#git-flow

[autobahnmp3]

our coffee machine at work is in maintenance thus week and the replacement SUCKS FUCKING ASS I HATE UT SOOOO FUCKING MUCH

[webmethodology]

Discover the ultimate resource for creating an efficient Python game development workflow using Git. Get essential strategies and best practices for seamless project management.

[iris-qt]

𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚘

🫧 ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🫧 ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

🫧 ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

🫧 ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪᴄ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴜʏꜱ’ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ��ꜰʀᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ!

🫧 ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴜɴᴡɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴠᴀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ɪᴛᴀʟʏ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʀᴜɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ

Azure blue skies and endless summer breeze tails you through the rolling green countryside of San Gimignano, Italy. This was true, pure bliss. A flow of relaxation that you haven’t felt since…Merlin knows when. The stress of endless exams and finals, everlasting prefect duties, and bickering with your horrid nemesis really left a mark; as represented by your unrelenting dark circles and deep forehead lines.

But at least all of that was giving way to the Italian atmosphere and it left behind a happy girl that would donate a kidney to spend her entire summer here. Unfortunately you were only visiting for a week before school began once more; your final year. This brought a sense of dread to your heart as you would miss the enchanting castle. Your second home.

You pushed that aside as you zoomed through the countryside of this ravishing country on your cute little teal Vespa. Truth be told you’d never driven a muggle vehicle before, but there’s always a first time for everything.

And so your lack of experience with muggle vehicles was the cause of you not being aware that gas has to be filled. You thought the meter getting closer to 0 represented the dissipation of your happy mood as you were, per usual, plaguing yourself with paranoid and pessimistic thoughts. The sudden shuddering of the Vespa made you lose balance and you began veering off track, you and your precious vehicle zooming down a hill with the sheer force of gravity. You screamed for dear life, and, at last, landed in a shallow pond with an enormous splash.

You bobbed up, gasping for air, and scrambled out of the lake quite ungracefully, summer outfit ruined and soaking wet. And suddenly, you heard a scarily familiar, devilish chuckle that just so happened to find your tragic predicament amusing: your mood as drenched as your clothes.

As you slowly glanced up trembling, not knowing if your shaking was from the water, shock, pure rage, or all three, you made direct eye contact with a certain boy musing at your tragedy. His eyes were overflowing with humor as he was leaning against a tree, his tanned legs crossed over each other. He seemed to be reading a book which he put down as he had found something better worth his attention. He gracefully stands up, a complete contrast from how you scrambled out of the pond, much to your annoyance.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven, angioletto mio?” He smirks.

“Nott,” you scoffed. “Small world…or cruel fate,” you stand there, dripping wet, arms spread out like a martyr.

Of course you knew the insufferable Theodore Nott was Italian and often visited family here, but you didn’t think you’d be subjected to his presence in such a big country, especially in the less populated countryside. It was truly just cruel fate that brought this spawn of satan before your eyes.

“I didn’t know you were that desperate to see me,” Theodore cocks his head to the side, quite enjoying this arrangement. “Risking your life on a muggle vehicle zooming to my town.”

You roll your eyes, and if you were in a cartoon universe, trust that there would be steam coming out of your ears.

“Trust me Nott. I had no intention to run into a walking headache on my vacation.”

The insufferable git kept smiling, moving closer now, standing right in front of you so you could smell the usual dizzying scent of sandalwood and pine. Summer edition Theo had a hint of citrus mingled in with his intoxicatingly annoying scent.

“I already got you soaking wet, now you just have to get naked,” he laughed with the most disgustingly smug look on his face that you almost slapped off.

“Are you done?” You glared at him, ready to storm off and free yourself from the torment of his presence.

He shrugged, looking you over.

“Need help drying off?”

“I need help out of this conversation.”

“Oh stop, y/n, you can do better than that,” he grinned

You sigh very well aware you had no other option. You hold out your arms and shut your eyes waiting for his casting of the Hot Air Charm. Since you had resolved to live the simple muggle life for this vacation, your wand was locked in a vault at your hotel room.

Theo laughs, “Are you waiting for a kiss, principessa?”

You open your eyes, confused. “No, I’m waiting for you to dry me off like you said, idiot.”

He laughs again shrugging and says, “I don’t carry my wand around my domain, there’s no need.”

“Then, pray do tell me, Nott, what was your plan in helping me?”

He gives you the most shit-eating grin and grabs your hand, scaring you a bit, then begins pulling you up another grassy, verdant hill: one that isn’t hiding a body of water behind it. You have the urge to resist, but just give in. The drop from your adrenaline-rush you’d been maintaining for the past 3 days had collapsed, causing you to come down with an attitude of resolve. He dragged you up the hill, your wet sandals making squelching sounds, each one demeaning you more and more. You hated this shift in power where the perfect git was overshadowing you. You hated it. You hated him. I think.

“So why were you in the countryside? Other than wanting to see me so badly, of course.” He looks behind him and shoots his watercolor poison into your soul as he makes that unblinking eye contact. Another thing on the meter-long list of things you despise about him.

“I was in a self-deprecating mood and decided to ruin my record streak of relaxation by finding you,” you deadpanned as you rolled your eyes for extra affect.

“Y/N relaxing? You must be lying.”

He chuckled a bit as you two stopped at the top of the vast hill, looking down to a meadow of wildflowers. They glowed like colorful jewels in the blinding, comforting summer sun.

“What’re you gonna do, push me off?” You smirked, half wishing he’d do so. Maybe this was all a nightmare. A beautiful, lush, tinged with the familiar scent of Theo nightmare.

What you didn’t expect, however, was him saying:

“Precisely.”

And with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you down on the top of the hill, pushed you back in a laying position before you could protest, and quite literally pushed you down the hill. You screamed as you, for the second time that day, gave all free will up to gravity, rolling down the hill at a crazy speed. You knew Nott was your unproclaimed but painfully obvious nemesis but you never thought he’d attempt murder. You finally stopped and lay there, sprawled on your back, heaving from the rush. It was kind of…fun?

Theo rolled down right next to you, laughing, as he sat upright. There was grass in his curly, brunette hair that you couldn’t help but reach out to pluck. He looked away quite shyly. Did your eyes deceive you, or did he just blush? You must have heat stroke. Good thing you had your wet clothes to keep you cool: they were significantly drier now.

You stand up and Theo starts laughing in a way you’ve never heard him laugh before. It was almost…endearing?

You put your hands on your hips teasingly and ask, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

He chuckles affectionately. “Mio angioletto, you have something…everywhere.” He bursts into laughter again. “Beware grass woman rising from the Italian hills,” he gasps through his fits of laughter.

You couldn’t help but smile so wide; his happiness was almost as contagious as his teasing.

You look down and realize the grass was sticking all over your outfit, covering you in verdant greeness. There was an itching sensation bubbling to your skin, but you ignored it. You couldn’t help but join in with his laughter as you could imagine you looked like green Chewbacca.

“Is this your sick way of tar and feathering me, Nott?”

He recovers from his laughter and stands up with you, peeling a wet blade of grass from your cheek.

“Alas, you have uncovered my motives,” he teases, grinning.

“Well, your actual motives didn’t work. I’m still sopping wet.” You wringe out the side of your shirt for dramatic affect as it produces a downpour of water.

“There’s more to my motives, mio angioletto. If at first you don’t succeed, try try again.” He grasps your hand again with a beautiful look on his glowing face and pulls you up to do it all over again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Until the sun is caressing the distant hills, getting ready for its nightly departure. The sky is painted shades of teal and purple; still bright but just so. The breeze is still gentle, and so is Theo’s hold on your hand, as he guides you back to his tree by the wretched pond.

Don’t ask yourself what you and him were at the moment. Don’t ask yourself how years of rivalry and pranks. Of stress related to the both of your never-relenting efforts to beat the other. Don’t ask how that all faded away, as you sat in the setting sun.

Unfortunately, it isn’t in your nature to just ignore logic. And Theo knew it. So he distanced himself from you in light of the passing moment of rolling down flower dotted hills, letting go of your hand. It was as if an igniting flame in your heart had been stifled. He sat across from you by the tree. A silence falling between you two.

The slight itching you had felt earlier had been slowly increasing, and as the fun fell away, it began grabbing your attention. The feeling was in your throat now…something wasn’t right. And that’s when you remembered something that Theo’s warm presence had melted away from your mind. As if your brain had tricked itself to forget about this important fact to permit you and Theo’s fun. You were allergic to wildflowers. If exposed to them for a long time? Horribly allergic.

You started coughing and then choking, pointing to your neck to alert Theo to the problem. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening…he had noticed your uncharacteristically red skin, but he had dismissed it by thinking it was the sun’s doing. How could he overlook this?

Your choking grew louder as you fell onto the grass, Theo scrambled around crazily not knowing what to do in his initial panic.

But then he remembered

He pulled out his wand and cast a healing spell which would diminish every affect of an allergic reaction. You started being able to breathe again and your throat cleared, along with your skin returning to its original color and texture. You were gasping in shock, slightly embarrassed that you had been in such pathetic situations in front of Theodore twice today. You were both holding each others’ arms and breathing deeply. You recovered slightly, attempting to lighten the tense mood.

“Well, if your true motive was to kill me, Nott, I’d say you almost succeeded.” You let out a weak, unconvincing laugh.

“I..I am so sorry, y/n, I genuinely didn’t know..” he looked crestfallen. More shaken than you in fact. Wait a minute…

“Hold on,” you raised an eyebrow, your shock of almost dying completely gone and replaced with a new shock. “I thought you said you didn’t have your wand?”

Theo’s eyes widened sheepishly and he grinned, looking as guilty as ever.

“Ok listen before you throw a fit-“

“I don’t throw fits, I diplomatically argue.”

“Before you throw a tantrum, let me explain.” Theo runs his fingers through his hair looking nervous, and, for the first time, failing to make eye contact.

“I just…I knew you’d leave if I just dried you off. You only stayed because you needed help and, well…” he sighs.

“Well?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about you all summer, y/n. I lay awake all night and I day dream all day. I swear I even saw you in the stars..” he gives a nervous, strained laugh.

“You never leave my thoughts, but I was sure it was just because I had to prove myself. To beat you. But you didn’t even leave my brain after school ended. You haunt me every day. When I saw you I thought I was hallucinating, like, genuinely.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking the most vulnerable he’s ever looked.

You look at him, eyes blazing with emotions you had denied yourself. Emotions that fought to be seen but you always pushed them back. You couldn’t fight back anymore. What were you even fighting against? God, you had some serious issues.

“And so you lied to make me stay?”

Theo nodded, looking to the side, up at the darkening sky.

“Maybe it was the universe that brought me here, because what are the fucking odds?”

You both laughed at that, eyes shining despite the escaping light around you.

“Theo, in my last 3 days I’ve been in your beautiful home country, I’ve visited so many places. The Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, the Uffizi Galleries. So many amazing places, and I’ve experienced the most inspiring ordeals. But today was, by far, my favorite day.”

Theo regains his composure after hearing that, playfully judging her with his shoulder .

“Because of me, hm?”

You roll your eyes, looking away.

“Say it, principessa..” he prompted, gently holding your face and focusing it towards him.

You dramatically sigh and admit, “Yes, Theodore Nott. Because of you.”

He smiled the most breathtaking smile. If only you could capture a picture of it, but unfortunately your camera went down with the Vespa. You lay your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut, so that his bright smile could be engraved into your mind. Definitely a core memory.

After many moments of comfortable silence, Theo perks up.

“Oh! By the way, dolcezza, I realized I said the pickup line wrong when you struggled out of the swamp.”

You rolled your eyes at his impertinence and said, “First of all, it’s a pond, Theo. And second of all I did NOT struggle. I emerged like Aphrodite in a shell.”

“Ok my little swamp monster,” he annoyingly nuzzled his nose into your hair as you fought to hold back a giggle.

“Okok let me say the line.”

“Go ahead, Theo.”

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Because you have the face of un angelo.”

He grinned his shit-eating grin as you pretended to retch at the line. Jumping up with the fireflies around you, you tagged Theo, reigniting that competitive streak you both so closely shared. You both laughed like maniacs as you raced up the hill again, fireflies dancing around you in a waltz.

[ahqkas]

♯ TEMPI DIFFICILI ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! theo comes to your rescue in the foreign world of english and self-centered gits (based on this req.!!)

WARNINGS AND TAGS! italian reader, translation of foreign language, fluff, mutual pinning

WORD COUNT! 1.3k

NOTES! part one !

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

MOVING OUT OF AMERICA WAS THE CHANGE YOU DIDN'T KNOW YOU NEEDED IN YOUR LIFE. Once you left and didn't look back, the energy in your surroundings seemed to change, shifting from the dull depressions of your previous life to a lively atmosphere. The decision to leave had been haunting you for the first nights at Hogwarts, often ending in you lying face flat against the pillows as you overthought the past few days. To put it simply, the last few days were an absolute hell.

The stone hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry always seemed to be packed with students and stray pets. The ghost made their appearances as well. And the passageways could be pretty confusing, too. Long corridors you could and would get lost in if you weren't in the presence of your new trustful friends or paying enough attention haunted you in your scariest nightmares after you managed to get late to your herbology class. The frown of the professor and the curious stares of your new classmates still appeared in your vision even behind closed eyelids.

The people here were the worst, you decided. Some of them were really friendly and helpful. The majority, however, seemed to carry a veneer of politeness that quickly shifted into judgement. You had been hopeful when you first arrived, thinking that the cultural exchange would be enchanting, that you'd meet more friends and learn about their world. But reality had other plans.

In your DADA class, you struggled to follow Professor Snape's instructions, his voice a low, disdainful drawl that only heightened the level of your anxiety. His critical gaze seemed to linger on you longer than anyone else, making you fumble with your words more frequently. The other students glanced at you with a mix of pity and amusement.

During meals in the Great Hall, you found a quiet seat for you to sit on, your plate filled with unfamiliar dishes. The food was decent, but you missed the flavors of home. Conversations around you flowed with topics you couldn't quite grasp, from Quidditch matches to obscure magical theories. You tried to join in, but your attempts were often met with puzzled looks or polite nods, the conversations quickly moving on without you.

Theodore Nott befriended you when no one noticed your lonely presence. He had been protective of you. He admired your resilience, moving from sunny Italy to rainy England, where everything seemed different — from the weather to the culture and especially the language. Hogwarts was a maze of new experiences, and despite your best efforts, the British slang and unfamiliar dialects sometimes made you feel like an outsider.

One dreary afternoon, you found yourself alone in the courtyard, your nose buried in a book as you tried to acclimate to your new surroundings. A group of students, Gryffindors from the look of their crimson and gold ties, approached you with their looks full of curiosity and amusement. At first, they seemed friendly enough, their smiles warm and inviting as they asked casual questions about your home and how you were settling in. But the conversation quickly took a darker turn.

"Come on, say something in English," one of the boys jeered, his tone mocking now. "Or is it too hard for you?"

You flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger coiling in your chest like a fierce snake. You felt your heart rate quicken as your mind scrambled for the right words. "I . . . I can speak English," you stammered, your accent thick and your voice shaking as your anxiety skyrocketed.

Another boy snickered. Cruel. "Barely. It's like listening to a baby."

The laughter that followed after felt like a knife twisting in your gut. Your hands trembled and you fought the urge to turn around and run. The words you wanted to get out got tangled, making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Your cheeks burned crimson.

"What's the matter, witch? Cat got your tongue?"

But before you could respond, you heard a familiar voice cut through the air.

"What the hell are you doing?" Theodore's voice was sharp, his eyes blazing as he approached the group.

The Gryffindors turned, their expressions shifting from the cruel amusement to frightened caution. The Slytherin stepped between you and the boys, his posture rigid and protective.

"Mind your own business, Nott," one of the boys muttered, but the confidence in his voice wavered as Theodore Nottingham towered over them menacingly, his dead eyes low and casting a glare one wouldn't wish to receive.

"Theo," you whispered, tugging at his sleeve, but he ignored you, his focus locked on the boys.

"Non ho intenzione di lasciare che vi prendiate gioco di lei," the boy snapped, his voice quiet and dangerous as the anger flowed through him. ("I'm not going to let you make fun of her.")

"What's he saying?" one of the boys asked, looking uneasy.

Theo switched to English, his words cold and precise. "I'm saying you need to back off. Now."

The Gryffindors exchanged glances, the bravado seeping out of them. "Fine," one of them grumbled, "we're leaving."

They shuffled away, casting nervous glances over their shoulders. As they disappeared from sight, Theo turned to you, his expression softening instantly. He reached out, gently intertwining your fingers with his.

"Stai bene?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. ("Are you okay?")

"Grazie, Theo," you gave him a gentle smile. ("Thank you, Theo.")

"Non devi ringraziarmi, bella," he said softly, pulling you into a comforting embrace. ("You don't have to thank me, beautiful.")

You clung to him, the safety of his arms easing the hurt from the Gryffindors' taunts. Theo stroked your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"Non permetterò mai a nessuno di trattarti così," he murmured, his lips brushing your forehead. ("I will never let anyone treat you like that.")

Standing there, wrapped in his embrace, you felt the weight of your struggles lift, if only for a moment. Theo had always been your protector, your anchor in this foreign world, and his fierce loyalty made you feel seen and valued in ways words couldn't express. The lingering scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of the Hogwarts hallways, creating a comforting cocoon around you.

As the moments stretched, you found solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a reminder that you weren't alone in this daunting new chapter of your life. The initial rush of anxiety and embarrassment began to ebb away, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude and warmth.

Theo gently pulled back, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as though he could see right through to your soul, understanding every unspoken fear and insecurity.

He smiled, a small but genuine curve of his lips that made your heart swell. "Andiamo," he said softly, taking your hand in his. "Lasciamo che questo posto sia un po' meno freddo." ("Let's go. Let's make this place a little less cold.")

Walking hand in hand through the corridors, you felt a renewed sense of hope. The cold, intimidating walls of Hogwarts seemed a little less daunting with Theo by your side. Each step forward felt lighter, the path ahead brighter.

As you reached your next class, Theo squeezed your hand one last time before letting go. "Ci vediamo più tardi," he said, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. ("I'll see you later.")

"Ci vediamo," you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips as you watched him walk away. ("See you.")

Entering the classroom, you felt a surge of confidence, bolstered by Theo's unwavering support. No matter how challenging things might get, you knew you had someone who believed in you, someone who would always be there to stand by your side.

And as you took your seat, ready to face whatever came next, you realized that maybe, just maybe, this foreign land could start to feel like home.

[dilf-lover99]

And I Love Her | J.P.

Pairing: James Potter x Female Reader

Summary: The 3 times James tries to get the girl and the 1 time he finally does. Or In which James Potter is hopelessly in love with his best friend.

Warnings: so. much. pining., idiots to lovers, miscommunication(s), a dash of angst, some heavy kissing, james potter being the literal definition of boyfriendism

Word Count: 4.8k

a/n: hi ! james potter won the poll and i am so completely okay with it. i really intended for this to be angst but he's just SO boyfriend. this may be my favorite thing i've ever written and i really hope you enjoy it too ! p.s. i missed u guys lots and i'm so grateful you've stuck around after months of crickets from me. love u love u love u<3

(y/n).

Depending on who you asked, it was only a name. The name of a classmate, or a friend, or yourself, but only a name nonetheless.

Unless you asked James Potter.

It wasn’t only a name. Not to him. To James, it was everything.

Because it was your name.

Your name that hastened his heartbeat with every mention.

Your name that sent a salient stream of blood rushing to his cheeks, tinting them a lucent shade of scarlet.

Your name that, once mentioned, seemed to follow him everywhere, as though the wind itself would begin whispering it, rustling alongside the branches of the whomping willow tree before floating its way over to his ears, sounding sweeter than any melody he’d ever heard before.

To state it simply, James Potter was irrevocably, inconceivably, in love with you.

But saying it that way didn’t seem like enough.

He didn’t just love you with his heart, for his heart could stop beating. And he didn’t only love you with his mind, for his memories could fail him one day. James Potter loved you with the entirety of his soul, with every fibre making up his being. Of that, he was certain.

What he wasn’t certain of however, was how to bare his infatuated soul to you.

After all, how exactly does one tell his best friend he’s besotted with her?

He tried the gentle approach first. 

The train back to Hogwarts was filling up quickly. Stories of his peers’ summer holidays flow obstreperously through the air as James’ eyes remain glued to the door of him and his friends’ usual compartment.

“Ease off it with the evil eye, Prongs. She’ll be here.” Sirius’ teasing voice breaks James away from his thoughts, which were unsurprisingly fixated on you.

He doesn’t bother denying it, well aware he’s been staring daggers at the door since he stepped foot off platform 9 ¾, anxiously awaiting your appearance after spending the entire summer holiday apart from you.

“Leave him be, Pads. He misses her.” Remus interjects kindly, not lifting his eyes from the well-worn pages of whichever book he’s decided to burrow his attention into for the ride back to Hogwarts.

“Well he can join the bloody club then, can’t he?” Sirius starts, intent on ignoring Remus’ suggestion, “I’ve just about fallen for her myself after spending my entire holiday listening to this git recite his bloody sonnets for her,” he continues with a not-so flattering mimicry of a lovesick James, “It is the east! And (y/n) is the sun. O Romeo!” He throws himself dramatically to the floor on his knees, clasping his hands above his heart.

Peter watches the spectacle with a grin, covering up his chuckle with a cough after James sends him a look of warning. Before James can defend himself against Sirius’ melodrama, the door to their compartment slides open, revealing a beautiful and slightly out of breath you.

And suddenly you’re not the only one who’s out of breath.

You’ve gotten even prettier over the summer, somehow. If somebody had asked James before, if he thought you could possibly have gotten any more beautiful, he’d’ve laughed in their face, telling them tales of how your beauty could put Aphrodite to shame. But now? Now his heart was beating so violently in his chest he was almost certain it was attempting to escape, trying to take its rightful place upon your sleeve.

“Sorry I’m late, I nearly broke my neck out there!” You stop briefly to catch your breath, the jog on your way over winding you more than you’d care to admit. “Someone ought to tell those first-years there’s enough seats on here for the lot of us. I’ve just been walloped by a bloody eleven year old! Cheeky little-” You cease your rambling amidst your confusion at the sight before you, Sirius on his knees at James’ feet.

“Have I interrupted something? Perhaps a proposal of sorts?” You jest, your amusement growing at the wide eyed look on James’ face as he scrambles to stand, coming to greet you properly with a hug that doesn’t last nearly as long as you wish it would.

“No!” He protests instantly, amidst wrapping you in the soft embrace.

“Cor, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles after pulling away, leaving a hand on your back as he gently guides you to your seat beside him, hesitant to do so, as once you’re sat he’ll no longer have an excuse to touch you.

“I missed you more!” Your enthusiasm brings him optimism, there’s a chance she means it the way you do, he thinks, there’s a chance-

“And what of me?” Sirius and his bloody interjections. James has half a mind to lock him out of the ruddy compartment and leave him to fend for himself amongst the overzealous first-years.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” You feign confusion, though not very well, James can see the brilliant smile forming leisurely upon your lips. What I would do to those lips, his thoughts are running rampant after a summer spent away from your presence, too caught up to hear the jokes you and Sirius are trading back and forth, and that laugh! His internal monologue continues, ’s like a proper bloody song. Just ask her, right now. If she says no you can play it off as a joke. It might sting a bit, but surely it’d be better than keeping it all locked away.

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me? Just us two? We’ll have a lovely time, I swear it.”

He knows what he was hoping you’d say, something along the lines of ‘Yes, James, I’d love to!’ but he wasn’t expecting it.

He also wasn’t expecting your given response.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Jamie, thank you! D’you see that, Sirius? A helpful suggestion. You ought to try one of those sometime.” You’re back to chatting with Sirius and Remus as Peter leans over to James, whispering an explanation to his visibly confused friend.

James had caught you mid-complaint about how you’d forgotten to bring the dittany leaves you need to make the special healing chocolates you gift Remus after a particularly bad full moon. After Sirius’ not-so-helpful suggestion to try substituting them with pot leaves, you gladly welcomed the chance to pop over to Hogsmeade with James and buy some more.

You’d mistaken his date proposal for a shopping trip.

Marvellous.

This is going to be the year that James tells you how he feels. He’ll make sure of it.

If for no other reason than this was your seventh and final year at Hogwarts together. His stomach churned at the mere idea of allowing you to slip through his fingers for good; you acting as the coarse sand to his adamant hourglass. He wouldn’t have it.

So he’d try again.

In the few weeks since you’ve returned to Hogwarts, your time’s been consumed by studying for your N.E.W.T.s. You’re also determined to acquire a spot in the internship programme at St. Mungo’s. The sheer amount of time you’ve spent there with your boys over the last few years has more than prepared you for a future as a healer if you end up enjoying the work.

“Alright, who was the first witch to extract floo powder?” James has spent the last hour and a half quizzing you on all matters Herbology, if it were anyone else he’d’ve been bored to slumber by now. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you.

The two of you were sat outside together on a blanket, taking full advantage of the uncharacteristically sunny day. James is leaned comfortably back against a tree as you sit across from him, simultaneously taking notes and answering each of his questions without pause.

“Ignatia Wildsmith. Ravenclaw. Come ‘ead James, I’ve told you to stop going easy on me! Every seventh-year applying will know all of these.” Bloody lucky I love her so much, James thinks to himself, I thought that was a hard one.

He’d like to laugh your nerves away, crack a few jokes and tell you that you may be going a bit overboard. You’re going to get the internship, and not just because you’re brilliant and perfectly qualified, but also because your Herbology professor had written a glowing recommendation letter singing your praises.

But he can’t find it in himself to mess around when you’ve got that adorable little wrinkle between your eyebrows displaying your worry, and your lips have turned down into a delectably kissable pout. It takes nearly everything in him not to brush it away with his own lips. 

“(y/n),” He starts, wetting his lips with his tongue as he desperately attempts to keep his thoughts from overtaking his voice, “It’s going to be alright, I promise. You’re more than ready for this. Why don’t we try taking a little break?” His heart feels as though it’s leapt into his throat when you glance at him and send a delicate smile of gratitude.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. We’ve been at this for hours, you must be exhausted of me by now.” You smile, more cheerful this time as you realize a break is precisely what you need.

James can’t contain the laugh that escapes him.

Exhausted? Of you? 

The absurdity of thinking he could ever grow tired of you was an inherently laughable concept to him.

He’s nearly clutching his stomach when he finally manages to compose himself, making heart-stopping eye contact with his equally amused and puzzled best friend.

“Are you mad?” James’ dimpled smile sets a kaleidoscope of butterflies aflutter in your stomach, “I’d spend all my hours with you if I could.” He means it with every atom that makes up his being, he’s meant it for years but now he’s actually saying it to you.

Your smile grows wider with each word he speaks, your own thoughts matching the underlying sentiment of his articulation more than he could ever know.

“I-” He pauses, inhaling deeply and squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an effort to maintain his courage, “I love you.” You did it, he thinks to himself proudly, you actually bloody did it, Prongs! He exhales shakily, reinitiating eye contact with you as a small smile begins to blossom on his tender lips.

“James,” Your voice holds an underlying tone of sadness that causes an adorable crinkle of confusion to settle between James’ eyebrows, “I love you too.” You smile tightly, almost as though it’s causing you discomfort to do so.

“You do?” James is more perplexed now than he had been when you’d explained to him in painstaking detail the intricate relationships between each member of Fleetwood Mac the first time the two of you listened to Rumours together.

“Of course I do,” Your smile stretches intimately, the somber quality of your voice never wavering, “You’re my best mate, after all.”

Best mate? James thinks, is that really all she sees?

Had he not been so caught up in his own racing thoughts, he may have picked up on yours. He may have realized that his situation was holding a gargantuan mirror up to your own, casting a perfect reflection of the feelings within.

Best mates, you internally chastise yourself, that’s all he sees.

A proper bloody mirror.

“It was completely humiliating, Pads. She might as well’ve called me her bloody brother.” James has been yammering on about what happened that day for the past three weeks. Three weeks. Sirius is going positively mad, somehow having become James’ sounding board to rehash his complaints every time he remembers the encounter.

“I mean, how am I supposed to tell the girl I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her now?” James is pacing back and forth agitatedly at the foot of Sirius’ bed, as the aforementioned boy lays back uninterestedly, wishing his duvet would come to life and swallow him whole in an effort to escape the worlds most redundant conversation.

“She’d probably tell you that sounds lovely. Make you her future child’s godparent.” Sirius jokes dryly.

James abandons his invisible footpath, a wave of panic comically widening his warm hazel eyes substantially.

“She what?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Prongs! I can’t take any more of this,” Sirius sits up agitatedly, now far beyond his capacity for James’ lovesick commentaries, “Just go tell her. Right now.”

“Are you mad? Have you not just heard everything I’ve said?” James would normally find humour in Sirius’ lackadaisical attitude, but confessing his feelings for you was an entirely serious matter with no margin for error.

“Oh I’ve heard it, Prongs. For the past three weeks. And the entire bloody summer. And every single year before that.” He moves to stand in front of James, his agitation fading into sincerity, “I know how you feel, Prongs. But does she?” James swallows thickly as Sirius continues, “I don’t mean just telling her you love her, I mean telling her how you love her. As more than a friend. Maybe she feels the same way.”

James takes his time considering Sirius’ words. He’s tried to tell you, clearly, but he assumed that you’d only seen him as a friend. But what if you hadn’t? What if Sirius is right, and you told him you loved him as a friend because you’d assumed that’s what he’d meant when he said it?

“I’m a proper git, aren’t I?” James concludes aloud.

“Most certainly, Prongsy. It’s why I keep you around,” Sirius’ playful mood returns swiftly, “Makes me feel better about myself.” 

You’re talking softly with Remus in the library, voices low enough not to disrupt your peers but just detectable enough for James to catch your words when he finds you, internally preparing his declaration of unwavering devotion for you.

“You’re not going out with him, are you?” Remus’ hushed voice holds a curious tone.

“Of course not, Rem.” You smile softly, “Could you honestly imagine that? Him and I dating?”

James’ eyebrows furrow together in confusion, he presses himself slightly against a nearby bookshelf in an attempt to hear your conversation more clearly.

“No, I guess not,” Remus chuckles faintly, “It would certainly make things awkward if they didn’t work out. Being friends and all.” 

“No kidding.” You chuckle good-naturedly. 

James feels like a bag of cement has been poured down his throat, constricting his lungs and settling into a block of concrete in the pit of his stomach.

Sirius had been wrong. You didn’t love James as more than a friend, in fact, you’d practically laughed at the thought of it. In his hasty escape from the scene of the melancholic crime, James neglected to hear the rest of your conversation with Remus.

“He’s a lovely lad, truly,” You smile genuinely, “Any girl would be lucky to call Amos Diggory her boyfriend. We’re just better as friends is all.” You trail off, leaving out the part where your heart already belongs to another shared friend of yours and Remus’.

It’s not like it was ever going to happen anyway. Your love for James Potter was entirely unreciprocated.

Wasn’t it?

James is avoiding you.

As painful as it is to spend each never-ending moment of spare time away from you, James can only think of how much more agonizing it would be to spend those moments with you.

To fix his loving gaze on your sparkling eyes, only to find them filled with affections one would hold only for a friend.

To accomplish the feat of bringing a luminous smile to your delicate lips, only to remember those lips would never brush tenderly against his own.

To be so close to the girl he loves, only to be denied her heart in equal measure.

It’s easier, in a sense, to push you away.

It’s only temporary, just until he can stomach the thought of spending the rest of his life as your best mate and nothing more.

But it’s been weeks, and the idea still makes his head feel like it’s underwater, like he’s fighting to reach the surface but his leg’s been caught on a viciously determined blade of seaweed.

Still, he’s convinced himself that this is his best course of action.

Unbeknownst to James, however, you’ve been going stark raving mad.

You’ve hardly spoken to him in weeks. When you think about it, you’ve barely even seen him, save for a few quick glimpses in your classes and across the dining tables in the Great Hall.

You’ve tried to talk to him, clearly something is bothering him. Maybe you’ve said or done something to upset him without realizing it. But he’d brushed you off before you could even get out the words ‘are you alright?’

You’d asked Remus, Sirius, and Peter about it, each of them giving you vague semblances of justification that fell entirely flat, a few “He’s just busy with quidditch”s and a couple of “Must be studying today”s. You’ve grown tired of the excuses and you’re determined to get to the bottom of it yourself.

You’re leaning picturesquely against the wall outside of the lad’s changing room when James finally sees you again. His curly hair is spilling droplets of water from the shower he’s just taken, successfully washing away the evidence of his quidditch practice.

You’re beautiful. That’s all he can think as he finally allows himself to take you in fully for the first time in weeks. He feels like he’s been holding his breath since he saw you last and now he can finally exhale, a sense of euphoria filling his chest as his lungs deflate mercifully.

“Hi.” You state gently, a delicate smile painted daintily across your lips.

“Hi.” James echoes once he’s relearned the inhale-exhale repetition of breathing again.

“I waited for you,” You start after a brief silence, “Which- You can see that, obviously.” You chuckle a ebullient breath that causes a small smile to form on James’ face, Merlin, I’ve missed that, he thinks as you continue. “I just, um- I thought maybe we could talk?” You’re fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit of yours that James has long since memorized by now.

He instantly reaches for your hands, tenderly taking one in his own and carefully intertwining your fingers together with his. The action is like second nature, he hardly thinks twice about it.

You smile visibly at the act of comfort, if he’s upset with you and that’s the reason he’s been avoiding you, it makes your heart skip a beat that he’s putting it all aside to calm you down when you’re anxious.

“About what?” He tries, though you both know that’s not going to work.

“Nice,” You smile teasingly, “Want to give it a real go this time?”

James swallows something akin to a lump in his throat, averting his resplendent hazel gaze from your eyes to land somewhere along the floor as he overthinks which approach he should take.

He could try honesty. Yes, he thinks, because that would go over proper well. I’m avoiding you cause I’ve been gutted since I heard you’re not in love with me. Surely she’ll find that real mature, Prongs.

He could also try lying his arse off. And that would work, he sarcastically chastises silently, Me? Oh nothing’s wrong at all. Just tired, y’know? Practice and homework and the like. As if she’s ever believed a lie you’ve told her before.

He finally chances resuming eye contact with you, heartbeat hastening expeditiously as his hazel orbs lock onto your patently awaiting eyes. You should be looking far more frustrated, James wouldn’t blame you if you were. You have every right to be upset, and yet you’re not.

Instead, you’re you. 

You, who’s calmly awaiting a response, fingers still gently intertwined with James’. 

You, who’s looking at him with soft, sparkling eyes, eyes that are silently promising him no matter what he says, everything is going to be alright.

You, the girl he loves more than anything in the world.

“You.” He states after an implicit eternity.

“Me?” Your features mix together to create a perfectly darling display of confusion that, even despite the circumstances, causes a modest smile to tug upwards at the corners of James’ mouth.

“I’ve been avoiding you.” He conveys, sounding as though he’s just revealed to you a hidden secret you’d’ve never otherwise been able to uncover.

You can’t contain the short laugh that escapes you, a smile taking its rightful place on your face. “Yeah, ‘m not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but I managed to put that one together.”

James can’t subdue the traces of guilt that seep onto his face.

“I was hoping maybe we could talk about why. If I’ve done something to upset you-”

“No!” James cuts you off, “No, love, you haven’t done anything. Nothing you could control anyway.” His voice is less than half of its usual volume at the last sentence he utters.

Your face is back to holding that adorably confused expression that James so desperately yearns to kiss away.

“I have to admit, Jamie, I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”

James sighs, finally releasing the hand that’s been holding comfortably on to your own and running it through his leisurely drying hair. He releases a sigh of distress and squeezes his eyes shut firmly in an attempt to figure out the best way to explain himself.

“If you’re not upset with me, then why have you been avoiding me?” You’re trying to put it together on your own as James is proving to be no help, “Wait a mo! Is this some kind of prank or something?” You smile, though you’re not entirely certain you’re correct yet, “Are you trying to get back at me for dying your knickers pink? Because that was an accident!” 

James can’t help but smile at your incorrect deduction. Merlin she’s adorable he thinks, how am I supposed to tell her now?

“Yes!” James concludes untruthfully, “You got me. Just a prank. Might’ve gone a bit too far with it though. Sorry ‘bout that, love.”

He brings you into a hug and, after going weeks without it, it feels like home.

You feel like home.

You’re hugging James, after having just gone weeks without it. And you just know. 

You have to tell him.

You have to tell him, right now, that you’re in love with him.

And so you do.

“I love you.” You state breathlessly, pulling away from the warm solace of his embrace and looking bravely into his glimmering hazel eyes.

James nods his head mechanically, as if he’s agreeing to your suggestion on what to have for dinner and not taking in the confession of eternal love you’ve just spouted.

“Yes, I love you too,” He smiles a tight, strained smile, “Mate.” He punctuates his final word by bumping his fist gently into your shoulder.

Oh, you think, I’m going to have to spell it out for him, aren’t I?

“No, James. I love you,” You take a step closer to him, not breaking eye contact despite the nerves that are jostling around your insides like a violent sea in a raging storm, taking a deep breath before exhaling somewhat expeditiously, you continue, “Like- Like, I’m in love with you.”

The first thing James feels in that moment are his eyes widening emphatically behind his round-rimmed glasses, his dark lashes making direct contact with the top of his eyelids. He’s certain he must have heard you wrong, that or he’s understood you wrong.

The second thing he feels is hope. What if he hadn’t understood you wrong?

The third thing he feels is his heart, beating faster than it ever has before, so fast he thinks it might be ready to do him in for good. Surely a heart shouldn’t be beating that fast.

“You’re in love? With me?” James speaks disbelievingly, though he’s unable to hide the traces of optimism he’s feeling as a modest smile begins to form on his face.

You nod your head assuredly, a genial smile of your own starting at the sight of his, “Yes, I’m in love with you. Madly, in fact.”

You’ve spent months, years even, deliberating on how you would tell James, if you would tell James. You’d spent countless hours wondering how he would react and what would happen after all was said and done.

You’d planned to tell him all about that. About how long you’ve felt this way, when it started and why it’s taken you so long to tell him, how you were too afraid of risking your best friend should anything have gone wrong.

What you hadn’t planned on was what happened the second you got the last word out.

James eagerly presses his plush lips onto your own, savouring the long overdue sensation of your mouth against his. He tenderly brushes your bottom lip with his tongue once he feels you respond to the kiss with equal fervour. Enthusiastically, you grant his tongue access into your mouth, pulling him closer to you by the roots of his damp hair.

James lets out a low groan at the contact, pulling you flush against his body by your waist, his hands hungrily gripping onto you for dear life as, somehow, the kiss deepens even further.

When the need for oxygen outweighs your mutual need for each others lips, you reluctantly part the slightest of distances, foreheads resting tenderly against one another.

“I’m in love you too. So bloody madly.” James whispers contentedly with a lovesick grin. 

You’re each donning smiles brighter than you can ever recall before.

The moment you’ve caught your breath you’re back at it again in full force, gripping at each others clothes and tangling nimble fingers through the other’s hair. James pulls back when your beaming smile makes it a little harder for him to kiss you, returning a smile just as wide that compels you to pull him back in for another kiss, or two, or three.

When the two of you finally feel satiated enough, James pulls back again, a noticeably farther distance. He’s still smiling but it isn’t quite as bright as it was a moment ago.

“What was all that about in the library, then? With Moony?” He asks you the question that’s been clawing at his insides for the last few weeks.

You pause, visibly confused as you shuffle through the files of your memories until you land on one a few weeks ago with Remus in the library. The two of you were discussing a friend who’d asked you on a date. You’d declined as politely as you could, valuing his friendship but knowing your heart had long since been beating for James.

“What about it?” You smile confusedly.

“Well, you were talking about me, weren’t you?” James looks down to the floor, expression now almost devoid of the happiness that had previously overtaken every inch of his face.

“What?” You laugh briefly before it registers, not just his words, but the reason he’s been avoiding you for the last few weeks.

“Wait- James!” You tilt your head into his line of vision, gently cradling his face with your hand as you turn his head to face you fully, “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? You thought.. Oh, Merlin.”

You pull him into a hug, holding him tight enough to convey just how wrong he’s been.

“I was talking about Amos Diggory.” You state with a gentle exhale, something between a laugh and a sigh, pulling back you rest your arms at your sides. “He asked me to dinner.”

James doesn’t hide the relief that courses through his body, despite the slight scoff of jealousy he lets out at your final sentence.

“But,” You wrap your arms back around him in reassurance, looking up into his eyes that are once again sparkling with happiness, “I’ve been a tad busy, being in love with my best friend and all. So I told him no. Obviously.”

“Right, obviously.” James replies with a cheeky smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re a git, you know.” You roll your eyes, the action a mixture of lovesickness and frustration. “You could’ve just asked me then. Instead of hiding in the books like a proper stalker. And then avoiding me. For weeks,” You’re smiling, but you know you’re still getting your point across, “You git.” You punctuate your final word with a gentle swat to James’ chest, smiling adoringly when he grabs that hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss to it before dropping your intertwined hands back at your side.

“I know,” He admits apologetically, “I’m sorry.” He’s smiling breathtakingly, “Still love me?”

You can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him, because in some roundabout way, it’s what led you to this moment right now, where you can reach over and kiss him if you want to.

And you want to. 

Pulling him into you by the fabric of his shirt, you plant another kiss upon James’ lips. The passion and tenderness in the kiss meld together just as perfectly as your lips do.

“Yes.” You mumble happily when your mouths finally break apart. “Always.”

[imogen-fae]

Wild Rivers - Thinking 'Bout Love (Official Video)

Just thinkin 'bout luv....hope yall are having a luvvy dovey sweetest day weekend. Remember to ❤️ yourself first and the rest will follow.

Have a listen to Wild Rivers before you go. They will git you into the rushy flow of kissy face feelz.

[gale-dekarios]

yeah, pretty much.

and not to latch onto that final point when all of this is relevant, but its the exact thing i was vagueing abt -- considering astarion's a vampire who not only can but will Kill You without remorse, and wyll's a MONSTER HUNTER, making a comment or two that's a bit mean is the LEAST wyll COULD have done in that moment. if astarion kills you, as much as i love him, itd have been totally justified for wyll to have tried to kill him back!

people are quicker to defend astarion for killing your character than they are to defend wyll for being a wee bit mean about it.

but then in the same breath, people will say that wyll's boring because he's too nice/good/uncomplicated.

so which is it?

reminder that it's super fucking weird to ask complete strangers if youre a racist and additionally that it's super fucking weird to get mad if they dont respond to you in the way that you want.

if you want someone to tell you that youve done something wrong and how to fix it, consider becoming catholic instead of getting mad at strangers.

alternatively, consider that youre actually allowed to not spew every thought youve ever had at anybody forced to listen.

[harrysmmm]

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ - ᴅ.ᴍ

Draco Malfoy x Y/N (f!reader)

Setting: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Summary: where Harry and Draco have a crush on you at the same time and they both ask you to the yule ball.

A/N: should I make a part two? I feel like a little bit of jealous Malfoy after knowing that Harry has a crush on Y/N could make a nice follow-up.

W/C: 1.6K

masterlist here

Annoying. That’s the word you would use to describe that moment. One of the qualities you always acknowledged possessing was empathy. You softened with people that were sensitive; you listened to people that were suffering; you loved people that were lonely. It was in your nature to care for people, to try to understand their motives. But at that specific moment in time, you wanted to slap the shit out of a certain one.

Brat, bugger, git, prat, smart-ass, toff, wanker, yob, the list went on. That’s how you would describe Draco Malfoy. He had it against you and your friends. No - correction: he had it against everyone that was not a damn pureblood slyther-fucking-in. You would turn a corner and there he was casting a spell that would make you slipper like a seven-year-old in a slide. You would enter a classroom and find your table gravitating in the air, with all your notes scattered all over the classroom. You would eat in the Great Hall and a dead tarantula was right in your pumpkin soup. Since first year, he had been mocking you and your closest friends, Harry, Ron and Hermione. And even if the most well-known rivalry was the one he had with Harry, yours was more personal.

That cloudy day of October he decided to throw bird notes at you in Transfiguration class that distracted you from paying attention. Some of the messages followed as:

“Hey Y/L/N, I bumped into the kitchen elves this morning, they were wondering why the dishes were not done. I told them you were probably busy eating all the leftovers.” “Hey Gryffindork, saw Longbottom is still free for the yule ball, maybe you can both live your pathetic little Gryffindor tale together. P.S. You could also ask Hagrid. Bet he’s free for you.”

Private. That’s the way you would describe Harry Potter in one word. You two were close, although not as close as he was with Ron, or as close as you were with Hermione. The fact that he was always bearing the prophecy of being the chosen one was something that would set you apart – mostly because you weren’t living it and he didn’t like to further explain. It was in third year that you surprised yourself with your body’s reaction to his presence. How you started to care about the way your laugh went out during a joke; you started to care about how your hair would fall when you were sitting at the library. You developed a crush on the boy. You never made a move; he never seemed to notice, nor reciprocate it, so you eventually desisted and focused your attention on other matters.

Those were the only two boys you would mostly communicate with, for better or worse. You didn’t particularly consider yourself an introvert, but you surely counted your acquaintances on a low number, especially when it came to boys. You also bared the weight of Hermione’s influence, who was surely not into boys’ talk, or boys in general. When you were with her, which happened to be most of the time, you followed her flow and ended up not particularly wondering about dating, or romantic feelings for the matter.

However, due to the debut of the Triwizard Tournament, there was a ball that was going to take place on the 25th of December. A ball that you needed a date for. Date that, after a week of having been announced, you still didn’t have. You hadn’t been worrying until Hermione had told you that she already had a date, with no other than Viktor Krum, the hottie of the year. And if even Hermione had already managed to find a partner, that meant that you were way behind.

“You have a date?!” asked Ron, very surprised.

“Yes Ronald, why that tone?” Hermione replied.

“Bloody hell, who are you going with?” he continued, still shocked.

“I’m not telling you, but I have one,” she pretentiously replied.

“’m sure you’re bluffing,” he insisted, grinning.

“I am not! Ask Y/N!”

“She’s not,” you simply replied.

“Just because you still don’t have a date, doesn’t mean I don’t get to have one,” she said. You noticed Ron’s reaction really got to her.

“I don’t have a date because I don’t want one just now.”

“Now you are the one who’s bluffing,” commented Harry.

“You gotta help me out here, mate,” Ron whispered to Harry.

“You’re pathetic Ronald Weasley,” added Hermione, furiously closing her notebook. She stood up from her seat, handing her homework to Professor Snape. “See you later, Y/N.” You waved goodbye at her.

“Bloody hell, this woman is so delusional. I bet she made that man up,” Ron continued after Hermione had left the classroom.

 “You’re too hard on her, Ron. Besides, she does really have a date,” you said, defending her.

“I already pity the man then,” he replied, focusing back on his homework.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer, also focusing on the task that was on the desk.

“For Merlin’ sake, I can’t focus. I’mma go, I’ll finish it in the dorm.” Ron stood up and exited the classroom.

“You’re probably gonna have to pass it to him,” you said to Harry.

“You bet on that,” he replied, grinning.

You focused back on your homework.

“Y/N,” uttered Harry.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I was wondering… if you want… well, I was just thinking… that if by any chance you… uh… still didn’t have a date… for the ball… you might… perhaps… wanna come… with me?”

You had a surprised grin on your face,

“Well, I mean, I thought you wanted to go with someone special… taking into consideration that you’re one of the champions,” you managed to say.

“Yes… that’s why I’m asking you,” he replied.

The entire scene unnerved you. You had been wanting to be asked out by Harry since third year, and now that he was starting to conceive your dynamic as more than friendship your feelings for the boy had already worn out.

Bloody Potter, always wrong timing.

“Can I give you a proper answer tonight?” you asked, knowing that you had to process things through before saying yes.

“Sure, yeah, no problem,” he replied.

You both smiled at each other and went back to the Potions’ homework.

It was almost time for supper but you were headed to the Great Lake to read for a few moments. Technically, you were forbidden from doing so. You meant technically, because being friends with Hagrid gave you some advantages, like a free pass to visit him and wander around. You also absolutely adored that time of the year, when the leaves were of warm tones and the chill breeze made you wear white turtle neck jumpers or jumpers that had the Gryffindor patch sewn in them.

You were comfortably reading under the shade of a tree when you started hearing boyish sounds. One of the voices you recognized belonged to a particular bleached boy.

“Woo-hoo, look who came to visit her giant boyfriend.” Draco approached you, followed by his sidekicks Crabbe and Goyle.

You didn’t even wait two seconds to get up and start packing your things.

“Leaving so soon? Are we bothering you?” He cockily started approaching you.

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” you replied, closing your bag.

“What do we have here, huh? Let me see,” he asked, referring to the book you were holding.

You held it tightly but he managed to pull it from you.

“The summer I met you, ha,” he snickered. “Romantic heart, wouldn’t have bet so from you Y/L/N.”

“Can I get it back?” you asked, pulling your arm forward.

He smiled at you. “Nah.” He threw the book into the lake.

His friends started woo-hing and laughing.

“You disgusting little rat,” you pulled out your wand and directed it towards him.

He was not laughing anymore, his sidekicks directing their wands toward you too.

“You cast something, we make sure you can’t walk again,” Goyle threatened you.

“It’s alright guys,” Draco said. “Just go.”

The boys seemed confused. “Who are you talking to?”

“You, idiots. Go!” Draco snapped.

The boys didn’t move.

“You heard him. Go!” you insisted.

They pulled back, confused, and eventually left.

Your wand was still on Draco’s neck.

“Easy now, lower you bloody wand,” he calmly said.

“You’re disgusting, Draco. I mean it.” Your blood was boiling. “You treat everyone like shit. I never did anything for you to hate me. I never asked for any of this, nor did anyone.”

“Go to the ball with me,” he said.

Your heart stopped.

What in the actual fuck?

“What?” you replied.

“I want you to go to the ball with me, if you want to,” he repeated. Your wand was still on his throat.

“Why would you want that?” That was the only thing you managed to say.

He placed his right hand on your wand and slowly put it down, without losing eye contact with you.

“Isn’t it obvious, after all this time?” he said.

“I’m lost, Draco. I have no idea what is going on,” you replied, ideas of him feeling the opposite of hate for you coming to your mind.

“You’re that blind, aren’t you?” he continued, placing one hand on your wrist.

You freezed at his contact.

“Why am I blind?” you were only able to ask stupid questions at that point.

He held your face with his left hand.

“So blind…” He got closer to your face, his eyes slowly closing.

You waited for the impact. And there you had it.

His lips slowly brushed yours, still not fully colliding.

“I’m crazy for you, Y/N,” he said with both of your faces glued to each other. “You can’t even fucking imagine.”

“Since when?” you replied.

“Since always.”

Magically annoying. Those are the words you would use to describe that moment.

part two

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Getting the Numbers Right

I glare at Billy. The empty eye sockets glare back. 

“You’re nothing like John,” I tell him.

Billy stays silent. He often does. Especially after John moved in and I didn’t need him for a sound board anymore.

“No one is like John,” I mutter.

“How long has he been gone? Is she the one who will hold his attention longer than two dates?"

Billy’s mocking tone puts my nerves on edge.

“If I text him now, about a case, he will abandon her without a second thought,” I inform the obnoxious skull.

If Billy was still able to roll his eyes, this would be the moment for it.

“To answer your first question, he’s been gone for one hour and forty-seven minutes.”

“Trust you to know to the second how long he’s been out.”

I roll my eyes because I can, and huff loudly.

“Getting the numbers right is just a way to keep my brain occupied while I’m talking to you. Now, to your second question. This one, Jeanette? Lisa? Sarah? is number six in as many months. John looked exactly the same as he does before every second date he’s been on since he moved in here. My analysis will prove that he’ll end it. Tonight, or by text tomorrow.”

“You seem awfully sure about this. What if this one is the exception.”

It turned out that Billy was right for once.

***

“Alright, I’m off. See you in a week,” John says and hoists his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to eat.”

“Why?” I mumble into the sofa cushion.

“Because I don’t want to come home to a corpse, you git,” John explains.

“Why bother coming home at all if you’re moving in with what’s-her-name anyway,” I protest.

A foreign sensation is starting in my throat. It thickens and something is burning behind my eyelids. 

“Sentiment!”

“Shut up, Billy!” I yell.

“Moving?” John asks incredulously. 

A thump startles me. John has dropped his bag to the floor, and his palm is warming my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Sherlock?” John asks, clearly worried.

“Nothing. You’ll miss your train,” I say and curl in on myself, trying to shake off John’s hand without succeeding.

“You’re trembling,” John states and places his other palm on my forehead to check for fever.

“Am not,” I say, but something is wrong with my voice.

It’s hoarse because of my swollen throat. My nose fills with moisture, overflows, and my philtrum is suddenly soaked with snot. Both cheeks are wet with shed tears, which I evidently have an endless amount of. 

“Sherlock? Talk to me,” John pleads. “There’s clearly something bothering you.”

To my utter dismay, the tears keep flowing and my chest has started to ache. A sob is impossible to stifle. It’s a sound I haven’t heard myself produce since I was a child.

Another sound catches my ears. John is tapping on his phone. The absence of his warm hands is unsettling. I feel…bereft. To my relief it doesn’t last long. His strong fingers rake through my hair, and his other hand stroke my upper arm.

“I really wish I didn’t have to go, Sherlock, but this conference is…shit…look. I’m postponing my departure a few hours, and I won’t stay the whole week, just the three days that are inevitable, alright. But I need you to talk to me. Tell me what all this is about. And I swear, if this is just shamming…”

“It’s not,” I croak. “I’ve come to realise…you…John…I can’t…I won’t cope when you move…”

“Shh, now. No one is moving. Didn’t you deduce that I broke it off with Jeanette last month? You must stop talking to Billy. He’s an idiot,” John murmurs.

Strong arms turn me, but I can’t bear to look at John when my face is covered in snot and tears. Instead, I bury it in the crook of his neck, and the familiar scent instantly soothes me. My body goes limp, and the tears stop falling.

***

It’s a totally different experience when John prepares his second departure. He holds my head in his hands, looks me square in the eyes and talks softly.

“Keep busy. Count the days, minutes, seconds until I’m back if you must. Perform safe experiments. Eat. Stay hydrated. Text me if you need to. I won’t always be able to answer right away, but whenever I can, I will. We can talk when I’m finished for the day. Video calls. I’ll want to see you to know that you’re okay.”

He pulls me down and kisses me so tenderly, I’m tempted to start crying again. I hold the back of his head carefully and puts all my love for him into the kiss.

“I love you. I’ll miss you. Come back to me,” I murmur into his hair when we break the kiss and we’re holding each other tight.

“I will, Sherlock. I’ll miss you too. I always miss you when I’m not with you. Love you too. Now, start counting,” you say. 

You stroke my cheek, then leave. I start counting the seconds, minutes and days until we’re reunited.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @raina-at

@helloliriels @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely

@peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @bs2sjh @a-victorian-girl @221beloved

@ninasnakie @jolieblack

[lulublack90]

Prompt 7 - Imaginary

@wolfstarmicrofic June 7, word count 999

Previous part First part

Remus dusted himself off and handed the envelope to James to read. He kept his head low, not wanting to see the look on Sirius’s face. James opened the envelope and pulled the first clue out.

“I’m majestic, but I tumble. I crash to the ground in a forceful cascade. I bounce from rocks and make a beautiful sound. Behind my wall clue number two calls.” James screwed up his face. “What the hell does that mean?” 

Remus replayed the words in his head again a few times. Cascade was the word that triggered his memory. 

“It’s a waterfall. Is there a waterfall nearby?” He looked at James and Peter, ignoring Sirius. 

“Yes!” Peter cried excitedly. They started walking further into the forest. He stuck to Peters's side as they made their way to wherever the waterfall was. He doubted his dad would come to pick him up, especially after only one day. Perhaps there was room in one of the other cabins? 

“Here we are,” James bounded forward, pushing a low-hanging branch out of the way and revealing a small pool with a little waterfall flowing into it. “Who wants to get it?” 

“I’ll go,” Sirius volunteered. Remus flicked his eyes at him as he spoke and wished he hadn’t. Sirius was pulling off his t-shirt. Remus had to bite his tongue to stop the moan that wanted to escape at the sight of the muscled porcelain torso Sirius revealed. He accidentally met Sirius’s eyes and felt the hot flush spreading across his face and immediately dropped his head, so he was staring at the scuffed toes of his boots. 

Sirius waded across the shallow pool and plunged his hand behind the waterfall. He pulled it back, grasping an envelope in a plastic bag. 

Remus couldn’t help himself. He peeked again and Sirius was waiting for him. He had a soft smile on his face and he winked at him. Remus swallowed and looked away again. 

“Here,” Sirius passed the clue to James while he retrieved his t-shirt. He came to stand beside Remus as he pulled it over his head. He took Remus’s hand but ignored the way he tensed. 

Remus’s mind was spinning at a hundred miles an hour. But he had to block out all his thoughts as James read the second clue. 

“I grow from decay. I don’t need the sun. Fairies use me to make shapes in the grass. I am also popular in arts and crafts. Under my cap is clue number three. At the end, you'll soon be.”

“Gods who wrote these clues, they're terrible.” Sirius rolled his eyes. "It’s clearly a mushroom,” James’s eyes brightened as he figured out where they needed to go. 

“They have those wooden mushrooms over by the bug houses.” He grinned wildly and strode back to the path. 

“Come on then,” Sirius said, “We can talk later, okay?” His soft smile was back and Remus didn’t trust himself to talk, so he nodded and let Sirius lead him away. 

“They did this on purpose. Giving us all the grim places to find clues.” Peter grimaced at the towers of compost, filled with worms, the bee houses and little bug dens. Remus wasn’t a fan of bugs, and it appeared that neither were the others. 

“Sorry, Pete,” Sirius said solemnly.

“For what?” Peter asked, confused.

“This,” Sirius said with a sigh. He dropped Remus’s hand and pushed Peter into the bug-infested area.

“You absolute git!” Peter groused as he stomped over the mushrooms and ripped the envelope from beneath the middle one. “Here,” He thrust the envelope into James’s chest. “You owe me,” He glared at Sirius as he flicked imaginary centipedes from his trousers. 

“Anything you want, Pete,” Sirius agreed, slipping his hand into Remus’s again. 

“I’m grainy and gritty and just a little bit bitty. You use me to make castles. I am walked upon by many camels. You may track time with me, but I do not tick. To win you need to figure this out quick!” James read the final clue. 

“Castles and time?” Sirius was absentmindedly stroking Remus’s wrist again, as they all thought. It wasn’t helping Remus figure out the clue though. 

“Oh, Oh, Oh, I know what it is!” Peter yelped gleefully as he jumped up and down. “It’s sand! As in by the lake!” They took off at a run. 

They were the first ones there. 

“Split up, we can cover more ground that way,” James ordered. Sirius pulled a face and reluctantly released Remus’s hand. They ran along the sand looking for any signs of something that shouldn’t be there. 

Luckily, there wasn’t much accessible sand for them to search. 

“AHHHH!” Peter yelled. They all spun to look in his direction. Peter was sprawled face down in the sand. 

“Peter! What happened?!” James shouted as he rushed across the beach towards his fallen friend. 

“I tripped over something.” Peter groaned as he rolled over and sat up. James brushed the sand aside where Peter had tripped. He looked up grinning. 

“Peter, your clumsiness just won us the treasure hunt.” James brushed more sand away and revealed a small treasure chest. James pulled it from the sand as three other teams came pushing and shoving onto the sand at the edge of the lake. 

“Damn it, Gryffindor won.” One of the boys from the cabin with a snake on it huffed. “Typical,” 

“Congratulations Gryffindor cabin,” McGonagall congratulated, appearing from nowhere. “Please open the chest to claim your reward.” 

James passed the chest to Remus. 

“Go on, it’s your first time here.” Remus gingerly took the chest from James. He looked at Sirius and Peter for their consent. They both nodded at him. 

“Go on,” Sirius said gently to him. He opened it. It was filled with gold coins. He lifted a few and let them drop back into the box. 

“They’re chocolate!” He laughed loudly, picking one up he peeled off the gold-coloured foil and took a bite.

Next part

[manyworldsofdarkness]

Vampire: The Masquerade Clans as Dracula Flow quotes

Assamite/Banu Haquim: “Fuck it. I ate the opp.”

Brujah: “I can’t wait to curb stomp you in these ugly ass Rick Owens shoes.”

Caitiff: “I got my DNA test back. Turns out I’m a 100% HIM-alayan.”

Followers of Set/Ministry: "I threw diamonds on the stage at the strip clubs under the great pyramids. I've pushed a camel through the eye of the needle. This shit ain’t nothing to me, man.”

Gangrel: “I’m a dog. I’m bitin’ the fart bubbles in the bath.”

Giovanni/Hecata: “I have the blueprint to the catacombs.”

Lasombra: “Last guy who ran off from the pack got choked out by some Givenchy gloves. The last thing he ever saw was the price tag on them. Slowly fading into darkness and I let the Archangels take him.”

Malkavian: “Opps was talkin’ crazy. Shot him in the mouth.”

Nosferatu: “they needed a stealth soldier so I put my hands on the hibachi hot plate at Benihana and burned my fucking finger prints off. They will not find me. Kon'nichiwa you little ‘git.”

Ravnos: “I sold crack to myself.”

Salubri: “What the fuck is Obamacare? Hey Obama, I don’t care about shit.”

Thin-Bloods: “I’m smokin’ lizard taint.”

Toreador: “My diamonds come from the most horrific situation possible.”

Tremere: “Boy ran off with a Banjo Kazooie. I had to cast a spell on that motherfucker.”

Tzimisce: “Caught a broke boy tryna come up on my Amazon package, so I skinned his ass alive. AAAHHH!”

Ventrue: “If I had a dollar for every time they said I gave a shit, I’d be broke ‘cuz I don’t give a shit.”

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilymicrofics March Prompt 4: Despondent || 447 words || Read on Ao3 MICROFIC MASTERLIST

James doesn’t get mad. Not like Lily.

But right now, his vision blurs and his fists clench and he feels rage flowing through his veins like he’s seldom ever felt before.

MAGIC LINEAGE PROTECTION ACT ADVANCES TO WIZENGAMOT FOR VOTE, UNFIT MARRIAGE NULLIFICATION AMENDMENT ADDED.

The headline is splashed on the front page of The Daily Prophet above a black-and-white photo depicting serenely smug members of the Old Guard of wizardry. Though James’ wand is on the counter across the little kitchen, the glass next to him on the table shatters, pumpkin juice pooling amongst the shards.

“James?”

Lily’s worried voice floats through from the other room, her hasty, light footsteps announcing her presence, a look of concern in her face as her eyes take in the scene before her.

James can’t speak. He can’t speak, he can’t think, all her can do is feel—the panic, the anger, the revulsion for these men and their shriveled selves.

Delicate hands come to rest on his shoulders as she follows his gaze to the discarded paper. Her voice comes out quietly.

“Oh.”

His left hand comes up to rest atop hers, rough fingers tracing along the cool metal of her wedding band.

“I thought they were killing that bill,” she breathes, despondent.

The exhaustion in his wife’s voice helps him find his own—gravely and tight. “Pushed it through with a quorum overnight.”

“It…it wouldn’t change anything, you know.”

His hand tightens around hers. “Like hell it wouldn’t, Lily. What’s the point of all of this”—he gestures haplessly to the room around him—“if I can’t give you any of the privileges that come with my name? The money in my family’s vault?”

“I happen to love you with or without the money, contrary to some of the nastier rumors,” she replies coolly.

He runs a hand over his face. “Of course you do, Lily I know that I—"

“Am spiraling,” she nods. “You don’t think I’ve been keeping up with this? You don’t think I’ve thought of this—us—from every possible angle?” Her hands slide up from shoulders to neck until they’re cradling his head, Lily firmly pressing her lips into the curls between them. “I love you, you git. And no law will change that, alright? They can nullify whatever the hell they want but they can’t force us apart. They can’t tell us our love doesn’t exist.”

James spins around in his chair and catches her eyes, jaw tight.

“But what if I die? What if, next Order mission, I just—"

She cuts him off with a shake of her head, green eyes glinting with a defiant spark. “Then you better live, Potter. That’s all there is to it.”

[auspicioustidings]

Taggart

Summary: Silly little festive Price x reader x Soap for @bunnyreaper

Words: 1.2k

“You're right Captain, wouldn't be professional would it?” 

Gaz snorted a laugh at that. Simon's dry tone paired with the fact that the two of them were currently very much wrapped up in one another was making Price look like he was sucking lemon slices. 

Honestly he felt bad for his Captain. Soap and you were up excitedly flipping through the karaoke book and were even more casually affectionate than usual with the alcohol flowing which in turn was clearly driving Price mad. It probably didn't help that the dive bar that you all frequented was so endearingly decorated for the season, the twinkling multicoloured lights giving everything a whimsy feel to it that so suited how you and Soap always were together.

Honestly him and Simon would lay in bed at night and gossip away about this whole thing like a pair of old dears. You, Soap and the Captain were so stupidly in love with one another and all of you were so steadfastly ignoring it. It had been funny at first, but after a year of this it was now just getting frustrating to watch. 

“Oh sod off, you two aren't the same” Price grumbled into his whiskey, eyes never leaving you and Soap.

“I mean if you want to promote me up to Lieutenant then maybe that would be true and if I really have to take a promotion to help you out I suppose I could.”

“Cheeky git.”

“Just taking the piss Captain.”

“Doesn't make him less right. If you're fine with me ruining a Sergeant for anyone else why can't you?”

“Simon you say the most romantic things.”

“I'm a regular casanova.”

Price watched as Soap handed you a microphone with a flourish after hugging you and you both stumbled to the stage, faces flush with the effects of mulled wine and excitement. Goddamnit the two of you were going to be the end of him. He had been fine (so he tells himself) when it was only his wildly inappropriate feelings for John MacTavish he had to contend with. Then a year ago he gets told about some little firestarter medic that was facing a severe disciplinary for disobeying direct orders and assaulting a superior officer. You had refused to leave a man behind and then punched your CO and really he should have known then he was going to fall ass over teakettle for you. You were so like MacTavish in so many ways, and my God did the two of you bring out the best in one another.

He had watched with unbridled pride as you earned a promotion within 6 months of working with them. Overdue really, you should have made Sergeant well before then but you had the same problem that was common with the 141; a stunning lack of respect for those who did nothing to earn it but wear a set of stripes.  

And fuck, it was an absolute joy watching Soap take you under his wing. John always knew he was meant for big things, but watching him be able to teach you made him feel like tearing up. While you teased one another and got into mischief all the time, he also saw how gentle Johnny was with you. He saw the way he looked at you when your eyes were elsewhere, so much adoration that it made his heart hurt. 

Yes, you two were practically made for one another. He was just made to sit and nurse his whisky on the sidelines, cheering you on even if it made his heart break.

–

“Ye should replace it with… uh… yer maw watches Taggart!”

“But you watch Taggart!”

“Aye because it's a pure fandabbydozy show.”

Honestly made sense to you. Well, it made sense when you had tried several of the wonderful Christmas themed cocktails. Fairytale of New York karaoke was your stunning idea, but you were trying to avoid shout singing the word faggot at the top of your lungs and thus you would instead be viciously disparaging Johnny by suggesting his mother watched a detective show. Savage really. You nodded vigorously and Johnny smooshed your cheeks.

“Yer so cute wee yin, ma wee baby bunny” he cooed.

You did try to blow a raspberry at him but the smooshing really fucked up your attempt. Oh you wished John was here too, he always sighed and bonked you both on the head when you'd get into childish little exchanges like this. You frowned, suddenly sad about being too scared to drag him up with you. 

Johnny was easy to pull into stupid things like this, but with John it felt trickier. It wasn't like rank seemed to matter much out of the field in this team, Kyle and Simon were proof enough of that, but deep down you knew that wasn't what made you nervous about it. It was that you had stupidly fallen in love with more than one man. And even worse, you were fairly sure that they were in love with one another. The thought of them pitying you for your crushes horrified you something awful, but you just could not keep yourself away from them.

“Yer sad” Johnny said, seemingly devastated by the prospect. “Dinnae be sad bonnie, cannae stand it when yer sad.”

God he really couldn't. Not that he was ever really able to say it out loud sober. Fuck he was so irrevocably in love with two of his team mates, what a place to find himself.

“OK, gonna sing out my sadness” you said, going a little overboard on the gloomy dramatics.

“Och that’s a pure sin, c’mere my wee darlin’” he replied as he wrapped you up in his arms and squeezed until you couldn’t breathe and were smacking him to let go.

Time to bury your feelings and give the best performance of your life.

–

“Jesus, they’re terrible.”

Kyle looked at Simon and Simon looked at Kyle before they both looked back at Price. He wasn’t wrong, you were God awful, but he was still staring like you and Johnny had hung the stars in the sky nonetheless. It was awfully cute. He was too distracted to even notice that there were eyes everywhere flitting between him and the stage, after all most of the regulars and all of the staff were very much involved in the betting pool on how this was eventually going to play out and maybe tonight would be the night.

They all watched with delighted anticipation as Price eventually downed his whisky just before the end of the song and stood, making a beeline for the stage. 

“Oh! Don’t remember that being part of the song” Kyle said with a choked laugh as Price very much lost all composure and thoroughly crossed rank lines.

Simon tilted his head in amusement and gave a low whistle.

“Suppose we should stop them before they commit a public indecency felony on stage.”

They didn’t have to in the end, the riotous cheering of everyone in the place distracted the three of you for long enough to realise you were very much in public. Surprising nobody, you decided to leave early and turn in for the night. It was not lost on Simon or Kyle that you all went to the same bedroom.

[marmie-noir]

Make Him Proud (And Michael)

(I cannot find season 2 gifs if his haircut and I may very well cry)

Hi all, back on my bullshit it seems. I read through this a gazillion times and decided it's just time to actually start posting the dozen chapters I have prewritten or at least half finished. I missed them sm omfg. Per usual I don't really edit so if you find an error please ignore or lmk if it's a big one, bless.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hissed under my breath, hand slapping around blindly for my phone, palm meeting the hardwood of the desktop a few times before finding it. Mitch had a stormy expression, eyes still dark but no longer from lust, the mood immediately broken and dashing our soft afterglow when I wanted nothing more than to curl up with Mitch on the new couch pushed up against the far wall. So much for that. “Calm down Darlin’, we don’t know-” I gave him a look that had his words fading out. After a moment of staring at one another he sighed, nodding and running a hand through his hair, extending his other one for me to take. I accepted, letting him pull me to a standing position versus seated on the edge of his desk, giving his hand a squeeze. 

“Let’s go do damage control.” I offered softly, knowing Mitch had to be taking this worse than even me. Yes, I’d worked hard for tonight but so had he, and he was closer to Dwight than I was. “C’mon handsome, you’ve got a bar to run.” Mitch didn’t give me the usual half smile I got after calling him handsome, instead he gave another firm nod, squeezed my hand, and led me out of the office once we were cleaned up a little. 

The band was still playing, drinks were still flowing, the smokey atmosphere hadn’t changed much except for the grim expression on the group’s faces. Grace, Bohdie, Goodie, everyone seemed a little unsure what to do now that the General was taken away. I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and plastered on a smile. “Alright, we’ve got a bar to run. Dwight is gonna be pissed if we close down early. C’mon now, all ya’ll, git. Make him proud.” I said, waving my hands at the small huddle of our friends. Goodie seemed surprised, looking at me for a long moment before giving a nod. “She’s right. C’mon, let’s finish up the night.” His thick accent punctuated the order, not leaving to go back to the tables himself just yet. Goodie leaned in, his thick musky cologne stronger than the smoke of the gambling floor, his voice dropping. “Tina isn’t doing so hot, Sunny. Keep an eye on her?” I gave him a tight lipped smile, nodding. “I’ve got her.” I promised. He patted my free hand that had been resting on the bar, muttering something about ‘good woman’ before dipping back towards the tables with Tyson. 

“Sugar, what is going on?” Ann came over, still looking as stunning as she did when we walked into the bar what felt like a hundred years ago. “Fred said something about Dwight?” I gently took her by the arm, stepping away from a few customers with a smile in place. “He got arrested, but we still want the night to go well. Please let me know if anyone is saying anything? I want to keep this under wraps. Everyone has worked so hard…” 

Ann straightened her shoulders, grabbing at my hand with both of hers to give it a squeeze. “You got it, I’ll flirt my little tush off to make this night go well.” She said, looking straight up like a woman on a warpath. I’d never loved her more than in this moment, watching her saunter over to the higher bidder tables and turning on that Southern charm that had men melting in their suede shoes. The next few hours were a blur. My cheeks hurt from all the fake smiling, my laugh sounding a little hollow when I spoke to patrons, thanking them for coming up as I’d become a familiar figure in recent history. I kept an eye on Tina, not hovering but always close by in case she needed something. The best I could think to offer without causing a scene was a stack of thick napkins and a stiff drink, that she downed with a grateful look. 

Finally the last customer walked out for the night and I sighed, hand sliding into my hair. Ann collapsed at the bar, Fred handing her a shot of something clear that she downed without question. All the others gathered over. Armand, Tyson, Grace, Goodie, Mitch, Bohdie, everyone settled around Tina who hadn’t moved much in the last few hours. 

Tyson, ever the ball of anxious energy, was pacing as I finally settled at the table with Bohdie and Mitch. “Aint no way this wasn’t going to happen. Scorpion and the frog my boy, no good deed and all that shit.” Bohdie gave me a look as Tyson continued to ramble. I planted my elbows on the table, hands massaging at my temples as I tried to relax. The last few hours had been tension filled, my shoulders aching from how tight they were. It was going to be a long night even though it was well past midnight already. “How did everyone let this happen?” Tina finally spoke. I tuned everyone out, listening to everyone bicker about what happened, how it happened, none of it mattered in this moment. I was tired, my feet hurt, and I wanted to take a too hot shower before falling into our bed. Mitch pushed himself out of his chair and I lifted my head, confused until I saw Tina was trying to walk out. She had been drinking pretty heavily and wasn’t exactly in a good mental state. “Tina, wait.” I called out, sliding out of my own chair and heading over to her to join Mitch. “Look, I know you are upset. Really, I hear you on that. But we can’t let you make a dumb decision. One of us who haven’t been drinking can drive you home and we can regroup tomorrow once we bail Dwight out. Okay?” She hesitated, as if she wanted to argue, to bite back. Then the fight drained out of her, shoulders slumping, eyes falling to the floor. “Yeah. Yeah alright. Can someone give me a ride back to the hotel?” 

“I will.” Mitch spoke up and I blinked at him before giving a small nod, turning back to Tina to give her a small smile. He had his keys in his pocket, and after pressing a kiss to my hairline and a promise to be back quick they walked out, leaving me with the others. “Does he even have a chance?” Grace finally spoke of the elephant in the room as I sat between her and Ann at the bar, leaning over to grab a bottle of something. They rattled off about if it was going to be federal, bringing up the bikers we blew away, and I didn’t comment as I popped the pour spout off the bottle and tipped the thing back to take a generous drink. Ann snatched it from me to do the same and I cleared my throat, Grace and I exchanging looks. The men argued about how was in charge and all the women rolled their eyes, looking at the back wall behind the bar. “Grace, give me a ride home?” I asked, hopping off the barstool. She sighed but nodded, Ann coming along too. “Night boys. Lock up.” I called back, in no mood to be bossed around by anyone right now, especially Goodie. 

The alarm didn’t wake me like normal, nor the smell of coffee. No soft kisses from Mitch across my collarbone, or the sound of pops yelling at a rerun of last night's game down in the living room. I groaned as the sound of a car door slammed, the open windows not muffling it at all. I sat up, smoothing my hair back from my face, glancing around the room. Mitch had gotten home shortly after I had, sliding into bed and curling against my back, face pressed to my still shower damp hair. He had told me that Tina wasn’t doing well, and he was worried about her, asked if we could keep an eye on her. I had sleepily agreed, eyelids heavy as I was pulled under. Sliding out of the bed I grabbed my robe, pulling it on as I left the bedroom. As I made my way down the stairs the coffee machine was bubbling, just starting it’s cycle as I puttered across the linoleum to look out the windows to the driveway. A huge man was standing there, talking to Mitch, who still had bedhead barely hidden under his hat. “Pops?” I called over my shoulder. There was the clicking of Scruff’s nails on the floor a moment later and a gruff ‘yeah?’ sounded from down the hall to the living room. “Who is in the driveway?” “Michael.” He called back, not offering more detail. Scruff came around the corner then, toddling over to give my ankles a perfunctory sniff before making his way to the food bowl to crunch on some of the high end kibble that made his diet now. I watched the little dog for a few moments, a half smile on my face. Spoiled brat now, getting chubby too. We’d have to look at diet food for him. 

The sound of the screen door creaking had me looking up, the large stranger walking in followed by Mitch.I tilted my chin up, anticipating the kiss of my forehead from Mitch, the familiar brush of his facial hair comforting. “Mornin’ darlin’.” “Morning.” I murmured, pulling back to glance over at the stranger. Mitch made an amused sound, big hand resting on my lower back and gesturing towards the other man with his free one. “This is my cousin, Michael.” He introduced, sounding a fair bit lighter than he had last night. “Michael, this is Sunny.” “Heard a lot about you.” Michael spoke, holding out one of his plate sized hands. I reached out, smiling up at him and shaking his hand. “Good to meet the one who has Mitch acting right.” “Acting right? Mitch, you didn’t act right?” I teased, glancing up at my boyfriend as Michael released my hand. The cowboy looked amused, head tipping down but not commenting. Enough said. “It’s nice to meet you Michael. Are you stopping through on a visit?”

Before he answered Mitch spoke up, fingers rubbing along my lower back. “Michael’s going to be staying with us a bit, figured we could use some more muscle at the bar. Just in case.” I nodded, getting why that could prove useful. Plus, a member of Mitch’s family was someone I could trust a lot easier than some random person Dwight decided to hire on. “Well the spare room should still be made up, I washed the sheets after Ann stayed over a week ago.” I said, giving Michael a smile.

“Oh, I can take the couch, I don’t mind. And, uh, most people call me Bigfoot.”

Quirking a brow I did a quick up and down before giving the large man a look. “I’m not sure you’ll fit on the couch, no offense. And… I will not be calling you that.”

“Now darlin’-”

“Do you want some breakfast?” I interrupted Mitch. Michael brightened up at the mention of food and I knew immediately that as long as I fed him I’d have a friend.   Taglist: @beepage, @itspdameronthings, @queenslandlover-93, @triplefrontierbabe, @nebulastarr For more Sunny and Mitch, click here.

[im-just-a-boy-guys]

lactating mommy x afab ftm w/ misgendering kink whennn

- CM

OK OK IM SO HAPPY TO GET TO THIS ONE. THIS ONE HAS ITS OWN SPECIAL LITTLE TWIST. BEHOLD.

ANCIENT, MOM BOD HAVING, DEITY OF NATURE /FEM /X/ FTM

MISSGENDERING READER/ MILKING/BREAST FEEDING.

You were walking through a deep part of the forest in California. It was littered with redwood trees and all walks of life, foxes, mushrooms, birds, and everything else you can imagine.

You ran your hands along the moss on the various rocks and tree sides. You hummed an old folksong to yourself that you'd heard sung in the town and gasped at the many fairy rings (mushroom circles on the ground) and fae protals. (Bent trees/branches that look like archways)

You tripped over a branch on the ground and fell into a ditch that was alongside the trail. You groaned in aggravation and sighed. You felt a sting and found that you had cut your knee.

"Great. Best day ever. Agh- fucking cut.", you struggled for a minute, not being able to hoist yourself or climb the steeb incline. You called out,

"Hello? I'm stuck down here! Is there anyone there?",

You heard crunching leaves and a dainty hand reached into the pit, whoever it was they looked strong so you took a breath, tried to use your foot to lightly hoist yourself up to the hand and holding onto it.

As you were pulled up, you were greeting with the sight of a woman in in a thinkey clothed silk dress. Her body seemed to be perfectly hugged by the fabric, showing off her curves. Her breasts almost teased escape as her nipples pressed into the silk material.

You found a deep red flushing across your face. She was the finical of beauty, her thick brown curls flowed bast her waist, and her eyes were soft and forgiving, like a mother's.

She gently reached for my short hair and ruffled it carefully.

"Some leaves.", she smiled.

"Are you lost, little love?"

You shook your head and thought better. You couldn't really find your way back, you'd forgotten which way you came from.

"Yes, ma'am." she smiled and gestured to follow her. "It's alright, come with me."

She led you down the road and off into the forest, then into a clearing. You could see a fae portal in front of you and felt a soft, warm glow slipping out of the woman's pours almost. You noticed the flowers in her hair, smaller purple flowers.

You walked beneath the arch way and could feel a comfortable warmth against your skin, and you were in a wonderful cottage looking building.

"Your energy is strange. What is your- sex. What is your identity?"

She analyzed you curiously. "Yeah- I'm a guy." You mumbled quietly.

"That doesn't make much sense. You were born a woman, and I can feel your feminine energy -"

She walked around and and vines slipped out from under her dress and slipped gently up your ankles and into your shorts.

You gasped and tried to step back, and a deep blush covered your face. The vines gripped your thighs to keep you still and the tips of the vines rubbed against your pussy gently, along your clit and slit.

You moaned softly and almost collapsed. More vines held you up by your abdomen and slipped into your shirt, trying to push your binder out of the way. They squeezed and prodded at your nipples.

"You're a woman, I know because i made women. I'm glad you turned out the way you did. You're so perfect."

She slipped out of her dress, and her large breasts bounced gently. You examined her body and the way her weight sat. Drool almost pooled in your mouth, and her words git to you.

"Please - I'm a guy, I feel like on the inside-"

She smiled and shoved a vine into your panties. "Inside?"

You whimpered and your pussy betrayed you, squirting lightly against her.

"You're very wet, but I'm not feeling any male reproductive organs. I think you just need a mother to teach you..",

She approached you, and more vines gently rubbed her own nipples and milk softly leaked out of them.

"Now let's try it for you.." The vines in your chest massaged rougher and rougher, drawing pathetic whimpers from your throat as the other vines below your legs intertwined together and forced themselves in you.

"What are you, sweet thing?"

"Im! Ah! A boy!" You tried to fight the urges, but she was seeping herself unto your brain, and you felt something warm leaking down your chest.

"Do boys leak milk from their plump breasts?"

"N..no-" you muttered and squirmed. She giggled and started going rougher, groping you at light speed. Milk skirted from her chest as she groaned. You felt yourself on the verge of climax and clenched around the vine, drooling.

"Then what are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm a woman!"

She cooed at you as she moved inside of you, kissing your lips softly. Colors distorted in your eyes as her venom seeped into your lips.

You squirted harshly over her, and your body spasmed. After your body had finished coming, you went limp on her vines.

You woke up the next morning in a soft bed, green, silk covers flowing over your body as a soft wind blew under them. You could feel weight behind you.

You rolled over and wrapped around her, her skin was warm and almost glued you to her. The woman's arms wrapped around you and held you close.

"Beautiful girl.."

[homestuckreplay]

Gamer Grandma Gits Gud!

(page 419-421)

7/30/2009 Wheel Spin: Captchalogue Lore Verdict: INCORRECT

7/31/2009 Wheel Spin: Parent Bad :( Verdict: EXTREMELY INCORRECT - true answer: Grandparent Good :)

There's an absolutely overwhelming amount of stuff in only three pages and LOADS to say, so I'm going to bullet point this to keep this as brief as possible because I try to write these posts within the timeframe of a single Mountain Goats album.

Rose + Dave

Those notification bubbles above the computer really exist, in Sburb at the very least! Rose knows that Dave is wearing those stupid shades confirmed.

The command is 'Rose: Pester John.' and Rose only half obeys this - she pesters, but it isn't John. Always cool to see characters push against commands, and to have expectations subverted for the reader.

Dave acknowledges that his bro might be taking puppet irony too far, and it's Rose he chooses to tell this to, explicitly saying 'don't tell John.'

Dave's bro's ventriloquist rap doll haunts him in his dreams?? This is definitely a normal sibling dynamic and definitely not something that's going to end up being super important given the general theme of the characters having dolls in their house.

What are Dave's bro's websites and are they anything like Dave's? Does Rose think Dave's bro is cooler than he is? Is this a sticking point in their friendship?

'I suspect he is preoccupied with the fact that he just had a bucket of water dumped on his head by the ghost of his dead grandmother, who also happens to be dressed like a clown.' Fucking insane thing for Rose to say. No wonder Dave has no idea what to make of it.

John + Nanna

Nannasprite is the coolest ever. Lots of her wisdom clearly comes from being a game NPC, but she dispenses it in such a grandmotherly fashion.

Nannasprite is also the most powerful character because she never has to retrieve her arms. She has one all the time, while everyone else is sometimes drawn without them.

Very interesting dynamic that John doesn't remember his nan from before she died, and is essentially getting to know her for the first time in gamesprite form.

Absolutely hilarious bit that Nannasprite pretends not to know what a computer is.

Dad + Imps

The imps on p.421 are both clown themed and have the same bodies, but different color schemes. One is a shale imp exactly like the one John thought - the other could be a different flavor of imp who drops different loot?

John is 'a fine young man just like [his] father' according to Nanna. I sure would love to know what Dad was like when he was young.

With the new knowledge of the strife portfolio, can we assume Dad uses both cakekind and broomkind? Possibly other fatherly household objects too?

Dad was kidnapped by 'the forces of darkness,' which doesn't sound very good. The imps seem like really low level enemies though, and not deserving of this title. Who do they work for? In D&D, imps are very low level fiends who serve devils and archdevils, and I believe this comes from Christian mythology. But imps aren't typically evil in and of themselves, just mischievous lackeys, so something bigger is happening.

The Lore!!!!

The Medium - makes me think of an artistic medium, as in a type/category of art or the material used to create art, or of a medium/middle between light and darkness or good and evil.

The Incipisphere - from incipient, 'beginning to happen or develop' + sphere, a uniform three-dimensional round shape. This is interesting, because the place is 'untouched by the flow of time' but also has just come into being with the beta release of Sburb and also 'somewhat paradoxically, almost has' existed apart from it. This works because I too have had older relatives tell me confusing stories that don't make logical sense.

John is not inside a computer or digital space, the computer served as a portal to a different physical space (which is also a ring of pure void). Computer (or fiction in general) as portal to another world is a common metaphor that is being made literal here.

Sburb probably dictates how much gamesprites know and how much they're allowed to tell the player. To what extent is Nannasprite 'pre-programmed' and to what extent is she making her own decisions? Is the lore she gives John completely reliable?