#harry doing something impulsive and stupid

[bythepen98]

Doodles || Golden trio (ft. Snape)

No matter how many bashing fics I read (and I really do enjoy those sgshsn), these three will always be among my favorite friendships in fiction. Also wanted to include good ol Snape bc I can and I adore him.

I see their dynamic as very sibling-coded, very platonic soulmate type even. They're literally each other's ride or dies and I'm not kidding when I say that I wish I had that for myself :(

Also, redrawing movie scenes is easier than having to come up with original ideas. I might do that more often.

[1800titz]

FETISH | Spanko!Harry x Neighbor!Reader (5)

The one where you and Harry are neighbors in an apartment complex, he's got a bunny called Snuggles, he makes softcore porn spanking people (it's a REALLY LOUD HOBBY), and you have definitely called the police for a domestic disturbance next door continued

preview

You watch him, stood in his kitchen with one hand planted on the counter. The way his pink tongue slips out across his lips as he waits, and—

This man is bunnies. The offer lining the bands of his gaze like hope smelting into muskeg green. Untamed, playful charisma fused with quiet, unassuming kindness. 

And the paradox that makes you feverish like a sickness— this man, in another circumstance, demands control. 

That’s how you end up at the dinner table for two, with a slice of the pasta bake on the plate in front of you. It’s orange, and eccentric in the way nuanced white wouldn’t be, the way your dishes are, and it’s Harry. And you don’t really, actually know this man at all, but somehow it makes sense. 

It’s awkward, but it’s not him; his demure oozes something charismatic, unbeknownst. Saturated with ease enough in conversational small talk, and he makes enough eye contact to stifle the choppy motions of this slowdance. 

It’s awkward because you’re awkward. Blinking up at him from under the canopy of your lashes in increments under the jaundiced glow of the lamp. Inkpools mostly, perpetually anchored to your fork. 

It’s just—

You swallow. The food is good. You can’t complain— you get a free dinner (homecooked, as opposed to the canned soup you would have dug out of your pantry and stuffed into the yellow mouth of the microwave), and you get a pretty view of a looker, but. Maybe part of it is the sticky guilt webbing across your nonchalance. 

You’re not going to ask. You don’t plan to ask. You don’t really plan anything— always playing it by ear, always staggering over your own feet into impulse. 

But you’re a ticking time bomb. Sticking your hands under your legs to stop them from skirting through things that don’t belong to you for answers, legs crossed so it takes more steps to get up from the couch for the duration of the whole hour you spent house-sitting. 

But it comes out when your ankle bouncing under the table isn’t enough to quell the weight of your tongue anymore. 

“What’s the… appeal?”

You swallow. The sound of his fork clicking against the plate— metal on ceramic— is at least slightly louder than the way your heart thrums up into your throat.

“Appeal of what?”

You maybe can’t look at him. Not entirely, can’t meet his eye— such a weird question; stupid, stupid— so you just swallow again and contemplate nervously laughing to snub the mushrooming stretch of lull. Nevermind. Picking through the food doesn’t help and magically retract the inquiry. 

“What you do,” is what you finally settle on. 

Your gaze flickers up briefly, and you expect him to look a little bashful, a little uncomfortable, pink tingeing the crests of his cheekbones— the perfect out for that nervous laugh (sorry, I shouldn’t have asked)— but he’s just. Looking at you. Entirely un-rubescent, and maybe it’s the smear of the incandescent lighting, the ease of being submerged by his own belongings, that makes him look so casual (you: the opposite). Your throat feels dry. Parched. Entirely absolved of what’s been soaking on the back of your tongue now that you’ve let it spill, and the longer you sit still there, knowing he’s just looking at you—

You pick the glass of water in front of you up and take a drink.

“I don’t know,” he muses, gnawing into his lip, gaze pensive, “what is the appeal?”

It almost feels like an accusation. Some sort of inside joke that you’re not in on. Something bristles in your chest as you set the glass back into place, throat bobbing as you swallow down what you’ve siphoned in two, thick gulps. Your eyes flash. 

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.”

The corners of his mouth tick as he picks through his food, gaze cast thoughtfully to the plate. But it’s easy— again. Sangfroid. Nearly amused.

“It’s different for different people.”

(At you. At the way you’re indisputably, almost squirming in your chair, and the fat, looming cloud of paranoia persuades you that he knows… something.)

“It’s like BDSM, right?” you tread carefully. Cautious-ish; that’s an overbearingly personal question— digging the prongs through a chunk of cheese: “Is that what it is, for you?”

You swallow again when he doesn’t immediately answer. Now, you think, he’s blushing. All roseate in the face, thrown off kilter by the way you dredge into otherwise unspoken intimacies, and you wouldn’t blame him— you’re toeing at the thought of apologizing, then, consider backtracking altogether—

“Are you asking how I like my sex?” 

Against all presuppositions, his grin is wolfish. This incipient crescent that smears wider and curls higher around the corners of his teeth, when you don’t immediately respond, making your heart thrum a little faster. 

Teasing. He’s teasing you.

“Uh—“

You blink. Your heart lurches further up into your throat. For a second, it feels like you’re suffocating on your own pulse. You’re not sure when the table flipped into a one-eighty from under you, but he kisses his teeth and sits back, so unco to the semi-timid mien you’ve become acquainted with.

“Nosy, nosy, nosy.”

And it’s then that you grasp it in its full borders— the shape of this thing you thought you knew— that of course, you’ve only been scraping at the surface. Of course, somehow, there’s tendrils tying in the empty space between the soft tissues of the Harry you know and the Harry online. A kind of middle ground where inkblots mounted in green don’t shy away under the thicket of his dark eyelashes. Not soaked in a coat of vulnerability— where he doesn’t stick his hands into his pockets at the word sex or the connotations of spanking. 

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello, thank you for answering our questions! Often, when I try to find fan fiction with an adult Harry, for some reason the authors prescribe a caricature character from early books for him and write his character from extreme to extreme. Or Harry is soft, gentle, kind, hates violence and constantly forgives his enemies, is not capable of murder and turns a blind eye to alarm bells. And he also whines because of morality (I hurt my abuser, oh, how bad I am!). Or he is aggressive, impulsive and stupid.What traits of Harry's character could change in 10-15 years? Or how will his approach to problem solving change? For example, Harry's anger will become more tamed and deliberate. And also, I always thought that Harry was more focused on gray morality, because he saw the best in the worst people, as well as the worst in the best people. What do you think about it? I really like your posts about Harry's character, magic and mind. You're doing great 🩷🩷🩷

Thank you so much! 😊

Well, I mean, I don't know if I'd say Harry is focused on grey morality, he is a good guy who for the most part believes in justice (sans a few exceptions for people he cares about/really hates). Because in general, he acts according to a pretty clear moral code in his mind. It may not be your moral code, but Harry has one that he doesn't consider grey. I talked about this more here.

And, like, Harry is a forgiving person, but his forgiveness is a bit selective. In general, he believes someone who did something bad, deserves something bad to happen to them in turn but if there's a specific reason for him to sympathize or to believe there's good in that person, he will be willing to offer forgiveness. I mean, he offered Voldemort to try for some remorse. Harry is willing to offer the possibility of forgiveness. But he is no pushover, if he sees he isn't treated back with the same respect, then he isn't going to keep trying. He does not have limitless patience and he has little to no tolerance for other people's shit. So while he can forgive when presented with a reason to do so, he's not someone who'll keep dishing out chances to people who don't deserve it.

As for how I imagine him when older, honestly similar to how he ends the books in terms of morals and worldview, probably. I think he'd get calmer, a lot of his anger is a response to trauma so as he heals with time, he should get less angry, less hypervigilant, and less jumpy. Though, I imagine his temper and vigilance never disappear completely and even in his later years, he'd be, like, sitting at a restaurant and the server would pass just too close behind him and he'd have the urge to pull his wand out and deflect the threat. But it would be an urge and he wouldn't actually do it unless he needs to.

His temper, while he'd have better control of it, wouldn't disappear completely. I can still see a Harry in his 40s or 50s just snapping at someone in anger and shouting at them. If they didn't deserve it he'd feel bad and apologize later, but sometimes, you need to shout off the ear of some stupid ministry person. I think Harry should be allowed to do that, as a treat. But I don't see him ever getting violent in his temper, ever. Shouts and rude, snide comments are the furthest he'd go without consciously deciding violence is necessary (Even if he'd imagine strangling annoying people in his head).

I also think as Harry grows older he'd become more confident. Like, Harry in the books really lacks self-esteem and he has no clue how great he is. I think that although older Harry would still have a somewhat skewered image of himself, he'd be more confident and have a vague understanding that he is smarter and more magically powerful than the average wizard.

Part of the two above sections is that more and more of the sarcastic quips Harry makes in his head will be spoken out loud. We actually see it in the books, that Harry's more externally sassy as the books progress (he says his thoughts aloud more) and I think this trend will continue. Like, I imagine older Harry just says the wildest shit ever on the regular and finds others' reactions funny. Like, he doesn't need to be as worried about public perception as much, because like, "I saved you all twice already, I died for you, what more do you want?" so he'd allow himself to be a bit of a shit when he feels like it, I think.

So an older Harry would be just as witty as the younger Harry, quite funny, calmer than in the books, and more confident. He'd be less impulsive, but just as cable of violence when he deems it necessary (although, he'd probably need it less since he'd have a reputation that does half the work for him from a certain point). Like, as I mentioned in the past I like to think Harry eventually becomes a DADA professor and later headmaster, I kinda imagine students don't mess with him. Not because he ever hurt them (Harry would never) but because he just has that glare, and he looks downright scary when he stares into your soul with these Avada-colored eyes of his. But usually, he's a pretty fun teacher that's all about practical application and I'm sure all his students gush to their parents about how cool Professor Potter is and how he talks shit and laughs with them even though he's the savior of the wizarding world.

(Also Professor Potter is seen drinking in the Three Broomsticks with Head Auror Ron Weasley and the Head of the Being Division in the Ministry Hermione Weasley every Hogsmead weekend (their positions change through the years, I just picked a year at random))

Though, he'd always have a sadness to him, like, he's been through so much and it'll always show, even in subtle ways. I think this would allow him to be very empathetic towards his students.

I'd like to imagine that post-book 7 Harry returns to Deathly Hallows to visit his parents' graves every year. I think, post-war, Harry would visit as many graves as possible of people who died during the battle of Hogwarts on the date of the battle. He'd even visit Tom Riddle's grave if he had one because he'd feel sorry for him.

Like, these are some random thoughts I have about this (sorry I went on my "Harry should've been a professor" rant, just, a lot of my future Harry headcanons are tied to it).

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds incorrect Quotes (this will be out of pocket)

Hannibal: Are you a painting? Y/N: What-? Hannibal: Because I want to pin you to a wall. Will: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG THEM OR SOMETHING-

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Y/N: Will, I’m afraid. Will: Just stay close to Hannibal. Y/N: That's why I’m afraid.

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Y/N: Hi, sorry I’m late. I was doing a couple of things and got distracted. Hannibal: I’m “a couple of things”. Will: I’m “got distracted”.

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Y/N: I like your top, Will! Hannibal: I have a name, you know. Will: sighs Why. Why are you like this.

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Hannibal: So, what is Y/N to you? Alana: The reason I wake up every morning. Hannibal: …That’s adorable. Y/N earlier that morning, barging into Alana′s room, smacking pans together: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!

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Jack: Who do we know that has handcuffs? Y/N: Well Will, Hannibal and I- Will: elbows Y/N Y/N: …wouldn't know. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: Everytime I hear someone talking about updog, I’m torn between not wanting to fall for it and wanting to help them complete their joke.

Will: Okay, but what is updog? Hannibal: Updog is a long sausage in a bun, often served with ketchup, mustard, onions, and/or relish. Jack: Not, that’s a hot dog. An updog is when a new version or patch of an application is released. Alana: No, that's an update. You’re thinking of the fourth largest city in Sweden. Abigail: Surely, that’s Uppsala, where’s updog is the giant spider in Harry Potter. Y/N: That’s Aragog. Updog is a symbol conventionally used for an arbitrarily small number in analysis proofs. Jack: You’re thinking of epsilon. Updog is an upward-moving air current. Hannibal: No, that’s an updraft. An updog is the modern version of a henway. Will: What’s a henway?? Y/N: Oh, about five pounds.

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Y/N: Dumbest scar stories, go! Will: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Hannibal: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Jack: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Alana: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Abigail: Abigail: I have emotional scars. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat? Will: >:O language Hannibal: Yeah watch your fucking language Jack: OKAY WHO TAUGHT HANNIBAL THE FUCK WORD? Alana: 'The fuck word'. Abigail: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time Hannibal: Oh my god they censored it Alana: Say fuck, Abigail. Hannibal: Do it, Abigail. Say fuck. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: We need to distract these guys Will: Leave it to me Will: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Hannibal, Jack, and Alana: Immediately begin arguing Abigail, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: WHY. why did you give Hannibal a KNIFE?! Will: I’m sorry. They said they felt unsafe. Y/N: Now I feel unsafe! Will: I’m sorry. Will: ... would you like a knife? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him Will: You did WHAT– Hannibal: William Snakepeare ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me. Will: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you? Y/N: Yes! Hannibal: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AND THAT CONCLUDES ME DYING AS I MAKE THIS......NOW I HAVE TO GO WRITE CHAPTER 12.

[fairytaleendingss]

Marauders Christmas Shopping Headcanons

So this is low-key inspired by my friend and I Christmas shopping the other day. We always joke that we're very James and Remus coded haha. Let me know any other ideas you have for this! Also if you'd like me to make more headcanons.

--

I feel like James is quite a chaotic person in general and I imagine Christmas shopping would be no exception.

One of James' main love languages is gifts and he loves buying things for people so this is his favourite Christmas tradition.

He rocks up to the shopping center with absolutely no plan, just vibes.

He's the kind of person to just follow his heart when it comes to presents and somehow he never misses. He just looks around until he finds something he thinks the person will like and makes an impulse purchase.

He probably gets distracted looking at something he wants for himself in the process.

Makes his friends wait while he tries on a bunch of clothes.

"James, you don't need to by that. It's literally about to be Christmas." "But Remus it's so cool!"

He's the kind of person who would think he found the perfect gift for someone but then see something else he thinks they'll like and just have to buy that for them as well.

Ends up buying like 4 presents for each person.

Thank god he has money.

Remus I feel is the polar opposite of that.

He's extremely thoughtful and probably plans out what he wants to get everyone in advance.

I feel like he'd probably even make notes throughout the year of things his friends and family mention they like/want so he can reference it later.

He's very methodical about his shopping. He knows exactly what shops he wants to visit and what he's going going to purchase.

He probably has a well-thought out budget as well as to what he's willing to spend on each gift.

He's a quick and efficient sort of guy and ends up getting all of his gifts in the first hour of the trip.

He then spends the rest of the time being dragged around by his friends (particularly James).

Unfortunately I don't think Sirius would be particularly into Christmas.

Because of everything with his family, it's never been a very nice time of year for him (until he went to live with James, that is.)

It wasn't until then that Sirius actually started enjoying the holidays.

So he's very new to the whole happy, wholesome Christmas thing.

He pretends to be annoyed about having to buy things for people but secretly he enjoys it.

He's a complete show off with presents. He always buys ridiculously expensive gifts for people and pretends it's nothing.

"Do you think she'd like that?" *points to a 24k gold, diamond necklace*

He'd get really bored after a couple of hours and start to complain, like how little kids do when their Mum drags them along for shopping.

He has absolutely no patience whatsoever.

He'd probably need to go on several trips before all his shopping is done.

He would just end up flirting with all the retail workers by the end of it.

He and James would probably do something stupid like knocking over a display or something and end up getting kicked out of the mall.

(Additionally, I feel like when Harry is born, he'd always spoil him on Christmas and Birthdays with insanely expensive presents from "Uncle Padfoot" that James and Lily would scold him for.)

Peter is an overthinker to his core.

I think Christmas shopping would stress him out.

He wants to get everyone the perfect present but he can't make up his mind about what he should by.

Probably makes the group go back to the same shops multiple times because he can't decide if he should buy that item he saw in there or not.

(Something all the boys would moan about)

Stares at an item for like 20 minutes umming and ahing over whether or not to get it for someone.

Remus and James try to help him decide but give him completely opposing advice which just confuses him more.

Remus: Do you remember them mentioning that they'd like something like that? Did you get them to write you a Christmas list?

James: None of that matters. Just go with your gut. When you see the right thing, you'll know.

Peter: aaaaaahhhh.

Finally buys something but then changes his mind 10 minutes later and returns it.

He'd end up leaving the trip with nothing and would have to come back and try again another day.

Lily, I imagine would be a very practical gift giver.

She and James would balance each other out because while James buys a lot of really fun, thoughtful gifts for people, Lily would buy them stuff they actually need.

She has go-to shops she visits every year.

She's been known to buy people things like household appliances, dishware, pieces of clothing or new sporting equipment (particularly for James.)

Everything she buys is really really good quality.

Although it's slightly less exciting than some might think, it's always very personalized and thoughtful.

I feel like Mary loves making people homemade presents.

That or she does something really personal like framing a picture of their friend group or making a scrapbook.

She's very sentimental and her gifts are as well.

I feel like she probably crochets things for people for some reason.

Marlene without fail, buys every single one of her friends a joke present.

She also probably cracks up laughing at their expression when they open it.

James always loves it.

One year she bought him an apron that said "May I suggest the sausage?" and he unironically wore it every time he was in the kitchen (much to Lily's dismay).

[faerise-fae]

Not really a marauders character but: Tom Riddle #20!

YAPPING WARNING ABOUT ASPD TOM RIDDLE AGAIN

Ok so sorry for taking so long to do this, but my brain crashes every time i try to think about something that isn't obvious or just fucking boring. BUT I REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH YALL SO GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS

The hill I'll die on is that he is an ASPD baddie, tho I bet he would prefer thinking about himself as sociopath, as edgy teens do. It doesn't mean I think he is totally emotionless, i think he is very emotional. Just not empathetic? This man is purely driven by his emotions from the start. Be it fear of death, resentment, and hatred towards Dumbledore or just general anger directed at the stupidity of the wizarding nation. In ASPD it's just that the intensity of expression of those emotions is different. He can look totally put together and like an oasis of peace, but inside planning whatever insanities only he can think of.

Because the thing is, anger issues are not rare in ASPD. ASPD is associated with impulsiveness and violent or risky behaviours, which can result in lashing out in anger. It's just that when you don't have many emotions to begin with, controlling the stronger ones can be difficult.

People have very different headcanons about him in that matter, i see a lot of totally stoic, calculating tom riddle who doesn't have absolutely any emotions and stuff like this, but I really can't see it. My man is a dramatic, cruel, entitled and IMPULSIVE edgelord BUT:

HOT TAKE #1:

Canon Tom Riddle headcanonned himself as fanon Tom Riddle.

He might have thought of himself as emotionless, but he just didn't acknowledge it. Growing up in an unstable environment, he hadn't learned how to stabilize himself.

Because ASPD is partialy caused by genetics, yes. But a very big factor in developing it is childhood and home life. We can agree his was very unstable, he has probably witnessed violence and definitely experienced emotional neglect. ASPD is all about lack of security. Its defence mechanism. That means:

My man just doesn't know how to cope, LMAO. When it was too much even for him to stuff into the back of his brain, he just lashed out. Acting on impulses was his relief from it. Adrenaline from it also helped to mute his feelings.

But at the same time, he just didn't think of himself as unreasonable. "It was never his fault, he was just provoked!" He also didn't feel guilty about causing harm to others because he didn't have any empathetic feelings towards anyone. How can you feel bad about idk, cursing someone if you don't see them as an individual with feelings of their own. Because how could he think about their feelings when he didn't have much of his own to compare and to even comprehend what they feel beside some very shallow understanding. AND BY THAT I DONT MEAN HE DIDNT KNOW HE WAS HURTING PEOPLE AROUND HIM HE WASNT A POOR LITTLE MEOW MEOW. HE KNEW, HE JUST DIDNT GET IT SO HE DIDNT CARE. But he obviously knew. So no empathy but more like an educated guess. Masking king. He learnt how emotions worked for other people and used it whenever he saw fit. Pure manipulation.

Because again neglectful caregiving = problems with attachment to people and forming relationships. In the end it's all about him in that aspect. His feelings are always about himself and making himself feel comfortable and stable. He was fond of his friends till they were useful and till he felt good with having them around. He took pride* in gaining their respect and loyalty. He was using them to stroke his ego basically. And was using them in general. For stuff and things.

*HOT TAKE #2:

And here i have my latest hot take: his similarity with Harry in that matter. Harry is a gryffindor with some slytherin traits. And imo Tom, with him being the most slytherin to ever slytherin, his crazy pride and impulsivity is so gryffindor.

So there's that beside how we can all agree he was a liar and manipulator.

[pinkhoneydrop]

Its a Game pt.6

[ A/n ] - Hey everyone here is part 6 i had to cut it a bit short so i could get to the good bits in part 7 that i am currently writing and i also started another multy part story that i think y'all will like!

[ Pairing ] - Harry Styles x Reader!, Dylan O'Brien x Reader!

[ Genre ] -  angst

[ Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 ]

[ Masterlist ]

Harry drove home from seeing you with a million thoughts swimming in his head. Why did he say he loved you? That was fucking stupid. I mean, it is true. He did love you but obviously it was the wrong time. Had he really taken so long to realize your intentions were greater than you let on? He really should have thought about that more. These sequences of events were a product of not needing to think when he was with you. Not seeing you for months then having an awkward encounter with you and then weeks later he pulls up to see you in a parking garage and says he loves you. I mean what the fuck. Who does that? Harry apparently does that now. Gone are his days of confident mystery. Perhaps he should learn to think when he’s near you. To be independent of you. Despite this, he’s regretting the timing of his impulses and now you know he loves you and you still will go home to another man. How was he supposed to process this and now having to see you at the festival? Rehearsal after rehearsal and then a whole weekend of you. Perfect you.

The thoughts consumed his mind the whole drive back to his LA home. The car pulled into his driveway, and he shut the door as he fished for the key to his house in his bag. The welcoming smells of laundry and cleaning products filled his nose with a scrunch. He needed to sort himself out. He used to come home to his NY apartment and smell you. Your vanilla and cinnamon scented perfume. Like cookies fresh out of the oven. Warm and truly inviting the opposite of the chemicals and detergent stinging his nose currently.

The days before the start of rehearsal seemed to drag on. Meeting after meeting and workout sessions in between for both harry and yourself. In total it had been about a week since you asked him to meet you at the garage. Dylan still didn’t know, and you still couldn’t get Harry’s declaration off your mind.

***

“And then he stood there with that fucking smirk of his and was like ‘I Lov youu’ I mean who says that after you just told them why you needed space in the first place.” You punctuated your sentence with a hard smack to a punching bag. You never would have caught yourself in the gym before all this Coachella nonsense. Yes, you were grateful blah blah blah, but this was some serious stuff. Asara joined you on occasion and this was one of those times. Blass your personal trainer he’s heard a ton of drama fall from your lips. Asara grinned and held back a laugh at your impression of the man. The two of you hit the bags in tandem as the conversation continued.

“I think he just misses you. You were on and off for so long you know.” Asara spoke between the sounds of fist hitting bags. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, he missed me while he was fucking another woman high off coke.” You punched the bag and Asara chuckled.

“Y/n he tried to tie you down several times, and I remember you always ran away every time he tried. Now, that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have used his words, but the man did try. And don’t act like you don’t partake.” Asara stood off to the side as she finished her set.

“That’s not what I mean. He just gets carried away and I don’t mind taking care of him after he’s faded but it’s not healthy to do it that much. And as for trying to tie me down… I was completely loyal to him, and he knew that. I want to be shown off and he wants to be secretive and private.” You paused for a second to remove your boxing gloves. “We never saw eye to eye, but I love him too.”

“Right and now that you can both agree on something what are you going to do about Dylan?” Asara made a good point, and you weren’t sure how to break the news.

***

“Do you think I’m ready for this?” You looked up at Dylan with fear in your eyes. It was starkly different than any look he has seen on your face before. He always knew what to say but this time he just sort of looked at you. You looked to him for something. Anything would have been fine just anything to let you know that he could level with you in this moment. You were searching, reaching for anything in the deep recesses of his eyes and you couldn’t find anything.

 His lips turned into a smile, and he pulled you in close. For Dylan in this moment, he was so proud of you that words weren’t enough. You allowed yourself to be pulled to the hug, but your arms stayed at your side. It was eerily frustrating for you. Being spoon fed the idea that he wanted to give you what you deserved, and you deserved more you needed more. You needed what Harry could give you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him speaking with his production team and you glanced between the two men. When your eyes settled back on Dylan, you knew you needed him to leave. The two of you stood backstage at a mock rehearsal for the night you were to perform on stage at Coachella. Voices and the sounds of metal scraping against each other while the sun beat down on the field. Dylan decided to join you for moral support, but you felt so separated from him. It was like he did understand what you needed in that moment to help you feel better. You stared at the wall and your mind went blank. This had to stop.

Harry stood off to the side with his team. Each of them primping him and measuring fabric for the show. He did a good job at staying impartial when Dylan was around. For the few times they ended up in the same room or when he saw a photo of him on his Instagram feed because you posted him, or he just happened to be in the photo. You didn’t fully warm up to him just yet and Harry knew you didn’t forgive him yet. In his mind he decided he needed to be on his best behavior to win you back and gain your trust. Harry couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t snooping, he definitely was. And he could tell Dylan was doing a shit job at comforting you. The guy looked nervous enough for both of you.

“Um I gotta go Dylan.” You spoke softly and pulled away from him after he placed a kiss to the top of your head. You looked disappointed if harry could even say that. Dylan seemed to take the hint and disappeared off to sit with your friends. The dress rehearsal was dragging on for everyone so harry could imaging you felt stuck right now. Nervous and unsure who to talk to. Having a solution come to mind he made his way over to you. At first you didn’t notice. You were marking beats and paces in your head like he does, and it made him smile to think about you valuing his creative process.

Harry decided you needed space and he leaned onto his team as they finished the preparations. He would be back in two nights to perform, and you would be joining him on stage. His nerves caught up to him and he was glad you were off with your people so he couldn’t make a fool of himself again. You looked good though even in your comfortable clothes to practice. Your hips hit every marked beat and he almost got lost watching you.

The next day of rehearsal went by fast, and you were up late again practicing for the show. Beat after beat and step after step, you went over it in your head until it was time to gather backstage. You arrived at the venue the next day in a pink dress. A car service picked you up and your team met up with you. Flashes of light and screams cold been seen a mile away from the stage. Harry was prepped and ready to descend upon the crowd. You stood off to the side and took deep breaths. Harry saw you from the corner of his eye and looked over. You looked so scared. So different from how he was used to seeing you. You looked so vulnerable.

“You’re going to be great darling.” His voice carried a low register that caught your attention through your in-ears. He had walked over to comfort you. The glitter on his outfit fell to the ground like snowflakes and you stared at the glistening specks. For some reason, the closer he got to you the slower your heart began to beat.

“Give me your hands.” His voice was firm but soft as to not call attention to you. You listen despite all that has happened and how much you wanted to walk away and be alone. Your hands fit into his so perfectly. Harry held onto you gently and rubbed his thumbs onto your palms. Your breathing was shallow, but you stayed in that spot not daring move your sight from the floor.

“Look at me darling.” That pet name would haunt you if this ended up anymore tragically. Harry caught your eye, and you stared right back at him. His eyes didn’t give anything away that he didn’t want them to, and you just stood there looking into his eyes for a few minutes. You wanted to cry. Dylan could have never comforted you like this. All these months and weeks replayed over and over in your mind as you held hands with Harry.

“Just look for me if you feel nervous out there, okay? Focus on me.” Harry let go of your hands and walked up the stairs. You closed your eyes, and you could hear the excitement in the crowd build. The screams got louder and louder as the music began to play and he walked out. Secretly your heart was doing flips. Warmth flushed your face, and you gave Harry a small smile. He brushed his thumb against your face and turned to walk on stage. You stood back and looked at the crowd as he started to perform. The opening notes of adore you began to play, and the audience went crazy.

Three songs and then you heard your cue. Walking closer and closer to the stage you heard your song begin to play through the speakers and the beat matched up with your heart.

Liked by harryswife33…and 3849 others

y/nandharryshipper1 y/nrry for lifeeeeee

458 comments

Harryfan54 stop they are for sure meant to be together.

Y/nnnfan22 y’all acting like she isn’t in a relationship rn

Reply to Y/nnnfan22 y/nrryshipper9 right lol its weird even for me. Like I get it but harry is definitely in over his head with this one.

Liked by assa22, harrystyles and 93820 others

Yyy/nn3 baby’s first Coachella tyyy @\harrystyleshq for inviting meee

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Y/nnnfann0 bae looking so fucking good

Harrystyleshq loved having you

Harryfan96 Harry gets to have that any time he wants and I’m jealous

You put your phone down after looking back at the post. A notification flashed at the top that Dylan had posted and for some reason you wanted to keep him out of your mind. Now Harry isn’t stupid, and he especially isn’t stupid when he’s sober. He saw how fast you ignored the notification. He didn’t quite see who it was from when you put your phone down so fast, but he guessed it was from Dylan. He would be lying if he said it didn’t amuse him but the idea that you still gave an ounce of energy to that man made him feel detached from reality. The room was cold like he asked for it to be, but his neck felt hot. The veins in his arms bulged for a second and then before he could succumb to the jealousy you started speaking.

“Thank you.” You sounded so meek and shy. Fixing yourself like a teenager on a first date. Is this what he’s done to you? His darling used to be a spitfire. Real sassy and sickeningly sweet with her attitude. “Thank you.” If this were almost a year ago, he would have you pinned to a wall already. Fuck your “thank you” He needed that feeling back in full force. This simmering tension was frustrating. Was he just supposed to stay away from you? He knew you wanted him back. You didn’t have to say it, that’s what this whole game was about. Harry has studied you and the way you act the only thing that made this different the other times you’ve played cat and mouse with him is that you found a new toy to fuck around with. “You look fucking amazing.” Harry sighed and shifted on the sofa the pair of you were sitting on. He wasn’t lying the skirt you were wearing was low cut and your waist was twisted and curved like when he used to hit it from behind. He should probably stop but who wouldn’t think about you like that?

You noticed that Harry was staring. Staring in your eyes studying you. Staring at your clothes or lacking thereof. Staring at your lips imagining God knows what and you stared right back. It was almost like how you see in the movies. You moved in slow motion as you scooted closer to him on the seat. Your legs crossed and your hands were cradling your phone. Harry sat opposite of you with his legs spread comfortably. His arms were lying over the back of the sofa. The two of you were sure there were more glamorous couches to be lounging on, but the accommodation wasn’t of concern when your lips met for the first time in months. Something about the kiss was electric. Your phone fell to the floor as harry pulled you closer. The position was awkward with your arm trapped between his body and yours. Your legs remained crossed until Harry’s hand gripped the skin of your exposed thigh. His firm palms and fingertips massaged the muscles you had been using to dance all night. Neither of you broke for air until your phone began to ring from the floor.

Harry leaned forward and picked up the device first. His mood dampened as he saw the name flash across the screen. In a split second it crossed Harry’s mind to decline the call on your behalf. All it would take is one swipe of a finger, one press of a button. He would have his lips back on yours in a second. You sat across from him looking expectantly with wide innocent eyes. Such a loud juxtaposition from the smudged lipstick smeared across your plush mouth. And all the nasty things he knew you could do and say with it. You were so beautiful and the second you answered the call you wouldn’t be his anymore.

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[mediawhorefics]

not mentioning your boxer au 😭 may she live fondly forever in my dreams

im sorry 💔💔💔 i wish i had the energy/will power to work on it. i had such cute ideas for that fic 💔💔

like..... they were gonna go back to the national gallery on their 'official' first date and harry was gonna buy a print of van gogh's sunflowers for louis.......

here's the snippet if you want:

&&&

“Wait!” Harry exclaims as they walk past the museum shop. “Wait! Wait! Wait!” he repeats, stopping in his tracks and Louis has to stop too since they’re still holding hands. 

“What?” he asks, pouting and pretending to be annoyed. He’s so happy he could burst. Briefly, he wonders what the other museum goers would think if he just… snogged Harry right and there. Then, he wonders if that’s a normal impulse to have in the middle of a busy public place, if it’s just because it’s so new – their first date – or if this is just how Harry is always going to make him feel. 

“Wait for me here,” Harry instructs, grinning, and when he tries to walk away, Louis holds on to his hand a little too tightly, stopping his escape. 

“Don’t buy me a gift in there,” Louis warns, both a little thrilled and a little embarrassed at the thought. 

Harry snorts. “What makes you think I’m going in there for you?” he says a little too sarcastically, green eyes twinkling. Louis is falling so hard sometimes he forgets to be scared. 

“I’m serious,” he insists, tugging on Harry’s arm where they’re fingers are still intertwined. “Do not buy me a present.” 

“Oh my god, self-obsessed much,” Harry laughs. 

“Harry,” Louis says in his best serious big brother who means business voice. 

“Louis,” Harry echoes, sounding like the bratty younger sibling in every way. “Let me go to the shop.” 

They stare at each other sternly for a few seconds before it turns a little playful and they’re probably making a scene in front of all the nice tourists who just want a souvenir from the National Gallery. And yet, Louis doesn’t even have it in himself to care. In the moment, staring into Harry’s eyes, wanting to win this silent contest so bad, wanting to kiss Harry’s stupid face so bad, he just feels free. Free to do this, free to feel this, for the first time in a long time… For the first time ever really. 

Finally, after probably way too long, Louis sighs and let’s go of Harry’s hand. 

“If you buy me a gift, I’m breaking up with you,” Louis threatens just as Harry is about to walk away. 

He gets a loud squeaky laugh in response, his favourite of Harry’s just because it sounds so ridiculous coming out of him, and it makes Louis’ inside melt. 

“Please don’t break up with me on our first official date,” Harry says, tilting his head down to press a small kiss on Louis’ forehead, before he disappears into the shop. 

Louis scrunches his nose, trying to fight off a smitten smile and he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for his phone to fiddle with while Harry most likely shops for something for him. 

When he opens his phone, a text from his mother waits for him. 

Tell me how it goes! ❤️

Louis smiles seeing it before biting his lower lip, trying to find a way to describe how well this has been going, how good Harry makes him feel. 

He’s still worried. He’s not naive enough to think it’s smooth sailing from now on just because he acted on his feelings. But there’s something about the way they have fun together that feels really precious and special to him. Even at their best, his previous relationship wasn’t like that… Shaking his head, Louis chases the ghost away from his mind. He doesn’t deserve any power on a day like this, when it’s all going so well. 

Instead of focusing on the past, Louis starts typing a response to his mother. 

I’ll call you after! is what he sends first. Then, after a second of deliberation, he adds: It’s going great. He waits a second, to see if she’s going to reply straight away. It quickly becomes clear that she isn’t going to, but, impulsively, without really thinking about it, Louis adds  He’s great ❤️ , presses send and pockets his phone again. 

It’s good timing too because just as he does it, Harry walks out of the shop holding a thin paper bag. 

Louis raises an eyebrow at him. “Found what you wanted?” he asks, so happy he doesn’t even want to fake petulance. 

“Yep,” Harry replies, popping that p extra hard. 

“Can I see?” Louis asks, only fishing for confirmation it’s for him a little. 

“Nope.” There’s that p again. 

Louis narrows his eyes. “Why not?” 

Harry shrugs, grabbing Louis’ hand and starting to lead him towards the exit. 

“It is for me, isn’t it?” Louis insists, leaning a little on Harry’s shoulder. 

“I’m neither confirming nor denying it’s for you.” Harry waits a beat before adding: “I wouldn't want to risk our relationship like that.” 

“Relationship?” Louis echoes. “Big word for a first date,” he adds softly, looking at the ground. 

Harry tightens his grip on Louis’ fingers. “Small word for what feels like the 50th date, to be honest,” he says and when Louis looks at him, he seems a little sheepish. Then, he seems to sober up, shaking his head and stopping in the middle of the corridor. “This isn’t me trying to put pressure on you,” he explains, looking soft and vulnerable, and Louis knows that Harry has been feeling that way from the start. 

He’s not stupid. Harry felt it that first night in his sister’s flat, the two of them squished together at that dinner table. He asked him out straight away, Louis hasn’t forgotten. More importantly though, Louis has been there right alongside him, even if he didn’t have the courage to say so yet. So he understands. He really does. 

“You don’t have to explain,” Louis interrupts what seems like it’s going to be a rather long speech. “You don’t have to hold back or…” Louis sighs. “I know you’re all in,” he admits. And he wants to say he’s all in too. He certainly feels it. But the fear, the fear of getting hurt again, the fear of losing himself again, the fear of nothing being stable enough for this, is still there. It might always be. 

“I am,” Harry says and it still feels like an admission, even though they both knew it. “I hope it doesn’t freak you out too much. We said we were taking it slow.” 

Louis sighs, holding Harry’s hand even tighter. This isn’t exactly where he wanted to have this conversation. Slowly, he pushes Harry’s body slightly out of the way, towards the wall so they can have a bit of privacy. They should probably just leave the building and talk about this outside, but it feels important for him to get this out now. 

“It’s not that,” he says with all the sincerity he can muster, looking into Harry’s eyes. “I’m not freaked out about that. It’s just.. It’s complicated. And I…” 

For a second, he imagines himself saying it, letting the whole sordid story out, exposing his soft underbelly to Harry’s mercy and hope against all hope that he won’t see him differently after it. 

One day, he thinks he’d like to do it. One day, he thinks Harry might be the one to receive it with kindness. But the truth of the matter is… He’s not ready. 

“It’s this stuff, this relationship stuff in general that… Well, you know I don’t really do it and I have my reasons and I’d like to tell you one day, but I’m just not… I’m not ready yet. And I hope that’s alright.” 

“Of course it’s alright,” Harry whispers. “I can’t pretend I get it, but I hope you know I’m not the kind of guy who’d hold you not wanting to talk about it straight away against you.” 

“I don’t think that.” 

“Good,” Harry says, looking relieved. 

“And I’m in too,” Louis adds, sneaking a hand around Harry’s waist, holding him. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Mostly because I never do anything without about a hundred million percent certainty,” he says jokingly, even though it’s true. Alright, kissing Harry the exact way he has had a little bit of spontaneity to it, but he’d let the idea build in his head for a long time while Harry was away, making sure it was exactly what he wanted to do. 

The joke lands, Harry’s dimples showing up and something settles inside Louis. It’s going to be okay, he thinks. Once he tells Harry. 

“Does that mean I can give you your gift?” Harry asks, a little hesitantly, but he’s still smiling big, clearly teasing. 

Louis groans, letting his head thud against Harry’s chest, pressing himself against him in a hug. “Fine,” he mumbles in Harry’s jumper, not letting go of his waist yet, gripping the material of his jacket for a second before finally letting go. When he looks up, taking a small step back, Harry still looks a little triumphant. 

“Go on then Styles,” Louis goads, letting go of Harry’s hand too, placing his hands between them, awaiting the dreaded present. 

Harry grins, placing the thin paper bag in Louis’ hands and, suddenly, he knows exactly what it is. 

It doesn’t change the way his face softens when he reaches inside the bag and pulls out an A5 print of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers. 

“I quite like the imperfect,” Harry says kindly and, for one horrifying second, Louis thinks he might cry. 

He doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything really, just look at the print, remembers that first afternoon, the two of them fitting together in ways Louis didn’t want to examine yet, remembers feeling like he’d said too much in front of that painting, feeling like he’d revealed part of himself to Harry that day. 

Harry who remembered, who might have been thinking about it this whole time. Harry who is all in. Harry who likes imperfections, who probably sees Louis’ no matter how hard he tries to hide them, who sees beauty in it all and buys Louis gifts to remind him. 

God, he’s fallen so far down already he doesn’t know if there’s a way back up. 

“Are you breaking up with me then?” Harry asks him when he’s clearly been silent for too long and what else can Louis do but kiss him?

Inside the National Gallery, near one of the exits, clutching a Van Gogh print, Louis wrap his hand against the nape of Harry’s neck and kisses him. 

&&&

and then the epilogue would have been louis moving into harry's loft and they would have FRAMED the print and put it on harry's WALL as a symbol of their relationship or whatever and the last sentence would have been something like this:

Once upon a time, Louis wanted to hold all the pieces of the puzzle that make this wall, wanted to know the story behind each print, wanted to know why they were up there, wanted to know Harry fully through it. So much has changed since then. He knows most of the answers to his questions now, knows the tale behind every image. But he didn't just collect all the pieces of the puzzle, Louis thinks as he smiles the wall, at the painting Zayn gave them as a housewarming gift, at the print of Van Gogh's sunflowers Harry gave Louis after their first real date; he became one.

ANYWAYS rip tbow, you could have been something......

[strawbsstarz]

Pt. II Rewrite the Stars: Draco Malfoy x reader

im sorry it seems rushed i just wanted to give you guys a happy ending T_T i had lots to do, i am not doing a series type again its too advanced for me- too much pressure to keep up (maybe in the far future) its also so long mb

Warning: Angst

Pt 1 HERE

~

The night you impulsively decided to leave him alone in that tower was the worst night of your life. You had tiptoed into your dorm, trying not to wake your roommates up, slipping into the blankets. You desperately tried to make yourself comfortable, but the nagging sound of your heart beating in your chest was ringing in your ears, and your head was banging from the running thoughts of what had just occurred. You tried to hold in the emotions you felt- that you've been feeling, but it was impossible. The silent night and the sound of your roommates soft breathing, you couldn't stop the flow of the questions that had begun to compile itself in your brain, does this mean it's over? And with that realization you silently wept into your pillow covering your sobs.

The next couple of days seemed to blend in together, you had missed your classes using the excuse of not feeling well. It was believable-with how much you cried: your face was pale, you had a red runny nose, no one questioned a thing. You knew you couldn't avoid him forever though. When you finally allowed yourself to process the events that had happened, you felt strong enough to see him. You felt confident in avoiding him without having a breakdown.

Days had passed, and eventually it turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. There was no sign of Draco. Where could he have gone? Your heart yearned for him, even if whatever you two had was now unofficially over because of your stupidity of wanting more- you still searched for him in every room. You wondered why he's been gone for months, could it be because of- no, you shook your head it can't be because of that, right? Every time you wonder his whereabouts and why he's been absent, your assumption almost always wanders off into what Harry had told you a couple of months ago. There's no way Draco would agree to that..

You were walking to potions when a voice had called out to you,

"Y/N!"

Recognizing the voice you turn your head to the proclaimed chosen one, offering a wave and a smile.

"I've been looking for you, do you remember what I told you a couple months ago?" He asked as he catches up to you.

"About your crush on Ginny?" You teased.

He blushes and his hand rubs the back of his neck looking down, "N-No!" He looks around, and with a hushed voice, he comes closer, "About Malfoy.."

You freeze, standing in place for a second before beginning to walk again to class hoping that he didn't notice, "U-uh yeah? What about it?"

Truthfully, no matter how much you tell yourself to not meddle anymore in Draco's business, you can't help feeling worried, so if this is the only way you would get to know about where he was, then fine, so be it. Even if the idea of it all made your heart ache even more.

"I overheard him talking to Snape about something a couple of days ago-"

"Wait- wait he's back?" You questioned.

"I think they're planning something Y/N-" He sighs, "I'm just warning you to be careful okay?"

You nodded cautiously and as you two had begun walking into class, you made your way to your assigned seat near the front. You wondered if Harry is overthinking his claims, but if he overheard something suspicious, does this mean that all his assumptions about Draco were true?

You began to space off, until a familiar scent of expensive cologne and mint had caught your attention and you held in your breath. Shit. You completely forgot he sat next to you during potions. With how long you haven't seen him, you didn't expect him to sit next to you especially after that night.

It had been months, months since you last smelled his cologne, him. You didn't dare meet his eyes, and he didn't dare meet yours. You lowered your head to look at the quill and paper in front of you. He sighs as he stares at the front of the class waiting to start.

"Can't believe you've already moved on to Potter," he muttered under his breath. You couldn't even register what he had said, because your mind was solely focused on how much you missed his voice.

"How have you been?" You asked, still looking down as you began twiddling with your fingers. Even though you refuse to look at him, his eyes are fixed on you, from the second he walked into this room, from the hallway when you walked with Potter, it was on you.

Before he could answer, class had begun. The entire time you tried your best to avoid his gaze, to avoid meeting his eyes. You didn't know what would happen if you saw his eyes, saw his face. You were too scared to face him. However, it was the complete opposite for him. He kept stealing glances in your direction, as if making sure that it was you right next to him. He couldn't believe it.

Unbeknownst to you, these past couple of months were horrid for him. He had missed school because the Dark Lord had requested for him to attend the death eaters meetings and considering how his family almost always hosted them, he had no choice but to go. He felt restless every night, especially since his childhood home was now being used as a hotel for the most dangerous wizards known. He couldn't stop worrying and thinking about you, wondering how you were. Every night he laid in his bed with images of you in his head- memories you two had spent together. He felt himself constantly playing with his family ring every time he felt restless, and his thoughts would always wander to how the spaces between his fingers felt empty without yours intertwined in them.

And now that you were next to him, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were merely inches away from him, and even though he craved to feel you against him once again after all this time, he bites the inside of his tongue, to snap himself out of it. He recalls the promise he made to himself that night, and that is to keep you alive.

He managed to hold himself back, practically running out of the classroom after dismissal. You watched his fleeting figure go, disappointed that you didn't get the chance to talk to him more. Sighing in defeat, you made your way back to your next class.

You had successfully managed to distract yourself that day, and the days after. You didn't know what you wanted, you had decided to break it off with him and he never chased after you. Yes, you were heartbroken, but you still hoped for him to come back to you, you thought that maybe, just maybe, he would be willing to try things to make it work.

You sighed as you leaned forward on the railing at the Astronomy Tower. Even after months had passed, you still found yourself up here, even when Draco was nowhere to be found, you were still here, waiting. You sighed once again, nostalgically remembering him again. You stared at the stars and recalled how you would trace his face with your fingers under the moonlight. You remembered him closing his eyes, humming a tune that you doubt was even a song, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.

Footsteps echoed from the door. You backed away into a shadow, afraid of getting caught. After a couple of seconds, a figure appeared in the entrance, the familiar blonde coming into view. This was the first time in months since you've seen his face. Despite talking to him earlier, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, so you never noticed how much weight he lost, and how he looks paler than usual but even despite all of that, he looked just as handsome as you remembered.

"Draco?" You stepped out of the shadows walking towards him. When he saw you, his eyes widened in surprise,

"Y/N.." He hesitates, "I didn't think you'd be up here.."

You shrug and walked towards him, "Force of habit, really."

He looks at you for a moment, before putting his hands in his pockets, giving a slight nod. He backs away slowly, "I'll leave you to it then."

"Wait," you reach and grab his arm as he began walking away, "stay.."

He pauses in his tracks. Your hand clung tightly to his clothes, and you finally asked, "Where have you been..?"

He turns himself around to face you, his movement delayed. You lowered your head,

"I've missed you.." you exhaled, closing your eyes to take in a deep breath. You lift your gaze to meet his. A rush of emotions coming back to you, one that you've missed. The way he looked at you with such warmth and with such love, it remained the same, even after all this time. He wants to tell you that he missed you too, but there's a voice in his head screaming at him to leave, before someone finds out that he's with you. He stops breathing for a second, trying to contain himself but he can't.

He grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you in desperately. He's missed you so much and all this time apart had him shaking slightly. He was scared and so happy to finally see you. All the pent up frustration, emotions he's piled up these past couple of months, he almost collapsed right then and there. Your arms snake their way to his waist, embracing him tightly, afraid he might go away again.

None of you say a word for a couple of minutes, until Draco's left arm burns and he hisses pushing you away. He holds it to try to soothe the pain, worried you stepped towards him,

"Dra-Draco? What's wrong?" You asked as you see a red glow underneath his robe. You grab his arm and reveal the bare skin. He doesn't have time to push you away as the pain continues, but it begins to subside once he feels your touch, and when he's back to his senses it is already too late.

You gasp, you've always denied it, but deep down you knew and seeing it with your own two eyes felt more real. You couldn't run away any longer from this truth that you tried so hard to convince yourself from. Your eyes began to water and before you knew it, you began to cry.

"Are you afraid?" He murmurs, "I didn't want you to know..."

"Since when?" Your fingers shaking as you slightly grazed over the mark.

"A while ago..." He bites his lip, trying to hold himself back from breaking apart. He's terrified, now that you know. His head is telling him to run- to leave this tower immediately but like that night his feet are planted in place. He tries to think of an idea- he shuts his eyes as he clenches his fist, nails digging into the skin, "Now you can understand why we can't be together, Y/N."

He hates talking to you this way, but he can't bring himself to leave this place- you. To him, the best next thing to do is to get you to leave, just like that night. He mentally scolds himself for letting his emotions get the best of him- acting so recklessly as he did earlier.

You couldn't stop the tears that spilled. Yes, you were scared but not of him, for him.

Draco keeps his head low, overthinking the situation- what's to happen. He tries to navigate through the list of horrible things that could happen to you because of his mistake.

"I'm so sorry I was selfish and asked you for more when- when you-" You choked on your tears and your sentences become incoherent, "I didn't know...Why didn't you tell me? I-"

Shocked, he looks up, his heart breaking at the sight of you, why were you sorry? Why were you apologizing? He should be the one to apologize, not you.

His hand reaches out to wipe your tears away, "I didn't want you to know," he repeated, "I didn't want to risk putting you in danger.."

You shake your head, "What about you?"

"I've been recognized as one of them, Y/N" His tone was soft, but there was so much sorrow to it, "It's only dangerous if I let my guard down."

"You'll only be safe for now, it's not guaranteed, Draco."

There's a moment of silence, to process everything.

"Has he done anything to you?"

Draco caresses his fingertips on your cheek, "No, I'm okay." Another pause, he looks at you and lightly traces your face with delicacy, "I'm sorry, Y/N."

"It's okay-"

"No, let me finish, love." He presses his forehead against you, eyes closed as your skin touch. He still holds your face, trying to feel your presence as much as he could, trying to savor every second that passes. You close your eyes, trying to focus you're entire mind and body to just him. Though it was such a simple act of touch, it felt so intimate.

"I love you." He whispers, "I love you so much, Y/N."

"And I love you, Draco Malfoy." You cry again, not because of sadness, but because of how much comfort those words gave you. How those three words lifted such a burden in your chest that you felt so light in his arms again.

And just as it was comforting to you, it was to him. However, he knew that he still does not want to risk losing you and getting caught up in the middle of this soon to be war.

"We can't be together...No matter how much I love you, and you love me, I don't want to risk your life, Y/N."

"I know, I understand-" He squeezes your cheeks,

"Let me finish, love." And you fall silent, waiting. "I want to be selfish and ask if- you can.." He doesn't ask, but he didn't need to because you already knew.

"I can wait." You smile, "I can wait Draco, but...what's gonna happen to us when we see each other out there...on the other side of war?"

Draco sighs, "I don't know, but whatever happens, I'm not gonna let you get hurt by them.."

You shudder at the thought of all the possibilities that could happen in battle, but it quickly fades away as you remember that he was in your arms right now, and that's all that matters.

You don't know what's gonna happen, neither of you do, but whatever happens you'll wait for him. Like you always have, you'll wait until both of you can be together, when the circumstances are right. You'll wait with a different perspective in mind- because now you know that he loves you just as much as you love him. You'll wait for him with a worried heart, longing everyday for his touch. You can wait for him because you know that on the other side of it all, he's there, waiting for you.

[tomorrowusa]

More evidence of Trump's advancing dementia. He wants the US to take over Gaza. Republicans really love starting forever wars.

No Sane President Would Say This

Let’s assume he gets his way. The ethnic cleansing of the Palestinian population of Gaza is a complete success. The bulldozers roar in and the place is indeed turned into “the Riviera of the Middle East,” as he claims he wants it to become. (Note: Beirut used to be “the Riviera of the Middle East” before the lunacy of the region overwhelmed it.) The casinos rise with a glow that can be seen on Sicily. Tourists from around the world are escorted from the gambling floors to five-star restaurants by the soldiers of the 82nd Airborne, who also will serve as bouncers in all the showrooms. You won’t be able to get a room at the Trump Plaza–Khan Yunis or secure a tee time at the Trump Golden Dunes Country Club, which will quickly become a stop on the LIV golf tour. How long do we figure it will take before something blows up? A month? A week? A day? An hour? The president of the United States is acting senile. The president of the United States is, flatly, nuts. I don’t care if he’s just skylarking about incorporating Gaza into the United States. It is something that no president who is right in his head would say out loud. Impulse control is one of the first things to go in most dementia patients.

^^^ emphasis added

Trump is a certifiable NUTCASE. And the people who voted for him or failed to vote against him bear HŪGE responsibility for empowering his dangerous craziness.

Remember the folks who opposed Kamala Harris to "protest" Biden's Middle East policy? They are looking really stupid these days.

Pro-Trump Arab American group changes its name after the president’s Gaza ‘Riviera’ comments

If you knowingly help elect an idiot, that makes you an even bigger idiot.

[ragana62]

Saturday Hot Takes:

We’re double dipping today because why not start things off right?

Requests for clarification or elaboration are always welcome. You know where to find me, and my anonymous asks are on if you’re feeling shy.

This time, we’ve got some thoughts on the Chosen One himself: the man, the myth, the often forgotten or ignored by his own fandom, Harry Potter.

He doesn’t actually need the glasses by the time he reaches adulthood. Magic can in fact fix eyesight and for Aurors in particular it’s a bit mandatory to have it done as a safety precaution. He wears them regardless, just without prescription lenses, because it’s something of his father that he can keep with him even after so many of the ‘you look just like your dad’ comments stop.

That said, he doesn’t actually stick with being an auror very long. It was an impulse decision after the war, made mostly out of a feeling of obligation to finish what he’d started, to make sure that this time the victory stuck and they’d not have to do it all again in another 15 years or so. The second the last of the Death Eaters is in Ministry custody, his badge is on Kingsley’s desk. A part of him wants to be a professor, but he doesn’t technically have the NEWTs to qualify since he skipped his repeat year, but a bigger part of him discovers he rather loves being at home with the kids and since he doesn’t really need to work thanks to that family fortune of his, he spends most of their childhoods as a stay at home parent.

Ginny loves bragging to her friends, teammates, the papers, anyone who is stupid enough to comment on it, that Harry Potter is her trophy husband. It’s all in good fun, he’s into it, and it does lead to some rather entertaining articles, and a brief trend of other men trying to show off their status by proclaiming themselves trophy husbands even if they don’t quite get the joke. Hermione had the article where Draco is quoted as saying that not only is he a trophy husband but he’s from a long proud line of trophy husbands so really Potter’s just copying him framed for Harry for his birthday for the laugh. It’s one of his proudest possessions.

Harry never replaced Hedwig. It was inconvenient, not having an owl of his own, but he could always borrow one or use Ginny’s and it never felt right. He did however have a string of increasingly odd pets after the war courtesy of an article Hermione gave him about therapy dogs. While he started off normal enough with a kitten, it quickly escalated to filling the garden with odd animals Luna found and declared weren’t able to live in the wild any longer, including a mooncalf named Meep who had been exiled from his herd, an augurey named Helen who had a fondness for trying to scare unknown houseguests with fake portents of doom instead of the usual weather reports, a salamander named Turtle by a rather enthusiastically wrong baby Al, and a snake he found one morning all on his own while watering the garden who officially goes by Gerald. His actual name is a bit hard for anyone who doesn’t speak parsletongue to say, but he and Harry are seen most mornings chatting as Harry tends the garden, usually followed by the rest of his menagerie.

[not-a-taken-username]

harry potter and the stupid fucking triwizard tournament

by: notatakenusername (aka me!)

summary: The moment Harry James Potter hears his name come out of the stupid, obese, wine-glass doppelganger, (also known as the Goblet of Fire), he's done holding himself back. Queue the chaos that happens when he gives into his impulsive thoughts.

snippet from chapter 9, where Sirius gets his trail:

Umbridge stiffened, eye twitching in anger. “Very well then! Please detail the supposed incident.” 

“It was during my third year in Hogwarts. Ron’s rat, Scabbers, who was also Peter Pettigrew, escaped from Ron’s hold and ran to the Whomping Willow, which has a passage to the Shrieking Shack. It was there where Sirius Black was. We initially thought he was a threat, but he explained the truth not too soon after Professor Lupin showed up. I saw the animagus transformation with my own eyes, as well as Peter Pettigrew’s admission of guilt.” 

Fudge stared down at Hermione with an odd look on his face. Umbridge huffed. 

“Well, what an…interesting story! It would, of course, be possible, if not for the fact that all animagus are registered. Are you aware of this fact, girl?” 

Harry heard Remus scoff in disgust from next to him, which was honestly understandable. Umbridge was treating Hermione as if she had the intelligence of a five-year-old, which was just ridiculous! The reason was rather obvious, too– Umbridge thought because Hermione was Muggleborn, she was less intelligent. Based on the way Hermione’s eye just twitched in pure anger, she’s about to desperately prove Umbridge wrong. 

“Oh? Is that so? Well, girl, are you aware that not every fucking animagus registers in the catalog? Do you know how easy that is to do? No? Do you know that registering is something you do willingly, which means there are probably dozens of unregistered animagus running around out there? Do you know how absolutely stupid the animagus system, which you no doubt set up, is? Do you know how easy it would be to manage this by making the animagus transformation process a class mandated by the Ministry to track all of them instead of having them register on their own? No? You don’t, do you, girl?”

Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter. Umbridge and Fudge could do nothing but gape in pure shock. Hermione smirked in satisfaction. Rita Skeeter’s camera went off. 

Ah. It was simply perfect. 

[unecoccinellenoire]

do you think that if nathalie and adrien pqcked up and left and blocked him everywhere gabriel would be eventually depressed and would eventually try to take his life or is it a stupid idea

I don't think it's a stupid idea at all. In canon once confronted with the fact he can't save Emilie (or at least not without letting Nathalie die depending on your interpretation of how his Wish worked) and he's lost Nathalie and Adrien Gabriel does chose to die rather than accepting Marinette's, admittedly uncertain, offer of living and trying to change things.

Depending on the storyline being written and what's happened already then it's very easy to see a period of fighting back and denial that they won't come back before acceptance coming with this decision that he has nothing to live for anymore. Possibly in a post-season 5 AU where he lives but they leave that comes quicker.

While Adrien might be the bigger emotional cut in that this is his son, the child he promised Emilie and they worked so hard for, and that she then died to have I think Nathalie's absence is the one more likely to let him get to that stage just because it feels like for a long time she's been his only emotional outlet.

He doesn't seem to have or confide in other friends. Tomoe clearly considers his emotionality an inconvenience, and her advice is that he should just get it together. Amélie is a connection through Emilie rather than one of his own and they don't come across as ever having been particularly close. Harry Clown is a childhood friend its unclear when was the last time he even talked to.

Nathalie has both been an emotional relief and until their fall out something of a brake (not the most effective one as her own morality and mental state is hardly stellar) on his worst impulses and without that Gabriel does make worse choices and while we mainly see that being shown through his actions towards other people I can easily see it turning inwards to how he looks after himself.

Especially as Gabriel tends to care more about presenting his image (and the image of his family) than looking after his actual self (or you know his family).

[beezusvreeland]

a very good idea - chapter 10

summary: After your boyfriend cheats on you at a party, you break up with him, who tells you nobody else is willing to be with you like him. You decide to prove him wrong, with a little help from a new friend.

ship: miguel o'hara x f!reader

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Chapter 10

“Thanks for coming”, Miguel said when you sat by his side. You made a point to keep a distance, not sure how things would play out. You spent a few hours deciding whether or not to meet him at the park, but ultimately put on some sweats, sneakers and left the house before you could change your mind. 

It’s a windy sunday, and you have to twist your hair and put it inside your hoodie to keep it from flying all over the place. There were a few people around, mostly walking with their dogs. You and Miguel were the only ones sitting in the grass. You braced yourself, watching the pets and the leaves falling, Miguel had his elbow on top of his raised knee, hand messing with his hair. You can feel his gaze searching for you and then looking away. But if he wanted to say something, he would have to initiate it, you decided. You already went through the trouble of leaving a party in the middle of the night and your cozy bed on a cold afternoon.

Miguel let out a breath. 

“Last night took a weird turn”, he started. 

“To say the least.”

“I hm…I was way out of line…And I’m sorry for that.”

You turned to the side, your eyes finally meeting his. Miguel didn’t look too good. Still a beautiful boy carved in marble, but tired, with puffy eyes and very messy hair. He was wearing dark jeans pants, a black sweatshirt and a very distressed pair of red Chucks. His eyebrows were furrowed, he looked like he was trying really hard to understand something. 

“I guess I’m just confused. Out of nowhere you break up with your boyfriend and ask me if I can pretend to be your boyfriend for some undisclosed reason and that never actually happened, but we got closer and I thought we were becoming friends, and then at the party in one moment…”, Miguel was speaking so fast you had a hard time keeping up with him. “You know when…during the concert…shit, things seemed good, like, really good and then I left for a moment and came back to find you chatting with your ex, the one I thought you hated, but apparently not so much. I just…fuck!”

There was no way of pinpointing only one of the emotions that were going through your head. Your blood was boiling full of anger, confusion and so many other things you couldn’t identify. 

“Well, I did ask you to be my fake boyfriend, which in highsight was really stupid and a total impulse after a break up, and I’m sorry for that, I guess, even though you said yes”, your tone was pure frustration. “You didn’t know why I asked you, we weren’t friends before or anything and you knew I had just broken up with someone, and you said yes! It was just a stupid proposition, you could’ve changed your mind, told me to fuck off at any point or stopped hanging out with me. It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

“I…I…”

“You know, Miguel, I get your confusion and I’m sorry if I caused any harm, okay? But I’m fucking confused too. About all the above and also why you keep acting like you had no idea about my loneliness and what I’ve been through before high school. You were there! You saw the whole thing happening!” The next part, you said in a lower voice, refusing to cry one more time: “And you didn’t do anything. You watched as your friends and even girlfriends bullied me and did nothing.”

And there it was. Your main frustration with Miguel, one that never left you, even as you started to develop feelings for him. Maybe it was the whole reason why you picked him of all people to be your pretend boyfriend. In some twisted way, you wanted to understand what he did — rather, what he didn’t do —, you felt like he owed you for turning his back on you so many times. Harry had told you no one was ever going to want you or stand you. Your ex used words, Miguel acted like it. 

“I guess I resent you for it.” That was the most you ever said to him, definitely the most you’ve ever spoken, to anyone, about your middle school years and the deep scars you were left with. 

Miguel looked surprised, sadness taking over his teary eyes. You didn’t know what you expected to find, but tears were not it. He looked ahead for a few moments before speaking again. 

“You are right…God, I was such a stupid kid. I was just scared, you know? The whole time.”

“But you always looked so confident. People were drawn to you because of it.”

“And I was convinced that if I didn’t follow what they were saying or doing, they would find out the truth, that I had no idea of who I was. It was easier being who they wanted me to be”, Miguel said, he almost sounded…ashamed. He turned to you. “I admired you, you know?”

“Sure”, you scoffed. “Come on now.”

“No, really! You have always been yourself, in spite of anyone or anything”, his intensity said he was telling you the truth. “I knew people weren’t very nice to you, but I had no idea of how bad it actually was. Hey, look at me”, Miguel grabbed your hand. “I only learned that wasn’t normal behavior once I started hanging out with Pete and the guys. If I knew then what I know now…God, I would have never looked away, I would have stayed by your side, I swear.”

It was a lot to process. His words were sweet and you really wanted to believe them. 

“I should’ve done that as soon as you landed me a pen for the first time”, he said quietly, squeezing your hand. 

“Do you remember that?” You had assumed he had just forgotten it, given the way he acted during the years after that.

“Are you kidding?”, Miguel let out a soft chuckle. “A little boy was devastated that day, having just discovered that his parents decided to divorce each other and that his dad was going away. He was so sad he barely packed his things for school. A teacher shamed him for it, but this little girl, the one with the glasses and the desk organized with a notebook with beautiful handwriting and supplies, was kind to him and made his day less horrible. He never forgot about that.”

Still holding his hand, you watched as tears fell from his eyes. Your heart ached a bit less and you felt a massive weight being lifted from your shoulders. 

“Well…you’re welcome”, you said, a timid smile on your face. 

Miguel laughed, looking at you with an expression you could only describe as tender. His thumb started circling your knuckles. Both of you shifted your gaze to your hands holding each other. 

“Do you forgive me?”, he whispered. 

“I do”, you whispered back. 

“What now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is your proposition still on?”

“No, I think we already established it was very stupid.”

“Oh”, he sounded disappointed.

“We could try to get to know each other, since we’ve never actually been friends”, you suggested.

“No more pretending?”

“No more pretending.”

“I’d like that”, he squeezed your hand once more.

***

On monday, after school, you go to a coffee shop with Jess and Gwen to catch up. Sitting at the edge of her chair, the blonde girl beamed as she recalled what happened at the party.

“I was talking to some people when Miles, all of the sudden, showed up and asked me to dance”, she said with excitement. “And I was like ‘this isn’t a dancing song’, there was a terrible playlist on the speakers, so he went away for a second and all of the sudden, In da Club, by 50 cent, started playing…It was so silly, but so fun.”

“Honestly, it looked like everyone at the party woke up from a trance. People came to the living room and started dancing”, Jess took a sip from her iced latte. “It was one of those moments where I look around and think: ‘God, so this is the whole enjoy being young thing is about’”.

“Are you sure it was the dancing or all the kissing you did while dancing?”, Gwen raised an eyebrow.

“What?”, you gasped. “How am I hearing about this just now? How was it? Who was the guy?”

“Well, honey, I don’t kiss and tell”, Jess teased.

“Okay, I guess blondie is telling, then.”

Gwen looked at Jess, then turned to you, giving you a mischievous smile.

“Ben O’Reilly.”

“Jessica!”, your sudden scream makes the baristas roll their eyes and say something like ‘My God, I hate teenagers’. 

Jess used her hands to hide her face, while Gwen couldn’t stop laughing. 

“I don’t even know where to start…Jessica, my love, this is so random!”

“I know, I know”, she uncovered her flushed face. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I mean…why him of all people?”

“Well, he is really hot.”

“I guess we have to agree with that.”

“What did you even talk about? I know he is a bad guy, but I can’t stand him for more than a few minutes. He just loves himself so much”, Gwen shook her head.

“Oh, blondie, we did very little talking”, Jess laughed, looking at her coffee. “Let’s just say that he is very good at expressing himself without words. Like, very good.”

You were happy, amused even, to see your dearest friend enjoy herself so much. Jess’ standards for dating had always been so high, you couldn’t have imagined a party hookup with Ben O’Reilly. 

“Now that we told you our party experiences, wanna tell us what happened to you, honey?”, she turned to you, her expression turning serious. 

“Miles told me you weren’t feeling well and that your sister picked up. I was really worried”, Gwen said.

You looked at your friends, trying to think of a way of telling them where you were at without giving too much away. There was so much you still wanted to figure out.

“I don’t feel comfortable talking in depth about it right now…”

Gwen and Jess nodded. 

“We understand”, Gwen pats your knee.

“What I can say is that Miguel and I had a fight and after that I was just so drawn out, I decided to go home.”

“You could’ve reached out to us at the party, we would go with you in a heartbeat”, Gwen said. 

“I know that, blondie. But if I did, you wouldn’t have experienced all these beautiful memories you just told me about.”

Gwen sighed. 

“But, honey, and it’s okay if you don’t want to go further, you and Miguel seemed to be doing well during the concert. You looked like…like a couple in love.”

You shifted in your chair. Was that what it looked like? Because you felt like it, there was no point in denying it anymore, but you thought maybe Miguel didn’t feel the same way. You still aren’t sure about it. 

***

Even though the deal was off, you decided that you’d still help Miguel with his english grades. You had avoided him during the start of the week, not feeling ready to talk again after the conversation you had at the park. 

There was someone seated at your usual tutoring table outside, but it wasn’t Miguel. It was Peter.

“You are in need of assistance with your english grades too?”, you elbowed him softly. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“I hear you are a great teacher, so I just might accept the offer.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, you know, the streets”, Peter seemed down compared to his high energy self. Still, he would not let the opportunity to banter pass him by, no matter at what cost. 

“Are these streets tall and beautiful?”, you seated in front of him.

“Yes, exactly those ones”, he remained quiet for a few moments, then looked up at you. “It’s not my business what you two have been up to or what your relationship status is. However, I do care about Miguel’s happiness.”

You gulped. Deep inside, you felt the need to be liked by Peter. Not only because he was great and had been nothing but the nicest to you, but because he was Miguel’s best friend. He obviously had a huge impact on him, like Miguel told you.

“I think you are good for him, you bring up his brighter sides. It’s nice to see that”, he gave you a soft smile. “I guess what I want is to ask you to please be careful with his heart.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t give him false hopes just to let him down. He likes you a whole lot.”

“I like him too, Pete.”

“No, buddy, Miguel doesn’t just like you. He has had feelings for you ever since I met him. Probably even before that.”

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<< chapter 9

>> chapter 11

all chapters

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a very good idea playlist

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if we added a magic-less Tom Riddle to the Edward/Walter/Light Saw game? Who wins now?

The time Edward Cullen, Walter White, and Light Yagami played SAW.

Well, this is a little more complicated.

Last time, we concluded that Light Yagami wins no questions asked. He's too easily able to manipulate Edward and Walter White into defending their pride and doing something hilariously stupid and violent.

Alright, Tom Riddle's now in the mix...

We're going by my interpretation of Tom Riddle, by the way.

Light Still Wins

Now, depends what headspace Tom's in and how old he is, but he's probably not as easily goaded into the SAW game as the other two and is more likely to see what Light's up to (as he does this shit himself all the time).

However, Light is beloved by the gods, the gods hate Tom.

Light as a protagonist tends to get lucky more often than not in his own series. Oh, he gets into binds and has to make his way out of them, but there's also moments where he gets by on timing and pure luck (he has nothing on Walter or Edward in this regard, but they're more impulsive).

His run in with Naomi Misora, for example, was a product of good timing. Had she made it to her destination and L found out that Kira could kill via other methods, then Light would have had a lot less breathing room in the coming weeks. He probably still would have managed something, but that's an AU for another day.

Rem also being in love with Misa and Misa being in love with Light is another one in that, while Light probably could have handled it, it made things convenient for him down the road.

Tom never gets a spot of luck.

Harry Potter always, somehow, manages to escape him, his Death Eaters kill themselves in battle due to overeager incompetence, Harry lucks his way into killing all the horcruxes somehow, and the very universe is actively working against him.

Which means in a game of wits, something will go right for Light and wrong for Tom.

Tom loses because the universe hates him.

[clear-what-i-was-seeing]

Get to know me 

tagged by the wonderful and amazing @petrowriting!! thank you <3

Share your wallpaper: 

This one’s my home screen, I took a photo of a cabbage when I was like 12 years old and did something to invert the colours and have had it ever since lmao. My lockscreen is this fanart of Will Graham because it’s amazing and gorgeous and I’m obsessed with it

The last song you listened to: Through Me (The Flood) also by Hozier alksdaslkdhf. i’ve been obsessing so much it’s such a good song. i have maybe described listening to this song as a religious experience too many times for someone who has never had an actual literal religious experience 

Currently reading: 100 pages into the Red Dragon book and it is a trip lmfao. it’s so fun seeing the ways the dialogue was repurposed, and the prose is wow, but ohhh boy. thomas harris. babe. get help<3

Last movie: Jane Austen Book Club! i love grigg very much despite his stupid name. gonna start alternating between hugh dancy and mads’s movies bc I’ve been doing that accidentally I think lmao. Last three movies I did went like Confessions of a Shopaholic -> Charlie Countryman -> Jane Austen Book Club. but on the other hand I deeply need to watch like four hugh dancy movies as soon as possible for emotional reasons 

Craving: For it to be like a week from now so I’m healed from my wisdom teeth surgery. also to have no work or responsibilities for a month and just be able to write and read hannigram fics aslkdf. 

What are you wearing right now: this is my first time not being in pyjamas since getting the aforementioned wisdom teeth out lmfao. black pants and dark blue t-shirt

How tall are you: 5’3 </3

Piercings: love the aesthetic yet terrified of getting it done and also them catching on things. I got these clip-on gothic glow-in-the-dark dragon earrings a bit ago from a targeted instagram ad (my first and last time ever doing so) because I have zero impulse control, and they broke immediately. 

Tattoos: none, but have been microwave-spinning the concept of getting a hannibal tattoo since I watched. the heart from primavera would be so cool

Glasses? Contacts?: Glasses, my eyesight is deeply blurry without them

Last drink: classic water, big big fan of the stuff. reminds me of nbc hannibal because because there was water in the show a lot

Last show: watched two episodes of The Last of Us at like 5am yesterday, it was great. also perpetually rewatching hannibal by getting everyone I know to watch, and then watching with them

Last thing you ate: soft tofu in broth. there are, not a lot of vegan post-wisdom-tooth food options (also I’m very picky lmao), so I’ve been rotating between that, vegan ice cream, mashed potatoes, and vegetable smoothie for like 3 days. 

Favorite color: ohhh this is painful, is it a cop-out to say all of them? Big big fan of purple, orange with purple, green, and blue. 

Current obsession: it’s been hannibal and nothing else for 9 months now, and im going strong

Unrelated obsession: not sure if this counts exactly but there’s a writing app where you set a timer and start typing, and if you stop typing for longer than 5 seconds it deletes everything, and it’s so cool. I’ve been calling it stream-of-consciousness writing in my head for like a year bc it’s like a personal stream-of-consciousness even though ik that is not how to use that term alksfhd. I do 3 or 5 minute sprints and store them in one document, then have a second document where I edit and refine, and for a few I’ve put them side to side and colour-coded all my changes and it’s so fun

Any pets: two cats! Miles, my grey one, is extremely sweet, and possibly too smart for his own good. My other one Chico has a very adorable snaggle-tooth, and is incredibly stupid <3. he’s very bad at knowing what direction he’s going or recognizing any parts of the world around him and I love him very much.

Do you have a crush on anyone?: only in that vague abstract way, almost without direction, catching little wisps of the concept of the feeling from scattered bits of interactions with the world around me

Favorite fictional character: im absolutely refusing to choose between hannibal and will so im listening them both and you can’t stop me

The last place you traveled: i’ve literally gone nowhere since the pandemic started </3. i’m in Canada and the furthest I’ve been is just one city to another in the same province like 1.5 hours away. Hopefully going to Italy in the summer though!!

Tagging: @stranded-labyrinth, @valentinsylve, @elvislefilm, @disaster-vampire, @sacha-da-1, @dreamed-itself-waking, @em0fagz, @cannibaltranssexual, @hisjimct, @im-urchin, @ghostforwhat, @f0undationsofd3cay, @det395, @a-pigeons-soliloquy, @mysterist, and anyone else who wants to!

zero pressure, also i’m always v forgetful with tagging so if i missed anyone sorry and ily!