as willing member of the US military the fact he eventually came to terms with the cruelty he was responsible for and felt the need to do something drastic about it puts him far above your average imperialist. And whatever you can say about his actions it cannot be denied that he had good intentions that he acted upon with deep courage and conviction. Nor do I have any problem (nor a right to do so) with the Palestinian response, both at home and in the diaspora. As a brutally oppressed people facing a genocide that most of the world is either complicit or actively involved in, it's fair enough for them to gratefully accept any form of solidarity and support they feel is genuine and valuable. Aaron Bushnell is ultimately as much a martyr as anyone; he died in the name of Palestine in the hopes that one day it would be free

My problems is the response by large numbers of Western Progressives who've seen fit to valourise this man in a way far out of proportion with the actual impact of his actions. Self-immolation has never been a very effective political tactic, especially when compared to it's immense costs. Even if it was a useful tactic, the efficacy of it has barely registered as a point of discussion. There's been such an intense focus on praising the personal moral qualities he displayed with the actual impacts of his actions being largely ignored. Like he's being held up as this sort of ultimate hero despite not actually achieving all that much, while the material achievements (and sacrifices) of Palestinian resistance fighters receive a fraction of the attention. Like for a lot of people it seems as though they needed some sort of dead white hero to latch onto, a 21st century John Brown, and it's just discomforting how much praise and attention he's getting compared to all the millions of martyred people in Palestine. The fact is that I've seen far more adulation for Bushnell from people who were already (ostensibly) pro-Palestine than from those who were "converted" by his action so to speak

The fact that Bushnell committed an ultimately pacifistic act probably helps; for a lot of liberals it's much more comforting to praise the passive resistance that holds it's moral high ground than to deal with the apparent messiness of those who commit violence against others in the name of liberation. Like when Western Progressives do talk about Palestinians they offer far more sympathy and attention the helpless innocents than they do to any actual resistance fighters. And this sort of thing is bad enough on it's own but it also reflects the way that the Western Left consistently prefers their heroes to be dead and morally pure* even at the cost of defeat and usually find some way to disown those who live long enough to exercise any power. Like for all those who were more moved Aaron Bushnell's sacrifice than by the sufferings and struggles of the millions in Palestine itself, I can't help but be skeptical about how much their support means. So many Westerners seem incapable of supporting Palestinians on terms other than their pity for a faceless suffering mass

*ideally non-violent, if not then violent through noble revolution as opposed to authoritarian oppression

[genderqueerdykes]

do u have any advice for being trans and just dealing with the,, unadulterated queer rage that comes with just seeing,, everything that’s been happening?

ooooo boy. kinda

admittedly i'm very angry every day, it's impossible to quell the anger. that's honestly why i do what i do- i put a lot of my time and effort into helping people get access to resources and get the help that they need because now more than ever we need solidarity and knowledge more than anything

if you're able to, work with your local trans and/or queer community especially, see what you can do to help people you can directly affect. if you are disabled or homeless or struggle with getting out and helping in person i understand, that's not always doable.

some people find success in helping pass along resources online. you can organize chats and facebook groups and things of the like for local queers and help pass along information about informed consent clinics, planned parenthood, local endocrinologists and sex reassignment surgeons, gender affirming care resources, etc. even as so much as sending a few emails with resources to someone can change their life

i am very scatter brained so admittedly i'm not great at figuring out how to affect the legal side of things yet. i do not work well with authority figures and i can't figure out how to stay civil and sane while thinking about the disgusting tyranny we are now living under. my best advice is to try to get people to safety and resources. i don't really know much about contacting senators. if anyone does feel free to pitch in, but this is where i struggle. see if you can organize a protest if possible, that may be a good place to start

anyway, if none of those things are your cup of tea, just be yourself unabashedly. i wear drag every single time i leave my home now. i wear wigs and makeup and garish outfits and let people know i am not cis at every opportunity. i cover myself in trans flags and pronoun pins and am very uncaring of whatever assholes may try to fuck with me. sometimes being brave and being yourself helps others, too

i hope like, any of that helped. i am also very angry right now and i understand, there is a fire under my ass that i cannot ignore, this is absurd. thanks for reaching out, take care, i hope you feel better soon

[periprose]

https://www.tumblr.com/periprose/738633982543036416

respectfully, this is very ignorant of you, just because you don't see what that kind of support has done, it doesn't mean that it's useless, as someone who has family that's affected by the current events it means a lot that people are spreading awareness and talking about to this day, and with what south africa is currently doing, it's proof that it is indeed helpful, posting about what's going on, is one of the many ways to show solidarity for the injustice palestinians are facing, even the smallest action can go a long way.

Long response under the cut:

Anon you are talking to a south Asian woman whose family was directly affected by genocide in Sri Lanka. Think about who you’re talking to. It’s also extremely weird of you to say that I’m somehow ignorant of support. I see “support,” I’m saying that I don’t think it is the extent of true support as people think it is.

I think awareness has a use to an extent but I’m allowed to think it’s useless when overall I’ve seen the lack of help it’s done for certain communities. At some point it just becomes sensationalist, doomed stuff for western audiences to sympathize with and not anything more. I am proud of people making efforts for Palestine, but the vast majority of people out there will use this as an attempt to show solidarity and nothing more. I’ve seen this happen with Sri Lankan politics online, with very intricate Tamil issues becoming nothing more than hashtags and content for people to make trend and then forget about again.

And people posting just for the sake of posting drowns out the posts which we should actually listen to. Not every person with a blog needs to state “free Palestine” when that should already be obvious. It comes across as patronizing, a sad way to sum up the real geo-political issue at hand, especially when most of these people would not put their money where their mouth is, and only say these things to fit in with a trend. Like where is the actual help?

See BLM or Breonna Taylor. Forgive me for being cynical of western politics I guess.

Also I can put what I think is relevant on my blog. If you took my post as being unsupportive of Palestine, I am sorry for that. I just don’t see how my fanfiction blog is going to help anyone if I just make a post stating how I support freeing Palestine. I know it’s a privilege to have a blog for fun, but that does not mean I’m ignoring the genocide at hand. You don’t know what I do IRL or what news I’m keeping up with. And a lot of those posts are guilt tripping people, because then people will reblog and feel as if they made a difference. That original post I reblogged detailed great ways to actually help people IRL instead of internet activism. Awareness is not worth as much as you think.

My dad went through extreme poverty in Sri Lanka, and the aftermath of a genocide on our people. Please do not think I don’t know what I’m talking about or that I’m very spoiled and ignorant like you’re trying to say. He himself thinks the internet is all a bunch of talk, helpful in spreading info, but not helpful in making changes. At the end of the day he agrees it’s about money, whether that’s donating or boycotts, and I agree with him because I know what he went through.

I also have personally made efforts to help Palestine in my own personal life and I hope you have too, because that’s what significantly counts to me, not whatever our digital footprints are. People can think different about this, if you think lesser of me for thinking internet activism doesn’t do much, then just unfollow or get off my blog.

[ghoulfr13nd]

hi!! op i care you too 🥺🥺 im making us a friendship bracelet as we speak it shall have a ton of music notes!! 🎶 fgsdjk

aspect playlists are really so much fun! it combines classpect analysis and music! the best of two worlds! :D me and my friend made a shared playlist for every aspect and that was a blast! (and as it turns out we have the most music in rage aspect even though neither of us are rage we just listen to rage-y vibes a lot fsdgh) also pls tell me what's your classpect i need to know! 👀

omg im glad you had fun but also so sorry for the parking incident (honestly, felt that, i scraped my car in front of others too i know how you feel ;v; i shake ur hand in solidarity 🤝) and ooooh! hope you also had fun on other concerts too seems like you did! and you know? i actually havent considered earplugs! maybe it'd be good to test it, especially since in 2025 Billie Ellish will be on the tour and will visit my country (where a chance like that doesn't happen often! :O )

oh my god excuse me while i let myself to go on a little longer rant here gfjksdfh you mentioned Matt and Kim being a required listen to know you, and well, if i'd have to point to any band that would be the same for me Rammstein would probably be the one, it has so many memories attached to it and it's Up There in my fave bands ranking! fgsdjf for recommendations though: Links 2 3 4, Sonne , Amerika, Moskau and Rosenrot are my absolute faves! :D (<- i'm holding myself from recommending like 20 songs here fgdjfksa) oh also! Rammstein is a german band so if you'd be curious about their lyrics there are probably translations somewhere! of course it's not necessary to enjoy their music but i think they're totally worth looking into in free time, they add a lot, i love their lyrics! gdfjsdf (i mean Equilibrium is german too but honestly i listen to them mostly for the vibes and they also sing in english so- shrug fgdfsd) speaking of! for Equilibrium I'd reccomend Met, Karawane and Tornado! :D pls let me know what you'll think im curious!

have a good day/night!

music anon 🎶

alright music anon 🎶 the wait is over — thank you for being patient!!

i haven’t made any of my own aspect playlists in the time since we spoke last but i’m keeping it on my to-do list!! i would love to hear some of the songs you chose for yours, and i’ve had a great idea that i’ll circle back around to!

i LOVE talking classpects though! i put a lot of effort into choosing mine back in the day, and identified as Witch of Void for a long time. however, I wasn’t sure if I identified with that anymore, so I wanted to re-take the quiz before I answered you. I got Maid of Breath or Maid of Light this time, and both seem very fitting, but I’m not sure how strongly I feel about either.

(If you’re curious — for YEARS I have sworn by this quiz combined with this classpect analysis. I ignore the non-canon classpects on the quiz, though, personally. If I went by that, I’d be a Star of Blaze, which sounds pretty cool but I don’t know what any of that means, so…)

Also you MUST tell me your’s!!!! I at one point made all of my friends, including the non-homestuck ones, to figure out their classpects, I am so serious about it. its my favorite personality test that I am perhaps a little intense about. uh. anyway.

SHAKING YOUR HAND IN SOLIDARITY YOU GET ME !!!!!!!!!!!! this is also re: your other ask but i love that we are both bpd scratched-car twins. what a pair, us.

I HOPE YOU GET TO GO SEE BILLIE!!!! And that it isn’t overwhelming for you! For me, seeing artists I love, live, is a very personal thing. Being able to sing and cheer and dance with the rest of the crowd is a spiritual thing for me. Especially if it’s one of my gender-playlist artists! I’m only half-joking when I say I think I just need to see every band on it live and then I’ll finally evolve into my final form.

And on that note, that brings us to your required listening. Music anon, I have taken this so seriously. I’m holding these songs in my hands. I want to do right by you.

So. First impressions. I have to admit to you, anon, German is so foreign to me that I could not help but find it a little silly at first. That being said, the longer I listen to it, the more I ease into the sounds. I did this initial listen-through at work, when I first got your ask (which I received a full 23 hours after you sent it! I checked!). The sounds are fun!

However, I didn’t want this to be the entirety of my experience with them. Which comes to the part that took me so long to get around to — looking up the translated lyrics, and re-listening to all the songs with a little more context. This was an important step to me! I want to understand what you love about them!

My favorites from Rammstein were Links 2 3 4 and Sonne, and Karawane was my favorite from Equilibrium. Links 2 3 4 was the first one I listened to and the one I thought “german sounds so strange” about, but I really enjoyed it my second go around!!

Do you have any particular thoughts about the songs you chose? I’d love to hear what you’re thinkin!

Also, to circle back around to the idea I had — I know you were hesitant about sharing actual playlists with me, but how about sending me lists of the songs and letting me put the playlist together myself? I actually already started one with the songs you recommended!! Let me know what you think, and don’t be afraid to tell me no if you’re not into it.

I hope you have a very good day/night as well, anon!!

[automatismoateo]

Silenced again for speaking out Stop silencing ex-Muslims via /r/atheism

Silenced again for speaking out, Stop silencing ex-Muslims I previously posted here about being banned from r/awfuleverything after quoting Quran 4:34 in a discussion about a tragic case of domestic violence. I didn’t insult anyone or spread hate. All I did was point out how the verse explicitly allows a man to beat his wife if he deems her disobedient. That’s it. No hate speech, no bigotry; just the text. Within an hour, I was permanently banned. Now, my post on r/atheism about that incident has also been removed. No explanation, no warning, no accountability from the moderators. And this is the exact problem: the voices of ex-Muslims are constantly silenced while Islam is given a free pass. So let’s talk about what it means to be an ex-Muslim. In over a dozen countries, we are legally sentenced to death for apostasy. In countless others, we face social ostracism, threats, and violence from our own families and communities. Many of us live in hiding, cut off from our loved ones, simply because we dared to leave a religion (source). Here is a Persecution Tracker that shows the cases where people were either put to death or jailed. Where is the outrage for us? Why is there no solidarity from the progressive spaces that claim to stand for freedom, human rights, and equality? Instead, we’re vilified, ignored, or lumped in with far-right extremists simply for speaking out against the ideology that literally calls for our execution. This isn’t Islamophobia. It’s the reality of what ex-Muslims face every day. And let’s not sugarcoat this: Islam, as a doctrine, doesn’t just condone these practices, it mandates them. The Quran and hadiths explicitly call for the punishment, even death, of apostates. If you want to dispute that, feel free to look up the sources yourself. The Quran, in Surah An-Nisa 4:89: “But if they turn back (from Islam), seize them and kill them wherever you find them…” It’s not up for debate. But no, instead of acknowledging these facts, people rush to protect Islam like it’s some fragile baby bird. Meanwhile, ex-Muslims, people who are fleeing persecution, fighting for basic human rights, and risking everything just to live authentically, are silenced at every turn. Let’s call this out for what it is: cowardice. It’s not progressive to ignore the suffering of ex-Muslims. It’s not inclusive to shield a harmful ideology from criticism while leaving its victims to fend for themselves. It’s hypocritical, it’s performative, and it’s disgusting. If you think criticizing Islam as an ideology or critiquing Muhammad and the Quran, is hateful, racist, or Islamophobic, then congratulations, you’ve chosen to side with a doctrine that justifies the execution of people like me. You’re not an ally. You’re part of the problem. We ex-Muslims are sick of being treated like pariahs for speaking the truth. We’re not asking for special treatment. All we’re asking for is basic human decency. Let us talk about the abuse, the injustices, and the harm that Islam perpetuates without being silenced, banned, or vilified. You don’t have to like what we say, but you damn well should respect our right to say it. Otherwise, you’re just proving that you don’t care about freedom or justice, you care about virtue signaling at the expense of the very people who need your support the most. PS: Sorry not sorry for being so direct and unfiltered, but I’m genuinely exhausted by the way ex-Muslims are treated. If you feel personally attacked by anything I’ve said, I encourage you to take a hard look within yourself. If this resonates uncomfortably, maybe it’s time to ask why. Submitted December 29, 2024 at 11:47AM by GodlessMorality (From Reddit https://ift.tt/pYdkcPI)

[goggles-mcgee]

Canonical Things in my Batman Universe

The Lego Batman Movie, the Keaton Batman, and Clooney Batman movies all exist in this universe purely because Jason and Tim forged Bruce's signature on the documents to allow studios to use him as Batman's secret identity because they wanted to fuck with Bruce and they thought it would be hilarious.

The Justice League has a movie night dedicated to said movies and Bruce loathes it because they all dress up.

Bruce has gone on live TV and said the reason why him and Batman are never seen together is because Bruce is scared of Batman because, holy shit the dude dresses up like a giant ass bat and he is "very scared of bats after that traumatizing experience in the cave I fell down as a boy."

This also applies to Manbat.

Damian volunteers at Gotham Zoo even though he has tried to smuggle put many of the animals.

Damian will also completely ignore the fact that Harley Quinn is just laying in the middle of the hyena exhibit because animal lover solidarity.

The Official Fuck Freud Club would absolutely be a thing in my comic universe. Harley would be seen more like a wine aunt to the boys and she is seen multiple times to be helping out the Batfam if they need it.

Gotham does not celebrate April Fool's because of the Joker.

Joker claims April Fool's is his birthday and has a city wide celebration and that's why people do their best to stay home.

Two-Face has tried multiple times to represent himself in court when he is taken in again after being arrested by the bat. But due to him arguing with himself too many times he has resigned to hiring one of Penguins lawyers.

Joker once robbed a toy store and was absolutely in one of his homicidal moods but when a kid handed him an Uno reverse card instead of any valuables he might have had, Joker laughed so hard he nearly passed out and just gave the kid his bag of money and walked away. But he did throw a molotov cocktail just for some fun.

Gas mask accessories are a thing.

So are customized gas masks.

Bringing clayface to a pottery class is no longer allowed (looking at you Harley)

Riddler, after he actually gets some help and everything and decided he doesn't want to try being a private detective again, opens an escape room company. He loves it. Bruce and the kids are frequent players.

Gothamites have some of the weirdest humor and they have absolutely named every gargoyle in the city.

During a fight a gargoyle gets destroyed. "Y'all they killed our boy Biscuit. May he rest in pieces 🙏"

Bruce Wayne has paid rogues to leave him alone

Buzzfeed: Gotham's 10 Hottest Tragic Orphans and Rehomed Orphans

Buzzfeed is absolutely a fucking thing so y'know the Unsolved channel is there too. What I'm saying is....conspiracy theories. So many conspiracy theories. Especially about Jason's death.

Yes both Harley and Scarecrow know that Bruce is Batman but neither knows the other knows so they think they are alone in dealing with this rich boy riddled with issues who is too brave and stupid for his own good.

Bruce sometimes is just too fucking tired to be intimidating Mr. Batman and just goes full tired dad and somehow that makes the rogues feel worse.

Examples: "Edward Nashton. Sit down and shut the fuck up you will not rob the museum for the fourth time this month." (This was before his whole escape room and it should be noted the speed at which Riddler sat down hearing that.)

King Tut up to his usual brand of bullshit. (I combine the two versions, William Ohama McElroy and Victor Goodman) "I'm not mad William. Just disappointed."

Just one of Joker's goons "Matty you were doing so good. You were back in school. What happened?"

One time Bruce was being held hostage at one of Gotham's charity galas and he asked any of his kids available for some help discreetly. Long story short Batman came to save the day while Bruce managed to get himself free of his restraints, he felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately punched who it was. It was Batman (Dick). This furthered the belief that Bruce is scared of Batman.

[thebibliosphere]

Feel very free to ignore this but yea . I'm starting to think I may have been underestimating how generally ill I am and that I may have something medically significant going on and it would be an understatement to say that its freaking me out a little bit. I grew up with my mom being chronically ill so I got it drilled into me that I basically had to grin and bear shit bc at least it wasnt as bad as hers. Any tips on dealing with this mindfuck lmao

Solidarity, friend. I grew up with a visibly disabled sibling, and it's still a mental slog sometimes to get past the whole "but at least you're not as bad as X" I get from some people just because I'm not as visibly affected.

It took me years to stop internalizing that too. I still struggle with it, sometimes.

Therapy helps a lot. I go to grief counseling. It helps with both acceptance and also managing rapid cycling emotions. This is often something we experience when we first realize Something Is Wrong and we could have been having help this whole time and entirely normal. I also find mindfulness (yes, really) and radical acceptance to be helpful.

Going to put this under a cut because it's long :)

Some people mistake radical acceptance to mean "guess I'll just give up then" when what it actually means is to stop fighting things you cannot change, accept them as reality and focus your energy elsewhere.

For me, that meant giving up on the idea that I'd ever be a healthy, able-bodied person. For the longest time, I was sure if I got the right diagnosis and treatment, I'd eventually be healthy and my suffering would stop. It was my motivation to keep pushing through the medical abuse and gaslighting and, honestly, all that kept me alive sometimes. I needed to name the beast so I could kill it and claim my life back. And then I got diagnosed with two genetic disorders that can't be cured, lol.

Not gonna lie, struggled for a bit with that: both with the idea that I'd been allowed to suffer for decades through medical negligence, and also that now, even knowing the name of what was wrong, I was stuck with it forever. It could be managed, but it couldn't be cured. And that's where radical acceptance can help. Which for me looks like:

"I have (at least) two genetic disorders that cause lifelong problems that cannot be cured. There is literally nothing I can do to change this. This is a fact I cannot fight. But, with treatment and self-care, they can be managed and my quality of life can be improved, which is incredibly important! So that is where I will focus my energy. On improving my quality of life for the person I am, not the person I could have been."

It sounds simple, but internalizing it is another matter.

As for mindfulness, whenever I catch myself in a negative thought spiral of "I should do more because I am not X enough", I force myself to pause and ask: If this were happening to a friend, would I urge them to rest, or would I tell them to keep going even though it's harming them? No? Okay, so why am I not offering myself the same care and compassion?

This can apply to many aspects of life, but mostly I use it to herd myself into being kinder to myself because, goodness knows, someone needs to be kind to this body and it might as well be me.

This is like... not even remotely enough to help with everything you will be experiencing. But I hope it's a helpful start in pointing you in the right direction. Good luck and take care!

[plut00nline]

Fuck it im doing it

My 2020 top 20 movie list

(Disclaimer that most of these weren't made in 2020 but I just watched them this year. These aren't also really in a very particular order but they are lowkey ranked) (i also had to be choosey with the images i out cause of the limit, but yeah dont mind that)

20. The perfection

The plot twist in this movie is *chefs kiss* there was no way for me to predict the ending, bug as far as thrillers goes, it is brilliant. And also, lesbians. It can be a pretty triggering movie for ab*se and general gore, but really I love the pacing and the thrill of it.

19. The shining

Ah yes, a classic horror, and though I may feel iffy about Stanley Kubrick, this movie was pretty good. But I am saying this as a person that didn't read the book. The blood rushing down the hallway was really my favourite visual on the movie. It was a movie that made me felt genuinely scared while watching it, like hiding behind my blanket but also sweating scared, the suspense was pretty thrilling though

18. Doctor Sleep

Man do I love Danny Torrance, and Abra, fuck I love them both. Again, I never read the book, but my ignorance keeps me in bliss. The visuals of this movie are also great, and the emotions this movie puts through? I'm just glad headcanons exist, but really I did enjoy this movie even if it wasn't what I was expecting.

17. Birds of prey

Harley deserved a movie, and the fact that it was directed by a woman makes me love it so much more because we just got to see harley doing the things that she fucking wanted. This movie is wlw solidarity, from Margot robbie to Mary Elizabeth Winstead, women with crossbows? Sign me the fuck up. And from all the DC films I've seen, it's so much brighter, in the visual sense, there's colour! There's character! And not everyone is just brooding in darkness, its the type of movie that would make me actually watch and enjoy DC films.

16. Charlie's angels

Firstly, lesbians. Thank you. But really, its a good action comedy and really I'll jump at the chance to see women kick ass.

15. My octopus teacher

I've never cried over an octopus before, so that was an experience. And even though this is technically not a movie, I still wanted to put it on here cause it was really just a great documentary, especially since it happened in my home country and im very oddly proud of that fact.

14. Knives out

Murder mystery and chris evans go so well together. I have made a longer post, but to sum it up, like most of the movies on this list. The colours and the pacing and just the atmosphere of the movie was spectacular, and even though I couldve guessed the ending, I was still on the edge of my seat for most of it

13. Ready or not

I love this new wave of eat the rich media. Samara weaving is a great actor and I am in love with her and this whole movie. It really was something that I hadn't actually seen before and the fact that the whole curse thing at the end was true was really just wow. Along with eat the rich, I love the feral female energy lately, and the whole white clothing slowly but surely being covered in blood.

12. Geralds game

The line "youre only made of moonlight" lives in my head rent free. This movie, was really an experience and for a movie with only two people in it for the majority, it is really well done. I'll always feel iffy about a man writing a woman's experience (specifically) but I do love the way this movie went, yeah I hated the "Hand" scene, but I still enjoyed the after math of it.

11. The old gaurd

Again, more lesbians, what more could I ask for? The concept for this movie is brilliant, immortal mercenaries is the only trope I want from now on, and found family.

10. Parasite

Again with the eat the rich. This movie was mindblowing, and just, the imagery!! And im glad they didn't dub it in English cause fuck that, I enjoyed it perfectly with subtitles.

9. song of the sea

This movie, this movie! Is so precious and I had that song stuck in my head for days.the name Saoirse is also so oddly pleasing to hear. This story is so beautiful, the music is amazing and it makes me want to be a fae.

8. Scott pilgrim vs the world

This movie really did pass what my expectations for what I thought it was gonna be, the music was amazing, the transitions and editing style was *chefs kiss* and even though I felt like I was in a fever dream the whole time, it'd be a fever dream I'd gladly rewatch.

7. The imitation game

Thank you Alan Turing. This movie recked me, like emotionally, I was a mess when I was done with it, but damn was it good, like I really just felt something while watching it, I mean most.of the movies on this list did, but this one just really hit me in some way.

6. Klaus

At least there are still good Christmas movies being made. Actually, I was a mess for this one too, the second that child got that sleigh thing it was over for my emotions. The whole sirge of turning Santa into this big macho dude really is working out and that's how Santa should always be depicted. I could gush about the animation style of this movie all fucking day, I love it so much (and the shadows!!! Ahh the shadows!) It really is just incredible.

5. I'm thinking of ending things

Hey man, I knew this was gonna fuck me up just by looking at the trailer, but there was absolitley no way to prepare for whatever was about to happen. Even after watching it, I have no idea what happened. But I still found it great, I love movies that give me an existential crisis.

4. Spirited away

All I wanted to do, was eat everything in that movie, even if it would turn me into a pig, holy hells this movie is good. There was just this satisfying appeal to it that I can't quite put into words. Its beautiful like everything studio ghibli movie ever.

3. The Willoughbys

I never knew I needed a found family movie with a bunch of kids that were already family. I've made a longer post about this movie, and I dont think I could really say more, this movie is so fucking touching and I love the direction it went in plot wise.

2. Howl's moving castle

Again, I may not have understood wtf was going on, but I'll be damned if I didn't love every second of it. There is no doubt that this movie is stunning, and I really am a suckered for early 2000's 2d animation, because!!! Look at it!!! Studio Ghibli films always just floor me with how good they look. I really wanna read the book, because I would absolutley love to see a feral Sophie giving howl shit for crying over hair.

1. Us

This movie will always be my no. 1 it is amazing and I love everything jordan peele has done with his movies. Especially for it to have a full black cast, and those black people have darker skin than what is normally shown in media. The feral but also calculated nature of each character is beautiful and nothing can ever make me hate this movie

I hope you enjoyed this incoherent "review" of my favourite movies I watched in 2020, its been a shit show and movies really have been a place of comfort for me. But stay safe and happy new year!

[eggtoasties]

socks of fate

Pairing: Sugawara Koushi/Reader

Rating: G

Summary: Maybe the red string of fate is actually cute patterned socks.

Word Count: 1.8k

AO3 Link: Here

__________________________________________________

Sugawara burrowed further into his jacket against the cold chill of early spring. He walked faster towards the café and relaxed his shoulders once he opened the door and basked in the warm heat. Looking around the coffee shop—light wood with brass fixtures, floor to ceiling windows admitting bright afternoon rays, and an abundance of greenery—he found Daichi and Asahi at a table against the side of the wall.

Catching their attention, Sugawara waved and headed towards them. It had been a while since they had all seen each other—busy with work and adult lives—but, they always made an effort to meet up at least once a month to catch up.

Home-bound, he walked towards his childhood friends. He came up to the table and Daichi and Asahi stood up in response. Asahi spun him around in a bear hug, engulfing Sugawara’s smaller frame. Sugawara pat Asahi’s back and teasingly felt up his biceps through his shirt.

“Still working out, man? You look good,” Sugawara said with a teasing wink which made Asahi blush and stammer.

“Don’t fluster our little man baby,” Daichi said faux-sternly, lightly slapping the back of Sugawara’s head. “It’s good to see you Suga; it feels like it’s been ages.”

Sugawara pulled Daichi into a bone crushing hug, slightly lifting Daichi onto his tiptoes making him chuckle.

“We just got here a few minutes ago, let’s all order,” Asahi said excitedly. “I tried their iced dirty chai with caramel and sweet cream a while back and it was incredible. Daichi blinked at him—he had forgotten Asahi’s sweet tooth. Both feeling bad for the barista, Sugawara and Daichi nodded indulgently to their friend.

The trio went up to the counter and headed back to their table with their drinks. Although it had been a few weeks since Sugawara had talked to his two friends, they fell into easy conversation as if no time had passed between them. They caught up on work, family, friends, random tidbits of gossip, and chattered about nothing in particular.

While absentmindedly listening to Daichi lament about one of his coworkers and Asahi’s gentle consolations, Sugawara looked at his friends seated across from him. It had been years and years since high school. Gone was the round curve of their jaws and the rosy glow of adolescence. Although they were sitting, Sugawara noted the air of confidence that seemed to emanate from the cut of Asahi’s strong shoulders and the pull of authority that orbited around Daichi.

“Hello,” Daichi questioned, waving a hand in front of Sugawara’s face, “are you even listening to me?” he pouted. “I was saying how Hitoshi-san is definitely stealing my lunches and you were too busy spacing out,” he finished with a huff. “Or were you just thinking of Asahi’s arms?” Daichi said, laughing at Asahi’s embarrassment.

Asahi self-consciously crossed his arms over his broad chest and looked away from his snickering friends only to still as something caught his eye. Daichi quieted as he looked past Sugawara as well. Sugawara’s placating trailed off when he realized he had lost their attention and started to turn backwards in his chair.

She was walking towards their table, hips swaying and hands fiddling with the lid of an iced drink. Sugawara turned back, rolling his eyes at their idiocy. He had forgotten that they regressed five years when someone pretty caught their eyes. Trying to start conversation again, he took a plastic knife and tapped it against the side of his cup in mock seriousness. “Gentlemen, if you would be so kind to bring your attention back to me—”

She had walked a little past their table, giving Sugawara what he thought was a dismissive glance—starting with his face and ending at his feet. Rude, he thought to himself, when she suddenly stopped, ice and coffee slushing against the side of the plastic cup, and spun to face Sugawara.

She looked intensely at his honey eyes and he felt his cheeks reddening. From his periphery he saw Daichi tense up and Asahi jump a little at the incoming confrontation. Sugawara smiled nervously and wondered what he possibly could have done to be in the middle of her warpath and immediately tried to apologize.

“Your socks!” she said brightly.

The boys froze in confusion and Sugawara felt the heat rise to his ears. Daichi and Asahi peeked under the table and didn’t even try to hold their laughter in. Sugawara had worn open toed sandals that day. Socks and sandals are a look he constantly insisted to his judgmental friends—birks, he argued, are also comfortable. But, at that moment, he was regretting not going for a more weather appropriate boot. One that would cover the pastel yellow chickens dancing across his ankles. With easter egg hats and baby bunnies. It was a gift from his mom—what monster would deny their mother, Sugawara was internally monologuing.

“A-ah, yeah they were a gift—” he choked out.

“We’re twins!” she shouted gleefully. Setting her drink on their table and reaching down to her boot, she unzipped the side zipper and started one legged hopping in attempts to pull the shoe off. Finally freeing her foot she presented her sock to the table.

They were clearly from the same brand, but instead of the easter motif, her yellow chickens were gathered around a Christmas tree and leaving milk and cookies out for chicken Santa.

Adorable, Sugawara thought.

She wriggled her foot at them before moving to put her boot back on. Teetering a little to the side, about to lose her balance, she let out a little squeak, windmilling her arms to remain upright.

Shooting up from their seats, the boys leapt up to try and catch her, but Sugawara was the first to place one steadying hand to her lower back and another on her shoulder. He ignored the little smirks Daichi and Asahi sent his way as they sat back down.

“Oh my god, thank you,” she said breathlessly. “That would have been so embarrassing,” she muttered to herself. Zipping her boot up and straightening, she looked at the trio and flushed. “Well, thanks for letting me expose my feet to you guys,” she joked while picking her drink back up.

“Thanks again,” she said to Sugawara and walked towards her friends who had been watching and were currently laughing and pointing good naturedly at her.

Dazed, Sugawara looked back towards Daichi and Asahi. Daichi looked incredibly amused and Asahi had placed his elbows on the table, hands cupping his cheeks, looking doe-eyed at Sugawara.

Ignoring them, Sugawara crossed his legs and took a sip of his drink.

“So…” Sugawara drawled, twirling his straw. “Lunch thief?” he said weakly, preparing himself for the onslaught of teasing.

.

As their drinks slowly emptied and seconds and thirds were bought, Sugawara couldn’t help but sneak glances at her. Her back was towards him, but he could see the way she talked animatedly with her hands and nodded vigorously at her friends. He saw the way she threw her head back in laughter and heard it ring across the café.

As the trio’s conversations were dwindling to an end and the sun was lower in the sky, Asahi and Daichi ganged up on Sugawara.

“God, just ask for her number,” Daichi grinned.

“You kept looking at her—I’m pretty sure all her friends noticed too,” Asahi supplied. He dodged as Sugawara’s hand came to swipe at him and Asahi laughed at his friend’s embarrassment.

“C’mon Suga,” Daichi said, “worst case scenario she says no.”

“But who’d ever say no to our Suga baby,” Asahi crooned, exaggeratedly batting his eyelashes.

Huffing, Sugawara complained, “Worst case scenario is that she says no,” crossing his arms as they laughed.

Before they could continue making fun at him, Sugawara delivered swift kicks to Daichi and Asahi’s shins, making them both bang their knees under the table and scowl at him. Running a nervous hand through his hair and trying to look nonchalant, he glared meaningfully at his friends as she started to walk towards him. He tried not to stare while he pretended to make conversation with a disgruntled Daichi and a pouting Asahi, but he tracked her coming closer and closer from the corner of his eye.

“So,” she started, hands in her back pockets swaying slightly on the balls of her feet.

“And that’s why you need to cut down on salt—” he looked at her and felt his pulse in his throat. “Hi,” Sugawara squeaked, sending a kick specifically at Daichi.

“So,” she said again, “I was wondering if we maybe had more in common than just our superior taste in socks,” ending her sentence at a slightly higher pitch. She twirled a strand of hair around her index finger watching Sugawara’s reaction. “Would you wanna get a coffee sometime?” she asked, eyes crinkling down at him. “But if not, totally fine,” she said quickly, “you don’t have to feel obligated because of our, uh, sock solidarity,” she laughed.

Sugawara’s brain stopped and he swore he could feel his heart in his mouth. He felt a surge of relief that he didn’t have to ask her out, and stared at the way her hair fell around her shoulders. He had the urge to run the tips of his fingers across the ends to see if it felt as soft as it looked. Feeling a sharp pain in his shin, he jumped in his chair and shook himself from his stupor. Feeling the blood rush to his cheeks as he realized he had been staring in silence, he nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, I’d love to get coffee,” he said quickly, elated at the way she brightened at his response. “H-here,” he fumbled with his phone as he passed it to her. Punching her number in with a grin, she gave his phone back.

“Thanks,” he said softly, staring at the contact information on his screen. “How’s next week Saturday? Twelve-ish?” Sugawara said eagerly, unable to keep the smile from his face.

“Sounds good to me,” she said humming to herself. Looking to her right where her friends were unabashedly watching, she laughed. “Text me!” she said, walking away, “see you soon, chicken!” waving at his table.  

Waving back at her in a stupor, Sugawara felt as if his brain had left his body. He hardly heard Asahi’s whoops of encouragement or Daichi’s gentle teasing—he felt his pulse reverberate in his skull. He looked down at his feet and grinned.

As she left the café with one last wave, Sugawara beamed at the two in front of him and shot up from his seat. “Yes!” he shouted, pumping his fists in the air.

Daichi and Asahi leaned into each other and snickered. “Suga, you didn’t do anything,” Daichi said.

In response, Sugawara put his hands behind his head, and stared into the rafters.

“Look at the stupid grin on his face,” Asahi giggled.

Sugawara grinned impossibly harder.

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Look Back At Me

Florian x reader

Warnings: Smutttttt

A/N: This is my entry for @blackmissfrizzle‘s 2K Follower Celebration & Bad Bitch Challenge!! Look Back At Me by Trina ft. Killa Mike was my song prompt.

Word Count: 2,582

********

"Please leave your message for—" 

You hit end call and tossed your phone onto the bed. This was the third time you'd tried to call Florian and he let his phone go to voicemail. 

Ever since the fight you two had days ago, he'd been ignoring you. No calls, no texts. 

"Fuck him, then," you said to yourself and turned on the TV. 

Seconds later, your phone started vibrating. You wrestled with the covers to find it thinking Florian was calling back. Once you picked it up and saw your best friend's name, you sighed and slid the call button. 

"Hey Bree," you greeted. 

"Biiiiiiitch!! You're not at LUXX?!" She questioned. 

"Obviously not, ma'am, do you hear music in my background?" You sassed. 

"Well, ya boy is posting on his story all up in VIP with Sandro, Masias and some hoes." 

"What?!" You hurried to grab your tablet and went to Instagram. 

Clicking on Florian's story, you watched as he smiled and laughed with his friends. Some chick in a tight green dress sitting closely next to him. 

"Did y'all break up and you didn't tell me?" 

"I mean, we had a fight over something stupid and we haven't been speaking, but a break up is news to me…" 

"Nuh un, don't sound sad. Get dressed. I'll be there to pick you up," she said before hanging up. 

You thought about texting her and telling her that it wasn't worth it, but you weren't gonna sit around with hurt feelings while he partied, so you hopped in the shower to start getting ready. 

********

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup when Bree called to tell you that she was pulling into the driveway. You grabbed your clutch, threw your phone inside and headed out. 

"Ooh, you look cute," she said when you got inside of the car. 

"Thanks, boo, so do you," you air kissed her cheek. 

When she pulled up to the club, she gave the valet her keys and the bouncer let you both walk right in. You could hear people grumbling behind you about how they'd been waiting. 

Since everyone there knew who you were, another bouncer escorted you both to the VIP area. 

"We're getting our own section tonight, Leo, giving the boys their space, ya know?" You told him. 

He raised an eyebrow at you, but didn't question it. He sat you in the section right next to Florian's. A bottle of champagne rested in the bucket waiting for you upon arrival. 

Within seconds, Florian and Masias were walking over to the two of you. Bree pretended as if she didn't see them as she popped the bottle to pour the champagne. 

"What are you doing here?" He questioned. 

"Don't worry, I didn't come here to bother you. My friend asked me to come out with her so I did," you shrugged and grabbed your flute. 

"Come here, I need to talk to you." 

"No, that's okay, when I tried talking to you you ignored my calls, remember? Go ahead back over there with your groupies," you dismissed him. 

Florian walked away. He wasn't gonna cause a scene there. If you wanted to be that way then fine. 

"Go back over there with your friend, Masias," Bree said. 

"What if I wanna stay with you?" He smirked. 

"Boy bye!" She waved her hand 

"You've never even given me a chance." 

"Because I know your type and I won't be wasting my time, now go away." 

Masias finally gave up and walked away. You side eyed Bree. You knew that she had a thing for that man and they flirted like two lovesick teens, but tonight she was standing in solidarity with you. 

You waved your server down and asked for more champagne. You figured it'd be safe to stick with that instead of mixing it with hard liquor. 

********

You were on your fourth glass of champagne. You were up dancing to the music and every so often you'd look over just to see Florian staring at you and  made sure to sway your hips perfectly to every beat. 

With the alcohol coursing through your body, you were feeling the vibes and really having fun despite your “ex” being in the section next to you. 

"Ladiieeessss, if you remember this song, I want you to come to the dance floor and show out for me one time!" The DJ announced. 

"If you want it you can get it if you wit it, I'ma hit it flip it rub it dump it smack it look back at I'm an addict—"

"Ooh! That's my shit let's go!" You grabbed Bree's hand and led her down the stairs. 

Florian stood and watched you over the balcony. You and Bree hit the dance floor and rapped along with the words. 

"I got a ass so big like the sun. Hope you got a mile for a dick I wanna run. Slap it in my face, shove it down my throat—" 

A guy walked up behind you and you started grinding on him. Florian's blood immediately started to boil. He knew that you were acting crazy in order to get under his skin. 

"I know how to fuck. I know how to ride. I can spin around and keep the dick still inside. Now ya mouth wide, you lookin real scared. I'ma man eater, head hunter, I'm prepared—" 

You turned around to face the guy and grabbed the back of his head. 

"If you want it, you can get it if you wit it, I'ma hit it, flip it rub it up and smack it look back at it I'm an addict. Look back at me—" 

That set him off. He walked down the stairs slowly and headed towards the dance floor. 

You weren't paying attention to him and hopped up on the platform with the stripper pole as the second verse started. 

"Put this pussy in yo jaws now smack. Like it's Thanksgiving and it ain't coming back—" 

The room was spinning before you could understand what was happening. You yelped and grabbed on to the nearest body, so you wouldn't hit the floor. 

Once you realized it was Florian, you tried to snatch away, but he had such a tight grip on your arm that you weren't going anywhere. 

You had to skip in order to keep up with his quick stride. 

"I have on heels, you need to stop before I fall!" You yelled over the music. 

He didn't turn around, but he did slow down a little. When you got outside, his truck was already waiting at the valet and the attendant had the door open and waiting for you. 

"Get in," he demanded. 

"No, I came with Bree and I'm not gonna leave her," you turned to go back inside, but he grabbed you again. 

He lifted you up and sat you down in the seat, put your seatbelt on and then slammed the door behind him. When he got into the driver's seat, he closed the door so hard you were surprised the windows didn't break. 

The ride home was mostly silent. You rubbed your wrist where he'd been holding on to you. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," he reached over and rubbed the spot gently. 

Your phone started vibrating inside of your clutch. You figured it was probably Bree checking on you, so you answered. 

"Are you okay?!" She yelled the moment you picked up. 

"I'm fine," you shrugged. 

"I was trying to get out there to you, but Masias wouldn't get out of my way," she explained. 

"Don't worry about it. Is he gonna ride home with you? I didn't want to leave you by yourself." 

"Yes, he's riding home with me and his ass isn't even allowed inside. He can wait in the lobby for his Uber!" 

You laughed. You could only imagine how hard she'd just rolled her eyes at that man. 

"Well don't worry about me, I'm fine. You just get home safe and try not to hurt the poor guy." You advised. 

"Okay and Florian, you'd better not hurt my friend or I will come after you!" She hollered. 

"Goodnight, Bree," you laughed and hung up. 

"Does she really think that I would harm you?" He asked. 

"Well, you did just drag me out of a nightclub while your friend kept her barricaded inside," you shrugged. "Also, I don't want to go to your place. Take me home." 

"My place is your home. You're the one who left and went back to your apartment over a petty argument." 

"Petty?!" You screeched. 

"Yes, petty! And then you're in there shaking your ass and being disrespectful." 

"Oh, I'm being disrespectful as if you didn't break up with me??"

He pulled into the driveway and before he could put the truck in park, you were jumping out and walking back towards the road. 

He quickly ran behind you and threw you over his shoulder. 

"Put me down right fucking now, Florian!" You punched his back. 

May as well been hitting a brick wall. 

He set you on your feet once you were inside, but made sure to stand in front of the door, so you couldn't leave. 

"Who said that we broke up?" 

"You not answering my calls and letting your lil bimbo bitch be all over you at LUXX told me everything that I needed to know. But then you get jealous when you see me with another guy? You're full of shit." 

"That's not—" 

"Save it," you cut him off, "I didn't get in the way of you getting fucked tonight, so you shouldn't have gotten in mine." 

You watched his face darken. Of course you didn't mean the words that you'd just so foolishly said, but it was much too late to take them back. 

He walked towards you slowly. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest at any moment. You backed up until you hit a wall. 

"Shit," you tried to turn and run, but he grabbed you and slammed you back into the wall. 

"You wanna get fucked?" He growled. "What were the lyrics? You got an ass so big like the sun?" He lifted you dress over your ass and palmed it in his big hand. 

He used his other hand to grab yours and guide it to his dick. You could feel him growing hard through his jeans. 

He kicked your legs apart and rubbed his fingers over your pussy. 

"Is this enough dick for that mile ride?" He asked as he slid a finger inside of you. 

You unbuttoned his pants and reached inside to squeeze his cock. He groaned and slid another finger into your core. Working them in and out quickly. It felt so good, you pressed your forehead against his chest. 

He used his free hand to grip your cheeks. 

"Open up," he said. 

You stuck your tongue out as he pulled his fingers from you and stuck them in your mouth. You kept eye contact with him as you sucked on his slick coated fingers. 

Once you were done, he lowered you to your knees. You assisted in pulling his jeans off and freeing his throbbing member. You licked your lips at the sight of him. 

He grabbed your face so you once again opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. He slapped his dick on it and then on your cheek. 

"That’s what the song said, yeah? Slap it in your face? What's next?" 

"Shove it down my throat," you quickly answered. 

He wasted no time sliding into your mouth until he couldn't go anymore. 

You grabbed his ass and pushed him further down. Relaxing your throat, so you could take all of him in. 

Florian threw his head back. A loud groan leaving his lips. He pulled out, because he knew that a second longer would've resulted in him cumming down your throat and he wasn't through with you yet. 

You took a deep breath when he was fully out. Smiling up at him, because you knew why he moved. 

He helped you up and then bent you over the couch. 

"I really don't like the way you were acting. Making that fucker think that he ever had a chance with you," he got down on his knees behind you and sucked your clit into his mouth. 

He licked and sucked on your pussy from the back like a pro. Reminding you of one of the reasons why you put up with his shit. 

You were struggling to stay upright in your high heels and the upcoming orgasm was causing your knees to buckle. 

He turned you around. He wanted to see your face when you came. The way you bit your lip, the way your eyes pinched shut. It was all reserved for him and only him. 

"Look at me," he demanded. "This is my pussy, right?" 

You couldn't answer. Your mouth dropped as a tingling sensation washed over your entire body. You laced your fingers in his short hair as you rocked back and forth over his face. 

He stood and scooped you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he brought you around to lie down on the couch. 

"Answer my question," he said as he trailed kisses from your lips to your throat. "Who does this pussy belong to?" 

"I'm single, remember?" You taunted him. 

"Ooh," he pulled the top of your dress back exposing your nipple. "That's the wrong answer," he said and bit down hard on your nipple. 

Your scream was a mixture of pain and pleasure. 

He turned you on your stomach and grabbed your waist forcing you onto your knees. He slapped your ass twice before thrusting inside of you. 

You screamed and scratched at the couch. He fucked your pussy with no remorse. Undoubtedly making you regret what you'd said to him. 

"Fuck, Florian, you're—" 

"Shut up and take it," he said and grabbed your throat. 

You still tried to run a little, so you laid down flat. Worst idea ever since you were now trapped beneath his large body. His hand pressed into the arch of your back as he fucked you. 

"Look back at me," he turned your head. "Now, whose pussy is this?" He hit you with a hard stroke in between each word. 

"Yours! It's yours baby," you moaned as you felt the waves building once again. 

He gave you a sloppy kiss as his hips started to stutter. 

"Yes, daddy, cum in your pussy," you urged him. 

You tightened around him as you came. Digging your nails into the material of the sofa. That provoked his orgasm and he released ribbons of warm cum inside of you. 

After a few seconds of catching his breath, he pulled out of you and lied down beside you. 

"I'm sorry," he finally broke the silence. "I should have talked to you about our problems instead of ignoring you."

"I forgive you," you reached up to scratch his beard, "just don't let it happen again or I'll knock yo ass out." 

"Oh, really?" He repositioned himself, so that he was in between your thighs. 

You felt him getting hard again and tried to move. 

"Nah, let's see who knocks who out first," he said as he slid into you again. 

You braced yourself. Tonight was gonna be a long night and you were ready for it. 

[notasdriedapricots]

15 for the June prompt list for Liz and Lucas x

Hi, Iris!! Well, it's still June! I made it! With one of these at least. This started out of something I found in the notes on my phone yesterday, and then when I came here to check what was left I remembered this! And it got long because, as we all already know this bitch won't shut up. So sorry, but I started to kinda like it and just kept going. Ah, well, it is what it is.

As always, thank you for sending this! 💗💗

Aprox. 1200 words. (Son of a-)

15. Driving to the airport; from this list.

Lucas threw a side glance at her for the millionth time. For the millionth time he tightened his grip on the wheel as he felt his own heart strangling. She hadn't said a word since breakfast, and it pained him to imagine what was going through her head; through her chest. She stared out the window, her temple resting against the door and her hands clasped between her knees, not moving a muscle to the quiet music playing in the car. Liz, the girl that swayed like seaweed caught in the current to any three notes put together, sat totally still, looking at the passing landscape without seeing it at all.

"Liz?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Uh-um."

"Liz…"

She sighed, her voice calm but impossibly quiet. "We've talked about this. And I told you that you have to go."

They had. And she did. She insisted, threatened to leave him if he pushed his dream aside for her. Said she could never forgive herself if she was the reason he sacrificed that.

"Liz, I don't need it…"

"Bullshit. Your face beaming? The pride in your voice when you talked about it? I treasure that memory, Lucas. Don't you dare tell me you don't want it anymore."

"So you want me to leave?"

"No… But you will leave. You have to. Eventually. And we both know now is the right time." She pushed the computer in his direction before leaving the study, her voice almost getting caught in her throat. "Sign up."

'Bittersweet' was the understatement of the century. He was excited, which made him feel guilty, but also he'd never wanted anything more than to turn the car around, miss the flight, get back to Oxford and spend all day at Marco's terrace drinking coffee with her cuddled against his side. Doctors Without Borders had been his dream for fifteen years, but nine months away from her was a very fucking long time.

A part of him wanted her to be selfish. It wanted her to be happy that he found the idea of leaving her excruciating, to lean on that so that he would stay. But another, bigger part, loved that she hadn't. It loved the horror in her face when he tried to dodge the subject at dinner, and how she'd pulled him away from their friends with a hissing 'What the fuck, Lucas?'. It loved that she loved him enough to put who he'd been and what he'd wanted before meeting her above everything else. And he hated that that same love was going to make her, both of them, miserable until he was back.

Lucas pulled into the airport's parking lot and turned off the engine. He got out of the car, hearing Liz's door open… but not close; he turned to look at her and saw her still in her seat. Walking around to her side, she turned away from him, but not before he caught a glimpse of the trail of tears running down her cheeks. The corners of his eyes started burning too, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he crouched in front of her. She pulled her hands away when he tried to hold them.

"Go get your suitcase," she muttered, holding her breath to keep a sob at bay.

He closed his eyes for a second and then ignored her, reaching for her hands again, twining their fingers this time. She took a shaky breath only to immediately let all the air out in a painful sob. A second later she'd fallen to her knees, her arms around him and her face buried in his chest. He felt like his racing heart was pumping ice shards through is veins. Hugging her as tight and as close as he possibly could, feeling her hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, he was starting to think neither would ever gather the will to let go of the other.

But then he felt her sigh heavily. With a sniffle, she planted a kiss on his chest, on the skin exposed buy the open buttons. And then another on his collarbone. And on his neck. The final one landed on his cheek. She managed to free her arms out of his unyielding embrace and cradled his face, her eyes overflowing with tears and sincerity, painted with a love greater than he could ever feel deserving of.

"I'm so proud of you."

He'd been holding it together up until her words punched the air out of him. "Shut up," he breathed out, closing his eyes again.

"Come on, you won't see me for a year and I don't even get a tear? What an asshole." She let out a shaky laugh.

He smiled. Small, sad, inevitable. "Nine months…"

"… to a year," she added. As usual, she was not letting him fool himself. They both knew it was probably gonna be a year. Maybe more.

Still holding her close with one arm, he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek, down to her jaw and into her hair. Her hands also moved back to the nape of his neck, firmer this time; she made him look her in the eye again.

"I am so, so proud of you." Her voice was steadier as her nails scraped his skin lightly, just for a moment, emphasizing her words.

He felt his heart swell until it broke. "God, I wish I could take you with me…"

"I will be with you…" She pressed a hand to his chest. "In here."

He had to roll his eyes and contain a smile. "Fuck you."

Liz wiped the few tears that had finally escaped his warm eyes as she laughed. Loud and sparkling, genuine, and he focused all his attention on the sound, knowing that was the last time he'd get to hear her laugh, at least in person, for a long time. They went to speak at the same time.

"I lo-"

Two sets of laughter collided this time. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on his shoulder, chuckling through a new wave of tears. Lucas hugged her tight once more and whispered in her ear.

"I love you, Liz."

She sighed, grabbing at his shirt again. "I love you, Lucas," she murmured against his skin.

After a long moment, he finally stood up, bringing her up with him. He kissed her forehead. "Let's go grab a coffee." He let go of her and grabbed her hand, and she hugged his arm. They walked to the back of the car to get his luggage. "Only two hours until my plane takes off. Then you can go compose a piece about how much you miss me."

She frowned, a tiny but curious smile on her lips. "I've never composed anything."

"Why?" It was clear in his tone that he knew the answer.

It was clear in hers that she knew that he knew. "It's really difficult."

He closed the boot and turned to her. With a finger under her chin, their eyes met. "Well, wouldn't you say what I'm doing is pretty difficult too? What about a little solidarity?" She looked up at him, her eyes silently welling up again. "Come on, write me something."

She swallowed and nodded. "Fine, I'll try. Only so you have a reason to hurry back."

"Liz, I do want to do this but… I'm leaving my heart behind. You know that, right?" He cupped her face again, caressing her cheek with his thumb, and the hand that was still in hers squeezed harder with his last word. "I have every possible reason to come back to you."

[jaskiersvalley]

Just Jaskier

Home. That was what Kaer Morhen was, despite all the agony and anguish it had wrought him and Geralt was oddly keen to show Jaskier. Introduce him to the other witchers and maybe give back a little bit of the kindness and hospitality that Jaskier had always shown him. There was no anxiety from Jaskier’s part, no asking whether they others would like him, whether they would accept him and Geralt felt no need to tell him it was going to be okay. Because even if they others didn’t immediately take to Jaskier (not like Geralt could ever claim to have done so either), Kaer Morhen was big enough that they could minimise contact with the jealous idiots. After all, everybody ended up liking Jaskier, that was just the way things were.

Walking through the keep, Geralt took a deep breath, it smelled like it always had. He was home. They stabled Roach together and Geralt led them towards the kitchen where everyone had a tendency to gather.

“Geralt!” Someone called in joy and there were bodies rising as to greet him as Jaskier stepped into the kitchen one step behind. Immediately, the jovial greetings were silenced and there was a mad scramble for knives, swords and one enlightened buffoon grabbed some garlic.

“What is the meaning of this, Geralt?” The oldest witcher said, a sharp looking carving knife in his hand.

In front of Jaskier, Geralt was frozen, obviously confused by the sudden frosty reception. And the fact that Jaskier was hiding behind his back with a small “meep” didn’t help either. As the silence stretched, Jaskier risked a peek out from over Geralt’s shoulder and took in the knives still pointing at them. Well, him really but Geralt was kind of in the way.

“So this is a bit of a rude greeting,” he risked and the witcher holding the garlic growled.

“Did you bring us live bait for training? An incubus?”

Confused, Geralt peered around, trying to see where an incubus could be hiding. Eventually, his eyes settled on his travel companion. “No, just Jaskier.”

Unfortunately, Jaskier had already taken offence at being labelled an incubus and he sniffed in disdain as he stepped out from behind Geralt. “I prefer succubus, thank you very much. No need to be so sexist, a man can be a succubus too.”

That had Geralt twirling to look at him, wide eyed, gaze flicking over him repeatedly, trying to find the monster in him with a disbelieving “what?” of betrayal. Which was just downright hurtful and awkward.

“What?” Jaskier replied. At least there wasn’t another sword being raised to his throat. Yet. Because that would have hurt more than anything.

It was the old witcher who spoke up. “Yes, well. Lambert, put the garlic down. We’ll be focusing on effective repellents for creatures over this winter for you I think.” The garlic ended up crushed in an angry fist and slammed down onto the table. “And Geralt, why did you bring a, ah, succubus home with you?”

When there wasn’t some intelligent reply Geralt could come up with, Jaskier decided to take matters into his own hand.

“I don’t think he realised? At first I thought he didn’t care but, judging by his reaction, he just had no clue.” Which hurt, just a little bit. It wasn’t like Jaskier made a secret of who he was. “To be fair, I was young when we met, barely coming into my powers.”

“I thought you were just young and horny,” Geralt finally said. Really, he wasn’t wrong and Jaskier hummed in agreement, head nodding along in a “so-so” manner. Because he was young and horny but also really bloody hungry. But, with the kinds of people Geralt encountered, it wasn’t so difficult to seduce and feed off the scum of the earth. While Geralt cleansed the world of monsters, Jaskier went after those Geralt couldn’t, the human monsters.

Sadly, his words weren’t endearing him to the witchers. If anything, they looked a little more murderous. Especially Lambert who was eyeing up the things on the table for what to lob at Jaskier.

All in all, it wasn’t the warm welcome Jaskier had been hoping for. It wasn’t even a cold annoyance of having a non-witcher amongst their midst. If anything, it was a rather hostile and frosty reception. Disappointing all round.

“And how did a succubus think he would spend a winter in an isolated keep?” The old witcher seemed to be the leader of the little group and Jaskier had to hope that if he could win him over, the others would fall in line too.

As for the question, he shrugged. “I’ve got reserves. There were some bandits along the way. Might age a little while I’m here but nothing drastic.” It was true, he had planned on simply fasting over winter. It might cost him a few wrinkles in appearance but that could be rectified when they left in the spring again.

The looks of disbelief were accompanied by a snort of entertainment. Why Jaskier thought a handful of witchers he’d never met before would believe him was questionable. But call it careless optimism, he had so hoped that they would accept him like Geralt.

“Well, Geralt thought this would be okay.”

“Geralt,” the witcher drawled, “who didn’t realise what you were. Who thought he had found a human bard to warm his bed. We’ll work on his monster identifications this winter. Starting from scratch it seems.”

Wrong thing to say and irritation rippled through Jaskier. It was one thing to be wary of him and behave so insultingly but another to besmirch Geralt’s good name.

“I don’t know why you’re so rude, Mr. Witcher,” he seethed. “But Geralt has done nothing wrong. Except been a friend for all these years.” A slight lie, they weren’t always friends but that was beside the point. Geralt was his friend now and that was that counted. “You will not degrade him or put him down like that.”

The witcher with scars across his face an a sharp sword in hand laughed. He actually had the audacity to chuckle. “Shit, Vesemir, you’ve lost your touch old man, if you let some young succubus smack you down like that.”

The witcher, Vesemir, snarled. He pushed past Geralt and had the tip of his carving knife under Jaskier’s chin, glaring down at him. As much as Geralt tried to protest, Lambert was holding him back. Now Jaskier was on his own, facing down a weathered witcher.

“Show me what you really are.”

The demand was rude and Jaskier refused with a snarl. He was happy exactly as his was in his form, always had been. In all honesty, he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been in his human form. Well before Geralt, that was for sure. The press of sword and a growled “show me” didn’t really encourage him to change. So he steadfastly ignored it.

“I bow to no man,” he seethed, eyes burning with a very human rage. Jaskier and Vesemir stared at each other in a challenge before the carving knife dropped away.

“You may stay. But drain any of my boys and I will personally run you through with all the swords in the armoury.”

It was a fair deal and Jaskier nodded. With Vesemir won over, the others looked a little less wary. Eskel actually nodded at him with a grin and turned to start ribbing Geralt about travelling with a succubus without knowing it. That was rather priceless. Lambert was a little more difficult to win over, he growled and reached for sharp things as soon as Jaskier was nearby. But he never attacked and even shared a table with Jaskier when they all sat down to eat together. So it wasn’t all that bad.

As suspected, fasting over winter had its downside. Jaskier didn’t look or feel as vibrant as the weeks passed. He ended up looking a little sallow, shadows under his eyes and crows feet from where he had laughed and his skin crinkled with mirth.

Sometimes, Jaskier walked in on Geralt arguing. Usually with Vesemir but he also caught hissed conversation with Lambert. It was only Eskel who seemed cheery and supportive. Which was weird, especially when Jaskier heard Geralt exclaim “well, I’m going to do it. You all know about my intentions now and know it’s not his influence. So fuck you all.” A strange thing to say, even more weird was that as soon as Geralt had turned on his heels and spotted Jaskier, he bodily hauled him back to the bedroom.

The sex that followed was one through which Geralt all but begged Jaskier to take what he needed. To feed off him. And that desperation tasted better than anything Jaskier had in a long long time. Freely given was always more refreshing than quietly stolen (from those unawares of who they were bedding) or forcefully drained (as he did with bandits and the like).

When they returned down to the kitchen, Jaskier looked like his usual, youthful self, glowing and crows feet free. And Geralt looked happier too, rolling his eyes at the wink Eskel sent him. Some garlic still went sailing through the air and smacked Jaskier in the forehead but he laughed and threw it back at Lambert, appreciating the weird solidarity they were showing at this newest turn of events.

[yourfinalbow]

hi lol this is totally random but based on a harry potter post you just reblogged and you can completely ignore me if you want, but do you think snape deserved better, or are you a quote unquote "snape apologist"? I'm genuinely curious cuz I've come across a lot of different opinions on severus. Again, feel free to ignore :)

This ended up way longer than it needed to be, and I apologize for that lmao.

Hi! Hmmm I have many mixed opinions on this. First we have to talk about which Snape. Book!Snape is actually kind of an asshole, and not in the fun way. (Way more than I remembered.) But but but Alan Rickman!Snape I like a lot.

And no I'm not mentioning Snape from TCC. That was not Snape and that world was not Harry Potter.

Snape is an interesting character because of how flawed and layered he is.

(Putting a cut because it's so long, and tw for non-detailed mentions/reference to abuse, as well as both trauma and death.)

He wasn't born in a very good household, which I can definitely see as being a reason for why he is who he is. (A reason, not an excuse. Those are two extremely different things.) You look at Sirius, who also came from a horrible household, yet he managed to dig himself out of the mud and make his own path for himself. (Though I have many angsty headcanons for the thoughts he has and being afraid of what he will do and in turn his own mind. WolfStar solidarity. Neither one of them know what they are truly capable of, and both are completely afraid to find out.

Ahem sorry I got a little distracted there.

During the Marauder's era, Snape wasn't a good person in general, but he tried to be nice to Lily. (One of the only exceptions he made.) That being said, (sorry, going on a tangent again), it does not excuse what the Marauders did. As much as they are, in my humble opinion, JK's greatest creation, they should be held accountable for both the prank, and dangling Snape upside down. (Though Remus does make a few good points in their defense later, it's still not an excuse.) Two wrongs never make a right.

Snape doesn't deny Lily's claims at him wanting to join a supremacy group, nor does he say he isn't friends with Death Eaters.

It's clear through the flashbacks we're given that Snape is apathetic in the face of innocent people dying, but once again Lily is the exception.

Dumbledore defends Snape by saying it wasn't his fault that Harry's parents are dead. I actually semi-agree with this. On one hand, he was directly at fault, but on the other hand he had no way of knowing. As a severe Loki apologist, I do not blame Loki for Frigga's death. He may have led the dark elves to her, but he didn't know it was her she was sending them to. That's the comparison I make in my mind, and so I don't completely blame him like other people do. (One could also make the argument that Sirius is to blame. Sirius, who is 100% my favorite character in the entire franchise, gave the secret keeper job to Peter, thinking it would be safer with him. However, he had no ill will or malicious intentions towards Lily, James, and Harry, so I don't blame him.)

All that being said, Snape not only would have been fine with random people dying, he also didn't care whether or not James and Harry lived.

For context:

(Dumbledore is speaking, right after Snape comes to him for help.)

"You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child?" They can die, as long as you have what you want?"

Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.

He has a strange relationship with Lily. He obviously loves her, but not enough to want to stop Voldemort from killing the two things that bring her the most amount of happiness. It's clear he doesn't care about anyone except for Lily. Which on some level, I can understand why. When people have traumatic childhoods, they tend to hold on to a person that was there for them. Sometimes it can be the hands of the person who caused them pain in the first place, but other times it is another person who was there for him. He holds Lily's opinions of himself higher than anybody else, and he holds Lily above anybody else, and I think this can be attributed to some sort of trauma response, which is why his love for her is so unusual. That doesn't mean I think he should be fine with killing innocent people.

On the topic of trauma, I think joining the Death Eaters was another response to this, as well as a result of what kind of family he had.

Similar to both Harry and Voldemort, Snape much preferred Hogwarts to where he lived, and such the castle became his home more than his house ever was.

The Death Eaters could offer him something he had never been offered before. He belonged to something. In his own, twisted, traumatic mindset, he might have even almost seen the Death Eaters as a family. Not consciously of course, but there was definitely a feeling of belonging they gave him.

And there's something to be said about the fact that many serial killers in real life come from an abusive family. I don't pretend to understand the minds of someone who can do something so vile, but I have watched enough Criminal Minds episodes to know what they long for is control.

So being apart of this supremacy group, even though he was a half-blood himself and undoubtedly didn't entirely share Voldermort's racist beliefs, gave him both control and something he belonged to.

It's not an excuse, but it's a reason.

Alternatively, you can look at it through a quote from the most recent episode of Loki.

"It's part of the illusion. It's a cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear."

So it's also possible that when he was a kid, he thought being a villain was the only way to prevent others from being one to him.

Ok sorry, back on the chronological track.

So he agrees to change sides and work with Dumbledore. (Who must see just how distraught Snape was over Lily's death, to trust him immediately.)

Snape spends most of Harry's time at Hogwarts humiliating his own students. He particularly calls out Harry and his friends a lot, but I can definitely see this being a defence mechanism. He assumes Harry is James and reverts back to what we talked about earlier. (Becoming the villain so nobody else has a chance.)

But but but, he does a lot of good throughout the books. Snape mutters the countercurse, saving Harry from Quirrell during the Quidditch match. He then actually referees at the next match, preventing anything from happening altogether.

In retrospective, we see that he spends most of the first book helping Dumbledore by protecting the stone, and helping Lily by protecting Harry.

Now I could go through and list the goods and the bads of Snape throughout the entire series, but I have neither the time nor the patience, and I think you get the point.

(Except I would like the mention that Snape becomes a double agent for Dumbledore in book four, and risks his life every single day by constantly betraying Voldermort, and never once does he use this as a way to double cross Dumbledore. This was actually probably really hard on him. You can assume that having to pretend to be a Death Eater means he had to do some despicable things just so he didn't blow his cover. If he really has changed by this time, which I would like to think he has, is a lot of added guilt to live with.)

(I would also mention that he tried to save Sirius in book five, but... *falls on floor dramatically* I don't want to think about it.)

Severus Snape's time comes to the end in book seven. At the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, his death is a valiant act of sacrifice. Protecting the living and defending the honour of the fallen.

So, he has done a lot of bad in his lifetime, but by the time we as readers get to know him, his fundamental set of beliefs have begun to change. Through the eyes of what started as an eleven year old boy, you can definitely see that even after this he wasn't necessarily a good person.

And that's because his good is behind the scenes. He's good on a larger scale. He's chosen the light over darkness, but in his everyday life he's still the scared, traumatized little kid he's always been.

And him being this way has reasons, but these reasons are not excuses.

Sorry anon, this kind of turned into a long winded review of the entire character. I know that's not really what you asked, so I'll sum it up in a final few sentences sentence.

Yes. I wish Snape had gotten to live. Not because I'm necessarily a "Snape apologist", but because I find his character interesting, and seeing his reaction to his sacrifice could have been a really good read. Also Harry coming up and thanking him would have been really touching, and as a cherry on top maybe we could have gotten to read Harry apologizing for his father. Maybe even Snape sharing memories of Lily?! (Sorry that might have gotten a little to fanfic-y.)

That being said, his death being a final sacrifice towards the good of everyone, and a final testimony to his change of heart, was -- and I'll give JK credit just this once -- good storytelling, and a good way to end it.

Also I like movie!Snape because fuck yeah he's just so awesome.

If anyone has anything to add/take away, or they just want to discuss the wonder that was Alan Rickman, let me know! (Ask/Comment/Reblog/Etc.)

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 6!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Marinette woke up to the shrill ringing of her hotel room phone. She picked it up and accepted the polite wake up call, then struggled blearily out of bed.

Today was their trip to the botanical gardens, and a free afternoon at one of the larger malls. She’d already had plans to go eat with Chloé and Adrien, but something in her stomach told her it wasn’t going to happen.

Her akuma alarm had gone off as they talked last night, and they’d had to sit and watch on the app as Sabine fought off her first akuma as Ladybug. Marinette had not slept well afterwards, the lingering fear overwhelming.

She did not like feeling as though she were sitting on the sidelines in her own battle.

She’d called her mother a few minutes after the Ladybug tracker had gone dormant, going over the fight with her, and let her know she’d be back that evening to retrieve Tikki.

And now she had to get dressed.

Chloé had set out something she’d directed her to wear, but Marinette disregarded it. Too flashy, more her friend’s style than hers. Instead she picked up one of her dresses, a simple white dress with loose sheer short sleeves, a bateau neckline, a slim but stark black belt around the waist, and a circle skirt that fell just past her knees, the bottom third entirely covered by swirling floral embroidery.

Paired with plain black flats for comfortable walking and shorts underneath for any possible fighting, it was a perfectly simple but classy look for touring gardens and shopping.

Chloé pounded around the door. “We have to go or they’ll leave you again!”

Marinette yelped and grabbed her purse, extra snacks for the kwamis, and ran to the door. She yanked it open. “I thought we leave at nine!”

“We do,” Chloé said, examining her nails. “But this is the fastest way to ensure you’re actually ready on time. Grab your sketchbook, let’s go get breakfast.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and slipped back into the bathroom. “Let me put on my makeup first, as you ordered yesterday, your majesty.”

“Fine,” Chloé drawled. “Nice dress by the way.”

“You put it at the top of my suitcase so I’d find it immediately after refusing to wear that top, don’t lie.”

Marinette carefully applied mascara and lip gloss, but nothing else. Chloé would have to fight her if she wanted anything else extra, possible soulmate meeting or not.

“I know you, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé sneered from where she settled on the bed. She was soundly ignored in favor of Marinette actually gathering up her sketchbook and pencils.

“Alright, breakfast?”

Chloé stood back up with a huff. “Took you long enough.”

“It’s barely been two minutes,” Marinette slipped her key card into her purse and closed the door. “Do you think they’ll have those sad croissants again? I might have to step back into their kitchen myself.”

They did in fact have the sad croissants, which barely deserved the name of Marinette was being honest. But they ate and made it onto the bus before anyone else, and as everyone trickled on, Marinette kept a good headcount.

“Where’s Lila?” She realized when Alya stepped on last, her new best friend nowhere to be seen.

Alya threw her a heavy glare. “Like you need to ask.”

Ah. Marinette drooped a bit. “I’ll go check her room, make sure she knows we’re leaving.”

Mme. Bustier nodded absentmindedly, looking at her clipboard. Alya and a good portion of the class kept up their angry glances at her. Chloé gave her a look.

“This is another ploy and you know it.”

“It’s my responsibility,” Marinette sighed under her breath. And then she got off the bus, checked the dining room and the lobby restrooms, before heading up the stairs to where they were staying on the eighth floor.

Predictably, Lila was not in her room. And equally predictably, the bus was not waiting for her when she returned. She sighed and brought out her phone for directions to the gardens. A text from Chloé confirmed exactly what had happened.

Eight blocks wasn’t bad.

She started out, memorizing the route and the street names so she wouldn’t have her head in her phone while walking through the most crime-ridden city in America.

Gotham wasn’t as beautiful as Paris, she thought, with its airy light and open airspace. But it had its own dark sort of charm, with the way the buildings seemed to swallow the sky and cocoon you. Even in daytime, the darker colors made every spot a shadow, and the gothic architecture didn’t do anything to dissuade you. The whole city was a warning sign to the dangers it held. But Marinette could also see the way people gathered in shop windows, walked holding tightly to each other. Like the akumas in Paris, the climate bred its own sort of solidarity in the people who lived here.

She made a right, and then a left, and kept walking, eyes on every alley despite being in the nicer part of town.

When she finally made it to the gardens, the bus wasn’t there. Checking her phone again revealed that Lila, not done being a bitch for the day, had convinced Mme. Bustier to switch their time slots for the garden and shopping. And the shopping center was in the other direction from the hotel.

Almost twenty blocks away.

She sat down on a bench outside, debating with herself. Try to walk there? Get a taxi? Wait?

“You look a bit lost.”

She raised her head and pulled in a shocked breath.

He was right in front of her.

“Actually,” Marinette said calmly while the inside of her brain set fire to itself, “I don’t think I’m lost at all. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

She held out a challenging hand.

Between the vivid but short memory of running past him and the bad photos online, she’d not quite remembered what he looked like. The dark hair, tanned skin, green eyes- but now she could stare, could take in the angled brows, the slope of his nose, the way his lips were pressed tightly together.

“Damian Wayne,” he said finally, reaching out and taking her hand. The electric current burst to life under his fingers, as instead of a handshake he bent and kissed her hand, like how Adrian used to flirt with her as Chat Noir.

The back of her knuckles where his lips brushed buzzed.

Ah. So it was to be an actual challenge, then.

She stood up as he released her hand, smoothing out the dress before very delicately taking his arm, and she couldn’t help but be pleased at the way his lips twitched against his blank expression. He automatically compensated, extending his arm appropriately for her to take a position at his side. “I don’t want to assume, but I had intended to tour the gardens. Would you join me?”

He secured her hand firmly within the crook of his arm, gentleman-like, and started leading her in. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

The point of connection was electric, but it slowly died to a low, warm hum between them, bursting momentarily whenever their shoulders brushed or she rearranged her grip as they started to walk.

TAGLIST:

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