#i REFUSE to believe that hes canonically straight

[foggybear42]

sometimes i forget that bigender evan is not a real canon fact and is actually just a headcanon i have. what do you MEAN this guy is canonically 100% cis 🤨🤨🤨 ????

[azlrse]

➳ the headwardens as fathers (twst x gn!reader headcanons; separate)

cw: 'a decade later' au, fluff, accurate/canon take on the houswardens' background, angst in some parts (mostly on vil and idia's part)

a/n: decided to post this just to practice the characters as accurate as possible. also, imma be writing some of the housewardens for the first time soo i hope it's good lol

Riddle Rosehearts 🌹

due to his upbringing, riddle can be strict towards his children, whether it's from their grades and their studies alone since he believes that one's studies are very important to a child's future.

but not all the time riddle is like this. as a father, he only wants what is best to his children and refuses to treat them the way their grandmother does to him in his childhood. he even encourages them to take a certain career his kid wants. do you want to be a musician? he can buy his kid an instrument they've always wanted. not a musician but instead a baker? he can tell their uncle trey to give them private lessons to be the best baker in the queendom of roses.

there are certain times the two of you are arguing over a punishment. riddle knew rosabella punched a kid (he had flashbacks when her godfather punched him) stole her tart and decided that his kid will be grounded for a week. you, on the other hand, rebutted that she only did it out of self-defense and that's the last tart she had. this goes on back and forth, even for an hour, and her punishment reduced to 2 days minimum. rosabella didn't like that but at least it's better than to stare at books for a week straight.

riddle is the type of father to teach his children magic early on. not because it's enforced by his mother but because he just wants them to use magic in case of emergencies and for them to have an advantage to their education. he encourages them so much that he offers them sweets and strawberry tarts if they make it through their lesson.

overall, riddle's just protective over his children and knows what's best for them but at the same time is strict towards them.

Leona Kingscholar 🦁

leona didn't expect to have his own children, especially to the prefect of ramshackle dorm who's grown into a sophisticated and loving adult.

he's the type of father to teach his children the concept of fairness. he doesn't want them to have the same upbringing as he had in his childhood and growing up to have an inferiority complex. leona also embedded to them that one's hardwork can signify what kind of a person are they, especially that they're royalty.

when it comes to his children, he's deep down a girl dad but nonetheless loves his children equally. leona loves spending time with his kids, especially when taking walks around sunset savanna or taking them to ivory springs.

his parenting style can be permissive sometimes but thanks to your constant nagging, he steps in to reprimand them on what's wrong and right. sadly, he doesn't mind when his daughter & son can be demanding sometimes but is behaving very well when it comes to you (thanks to the 'stare' you enforced into them in their childhood).

like riddle, leona also helped his children in terms of their education, he might pull a string or two in order for them to attend a really good school. after all, they don't want the crown prince of sunset savanna and a father to be disappointed, right??

Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

hands down, the type of parent who wants his children to pursue the field of finance and marketing. no buts or ifs, he really wants them to pursue such career so that they can take over the business someday when he and their uncles are retiring.

there could be a possibility that his children are half-merfolk since you are human. hence, you and azul wanted to teach your kids both cultures, whether it's on land or water. he can be self-conscious and scared towards his children on the possibility that they inherited his octopus form. what if they didn't like the said form? what if they're being teased because of their body shape? what if they despised it so much that they wished their own father was a merman instead of an cephalopod? you reassured him that the both of you will teach them the importance of self-image and self-love.

speaking of their seaforms, azul is the type of father who will cry when his kid swam on their own for the first time (equivalent to a toddler taking their first steps). it doesn't matter if they're a late bloomer when it comes to their seaform, azul is still proud on the progress his children obtain.

every birthdays & anniversaries or any special occasions are held within the beach. imagine his parents swam on the surface of the ocean just to see their grandchildren. they would gush about how cute their grandchildren were, especially when they're still a little chubby baby.

heavily encourages his kids to fight back just in case they're being bullied by their peers. he's the kind of dad to call them in his office, not to scold them but praising on how they beat up that kid in a pulp (thanks to their uncle floyd ig--)

Kalim Al Asim 💛

husband material + loves children = THE BEST FAMILY MAN OUT OF ALL THE HOUSEWARDENS AND HUSBAND MATERIAL # 1.

probably the type of dad who loves spoiling his children rotten and sometimes gives into their demands but at the same time likes to teach his children the concept of hard work. after all, not all the time everything is handed to them on a silver platter (albeit to their father being raised on a silver spoon).

undoubtedly wants more than 5 children, whether they're biological or not (but will not push through if you are uncomfortable with the idea). this guy is raised having 30+ siblings so it's understandable why he wants that many children and having a huge family.

as usual by kalim, every achievement earned by his children, in academics, extracurriculars or birthdays, holds a grand & extravagant celebration. won the regional spelling bee? a celebration must take place! oh, you hold second place on a swimming completion? here's a parade to celebrate such occasion! a birthday party? that's too plain, how about a 3 day celebration for the birthday kid?

low-key his children would let out an 'aww' when they saw their father kissing you :'33

like leona, kalim would take on a bit on a permissive parenting style since he would give into the demands of his children and saying no makes it difficult for him to say in front of them. thanks to your talks and reprimanding him, he learned to say no directly into them and chose to cool down their tantrums before talking to them again.

Vil Shoenheit 💎

idk how to write vil accurately soo im really sorry if this one sucks and comes across as out of character ;_;;

out of all the housewardens, i believe that vil can be really strict when it comes to his children's appearances but also cares sm for their well-being and is fiercely protective of them. he believes that his children are the splitting of him and his lover (you ofc) plus he's a celebrity and a model so that adds to the fuel on why his children's appearances are really important.

most of his children confided on you on how suffocated they felt due to their father's demands and high standards when it comes to beauty. how they cried, begged and asked you if you still loved them even if they're covered in scars, acne or having oily skin. you reassured them that you and their father loved them so much, much to the children's happiness in hopes that they're father can be less controlling.

of course, you talk about this to your husband regarding this issue and vil can understand the children's point of view. he doesn't want them to be bullied, to be teased or being compared to him since they're the children of the biggest celebrity in the industry. he also promises that he'll talk to the children and apologizes for making them miserable.

on the fluffier side, vil loves spending time with the kids. going shopping or having photography sessions are some of the examples and heavily adores them when his children are being made to be endorsers/models on a children's brand of clothing. when his daughter asked him for tips when it comes to make up, vil didn't hesitate to teach her the basics (also buys her the make up brands she really wanted).

teaches his children the importance of fighting prejudice towards gender norms. vil is the type of father to accept that kind of future his children chose for themselves and does not give a shit when it comes to people's opinions on them; his son wants to wear make up? sure why not, he also wears one during his time as a student in nrc. his daughter wanted to crossdress? why not? it's just clothes and at least she's not waking around naked.

Idia Shroud 💠

to those who voted on the poll and answered idia, ya'll deserve a pat cause he won 😭🙌

as much as i love idia shroud, idia is the houswarden that's least likely to become a father due to his trauma and fucked up family dynamic but what if he does become a father with the only person that he loves and is comfortable to be with?

hands down a helicopter parent fr, like this guy suffered so much that he didn't want his own children to go through the same fate he had in his childhood. man even prohibits his kids to go out w/o telling him first but also values his children's privacy in terms of their gadgets and other private stuff.

when his kids were born, he knew straight up that the kids inherited his flaming blue hair due to his cursed bloodline (and prays that his kids won't hate him for it) but loves it when he saw their (e/c) eyes for the first time (at least his kids looked like the combination of the two of you). aside from that, ortho's excited to become an uncle and wants to be the cool kind of uncle to his brother's children.

as always, when his children were a bit older, he wanted to teach them the basics of coding and video game development. being the children of the director of styx and a professional gamer, he expects his kid to be as good as he is in these kinds of field. if his kids wanted to pursue a different path as he is or a different hobby, he doesn't mind at all but is disappointed to say the least.

due to the shroud curse, at least one of the children has to take over styx when they're now at age sadly. as a father, he really wants them to pursue a future without revolving around in his family's business but they couldn't avoid it.

doesn't care how much his children spent on things due to an immense wealth his family holds. don't be surprised his children's rooms were covered in merch of their favorite video game or fandom. he heavily supports his children having the same passion as he is as a geek.

Malleus Draconia 🐉

HUSBAND MATERIAL #2 FRFRRR

if future malleus told past malleus that he became a father and the husband of the ramshackle dorm's prefect, it's either he'll pass out from happiness or becomes excited so much that he wants to confess his feelings in front of you.

a big family man, aside from his heavy duty as the crowned king of briar valley, he always set aside some time to spend with you and his children on the rose garden by the greenhouse of the castle. he also doesn't care what are the other fae's think about his own half-human faelets, he still loved that the kids are the creation of both of your love to each other.

speaking of the other faes, he will hear a thing or two about children of their ages making fun about their half-human characteristics like having rounded ears instead of pointed ones like their own father. like vil shoenheit, he is fiercely protective about his children and would confront the kid's parents if the bullying had gone too far but he's a really forgiving father don't worry.

adding to the previous statement, his heart would break a bit when he knew either one of his children are either being excluded (preventing them from playing a game with the other kids or isn't invited to a birthday party).

the type of father who let's them sleep in the middle of the both of you when one of them had a nightmare. he can sense it when his children are in dire need of his assistance and wants to sleep beside the both of you for comfort.

really loves it when he sees his children playing on the throne room. he loves the noise they emitted comparing to the quiet and eerie noise the throne room before they were born. one of the playdates you and malleus joined with your children is about a roleplay involving a knight trapped in a tower while a dragon saved them and fell on love with each other. i would imagine them kissing in the final scene as the children gagged from the public display of affection.

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: your best friend brags complains that he can't get laid due to his huge dick posing a threat to random girls at parties, so you offer to fix his little big problem pairing: soobin x reader genre: smut, best friends to lovers warnings: explicit language, big dick soobin (canon event), size kink, foreplay, eating out, blowjob, hugging, fingering, size training, creampie, consensual intercourse, kissing, aftercare, allusions to death in a sexual context, lowkey possessive soobin at the end author's note: the killa is on my mind 24/7 and im down bad for soobin 25/8 🥵 so i had to get it out of my system somehow 🤷 word count: 2k

“You’re kidding, right?” you ask your best friend when he makes a rather shocking confession as the two of you are sitting in his bedroom after one of your usual anime marathons.

“I wish I was. But I would never lie to you,” Soobin responds truthfully. His big moist eyes look a 100% genuine but it still sounds so...bizarre.

“Let me get this straight…Every time you try to hook up with a girl at one of those parties Yeonjun keep dragging you to, you go to a room, eat them out like the generous, selfless guy you are, and then after you take off your pants, they get scared by your gigantic cock and refuse to have sex, running away in horror?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to explain for the past 10 minutes, yeah,” Soobin confirms with a very adorable pout on his stupid face.

You shake your head in utter disbelief.

“I’m sorry but this is just ridiculous. Any girl would be happy to hook up with a guy that has a huge dick.”

“Well, I guess not any girl ‘cause this shit has happened three times already and I’m at my limit. Why can’t I just get laid?” Soobin bemoans his tragic destiny.

“No, I don’t get it. The least they could do is give you a quickie or something to return the favour. It’s so rude to just sprint away. I can’t believe your cock is that terrifying.”

“Ugh, please stop saying that. It’s so embarrassing,” Soobin covers his face behind his big hands. Hold on a minute…

“If what you’re saying is true, then I think it’s pretty hot. Those girls are surely missing out.”

“Or maybe they’re just looking after themselves. Like…I’m not mad at them for being spooked out, I just wish I could finally get some, you know?” Soobin sighs.

“Death by dick does seem appealing,” you shrug.

“Y/N!” he exclaims.

“Listen, what if I make you an offer? You prove to me that you weren’t exaggerating about your size and I promise I won’t run away and will take care of your…frustrations.”

“Are you seriously suggesting this?” Soobin freaks out. “This could ruin our friendship.”

“I won’t be weird about it, I swear. What do you say?”

“Fuck it. I’m so horny that this actually sounds like a good idea,” Soobin admits. “Can I eat you out first?”

“Erm, if you insist,” you reply, suddenly feeling nervous.

“I just wanna take care of you, make sure you’re all nice and wet for me,” Soobin explains patiently.

“You really don’t have to,” you reassure him.

“I know but it’d be awkward for me to just whip it out. Please?”

“Oh…okay,” you really can’t imagine saying no when he’s asking you so sweetly. God, what did you get yourself into?

Soobin takes off your leggings and panties in one swift movement and pushes you down gently on the bed so you are in a lying position. He spreads your thighs apart and looks at your pussy, already glistening with wetness caused by the conversation you’ve been having. Soobin smirks but doesn’t say anything about it. You’re grateful for that as he dives in, licking and kissing all over you. Fucking hell, if his tongue is capable of making you feel this way, you are slightly unnerved to find out what his cock can achieve. But unlike those girls at the parties, you are determined to never run away from your best friend.

Soon enough, you reach your high, overwhelmed by Soobin’s insane tongue movements and his big hands gripping your thighs. You need a few moments to gather your thoughts and when you are finally able to speak, those are the first words that leave your mouth:

“I think they fleed because you eat pussy like a starved animal. Seriously, what the hell was that?”

Soobin chuckles nervously and runs his fingers through his black hair, pushing it back and exposing his forehead for a bit.

“Trust me, it’s not that.”

“Prove it,” you challenge him even though you are fairly certain he’s telling the truth. Your best friend has never lied to you, so why start now?

Soobin takes off his pants, his hands are shaking and you immediately feel bad. You put your hand on his in an attempt to calm him down.

“Hey, you don’t have to if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I do want this, but after so many failed attempts, I’m so anxious…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Soobin,” you insist and squeeze his hand reassuringly.

His skin complexion looks slightly less pale and your words seem to give him the confidence he so desperately needs. Moment of truth. Soobin takes off his boxers and…Oh damn, he was not exaggerating. He’s not just big, he’s so huge a part of you wonders how is it humanly possible to carry such a weapon around and maintain the gentle, humble composure with which Soobin carries himself.

“You’re not running yet,” he jokes.

“Soob?”

“Y-yeah?” his voice cracks, he is obviously terrified of what you’re going to say.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, I finally get why these girls ran away.”

“Oh,” he sounds a little dejected, as if already expecting you to go back on your offer.

“But! That’s not gonna stop me. Just tell me what you want first and I’ll try my best to make you happy.”

“Huh?” Soobin is too flustered to process your words.

“My hands, my mouth, or my pussy, what do you want first?”

“You mean…you’re willing to give me all of them?” he blinks in shock.

This poor, precious boy. Did he really face disappointment so many times that he is now looking a gift horse in the mouth with such uncertainty?

“Just pick, Soobie, I promise I’ll give you anything you need.”

“Um…can you suck me off? Please?”

Gosh, he’s so adorable you want to eat him.

You nod a little too enthusiastically and go down on your knees, taking as much of his cock as you can. It’s a tight fit but what you can’t put inside your mouth you make up for by wrapping your hands around him. You suck and lick and touch him, eager to give him as much pleasure as he did you. Your beloved best friend has obviously been frustrated for a while now because it doesn’t take him long to cum inside your mouth. There is so much you can’t manage to swallow it all despite your valiant efforts and you see some of it falling down your cheeks. You wipe it off with a finger, sticking it into your mouth, grinning widely at Soobin.

“Fuck, you’re incredible. What…how…are you okay?”

He presses his big palm against your cheek and it takes a lot of self-control for you to not melt right there and then.

“I’m great. Did…did it feel good for you?” you ask sheepishly.

You’re not particularly confident about your skills but you genuinely did your best for him.

“Are you crazy? It felt insanely good,” Soobin takes your hand, lifting you up and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

“I’m glad,” you respond, feeling safer and warmer than ever before in your life.

“Do…you still want to…you know?” Soobin asks.

“If you’re asking whether you can put your cock inside my pussy, then yeah, go for it. As long as it’s something you want, of course.”

You keep reminding him to only do things he’s completely okay with, because you would hate to put your best friend in a situation he doesn’t enjoy just because of your greed.

“I want you so bad, you have no idea. But I think I’ll need to stretch you out a bit, yeah?”

“O-okay,” you quickly agree and in no time, Soobin’s long fingers are inside of your pussy, going deeper than your own have ever been and making you feel things you never even dreamed about.

“How does it feel?” Soobin asks in concern.

“Heavenly,” you admit and just as you’re about to reach your second orgasm, Soobin’s fingers leave you.

“N-no, why’d you do that?” you whine frustratedly.

“Wanna feel you come around my cock.”

As it turns out, you'd like this just as much so you quickly forgive him for ruining your orgasm.

“I think I have a condom in my-“ Soobin starts but you cut him off.

“I’m taking a pill. And I believe we’re both clean, so…”

“You gon’ let me fuck you raw?” Soobin inquires, not wanting to make assumptions.

“Yeah, I trust you,” you reply with conviction.

“You’re a dream,” Soobin chuckles and nudges the head of his cock against your moist entrance. You brace yourself for some level of discomfort and are surprised that it doesn’t come right away. Soobin takes his sweet time getting inside you, making sure you’re okay.

“Fuck, Soob, you're so big,” you moan, already feeling overstimulated.

“This is just the tip, baby,” he explains shyly, which makes you lose your mind.

Soobin goes deeper very slowly, making you feel every inch, stretching you out bit by bit.

“How much more?” you ask somewhat impatiently.

“Just a little bit. Can’t help it that your pussy is so tiny,” he teases you.

“Not my fault your dick is so gigantic,” you bite right back.

“I promise, I'll try my best not to split you in half,” Soobin jokes, which does little to ease your worries, but at the same time only makes you wetter.

“Keep talking to me,” you plead for him.

“Does it hurt?” he wants to know, as he keeps entering you further.

“It’s a good kind of hurt,” you explain, wincing slightly.

Once you’ve gotten used to it, you signal to Soobin that he can start moving and he does just that, fucking into you with an impressive speed. You try to meet him halfway, lifting your hips up for him, melting into one.

“You’re taking it so well, my darling best friend,” Soobin praises you relentlessly.

“Anything for you, Soobie,” you cry out in sweet bliss.

“I’m close,” Soobin confesses soon enough.

“Fill me up,” you beg him, almost in a daze, deeply affected by his overpowering presence.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice and spills his seed inside of you. It feels so good that you cum with him, walls clenching around his enormous dick. Soobin leans down to kiss you, further blurring the lines between friendship and…whatever this is.

Then, he takes his cock out and you realize something far more terrifying than his intimidating size - you are falling in love with your best friend.

Soobin quickly brings a towel and a bottle of water, taking care of you like no one else before. You want to cry, touched by his sweetness and falling even further.

“How do you feel?” Soobin brushes a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I feel…like I'm on another planet,” you confess shakily.

Soobin chuckles, visibly relieved to hear that.

“You’re so cute,” he murmurs, enveloping you in a hug. His large frame towers over you and if it was anyone else, you’d probably feel slightly threatened. But this is Soobin, and even though he just fucked your brains out, you feel completely safe and protected. Safe enough to be honest about how you feel.

“I know I promised not to be weird about it but…I don’t think I can go back to being friends.”

Soobin pales for a moment, scared of losing you.

“Why not?” he blinks, barely restraining his tears.

“I wanna belong to you,” you try to ease his worries by openly saying what your heart and soul desire.

“Oh…But baby, you already do,” Soobin suddenly beams with excitement. “And I belong to you, too.”

“I think you killed me a little,” you laugh. “Killed my pussy with your big cock and ruined me for other men.”

Soobin raises an eyebrow.

“Bold of you to assume that I’d let other men near your pussy. You’re all mine now.”

The End

[sillygoofyqueer]

oh my god i love seeing wei qingqwei content in the tags hes so funny. anyways i personally believe hes one of the few peak lords who refuses to let shen jiu's jabs get to him and keeps trying to tell him his bad puns and it makes shen jiu SO mad

Everyone else whispering and spreading rumours about what Shen Jiu does with his time, and then you see Wei Qingwei carefully scribbling down a list of jokes that he's going to send with a letter about the next sword choosing ceremonies to Shen Jiu; this man WILL succumb and become his didi. Yue Qingyuan seemed to have awkward history with the man, but WEI QINGWEI doesn't. I like to think Shen Jiu receives these shitty jokes, reading through them with the upmost straight face because the messenger from Wan Jian Peak is still hovering around and will report back to Wei Qingwei if Shen Jiu's lips so much as twitch. Then he calmly, slowly writes a single note for the messenger to take back - "your puns suck. Do better." While most people would take this as an insult, Wei Qingwei sees this as nothing but a challenge - it's the longest he's spent away from the forge, coming up with the best puns possible and putting them on the xianxia equivalent of flashcards, meaning that Shen Jiu will have to read the puns one by one, flipping each one over to read the punchline. He does not stop, will NOT stop until he gets his shixiong to laugh. It's a matter of principle NOT to laugh, Shen Jiu thinks - as though he isn't sort of, kinda, pleased that someone is putting in such a sincere effort to make him grin. Not get angry or snap or become embarrassed. Wei Qingwei wants him to laugh. There isn't even any ulterior motives of guilt as there is with Yue Qingyuan. (This is the reason we don't hear much about Wei Qingwei in canon - Shen Jiu has no fight with his existence (provided he keep up with the puns) /j/j)

[pumpkinpie59]

things that are canon in the tmnt 1987 series

donatello hates fish, especially raw fish.

michelangelo once got a job to deliver pizza so he could earn money

leonardo is an avid reader and loves the three musketeers

donatello gave up coffee at one point during season 3

raphael and michelangelo seem to be closest to the punk frogs and visit them often

all of them seem to have separation anxiety, leonardo the most.

all of them enjoy gaming, but leonardo has beaten every game at the arcade and is ridiculously competitive.

also since leonardo has beaten every game at the arcade and we know there’s math games there bc donatello said he likes them, either leonardo is good at math or he’s just a really good guesser

leonardo is a talented artist.

donatello has a college degree under the name “miss donna tello”

raphael enjoys creating disguises and is the most stylish of the turtles when it comes to their clothing.

raphael seems to have an interest in pirates

donatello has model planes in his room

leonardo is allergic to ragweed

raphael dislikes the supernatural, meanwhile donatello refuses to believe it exists despite seeing multiple ghosts in person.

michelangelo has perfect pitch

donatello cries at happy endings

donatello loves the noir genre/aesthetic, and likes to narrate what he’s doing like he’s in a noir film

the turtles were mutated straight into teenagers, and it’s implied several times they remember their lives before they were mutated, including their turtle family members. leonardo has drawings of his turtle relatives on his bedroom wall.

donatello has a kill count of 2 (from what i remember)

raphael briefly took a chemistry course

[alyakthedorklord]

Chiroptophobia: the Fear of Bats.

Bruce Wayne is Scared of Bats. This is a Canon Fact.

In a difference from canon, Batman pretends to actually BE a bat man.

(Again, “Loading and Aspect Ratio” by JUBE514 situation with fake wings. Please go read it I love it so much.)

Bruce turns himself into a physical manifestation of his personal worst nightmares, and sets out to be a street cryptid. People see him flinching from bright lights and loud noises (he hasn’t slept in three days and he really hates guns) twitching weirdly (testing his wings function/stimming) not fully understanding human social niceties (you cannot tell me this man isn't Autistic) and, duh, wings, and go ah yes this being is Inhuman.

However, people KNOW Brucie Wayne™ is petrified of bats. There was an incident at a party when one flew through a window, another at a zoo, there was this one time Manbat showed up and he practically teleported away. No one saw him for a whole month, even after Batman had captured Manbat. (He got injured in the fight.)

By extension, this means that Bruce Wayne is afraid of Batman. Just- absolutely terrified of him. No ones seen them in the same place. Ever. Bruce Wayne actually publicly refuses to even believe in the cryptid for YEARS past when he's already been proven to exist.

When the Justice League gets called in to protect Bruce and his smattering of children from some plot (batman conspicuously absent, despite Gotham being his territory) Bruce straight up tells the league that he doesn’t believe in Batman, and he feels much safer with “real heroes” rather than “a urban legend spawned from overdramatic furries and gang wars.”

The justice league is, obviously, confused.

Certified little shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, (because we’re going with JUBE514’s canon and jason doesn’t die they’re all brothers f off-)

ANYWAYS: Certified Little Shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, ready for chaos/solidifying secret identities: “Don’t worry! We believe in batman! We saw him!” :D

They then proceed to tell the justice league that Bruce HAS met Batman, but he has a phobia of bats, so when Batman saved them at a gala Bruce screamed so loud and shrill he threw off the bat-hearing and then punched batman in the face so hard he knocked him out cold, grabbed then-baby Jason and ran. (Nightwing and the second Robin had to HEROICALLY rescue a dazed Batman, Dick saw it with his own eyes!)

Bruce was so scared of the bat coming to take revenge that he jumped at every shadow for a whole month. Why, Jason, (who was younger then) had slept in Bruce's bed to keep him safe! (Dick is crooning about his cute little brother. Jason, who is hitting his growth spurt and not a little kid anymore, is infinitely embarrassed.) Right now, Brucie has settled into firmly denying Batman’s entire existence so that he can sleep soundly at night.

“Why is he so scared of bats?” The Justice League is wondering. Oh, they are so glad they asked!

“Alfred told us a story once,” Dick says, eyes wide and innocent as he prepares to lie through his fucking teeth, “that when Bruce was little, really little, he got trapped in a cave filled with bats, and his dad had to come rescue him. Apparently, Little Bruce had been crying about a massive bat, even bigger than he was, with glowing red eyes and human hands and (gasp) wait oh my goodness gracious what if that was the BATMAN :0”

“The baby batman.” Jadon adds.

“Batboy?” Tim wonders.

“Alfred, do you think Bruce met Batman when they were little?” Dick asks.

“I believe,” Alfred “the greatest enabler” Pennyworth hums, offering fresh baked scones to thier gleeful audience, “that Master Bruce referred to what he saw as ‘the bat king’ and reported seeing him outside his window several times over the years.”

“Maybe it really was him! Will you ask Batman for us?” Tim asks, already planning to hack the watchtower cameras and set up some popcorn with his brothers.

The Justice League, who have learned more about the Batman in one conversation than they have over MANY years of working together, tell the Wayne children that it will be their Genuine Pleasure to quiz batman on his interactions with BRUCIE WAYNE who has, apparently, laid batman out cold with one punch.

Alfred adds on that he personally thinks the Batman is being rather courteous to Master Bruce, as “bat king” sightings were after “difficult times” and he doesn’t come near the manor otherwise, as robin had been the one to return some family heirlooms that one time they were stolen. He calls the batman and his robins “polite young gentlemen” and then leaves.

But now the gears are turning in the justice leagues heads. Batman? Courteous? Polite? Batman is not Courteous or Polite. Not unless something else is going on.

Now. From their point of view. Batman lives in the cave systems under the richest houses in Gotham, Phantom of the Opera style, hiding his meta form (because this batman is playing cryptid really well. Maybe he was a mutant baby of some Rich Gothamites, who threw him into the caves in shame!) He’s been watching Bruce Wayne, likely as he struggled with the highly reported on demise of his parents, seeing the effects that crime had on the boy that fell into his cave all those years ago. Batman has always been so protective of children, so hateful of guns, obviously the Wayne tragedy is part of what motivates him. He loves Gotham dearly, territorial of it to the point of keeping other heroes out, and yet he breaks that rule here, for Gotham's prince, solely for Bruce’s comfort.

Bruce, another person who obviously loves the city of Gotham just as much, putting millions into charity and relief efforts. Who is clearly very protective of his children, even if he usually has no spine, to the point of attacking his greatest fear to keep then safe, and good enough to land a hit, even. (Bruce Wayne is also considerably attractive.)

Its all so clear to the Justice League: Batman is madly in love with Bruce Wayne. Has been for years. To the point of watching him sleep, on occasion. How very tragic! Batman, in love with someone he can never be with! Not only would it paint a massive target on Bruce’s back if they ever did get together- there’s no questioning what Gotham villains would do if they discovered this, (and denying himself love out of an attempt to keep others safe is EXACTLY the kind of self-sacrificing nonsense Batman would pull) But Batman can’t even truly see the man he’s in love with without Brucie running away in terror! Well, the poor guy… how sad…

This conclusion can be supported by the following evidence-

Batman being the one to catch the guy who put the hit out on Bruce. He sent them to babysit/make sure Bruce was safe while dealt with the actual threat. (Bruce had a suspiciously long bathroom break/a nap)

Batman’s first appearance being right after Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham. Was the bat following him to protect him in those missing years? Or maybe he decided to clean up the city now that his beloved had returned?

Batman always being seen near where Bruce is. He’s never once been at the watchtower when Bruce has a public appearance- he must be watching over him, a silent guardian in case someone gets it in their head to kidnap Gotham’s Prince.

Batman insisting that Bruce is innocent in a corporate scheme, despite evidence to the contrary. (Hes right in the end, of course, but they’ve never seen him ignore evidence so clear.)

Batman casually referencing Wayne Tech/Foundation inner workings- he keeps an eye on them, of course. (If he can’t be close to the object of his affections, the league reasons, of course he’d make sure that Bruce’s company and projects are on the right track)

Nightwing, when asked, confirms the Bruce Punching Batman story. He says “honestly I think B was impressed! Caught him off guard!” (Since when does Batman lower his guard? Only when he’d be… distracted, perhaps…)

Superman saves Bruce, who thanks him with a kiss on the cheek. Later, justice league was teasing Clark, batman huffs and leaves the room. He’s CLEARLY jealous! Superman feels just awful!

Batman inexplicably knowing social dances/high society manners- he must have learned by watching (stalking) bruce! He can navigate high profile talk if he wants to, he just doesn’t want to most of the time. but if the situation calls for it he can talk like the Richest of Pricks in a way that only comes with observation.

Batman bristling when some of the league members start making Comments on Brucie Wayne’s Physical Attributes. (Jealousy? Defensiveness? Perhaps… embarrassment at GL’s detailed explanation on what he’d do with a chance in bed with Brucie.)

Batman absolutely freezing up when confronted with any of the above evidence. (He’s trying SO HARD not to laugh/go tell his kids)

Dick/Jason being big enough to wear the Bat-wings rather than thier own and be convincing- they save Bruce, though the man passes out (from fear? Blood loss from an injury? Perhaps- he is faking) and Dick/Jason, either out of genuine concern for their dad or general “how can i stir the pot” chaos, gently strokes his hair away from his face in an act of compassion that the cameras just so happen to catch. (There’s a few tears shed in the justice league- poor batman! He can’t be with his love!)

The robins (in both identities) telling the justice league that they've seen batman watching him.

“oh yeah he does background checks on aaaaaall bruces conquests. Had a conniption when brucie found a mafia boss that one time.”

“And when he found out Bruce and Two-face had a fling!”

(The league notes that often, if a criminal gets too close to Brucie, they’re put away not long after. B is usually collecting evidence in his civilian ID. But it looks like angry Batman wanted them to get the hell away from his mans.)

The Justice League is swooning over this tragic, forbidden love story. Batman is a little creepy but hey. He apparently grew up in a cave system. Its a wonder he's as well adjusted as he is. Batman has their sympathy, he seems less unflappable/untouchable, they’re a little more understanding with him now. Superman is all too happy to be a rebound, if needed. There are magic users offering glamour spells. Green Lantern is making exposure therapy innuendos.

The robins can’t believe how lucky they got. They’re def grounded but B can’t be too mad bc his secret identity is FUKIN SET.

Alfred is rather proud of Batman's new nickname in the league being “the bat king” and keeps sending batman along with cookies. The league thinks Batman is checking up on bruce with his butler. Its a mess.

Eventually, Batman loses a bet to one of his kids. Committing to the Bit with an exasperated sigh (he’s definitely not having fun, shut up jason.)

He admits to his crush.

[siriusblack-the-third]

Sirius Black: Looks and Behaviour

Honestly, a few of these are canon, and I'll put that in brackets. Most of them are shamelessly self indulgent tho. Please note that this is the first part of The Sirius Black Headcanons Series, and I hope you enjoy!

.

Tall ASF. He towers over everybody, and combine that with his tendency to stick to the etiquette lessons he had been given as a child— he stands with his shoulders rolled back and his chin held high, straight-backed and arms at his side, sometimes with his hands in his pockets— he looks intimidating. He never slouches. (see: literally every time Harry mentions him)

He walks powerfully. Long strides, feet perfectly placed, arms swinging just right. Sometimes he walks with one hand in his pocket, curled around the pocket watch he carries around, given to him by James' parents for his 17th birthday and engraved with the Potter crest. People see him coming and clear out of his way immediately, and he does not even notice. He is the kind of person that attracts attention everywhere he goes.

Silvery grey eyes, high cheekbones, straight nose, strong jaw and determined eyebrows, full lips that make him look intimidating. Dense, silky hair, pitch black in colour and slightly wavy. Sirius is a living example of the fact that True Beauty is striking and terrifying. (see: again, literally every time Harry mentions him. Boy is calling Sirius handsome even during his death scene.)

He prefers to keep his hair long like his grandfather does, with the difference of tying a bun instead of a proper gentleman's queue. If not for the leather jackets and the ratty muggle jeans and the band t-shirts, he would have always been mistaken for Arcturus.

He has a lot of body hair, and he hates that his facial hair grows so fast, because he likes to stay clean shaven. His arms and legs and chest are hairy and he does not care much about that, but he likes it when his face looks clean and well-groomed, so he shaves every other day.

When he speaks, he is very articulate and concise, and often gets teased for it by Remus and Sirius (James is the same as him). His grammar is immaculate, and he prefers not to use expletives. He does use them, especially when he stubs his toe or drops something or some such happening, but he does not use them when insulting people.

He is always polite to people, even when he is arguing with them (see: ootp, his argument with molly). He will argue without raising his voice, because he firmly believes that greater volume does not equal improved argument, and only raises his voice in extremely stressful situations where he needs to bring attention to what he is saying.

Has concrete values and views, and refuses to bend or change them for anyone (the only exceptions are James and Harry). He is the kind to research and read before he forms an opinion, and does not hesitate to say that he is not educated enough to have an opinion on something if that is the case. He hates people who behave like sheep, and much prefers to do his own independent research and form his own independent opinions. (see: gof, he tells Harry he isn't sure Snape is a DE)

#1 Overbearing Fusspot™. James might have been the mother hen of their group, but Sirius was the Stressed Dad™. He is that overprepared airport dad; always worrying about this and that and making sure everyone has everything ready, and he extends that same parent behaviour to Harry after Prisoner of Azkaban (see: literally every interaction between him and Harry, he is such a parent).

Cares about only a few select people: James, Lily, Harry, Mr and Mrs Potter, Remus, Peter, Andromeda and Ted and Baby Tonks. He could not give less of a fuck about everybody else— he has a small circle and he likes it that way. After Peter's betrayal, that list reduces down only to Harry, Andy, Ted and Baby Tonks.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

of rage and ruin - chapter eight

chapter eight

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: joel's lies and the creeping winter breed discontent as the raiders wait to find out the fate of the man you bit.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, mention of attempted sexual assault (NOT by joel, very unsuccessful), oral, p in v, discussion of dub-con and I guess mind-control?

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tommy Miller wasn’t a man of faith. Never really had been, and especially not now, not after the things he’d seen. Couldn’t fathom the thought of any god who’d let the world go to hell, who’d let his niece die in her father’s arms before she even really got to live. 

He doesn’t believe in much, never has, but he’d put all his faith in Joel. Always had. His first steps were toward Joel. His first word was his name. All his life, he’d followed his brother, even as they fell darker and darker into the end of the world. Even as Joel went down a road he thought he’d never have to follow. 

It was all for Tommy, anyway. He couldn’t turn away from the monster Joel became when it was all to keep Tommy alive. So when Joel turned into a literal monster, straight outta the movies they’d stayed up far too late to watch when Tommy was far too little? 

That was nothin’. A no-brainer. Joel was Joel. You don’t turn your back on your brother, even if he turns all hairy and slobbery and weird. 

So if there had been anyone left in the world who knew them, who had seen the Miller brothers grow, they’d have said it was no surprise that the little one refused to give up when things seemed hopeless. 

Inseparable, they’d say. 

After Joel went missing, one year turned into two, and Tommy Miller never gave up on his brother. 

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found,” Laura said one night over rabbit stew. 

“Nah,” Tommy said, blowing on a spoonful before feeding it to her littlest one — DJ, after her brother, the dead beta — “He wouldn’t have done that to me. If he’s out there, he’s in trouble.”

Laura looked skeptical, but Tess nodded from the other end of the table, wagging her spoon in their direction.

“He’s right. That cranky old bastard mighta given anyone else the slip, but not Tommy.” Tess always sat at the far end, keeping distance between herself and the rambunctious children with razor-sharp teeth. 

“I’m not interested in runnin’ around buck naked, howlin’ at the moon, or dying from a toddler bite,” she’d said. But it didn’t stop her from showing up every new moon for dinner. 

Not more than that, though. She couldn’t bear to see the hope living in Tommy’s heart any more than he could bear to see the pity in her eyes. They all thought Joel was dead. All but Tommy.

“If you’d just turn me,” he tries.

Laura rolls her eyes. “You know it’s not that simple. My bite probably couldn't even turn you. Chances are you’d just... die.” 

“If he dies, I get to shoot her,” Mike says to Cheryl. He’s the other half of the Idiot Twins, you’ve learned. Mike and Randall. Randall’s the one kicking around all pissy in your old cell with the crescent of your teeth debossed in his skin. 

Mike’s the one bitching up and down the hall, shotgun on his shoulder.

Cheryl doesn’t give a shit. She’s only interested in what might happen if Randall doesn’t kick the bucket. 

“The hell you do,” she sneers. “She’s worth too much. Now shut it.”

You’re in the corner on the mattress, Joel’s furry body between you and the door. His hackles haven’t settled, and neither has the tense line of his shoulders. You haven’t spoken since Cheryl came down to watch, but Joel’s kept his eyes on the shotgun the entire time.

You don’t need to talk to know he’s thinking about putting himself between you and a bullet. Your hand finds its way to the thick fur on his neck, weaving gently between tufts. 

It’s not as comforting as it was. 

And oh, he can tell. It hurts. It took him less than a day after your heat ended to start to lose you, and the worst part is that he doesn’t know if he even wants to do what he’d have to, to admit to you that even though he’d never, that he could. He could make you do anything he commanded. 

You’ve been right all this time. Being an omega ain’t fair. He has all the power, and you have all the vulnerability, exposed to him like a wound. Like the one he’s left on your shoulder.

So he’s gotta be the shield, too. The bandage. He’s gonna be the barrier between you and everything that threatens to infect you. Even himself.

Especially himself. 

After the third day passes, the only infection Randall’s gotten from you was the festering bite mark. And really, that wasn’t even from you; that was from locking him in that nasty room with an open wound. That’s kind of on them.

He goes upstairs with Cheryl and never comes back. It’s not just Joel from whom they don’t tolerate disobedience.

Mike sulks but doesn’t try to retaliate. He must be too chicken-shit after seeing what happened to his buddy. They still make him deliver food, but he’s got a new partner now, who doesn’t seem too fond of him. Meal drop-off is a no-nonsense silent affair now, which suits you just fine. 

The difference between you and them has never been clearer. Not just in that you’re the captives, and they’re your captors. Not just in the sickening way they decide if you lived or died.

No. You’re finally seeing it. What they’ve seen all along—the difference between human and something undeniably more.

It’s stark, now. You’re not sure if something changed about you, physically, after your heat, or if it just laid clear the things that changed with the shot. But you can’t pretend anymore, either way. You’re not human. You’re not like them. You never were, really, but now it’s in your goddamn genetic code.

The man wrapped around you is even less of a man, but you think you’re starting to catch up.

He stays resolutely the wolf, but you don’t mind. You haven’t felt much like talking lately, anyway. You’ve gone quiet. It’d be unsettling if you hadn’t sunken to his level of grunts and huffs and whines. 

Why talk when he can’t talk back? Why talk when you already know what he’s saying? When he can understand you better now than ever before?

There’s no need for a charade between you. You’re beasts together. The bite you shared is more of a bridge between you than a bond, but that’s okay. 

Neither one of you were looking to be tied together, anyway. 

The strange, serene silence lasts until the new moon. He doesn’t have much choice, and you’re feeling it, too. The fatigue. The wariness. The loss of security. With the light of the moon in absentia, you’re left undone.

So you put each other back together.

You wake to his hairy face, but it’s human hairy. His coarse salt-and-pepper beard. His morose hazel eyes. 

“Look—” he starts, voice extra gruff from neglect, but you find you’re uninterested in his excuses. 

You kiss him instead, craning your neck to reach his chapped lips, a hand cupping that handsome beard. 

One of his huge hands goes to your waist immediately as he clings to your subject change with relief. 

There’s no trace of heat, now, nor rut. Just you. Just him. His hand, calloused and hot, leaves a trail across your bare skin, achingly gentle. 

You let yourself be coddled, this once. Let him treat you like something precious. Something worth preserving. No claws or fangs, just the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, the heat of his tongue on your nipple. 

A trail of ticklish kisses down your stomach that makes you squirm for more than one reason. When he parts your thighs to make room for himself, it’s as if he’s setting out the fine china. 

Before, he’d always dove in, like seeking the antidote to a snake bite. Eager to gulp down as much of you as fast as he could.

This time, he doesn’t rush. They won’t take him out tonight on the new moon. They’ve given up on making him useful when he's useless. He’s grateful, for once, for his weakness, because it means he can be yours. 

And you? Well. You’re always his. But now he can take his time with you.

His lips brush your thighs, gentle bites with blunt teeth interspersing the worshipful kisses. He presses them to the seam of your cunt, not opening you for him yet, just kissing along your labia and basking in your scent. It’s heady, even when it’s not fragrant with fertility. 

He parts your lips with his tongue. No greedy fingers rend you, just the soft swipe, barely ducking between. He does it, again and again, until he works you wide and waiting. 

A smirk spreads when you gasp at the bump of his nose against your clit, but he doesn’t leave you wanting. He graces it with a tender kiss that leaves you writhing, panting, trying to cant up to meet him. 

He lets you. But he doesn’t let your mewls rush him. He leaves you clit throbbing and drags his attention down to where you weep for him. The noises alone are debauched, echoing in the old shower room, his groans and licks melting into your gasps and cries. 

Your chest aches. It aches with need, with want, yes, but also with a strange sadness. It’s bleeding from him into you. It seems to never leave him, not for a moment, and it drives your hands to his hair, a poor facsimile of the connection you both need and cannot allow yourselves to have. 

It’s enough, though, for now. He’s pleased that he’s pleased you, and doesn’t relent. It’s as much for you as it is for him. He alternates between softly suckling at your clit and licking you clean until he’s drawn two saccharine orgasms from you, leaving you trembling and covered in sweat. 

When he comes back up to meet you, cock resting against your cunt, you take his kiss greedily, and give in. More and more, every moment you’re his, you become wilder. Claimed but not kept. Bound but not burdened. You lick your slick from his beard in a manner more affectionate than arousing. He interrupts, kissing your neck and pushing you down onto the mattress so he can ease his length inside you.

There’s no resistance. You’re soaked and stretched, his thick fingers having reached inside to take his prize from within you. You breathe again once he’s nestled deep within, feeling the pulse and press of him where no man other than him can rightfully claim to have been. 

He rocks his hips, barely pulling out, unwilling to leave the wet heat of you. It’s arduous and delicious, savoring him like this. Feeling the curves and veins of him against your walls, imprinting themselves on you. 

Even now, even fully human, you don’t trouble yourselves with talk. Your ragged breaths fill the room, and he chases your lips for a kiss each time he bottoms out. They’re almost chaste, if only they weren’t so filthy. There’s barely any tongue, and yet, more intense than any you’ve had before. 

You come again as he fills you, spilling deep and letting you both savor the sensation. 

When he pulls out, you shiver. The chill that spreads over you has as much to do with the things left unsaid as it does with the cold basement. You only have the one bra to wear, after all. He tucks the little blanket around you, but it’s a lost cause. 

Neither of you are sure that you want his body heat, with the way things have frosted over after your parting. He waits, eyes closed, until he feels you curl up to him. 

Once you’re tucked into the crook of his arm, his leg slung over you, you finally say it. The two words that have been ricocheting around in your brain since that day.

“You lied,” you whisper to his chest. It stutters as he slips on a breath.

“I did,” he agrees after a long, long moment.

“To me,” you clarify. 

“Yes.”

It’s heavy. It’s loud. Much louder than reality, where it’s whispered, but in your head, it falls with a flat thump.

“You were already scared. I didn’t want to scare ya more,” he says. It doesn’t come out like an excuse. It’s not defensive. It’s just a fact.

Maybe he didn’t mean it as such, but that’s how you take it. You were scared. You were terrified. 

“I don’t care,” you decide. “That’s not how this is gonna work. We’re—we’re stuck together for now whether we like it or not ,and you are not going to decide what I can or can’t handle.” You poke him in the chest with the finger you were inadvertently waggling.

For now? Oh, sweetheart, he thinks, gut aching at your—he suspects—willful naivety. He raises both hands in supplication.

“Alright, darlin’,” he capitulates, gruffer than he means to. 

The way he gives in without a fight but also without an apology stings, but you resolve to lick your wounds later when you’re not itching for a fight. 

“And you better explain. Now. No runnin’.” 

He puts his arms down, and they melt into a slump of a heavy sigh. “I don’ know much. I never do. You ask me all these damn questions when I’ve told you —”

“Stop deflectin’ and fess the fuck up, Joel,” you snap.

He glowers for a moment before sitting up a little to lean against the frigid tile wall. “I suppose…” but he just sighs again.

But you sit up, criss-cross applesauce with the blanket around your lap. And you wait. You’re pretty sure he’ll talk, given his own time to do it. Where your mind never seems to settle, his seems to take a while to boot up. He isn’t stupid by any means; he just needs a minute to organize what he’s trying to explain. 

You’re rewarded for scraping up what was left of your patience when he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t know much. That ain’t ever gonna change. But this was somethin’ I learned from the widow o’ the man that bit me.”

“Ew, wait, you actually got bitten?” 

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. Look, don’ worry about that. I keep forgettin’ you were one o’ the experiments.”

You gape at him for a moment. “Eugh,” you shudder. “Fuck, I hate that. Experiment. Damn.”

He gives a little ‘well?’ with the splay of his palms to the sky and watches you with eyes of lead. “Look,” he sighs again. 

You imagine a drinking game involving his sigh count would send you to a swift and shallow grave.

“Y’ain’t gonna like it, but it’s true. To some extent, omegas seem to be… more inclined to listen to an alpha if the alpha talks with a certain tone of voice. S’hard to explain.”

“You’ve done it before,” you guess. “Not just to me.”

“No,” he sighs, and in an imaginary alternate universe, you die of liver poisoning, “not just to you.”

And he tells you of the early days with Laura. When the change first started, and he couldn’t sleep, thinkin’ he might hurt somebody. Somebody that didn’t deserve it. 

“And she told me that Peter would drop his voice into this kind of… register, and he would talk her to sleep. Except one night he was tired himself and didn’t have the energy. So all he said to her was ‘go to sleep.’ And she did.”

“That’s… fucking horrible,” you say. “Not their cutesy couple-y stuff. The… Jesus, the implications of that kind of…” 

Suddenly, you look down at the blanket, picking with the jagged tip of your bitten fingernail at where the ancient fleece was pilling. 

“You, um…” but the words get caught in your chest where someone has tightened a belt, cutting off all connection to the rest of your body, leaving it cold. A thousand logical, reasonable thoughts traverse your conflicted brain. You don’t know him. He’s got a darkness to him. He kills on the regular to keep himself alive. You don’t know him.

But you don’t think he’s the type of man to have done something quite like that. And he’s been nothing but gentle with you, really. Too gentle, like he thought the lightest touch of a claw might split you like a plump plum, skin stretching and giving way for him to flay the flesh underneath. 

You’re made of tougher stuff than that. Mostly. Kind of. In a way.

Oh, damnit. 

“What did you use it on me for?” you say instead. 

His teeth grind at what you almost asked. He figures you were afraid to piss him off by asking. Or afraid for him to lie to your face again. He should be insulted that you’d even consider the possibility that he violated you. 

He reminds himself that you don’t know him. He’s bigger than you, stronger. And he’s just told you he can more or less hypnotize you. 

Shit, this is a right hell of a mess.

You both sigh this time, and you’ve already forgotten your imaginary drinking game self’s corpse. You can feel it this time. The weariness. How it soaks into the marrow and flushes everything out. 

“You need to understand,” he starts seriously. His brows are pinched and eyes narrowed, pitching a sturdy fence around his too-fragile self. “I did not do anything…unsavory. And I didn’t even mean to do it to ya in the first place.”

He scrubs a hand over his face again, and it’s ruddy when he pulls away. “It was durin’ your heat, okay? It wasn’t even anything serious; I just told you to listen to me, and you did. And I…” he grunts and looks away.

You think maybe all this time alone made him forget how to say sorry. 

You’re not sure what you’d do with it anyway.   

So instead, you close your eyes and take a deep breath in your nose and out of your mouth. You think vaguely about being nauseous or anxious or infuriated. You indulge in the fantasy of getting truly angry, of letting yourself feel the injustice of it all, the horror.

You entertain thoughts of screams of rage, of violence, of throwing and breaking and banging your fists against the wall, of wrapping your hands around Jim’s throat, of driving yourself mad and bloody in a frenzy for freedom.

The thoughts hurt as much as they help. You take the rage and prod at it until it hides back behind your ribs where it belongs. 

He leans forward, now, elbows on his knees. It’s hard not to be distracted by his dick, but also, you always feel guilty when you ogle it. It’s not his fault he’s been denied of any privacy or dignity. And plus, you’ve been walking around, pussy out, since your heat.

Thinking about that too much makes you sick. 

He sighs again but you feel like maybe this one cost him something more. He sits up straight and puts his hands on your shoulders. “I can’t promise it won’t happen by accident,” he says solemnly.

You chew on it for a while, climbing into his lap and pulling the blanket over yours. He’s trying, and you’re having a hard time staying mad, especially when he’s warm and comfortable.

His arms loop loosely around you, unconsciously rubbing his thumbs against your bare skin. It’s soothing, but you suspect it’s even more soothing for him. 

Your head finds its place in the crook of his shoulder, and it’s your turn again to sigh. “You think maybe I could learn to resist it?” 

He startles a little, looking down at you incredulously. No, looking down at you like you’re something incredible. That’s worse, maybe, because it makes you squirm away from his (albeit minimal) idolatry. 

“Maybe. I don’t know enough about it. But would you even want to try? It would mean me havin’ to…”

“I dunno,” you admit. “Might be worth it. I’ll… I’m gonna think about it.”

He takes what he can take and presses a kiss to the top of your head, a compulsion that’s rapidly becoming habitual. 

Not that either of you are complaining. 

When you think of it again later, in the dead of night, Joel sawing lumber while half-sprawled on the floor, it settles like cement in your lungs. 

He settles like cement in your lungs. Something neither your mind nor body can ignore. And maybe it’s the bond, but you know there’s no chipping him out of there. Not completely. This strange man, who isn’t so strange these days, has instead become something of a warm knit cardigan or a rail on a slippery stair. 

Maybe you don’t need him.

Maybe you’d get by without him.

But, well. You’re better off with him than without. 

Time in your little cell passes all at once and not at all. Winter creeps in, and the basement becomes nearly unbearably cold. You watch jealously as Joel retreats to his built-in jacket, and as much as he tries to be your personal furnace, it only goes so far.

And the full moon comes, and brings a blizzard with it. 

You think maybe they won’t go out, but Jim’s got a particular target in mind nearby that he demands retribution from. And no silly snowstorm is going to stop him.

They take him from you at nightfall, and he watches you shiver as he leaves.

It must be Christmas, because he comes back with a gift.

You honest to god gasp when he shows you his prize. “Thanks, Santa!” you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“Arms up,” he says, and you let him have this. You think the wolf must be going out of his mind with possessiveness, and you’re right because he can barely stay only partially transformed. He struggles not to give in to the change, fighting his own instincts and the moon just so he can talk to you.

You don’t say it, but that almost means more than the gift.

You close your eyes as he tugs the ratty sweater over you, either oversized or from a very large man. It fits like a dress, though a very short one. But it means your ass isn’t hanging out, and you’ve got another layer between your poor freezing tits and the breeze that whispers through the rotting grout. 

“Joel, how—”

But he cuts you off. “Don’t ask me, darlin’. You don’t wanna know.” He’s a little tender but a little sharp, too.

“But where—“

“I said don’t ask me that,” he snarls. “Do not fucking ask me that.” He sees the look on your face and softens. “Please.” It’s a whisper, and oh, it hurts. 

You don’t have to ask. You know, now. What it cost him. What it cost someone else. “Thank you, alpha,” you murmur. It has the usual effect, his eyes shining a little brighter as you play with the wolf and let the man be. 

He pulls you against his chest and rubs his chin on the top of your head, soothing the unease in his sternum. “It fucking stinks, though. Gonna have to figure somethin’ out.”

You wrinkle your nose. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s not me,” he grunts, and you take the cue to shut up. 

“Atta girl,” he murmurs after a few minutes of silence. “Looks real nice,” he adds and preens when the compliment sends you shyly snuffling your face into his chest. 

You let him hold you there as he scents you, bafflingly large palms smoothing over your neck and rubbing your arms. His musk envelopes you as much as his broad body does, and you keep your cheek pressed against the soft quilt of hair across his chest. When he’s mostly wolf like this, he’s practically covered in it. His soft, strong arms are dark with it; his chest is buried beneath it; it even trails across the plush pouch of his stomach. 

When he’s done proverbially bathing you in him, he steps back, cheeks ruddy and dark eyes anywhere but you. He clears his throat but says nothing. 

You observe him, this forsaken beast of a man. This creature from children’s nightmares, this creature who definitely just gave adults nightmares, but who would put himself between you and your own. 

You close the gap between you, your hand on his chest, another finding its way to his cheek. His eyes stutter and fall closed, only the tiniest sigh escaping him now. A shuddering thing full of far too much for one man, whether he’s actually a man or a beast. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you whisper, as if you could ease his aches with your gratitude. As if you could take on some of his pain for your own. 

He kisses you like he knows you’d try.

[fourmoony]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓: Chapter One.

After breaking your ankle in the wake of a break up, you're determined to get through your senior year without any interference from James Potter. That is, until his loyalty to loose cannon Sirius Black lands him straight in your lap. Or, rather, your kiddie-skate group.

CW: Language, mentions of broken bones, blood, physical violence.

I can't believe it's finally here. Enjoy, lovelies :)

James Potter

There’s five minutes left in the final period. Gryffindor are down by one and James refuses to start the season on a loss. He’d settle for a draw. But he will not allow his team to lose to Slytherin. Call him superstitious but losing the first game of the season is a grey cloud of doom that will follow them all year long and there’s nothing James Potter wants more than to bring Gryffindor to their fourth frozen four win in a row. Especially in his first year as captain. So, call him hell bent. James prefers motivated, competitive.

They’re due a line change. Sirius is losing steam and Remus has been favouring his left skate a little too much for James’ liking. Five seconds and the juniors will switch them out. But James has the puck, is trying to keep Mulciber as far away from his coat tails as possible, but Sirius can’t keep up. His eyes are on Remus, further up the ice, chasing Snape who’s making a break directly for James.

James bangs his stick against the ice, calls Sirius’ name. But it’s too late. Mulciber’s stick collides with the side of his skate at the same time Remus and Snape crash into him from the front. It’s an illegal play and the Slytherin’s know it. But it doesn’t stop the yell Snape lets out the minute he’s back on the ice, demanding the ref penalise Remus for shoving him into James. Sirius is there in a second, gloves dropped to the ice and his fingers curled around Snape’s cage. “That was illegal, and you know it, Snivellus.” Sirius grits out, pushing the Slytherin player back by his head.

Snape tumbles, the ref watches closely. James’ eyes fly to the board. They’re about to line change, the buzzer has paused, but if Sirius doesn’t play this right, he’ll still be in the sin bin by the time the buzzer goes. They need him for that final minute. “Pads, relax.” James warns his best friend.

Sirius Black is notorious for being The Loose Canon of the NCAA. It’s a strength and a weakness, James supposes. A lot of the lesser teams in the league give him a wide berth when playing Gryffindor. Between Sirius, Remus, and James, they have their routine for winning down-pat. But with Slytherin, it’s always a coin toss. They know how to rile Sirius, have him bench riding for the majority of the game. It’s what they’re doing now. James realises he might’ve been the one to get floored by Snape and Mulciber, but that attack was aimed specifically at Sirius.

Sirius who was supposed to be protecting James. Sirius who was too busy looking at Remus.

“Should’ve been keeping a better eye on your captain, Black.” Mulciber antagonises. His smirk is knowing, goading. James sighs and accepts his fate a mere second before Sirius is on Mulciber, helmet skittering across the ice.

There’s an evil crack from Mulciber’s nose. Blood seeping over the white ice like some sort of sick omen for the rest of the season. James looks around him, watches as the rest of the Slytherin’s approach, locks eyes with Remus. There’s an understanding there. They’re fucked. Royally. So, they might as well give Sirius a hand. James screws his eyes shut, gives himself a single second to prepare for the reaming Coach Moody is going to give him, then grabs Severus Snape, Slytherin captain, by the neckline of his jersey and punches him so hard he crumples to the ice like an empty water bottle.

The ref blows the whistle repeatedly, the team members on each bench cheer and bang their sticks against the boards. The crowd roars. And while James registers this is definitely not how he wanted the season to begin – fighting off Slytherin’s because of Sirius Black’s short fuse temper – he’s still so glad to be fucking back.

Alistor Moody isn’t a pleasant man to look at. He’s burly, with thin strands of straw-coloured hair and a glass eye that seems to swivel of its own accord. As though it’s come loose. The rumour is that the captain of his high school’s rival hockey team jabbed his stick into Moody’s eye. He lost his scholarship, his career, and he’s been living up to his name’s sake ever since. The man is moody. An old grump who James looks up to because his experience and no-excuses-attitude have helped James’ team win three Frozen Four trophies. So, the idea of letting him down sits heavy on his chest. Regardless of his loyalty to Sirius, he regrets punching Snape in the face.

If only because his coach hasn’t stopped screaming for twenty straight minutes and James really needs to get to his Econ class. Moody hadn’t said anything after the game. Had been unnervingly quiet and the anxiety of such a reaction from him has sat heavy in James’ chest ever since. He’d known this was coming. But he wishes he’d had more time to prepare. Or, at the very least, warn Professor Flitwick that he’d be late.

Sirius is nonplussed. Has been since the fight. It should irk James. Should annoy him that they’re seniors and Sirius is still pulling the same shit he’s been pulling since they were in little leagues. But he cuts him the slack he needs. Always has. Always will. Sirius isn’t as simple as most people think he is. He comes from a shitty home with even shittier parents and a shitty fucking past. So, he’s quick to anger? James allows it because it’s how Sirius copes. But he’s really over the reaming it’s landed him from Moody.

“I’m serious, this shit ends now.” Moody points a finger at them. Sirius sniggers into his fist. A tale as old as time, that he’d laugh at such a sentence. Their coach chooses to ignore it, carries on with a defeated sigh. “Dumbledore wanted you benched for the season. I talked him down to community service.”

“That’s bullshit.” Sirius’ voice sounds bored, and James knows he’s already coming up with a million ways to avoid doing such a thing.

“No, Black. What’s bullshit is that you’re still pulling this shit as a fucking senior. You’re meant to be setting an example to the freshmen! And you’re starting fights for no goddamn reason.” Moody slams a fat hand down on the desk and James flinches.

Community service of any kind is a hockey player’s worst nightmare. Especially at their level. They spend all their lives training, have barely any social life, and the time that they are allocated to actually have a life, now belongs to whatever sad sack community outreach programme needs their help. It’s bullshit, Sirius is right. But James doesn’t feel in any sort of position to argue with Moody, not when there’s the threat of a suspension on the line.

“The snakes started it! Mulciber could’ve broke James’ leg with that swipe.”

Sirius has always been someone to argue with authority. James admires his passion, but it’s clear they’re not getting out of this. Moody confirms his thoughts with a plain, “Regardless. You threw the first punch in an illegal fight. Started an all-out brawl. Your community service leaders will complete a sign in sheet each week. You miss a session; you’re benched at that week’s game.”

James allows himself to let out a long, suffering sigh. He’d started his senior year determined to actually put effort into his degree, as well as his captaincy. Now, he’s unsure how he’s going to balance everything. Fucking Sirius. “What’s the damage, then?” He asks.

The grin Alistor Moody gives Sirius and James is nothing short of pure evil. He’s cynical. James’ stomach sinks. “Black, you’re headed to the library. There’s a student writing a thesis paper, needs help citing books and the likes. You’ll help with that on Tuesday afternoons and Thursday evenings.”

Sirius slumps in his seat, unimpressed. “Fun.”

“Potter, you’re co-coaching mini-skate. Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings.” There’s something in Moody’s voice. Like he already knows what James’ reaction is going to be, that he feels somewhat guilty about it.

The room spins, James feels like he’s going to throw up. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his heart races. Even Sirius sits up in his seat, eyes wide.

“Moody you can’t make him do that. Let us switch.” Sirius begs as he leans forward.

The coach winces. “I tried. Dumbledore chose them specifically for each of you. I’m sorry.”

James’ mouth is too dry to talk. Not that he can think of any words to say, anyway. All he can think of is you. Your face when you find out who your new co-coach is. The way your heart will probably plummet like his did. He feels nauseous, too warm, too cold, he’s not sure. Last he saw you, you were crying in the passenger seat of his car, telling him how much you hated him. How you never wanted to see him again. He can’t say he blames you. The thing about James is that he’s an idiot. He doesn’t think things through. Lives in the moment, acts before he thinks because it’s what his hockey obsessed brain is trained to do. He ruined your trust and broke your heart because he’s an idiot. And now you’re being forced to co-coach with him.

He stands abruptly, excuses himself into the hallway outside Moody’s office. Let’s the cool wall press against his too warm back, slams his head against the concrete. Sirius closes the door behind him, toe tapping anxiously against the linoleum. “Good?” He asks.

“Next time you start a fight, Sirius, remember this moment. Remember how uncomfortable this is going to make her. Remember that I can’t not be your back up. You’re my best friend and I’ll always have your back, no questions asked. But this? Please don’t put me in this position again.” James tells Sirius.

Then, he turns and walks away. Down the hall, out of the sports administration building and towards his truck. All the while thinking about how much of a fucking idiot he is.

Sirius Black

Remus is running late. Not that Sirius minds, he’s grateful for the time alone. The time to think, to get his head straight. To digest James’ words. His best friend, his captain. He let him down epically and he regrets it. He wishes he hadn’t, but it’s not like he can help it. There’s something wrong with him. With the way his brain is wired. It’s the in the blood that runs through his veins, that dark and twisted Black temper. It’s a grey cloud over him, the itch in his bones. It never falters, never dulls. He’s so angry all of the time, always on edge.

He wishes he weren’t. He’s trying not to be so much of a fucking mess. It’s hard. To shake that darkness when it’s surrounded him so wholly for a lot of his life. He wants to be better, to do better. But there was something in Mulciber’s words at the game. An insinuation that made Sirius’ skin burn. He doesn’t want to dissect it yet. Maybe he’s not ready to. But he does know that if he doesn’t get his act together, he’s going to go from the NCAA’s biggest loose cannon to the NHL’s biggest loose cannon, and the Cannon’s will kick him faster than he can skate a lap. The irony isn’t lost on him, with that one.

Sirius catches sight of Remus weaving his way through the car park and starts his car’s engine. He’s trying not to show his limp. But whether Sirius wants to look into it or not, he’s acutely aware of how much he notices everything about Remus Lupin. He’s point zero for Sirius. He’s always tuned into him. Notices all of his winces, all of his tics, his moods. Even when they’re not obvious. It’s always been that way. Sometimes Sirius wonders if they share a brain simply because he acts without even having to think. Will grab the ice pack for Remus before he asks, turns the heat up on the heating pads without any comment from Remus. Knows if Remus hasn’t taken his medicine, knows when he’s in pain. It’s like a sixth sense.

He tries not to think about it, too much.

Sirius leans over and opens the door for Remus before his fingers can even brush the handle. He smiles as he climbs into the car, sets his backpack on the floor at his feet. Sirius’ heart returns to a normal pace. A pace he wasn’t even aware was missing until Remus got into the car, a peaceful thrum of his heart. “Doctor Holme said Hey.”

“How is my favourite Doctor?” Sirius asks as he pulls out of his parking space. He’s never met Doctor Holme, but he communicates with her solely through Remus on the days he picks him up from his weekly check-ups.

“Adamant I’m going to need a knee replacement if I don’t cool it with the extra training hours that I’ve been putting in.” Remus grumbles, eyes following the ramp onto the highway as it speeds past.

There’s a lot of pressure on Remus. He was an early draft, before he even really left high school. He’s a record holder. A big hockey name. Chosen before the full extent of such a demanding career took its toll on his body. Since freshman year, Remus’ muscle mass has deteriorated. He won’t have as long of a career as the average person in the NHL, but he’s determined to have what he can. Lately, it’s not looking like much. Not that Remus will tell Sirius exactly how bad it is. No, everything Sirius knows, he knows through observation. Or Lily.

It’s not in Sirius’ nature to let other people’s lives affect his own. But he’s noticed that the idea of Remus’ illness getting worse makes his chest feel tight and his brain kick into problem solving mode. There are many open tabs on his laptop outlining rehabilitation therapy options, bone marrow transplants, clinical trials. If Remus saw them, he’d go crazy. He prefers to live in denial. It’s the bane of Sirius’ existence.

“He might have a point.” Sirius tells Remus as he flicks his blinker on, merges onto the highway.

St Mungo’s hospital is twenty minutes out from Hogwarts but it’s the best hospital within a hundred miles. So, Sirius drives Remus back and forth to his appointments when he can. When he can’t, James takes him. Or Lily. It’s an unspoken agreement between the four of them. Remus had once tried to hide his appointments from them. It hadn’t ended well.

Remus scoffs. “I know he has a point, Padfoot. But if I’m not at the top of my game next year, how is that going to look?”

There’s an edge to Remus’ voice that alerts Sirius to danger. They’re similar, in a lot of ways. Nasty tempers and even nastier words. Except, Remus keeps his temper off the ice. Sirius has no control over his.

“Moody gave us community service.” Sirius switches the subject with ease as he switches into the lane closest to the exit ramp for Hogwarts.

“James told me, yeah.” Remus nods, shifting to face Sirius.

He swallows thickly. Of course, James called Remus after their meeting this morning. Of course, he needed someone to talk it through with. A reasonable source of advice. Because Sirius is aware he has no advice of value for the situation James finds himself in. The situation Sirius put him in.

“I feel like shit. He looked like a kicked puppy.” Sirius hates letting James down. Sure, he’s his captain and that should be enough. But James is Sirius’ best friend. His soul mate, his safe space. The person he’s been running to since he could run. James is strong and safe, he’s loyal down to his fucking bones. What had Sirius expected when he started that fight? For James to watch it happen?

He should have known. After all this time, he should have fucking known.

“James is a big boy; he knew the consequences when he punched Snape.” Remus speaks softly to Sirius. Like he knows the shame spiral he’s in and wants to help pull him out. James isn’t the only protector Sirius knows.

Where James is fair in his protectiveness, Remus often throws caution to the wind. He’s fierce in his loyalty. Sometimes to a fault. Like Sirius.

“You know James as well as I do. I jump, he jumps.” Sirius sighs, defeated. “I should have let it go. I knew they were trying to get me on the bench, and I still let them get to me.”

Remus hums, nods his head in a fair agreement. Sirius looks over at him for a second. Just one second before his eyes return to the road. His eyes are sweet and understanding. A sticky honey colour that Sirius finds he likes a lot.

“Maybe.” Remus mumbles, fingers reaching up to rub at the scar above his lip. A tic. A nervous one, born from Sirius’ eyes on him.

Sirius laughs. “Maybe?”

Remus laughs too, head tilted back, and the sound is so light and easy it breathes fresh life into Sirius’ lungs. Lifts the residual anxiety sitting heavy in his chest as they pull up to the house. “Okay,” He breathes, “You definitely should have walked away from that fight. But you didn’t. So now you just have to get on with it.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He looks over at Remus.

Remus smiles. It’s quick and fleeting, a smile that Sirius knows is reserved only for him. It warms his cheeks as he smiles back.

“You want dinner?” Remus asks as they pull into the empty drive.

James isn’t home, his parking space void of his stupidly oversized truck.

“Depends, what’re you making?” Sirius grabs Remus’ bag from the footwell, climbs out of the car.

Remus laughs, “A phone call. For pizza.”

Sirius moans from behind Remus, who’s fumbling with his keys for the front door, “You know how to talk dirty to me, Moony.”

Remus scoffs, “You couldn’t handle my dirty talk, Black.”

And, well. Sirius doesn’t think he has an answer for that.

You

You shouldn’t be surprised, in all honesty. You’ve been expecting him to attempt some sort of damage control since you’d spoken to Madame Pince, this morning. That conversation had gone over like a lead balloon; the exact reason you’re still skating. Two hours after your training ended. Even though the Zamboni guy is giving you a look suitable to someone who kicked his cat. Even though your ankle is throbbing, and Medic Pomfrey would chastise you for not taking a break. You’re technically not out of the woods yet, as she likes to remind you every chance she gets. Your ankle might be healed but you still have a lifetime of physiotherapy, it feels.

Skating is an out. It’s peace. Makes you feel free, like flying. It’s rare, these days, to skate for fun. For the enjoyment of the feeling that it gives you. You’ve been skating since you could walk. Competing since the minute you were old enough, talented enough. Eventually, skating for fun became a rarity. You love the sport with every bit of your beating heart. But it’s nice to stop the constant ebb and flow of anxiety, of competitiveness, and just exist on the ice.

James is sitting on the team benches, watching. There’s a sadness to him that you’d like to punch from his stupidly handsome face. So, you ignore him. Keep to the far side of the ice until your ankle is screaming at you to stop. James stands when you approach the bench, hands your water bottle over the board. It weighs heavy on you, the feeling of normalcy that such an action would once hold. It feels like an age ago that he would watch your practices, cheer for you even when he was the only one in the crowd. You snatch the bottle from his hand, take a drink while you wait for him to say something.

“Pince told you.” He states. There’s a hesitance on his face, readable in his body language. He’s flighty, unsure of how you’re going to react.

You hate that he’s unsure of how to act around you. Hate even more that it’s warranted. You’ve changed, over the summer. Made promises to yourself that no one will ever make you feel the way James made you feel, ever again. That breakup cost you nationals, last year. The heartache was a distraction. One that could have cost you your career. You refuse to let it happen again.

“She did. You’re here to do damage control, right? Tell me that you didn’t get to choose your community service. Tell me that Sirius started that fight, and you had no choice but to finish it. That you’re sorry, that you don’t want to make me uncomfortable. If you’re feeling extra sorry for yourself, you might even offer to take the suspension if it makes me more comfortable. That sound right?” You ask, face bored, arms crossed.

Hurt flashes in James’ eyes. Big and hazel coloured and stupidly kind, even now. “Sounds right, yeah.” His voice is thick, quiet.

James is usually the loudest voice in the room. Filled with laughter and a boyish charm that sunk it’s hooks into you and never quite let go. It’s odd, to hear him so quiet.

“Save it. Be on time, on Wednesday. We’ll figure it out as we go.” You tell him, gesturing for him to pass you your skate guards.

He does, wordlessly. Let’s you put them on and pass him through the box. You’re almost out of the plastic rink door when he calls after you. Every bone in your body tells you to keep walking, that nothing good will come from the desperation in his voice, the plea of your name. But you stop, turn. His gaze is burning, creates a lump in your throat that feels impossible to swallow. Your skin itches, your eyes water. The thing is, it’s still fresh. It’s easy to tell yourself that James is a person of your past when he’s not standing in front of you looking like a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” He speaks.

“No, James,” You sigh, “You’re sorry that you feel like shit.”

He doesn’t respond. Looks like maybe the words have gotten lost in his throat. So, you leave him there, wet, hot tears falling down your cheeks the minute you’re gone from his line of vision. He doesn’t call after you, this time.  

And you hate the small part of you that wishes he would.

Lily is at the kitchen table when you find her. Not that it takes you long. Your apartment is the size of a shoe box, the maximum you could afford as close to campus as it is. It’s a mismatch of your décor and Lily’s, an eclectic mix that somehow works. There are books crammed on every surface, picture frames on every wall, odd, contrasting ornaments collected over the years. It’s a home, despite its small nature. A safe space where you can both leave the stress of your chosen careers at the door. Rare, is that the case, though.

Your skates thud against Lily’s recent thrift shop find; a cream and maroon rug that you’d call nothing short of an atrocity. The red head looks up from her laptop at the noise, blue light glasses halfway down her freckled nose. There are papers, pens, books, and cups of tea scattered all around her like some sort of tornado passed through the apartment. She, at least, looks apologetic about the mess. There’s no need, though. You’re both aware of the stress Lily is under this year.

“Have you eaten?” You ask, collecting the discarded mugs from around her and placing them in the sink.

Lily thanks you but shakes her head. She’s prone to forgetting she’s human and, in fact, needs food to survive. If she could, she’d survive off of tea and coffee, alone. You flick the kettle on to boil, pull a fresh mug from the cupboard. It’s one of Lily’s finds, a quirky handmade mug covered in oddly painted strawberries. She has a soft spot for the odd finds, the things someone once loved and then left to rot in the back of a thrift store. You think she should investigate that, psychologically. Lily claims she will, just when she has a spare minute.

“You want a sandwich and some chips? Something that won’t go cold when you inevitably forget it exists for three hours.” You offer, throwing a decaf tea bag into the strawberry mug and praying your best friend won’t notice.

“You’re so good to me. Yes, thank you.”

“Oh, I know.” You smile.

Lily doesn’t say much during the first couple bites of her sandwich. Judging on how it goes the opposite of forgotten, you assume she hasn’t eaten all day. If this is her at the beginning of the semester, you dread to see her during finals.

Her laptop discarded to the side; she picks at her chips. “Remus called a little while ago.” Her voice is laden with guilt.

You sigh, push your half empty plate towards one of her discarded textbooks. “Let me guess, it was a welfare check.”

Lily scoffs. “More like an SOS call. He wanted to know how mad you are at him. Told him you were a couple hours late home from practice so, like, astronomically mad.”

“Not at him.” You protest, rather childishly.

“No, not at him. I told him as much. You know what he’s like. He worries. He’s trying to balance it all. We all are.” Lily tells you softly, a crooked smile that reassures you she’s not mad about having to do it.

You wish things weren’t as awkward as they seem to be, currently. Lily and Remus grew up together, much like Sirius and James. Remus knowing both Lily and James is how you met your ex-boyfriend. You were a group. Close knit as can be. And you’re all still trying to figure out how to navigate that now things have changed. It’s exactly what you feared when you and James started dating. It was silly to believe his promise that nothing would ever change. That you’d never lose him.

Lily reaches a hand across the table, freckled fingers wiggling until you place your hand in hers. Her eyes soften, head nodding to show she’s listening.

“He came to the rink.” You tell her.

Surprise passes across her face. “Is that why you were so late?”

“No,” You shake your head. “No, he came right as I was leaving. Was planning on taking the suspension if it meant I’d be more comfortable and wouldn’t have to coach with him.”

Lily scoffs, “Classic James.”

You nod in agreement. For all James is an idiot who doesn’t think things through, he’s incredibly selfless. You think that’s why your breakup hurts so much. Because you want to hate him, it’d be so easy to hate him. But he’s a genuinely good guy who sometimes fucks up.

“I wish he’d stop putting everyone else first. Sirius flies off the handle and James chases right after him like he’ll die if he doesn’t. And I get it, he feels responsible for Sirius. It’s complicated. But I wish he’d just let Sirius deal with his shit on his own, for once.” You feel guilty for saying it as soon as you do, but you know Lily gets it.

Everyone does. Even Sirius.

His past is mostly privy between James and Sirius. But you know the gist.

“I know. They won’t get away with that shit in the League.” Lily agrees.

You sigh, long and suffering. It’s not your problem. At least, it shouldn’t be. If the fight that started this hadn’t landed James right in your lap and made it your problem.

“What’re you working on?” You ask, “Anything I can help with?”

Lily chuckles lightly, hands you a heavy stack of paper. “You could highlight all the paragraphs detailing anything to do with cell breakdown. But be warned, it’ll bore the shit out of you.”

You shrug, reaching over to grab Lily’s standard green highlighter. It’s her signature. Like Banksy. “A welcomed distraction, Lils.”

“Fair enough.”

And you both get to work.

[stanlunter]

Bi erasure in the fandoms

There are many types of biphobia among people, but I wanna talk about the least noticable type of it, which is super common and barely gets called out. "Headcanoning" canon/implied bisexual characters (mostly female, for some reason) as lesbians.

Usually they don't even portay it as a "headcanon", but just state that they are and make everyone believe this. And when they done, people even start call you lesbophobic for calling bi erasure our, bc It's suddenly you're the one who "erase" lesbians. And the funny thing is that a lot of those who state so, haven't even watched these shows and just have "heard" that these characters are "lesbians" and the continue misinformate everyone else. And that's awful and very harmful for bi community

Let's take some examples

1. Asami and Korra

Both are bisexual women who were in love with the same man and then broke up with him and started dating each other. Prolly the most heavily implied bisexuals ever. But what do people have problems with? Oh, they think that if a bi girl has broken up with a man, it means only that she realized she's lesbian. Not that her ex was a cheater, not that their relationship was toxic. No, they can break up only bc she had a comphet. There are no other options. And if a girl dates another girl, she's also 100% lesbian, bc bi girls are just "straights who wanna invade lgbt", right? Oh, yeah, also Korra is strong and muscle "lesbian stereotype" and Asami is "cold and lady-like" "lesbian stereotype" so yeah, It's absolutely makes them lesbians! — another example of why the stereotypes are actually harmful.

2. Poison Ivy (both in the show and in the comics)

Absolutely the same thing as with Korra and Asami, but is also a "mean lesbian stereotype" which is basically the strongest stereotype, so yeah. Ivy dated Kite man and was actually attracted to him. She liked kissing me and enjoyed his company. The only thing that made her break up with Kite man is that he wasn't someone she saw her future with. He didn't fit her and she knew who did - Harley, her girlfriend. Even when Ivy knew she was attracted to Harley (bc she litterally cheated with her), she still knew she is attracted to Kite man and even so planned their wedding, but being attracted ≠ being soulmates, unfortunately. People also for some reason think that just bc Ivy hates men, it means she has to be lesbian. Ig they don't know there are bi or even straight girls who hate men. Like febfems (bi girls who refuse to date men for political reasons and their safety) don't exist. Like you can't be attracted to someone you hate.

And after all, Ivy dating Kite Man (and Dan Back) isn't even the main reason she's bisexual. Besides it, she was confirmed to be bisexual multipe times by many different authors. She's canon bi in almost every universe. And the way some new authors are trying to change her sexuality is a clearest bi erasure. And It's also funny, cuz if someone ever dared to turn a canon lesbian character into bisexual, everyone would immidiatly lose it. But when they do the same with bisexuals, It's suddenly being ignored. Wow.

3. Sasha Waybright

Thankfully the last time I don't see this so often (mb bc the fandom is dying tho), but just when everyone's favourite "mean lesbian" was confirmed to be bisexual, everyone went wild... Yeah, their favourite stereotype was broken. Does it mean they started to understand that stereotypes don't define sexuality and that even mean girls can like men? Ofc not! They obviously started to say that she was confirmed as bi bc: 1. Disney didn't want to let her be lesbian 2. Mate did it only to make the fandom mad

Lmao. They really gonna believe anything but that a character can just be...bisexual. And even so, they keep "headcanoning" her as lesbian. I've even heard people who were saying she had a "comphet" and will realize she's lesbian in the future. That's not even funny, but it does make me laugh

4. Princess Bubblegum

Oh, I love the way the whole tik tok fandom suddenly started to call Bubblegum "canon lesbian" just bc someone has said so and others have spread it up. Ig I should be thankful, that they at least recognize Marcelin being bisexual, huh?

Anyways, the thing is that Bubblegum, just as much as Marcelin was heavily implied to be bisexual. She litterally had an ex bf and for those who love calling every bi character with ex bfs lesbians with comphet, besides that Bubblegum was also in love with Finn in the episode when she turned 13. She litterally kissed him there and has said she wishes she could stay this way with him. It was directly shown throught the whole show that's the only reason why Finn's feelings are one sided is that Bubblegum is way older than him. And in the episode "Too young" it was directly confirmed. But people are still gonna call her lesbian just...bc? I don't even know why, she doesn't even fit stereotypes that much. Mb they decided to "ruin stereotypes" by it? Or mb they just decided that since6she rejected Finn (a litteral child) it means she can't be attracted to men at all? This logic is even worse. But God only knows what is in their heads

5. Yang Xiao long

Oh, yeah, this one is usually super objectionable bc she was showing interest in men basically only in v1 and then started dating Blake. And if Blake being bi was so clear that there are basically no people denying it or bc she fits bi stereotypes, who knows, however we should remember that bisexuals don't have to have equal attraction to everyone (like Blake, who had 2 male and 2 female love interests) and they don't have to date all genders to prove their attraction.

But there are many evidences of Yang being attracted to men too.

In the whole Yellow Trailer Yang actively flirts with a man

In ep3v1 she happily gazas on shirtless men and then, when Ruby says "father wouldn't approve it" she answers (I know, I fo) – which already would be enought to confirm her attraction to men

But in the same volume, when the team decorates their room, when Yang hangs a poster with a male band of the artists she's attracted too, it was shown that she liked men as well.

Yeah, I got that both the fandom and Roosters really love to forget everything that was in v1-2, but It's a fact that Yang is bisexual as well as Blake. But wait, she's a "strong lesbian stereotype", right!!! So let's ignore a bi representation, sure!

6. Sunset shimmer

Here's a girl, who canonically has dated a man and was officially confirmed to be bisexual by the author in Twitter. So why do people keep "headcanoning" her as lesbian? Oh, bc she's SUNSET and has flags of lesbian colors. Like "Sunset" was invented by lesbian flag, yeah. And what's the funniest thing in this perfect argument is that Sunset Shimmer was created even before the sunset lesbian flag designed!

And, yeah, I could take the "she has said that she didn't like Flash so it was a comphet/pretending" thing, but the problem is that it still litterally was confirmed by the author himself that Sunset is bisexual. And in the further show and even movie we can see clear signs of them still having a thing for each other. Like Sunset winks to him and many of their other interactions, but they can be read in a friends way as well ofc, which doesn't make her any less of canon bi!

7. Clawdeen Wolf

Her situation is exactly like Yang's. Since not so long time ago Clawdeen was confirmed to be lgbt and there was announced a comic about her and Toralei's romantic relationship, everyone started yelling that she's "canon lesbian" now. However it was only confirmed that she's wlw, not lesbian. And wlw includes these little unknown people called bisexuals.

But why do I say she's bi, but not lesbian? Well, bc it was clearly shown in the show and the movies that she's attracted to men. Yeah, she's a bit less obsessed with them than others and doesn't have a bf, however her feelings for many of them were obvious. And it was no where near a comphet. No, she was exactly attracted to them, that's a fact. So for now, she's a heavily implied bi character who had feelings for boys and who is dating a girl, just like Yang. And calling her lesbian is kinda biphobic

8. Kagami Tsurugi

A canon bisexual character, who's love to both Marinette and Adrian was confirmed in official synopsis for s5 and official show bible. She was shown to have a clearest attraction to Adrian and Felix, 2 men. Even if after she has broken up with Adrian (and no, not bc she realized she was lesbian, but bc he has fucking lied to her face and has broken up her heart) some people got an idea of her being a "lesbian with a comphet", this idea was destroyed again by her new attraction to Felix, another man.

However people are still gonna ignore her canon sexuality and call her a lesbian, by using "comphet" as a justification, or even by turning Felix and Adrian into transwomen, which isn't a justification to erase bi representation either anyways!

It's especially hurting since she's my favourite character I strongly relate to tho

9. Sayaka

Omg, Madoka Magica is an anime that includes girls who like girls. Almost all of the main characters are implied to be lesbians. But you know who's being headcanoned as a lesbian the most?? That's right! The only girl that likes boys too! What an irony, yeah? Sayaka has a huge romantic tension with Kyoka and has a canon crush on her male childhood friend – Kyosuke. So we can have the only bi rep out of 5 wlw girls. Ofc this rep was taken from us, bc some people wanna headcanon (or even impose it as canon) that the only bisexual girl is a lesbian with a comphet! Sure, yeah. Again, my favourite excuse for bi erasure, nothing's new, lol

10. Utena and Anthy

Another bisexual couple, who's coded sexuality is always getting erased. Uthena and Anthy love each other and even shared a kiss in one of the endings. The status of their relationship wasn't directly stated in anime, however everyone who has eyes can see their clear romantic and not only tension. Utena's another love interest is Touga, who was her childhood love who she was shown to have super clearest attraction throught the anime, and this attraction has no platonic explanation, so yeah, Utena ia attracted to both men and women and It's canon. The same goes for Anthy: she had strong feelings for Dios. Both characters are bi-coded and comphet was never there. People are just trying to use it as an excuse to bi erasure bc they want all wlw characters to be lesbians, that's all.

So, if someone is gonna say that I'm "denying comphet" or any other shit like that, no, I know it exists and I know a lot of lesbians go throught it and it deserves a representation too, but in such cases the difference between comphet and an actual attraction to men is so clear and you know that.

There are also examples of the characters who had or could have comphet:

Like Apple White, who thought she supposed to like Daring just bc he's "her destiny", but she never liked him (and even in her bio she says that just bc they have to marry, it doesn't mean they're dating) and her actual "true love", who's kiss made Apple wake up was Darling, his sister. And It's an actually good example of comphet bc of the society pressure. Or Yuzu (even tho for some reason some people still think she's bi) who was said to never be in love with anyone untill her step-sister, she even lied to her friends about having boyfriends bc she thought there was smth wrong with her since she isn't attracted to men. Also Velma and etc. Unfortunately there aren't that many examples, but even with these ones the difference between a lesbian with a comphet and a bisexual girl is obvious, so yeah, you just want an excuse to erase bisexuals and turn them into lesbians and it will never be okay

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on Ron and Hermione as a ship?

thank you very much for the ask, @thesilverstarling!

i’ll state my position straight away: book ron and hermione are the best of the canon couples.

they will have a long and extremely happy marriage made rich by great and stalwart love, lust, fun, and faithfulness, rather than held together by duty and couples’ therapy like so many readers and authors (including jkr, who seems to have decided to spend the years since the conclusion of the series failing to understand anything about her own characters) tend to think.

i will state another position straight away: lest i seem like i’m just a fan with blinkers on, i think this even though hermione is, by far, my least favourite member of the trio. if she were real i would detest her, and i dislike how she is treated by the narrative as always justified in her negative characteristics. i like fanon hermione - perfect and preternaturally good - even less.

as a result, i think that it’s ridiculous that jkr has said that she thought ron needed to ‘become worthy’ of hermione. they belong together as equals - which is what they’re set up in the narrative as being from the off - and i hate seeing that undermined.

because ronald weasley? he’s an icon. and he doesn’t get anywhere near the respect he deserves in fandom.

there are multiple reasons for this - ron’s narrative purpose is to be the everyman sidekick, and so he is able to be less special than harry or hermione (the helper-figure); the amount of aristocracy wank in this fandom means that the weasleys’ ordinariness is less appealing to writers than making harry have twenty different lordships and call himself hadrian; the narrative interrogates ron’s flaws - especially his capacity for jealousy - much more intensively than it interrogates either hermione’s (cruel, inflexible, meddling) or harry’s (reckless, self-absorbed, judgemental) - but one i feel is particularly significant is that ron is such a british character that many of his traits are not understood as intended by non-british readers.

in particular - as is outlined in this excellent meta by @whinlatter - ron’s sense of humour isn’t indicative of immaturity or a lack of seriousness, but is, in fact, evidence that he’s the most emotionally aware of the trio.

ron is shown throughout the series to understand how both harry and hermione need to have their emotions approached - and i think there is no piece of writing which says this better than crocodile heart by @floreatcastellumposts:

That was what she liked most about Ron, she thought vaguely. He was very good at being suitably outraged on your behalf. For Harry, for her, for Neville. That sort of thing mattered, when you were hurt or embarrassed or wronged in some way. You needed to have someone else on your side, to be as emotional as you felt, maybe even more so, so that you might feel a bit more normal. It was very decent of him, and she was not sure he realised he did it.

ron’s inherent emotional awareness is an enormous source of comfort to other people. he does the work which isn’t flashy or special - he makes tea and tells jokes and is just there - but which is needed in healthy human relationships far more frequently than a willingness to fight to the death for the other person.

[as an aside, this normality - even though i think it is assumed rather than justified by the text - is also what ginny provides for harry. if you believe that hinny are a good couple but romione aren’t… i can’t help you.]

but let’s look at some specific reasons why ron and hermione belong together:

their communication styles mesh perfectly. ron is the only person hermione knows who feeds her love of being challenged and debated, and who is able to engage in this way of communicating without becoming irate when she refuses to back down. ron is good at picking his battles, but he’s also good at recognising that hermione’s tendency to argue isn’t intended to be confrontational a lot of the time - it’s just the way she works through feelings and problems. he’s far more easy-going about her tendency to nag, interrupt, try to provoke arguments, or speak condescendingly than he’s given credit for - and hermione evidently respects this, since when he does tell her not to push a situation (above all, when she’s trying to needle harry into talking about sirius), she listens to him.

that ron and hermione’s tendency to bicker is taken by fans to be a bad thing is because it’s something harry - from whose perspective the narrative is written - doesn’t understand. harry is extremely conflict-avoidant - he tends to take being pushed on views and opinions he has to be insulting; and he has a tendency to assume that he is right which is just as profound as hermione’s. he and ginny communicate not by debating, but by ginny having no time for his rigidity and refusing to indulge it - but ron and hermione bickering about everything is not a negative thing within their specific emotional dynamic.

[as another aside, this glaring chasm in communication styles is why harry and hermione would be a disaster as a couple.]

they each provide validation the other needs. it’s clear - reading between the lines - that hermione is a tremendously lonely person. the friendlessness of her initial few weeks at hogwarts seems to be a continuation of her experience as a child, and - outside of ron and harry - that friendlessness endures through her schooldays. i’m always struck, for example, by the fact that, when she falls out with ron in prisoner of azkaban, she has no-one else to spend time with, and that this is only avoided in half-blood prince because harry decides not to freeze her out. i don’t think her friendship with ginny is anywhere near as close as fanon seems to imply (ginny has no interest in being nagged either), nor do i think that she’s anywhere near as close to neville (not least because she is so condescending to him) as she’s often written to be.

and this loneliness seems to stretch beyond hogwarts. the absence of hermione’s parents’ from the narrative is - in a doylist sense - clearly just a device to maximise time with the trio all together, but the watsonian reading is that she doesn’t have a particularly good relationship with them. hermione’s obviously upper-middle-class background - the name! the skiing! the holidays in the south of france! - can be presumed, i think, to come with a series of expectations from her parents which she feels constantly that she’s not entirely meeting, particularly expectations attached to academic success.

[for example, the grangers - were she a muggle child - would undoubtedly have ambitions for her to attend an elite university and then go into a prestigious career. tertiary education of the type that they’re familiar with doesn’t seem to exist in the wizarding world - most careers seem to be taught by apprenticeship - and this, alongside all the other divides between the magical and muggle worlds which contribute to the distance between them, would be one very obvious area in which she felt the need to prove herself to them.]

ron, too, has quite a difficult relationship with his position in the family - voldemort’s locket is not wrong to point out that he seems to receive considerably less of his mother’s emotional attention than ginny or the rest of his brothers - and he too is constrained by expectations which he doesn’t know how to explain he has no interest in - above all, molly’s desire for her sons to achieve top grades and go into the ministry.

he also suffers while at hogwarts from being ‘harry potter’s best friend’, something which harry never appreciates. but hermione does. she recognises ron’s jealousy and never allows harry to minimise it (and she and ron are very much aligned on having no respect for harry’s saviour and martyr complexes). she appreciates ron’s strengths - above all his kindness and his sense of humour - and makes him feel as though he’s achieved things with them. and ron does the same for her; he is hugely observant when it comes to her, and he challenges and defends her.

the two of them clearly spend a lot of time together one-on-one while harry’s involved in his various shenanigans (including outside of school - hermione has often arrived at the burrow days or even weeks before harry, and they seem to write to each other frequently when apart). they do this within a relationship which is fundamentally equal. one issue with hinny is that, post-war, harry is going to have to get used to seeing ginny as a peer, rather than as someone he has to protect. but ron and hermione never have that issue - equality is baked into their relationship from the off.

because, to be quite frank, fandom overstates the role that jealousy plays in their relationship. it’s true that ron certainly doesn’t acquit himself brilliantly when it comes to hermione’s relationship with viktor krum (it’s because he’s bi and doesn’t know it yet), and a tendency to externalise his insecurity into trying to make others also feel insecure is one of his primary negative traits (hermione does this too, via her patented lofty voice when she’s trying to condescend to people). but this is often taken as the initial red flag for how the relationship would crash and burn, and ron’s toxic jealousy is often used in fan-fiction as the trigger for emotional and physical violence towards hermione which, frequently, seems to drive her into the arms of either draco malfoy or severus snape… who are, of course, the first people we think of when we hear the words ‘not prone to jealousy’...

but i think it’s important to point out several things in defence of ron’s jealousy over krum. firstly, hermione evidently regards his jealousy as ridiculous - she’s upset by it, yes, but her upset must be understood as being caused by the fact that she wanted him to ask her out. she doesn’t think he’s being possessive, she thinks he’s being stupid. secondly, hermione is equally as jealous over ron’s crush on fleur delacour and relationship with lavender brown. she behaves just as cruelly when it comes to lavender as ron does when it comes to krum - and the narrative only treats her actions as more sympathetic or justified both because harry dislikes lavender too, and because, by that point in the series, jkr has dispensed with any inclination to ever criticise her.

but, outside of this teenage pettiness, ron is never jealous of hermione over things which matter. he is never jealous of her intelligence or competence or ambition or success (indeed, he defends her constantly from attacks designed to undermine her in these areas). for someone who struggles with being overshadowed by harry, he is never upset at being overshadowed by her. he is clearly going to be happy to support her in any of the career ambitions she can be written as having post-war.

and, on this point, i think it’s worth interrogating why so many readers still seem to feel uncomfortable with the idea of ron and hermione having a dynamic where she is the more ‘powerful’ one. [it’s always a bit trite to say ‘but what if the genders were reversed?’, but actually that’s not irrelevant here]. if hermione ends up taking the ministry by storm and ron becomes a stay-at-home father or has a job which is just to pay the bills, what, precisely, is wrong with that? why, precisely, should hermione regard ron making that choice for himself as a negative thing? hermione so often seems to leave ron in fan-fiction because of a lack of ambition - something which seems to be particularly common in dramione - but, in canon, she is shown to not particularly care if ron and harry do the bare minimum when it comes to studying etc. she nags them to do their work so they don’t get in trouble. she doesn’t nag them to do it to the same standard that she would.

and, actually, i think that ron being less ambitious than hermione is something which is key to how well they work. because ron provides not only emotional support, but emotional clarity.

hermione is shown throughout canon to - just as harry does - have a tendency to become obsessive to the detriment of her own health. she is also often - as harry is - emotionally or intellectually inflexible, and finds it hard to move on when what she feels or believes is proven to be wrong. both she and harry are micro-thinkers, who lean towards knee-jerk assumptions and stubborn convictions (and, indeed, hermione has a remarkably hagrid-ish tendency towards blind loyalty).

ron is none of these things. ron is a big-picture thinker (it’s why he’s so good at chess). he’s a pragmatist. he’s the least righteous of the three. he understands that faith and loyalty are choices, and that sometimes these choices will lead to outcomes which are bad or hard. he is the one of the three most willing to own up to having made mistakes. he is the one least likely to act on gut instinct (and, therefore, the hardest to fool - i think it’s worth emphasising that he clocks that tom riddle is tricking harry immediately, the only one of the trio to do so). he understands that things are a marathon, not a sprint. he is the least obsessive.

and these traits contribute to aspects of his character which are underappreciated. ron worries about hermione making herself ill during exams, or when she is using the time-turner, and makes an effort to get her to set healthy boundaries and redirect her anxiety. ron stands on a broken leg in front of sirius or goes into the forest to fight aragog not out of righteousness, but out of choice. ron takes over the burden of preparing buckbeak’s defence when it is clear that hermione is approaching burnout. ron is completely right that harry hasn’t done any long-term planning for the horcrux hunt, and his anger does force harry to tighten up after he leaves the trio. ron has a clear head in the middle of battle. ron makes harry and hermione laugh. ron is unafraid of human emotion. ron arrests harry’s tendency to brood over the little things by looking at the bigger picture. ron will always come back.

ron is bringing his politician wife regular cups of tea and making sure she doesn’t work all night. he is helping his lawyer wife to feel less upset over losing one case by reminding her that she’s won ten others. he is noticing stress creeping in and whirling her off for a dirty weekend, or even just a takeaway on the sofa. he is teaching his daughter to be proud of her ambition and his son to treat women as equals and both of his children that all you can do when you fuck up is apologise and try to do better. he is making hermione smile on the worst days of her life. he is helping her strategise her long-term goals when she gets stuck on the short-term ones. he is telling her straight when she needs to get it together. he is seeing a misogynistic head of department call hermione a ‘silly little girl’ and choosing to tell him exactly what he thinks of that.

ron is the ultimate wife guy. hermione is a very, very lucky lady.

[thats-ill-eagle]

Helluva Boss has now completely doubled down on acting like S1 never happened

Ok, so obviously, Apology Tour is filled to the brim with bad parts you can make hundreds and hundreds of critical posts about. But personally, the little part that pissed me off so badly, that I even had to tell myself "girl, chill, it's just a cartoon" was this:

Even if you slam on multiple rose-tinted glasses to ignore the coercive nature of St*litz, why is this part of the "Blitz supposedly being an asshole to Stolas" gallery?

Neither Stolas himself ever expressed a desire for a romantic relationship with Blitz (I am choosing not to count Ozzie's, because something something, actions speak louder than words, and multiple critical folks have already pointed out all the times Stolas treated Blitz like an object prior to that episode) nor has Blitz himself ever viewed his and Stolas' relationship as something more than transactional sex, because, ya know, the deal itself never mentioned anything remotely romantic and, like I said, Stolas never gave any reason for Blitz to believe that Stolas liked him romantically.

This is like if your asshole employer in the company you work at tried to paint YOU as a shitty person, because you refused to do stuff not in your job description and do it overtime. Like seriously, why the hell is Blitz expected to sacrifice his emotional needs and time for Stolas even more by the narrative? They aren't even actual "fuck buddies", but rather a very creepy twist on "employer-employee" relationship.

I know we already discussed Helluva's tendency to retcon everything left and right multiple times, but this isn't even retconning anymore. This part and many more snipets of Apology Tour are straight up continuity errors. At least "Blitz and Stolas knew each other as kids" had plausible deniability and didn't outright contradict canon. But Apology Tour straight up acts like everything St*litz-related in S1 never existed. Parts like Stolas telling Blitz that "he never looked down on him" is straight up factually incorrect, no longer a retcon/something that you can give writers a benefit of the doubt for.

[what-even-is-thiss]

So obvious spoilers ahead for an old-ish book series.

I figured understanding the ending of the Witcher series would probably help me understand the games seeing as they’re kind of official post-series fanfiction. So I straight up just looked up the ending.

I thought the flashbacks in the Witcher 2 to Geralt’s “death” were just a reference to the isle of Avalon from Celtic mythology.

No. It’s literally Avalon. Geralt and Yennifer get killed or seriously injured (depending on your interpretation) during a riot and a random boat shows up and brings them to Avalon. Like from the King Arthur legends. Ciri ends up talking to the literal Sir Galahad after she wasn’t allowed in to Avalon. Also implying that she speaks either old English or Welsh. Ciri went to Britain.

They literally. Go. To Britain. To vaguely Celtic mythology King Arthur land.

I refuse to read this as the literal afterlife. I think they’re there. Right now. You find the mythical isle of Avalon, you find King Arthur and you find Mr. The Witcher from the Witcher series. The games are not canon to this in my mind. They can’t be. I have to believe that Geralt and Yennifer are there right now getting drunk with King Arthur and Morgan le fey. Whenever Artie comes back during Britain’s greatest hour of need expect there to also be a white haired asshole with cat eyes involved. He’s getting forcibly pulled into Arthurian court politics against his will.

You know, everyone lied to me about this being a serious gritty fantasy series. This entire experience I’ve had exploring the Witcher series keeps going more and more off the rails and often ends with me laughing at things that probably weren’t meant to be funny.

[atomicbland]

Just A Mirage

Hello I'm outting myself as the ──★ ˙🍓anon from @ghoulphile. Anyways they've inspired me to fall face first dip my toe back into writing and might as well share the brain rot with the class. This is my first time writing smut or anything relatively like this so any questions comments critques are welcome! I dont bite unless you want me to

pairings: cooper howard x fem!reader rating: 18+ MDNI! warnings: bondage, degradation, pet names, mentions of age gap (obviously), Cooper Howard being a jackass in general, canon typical chem use, smoking AO3 Link

You were tired, thirsty, and hungry. Your rations had been finished earlier that morning though it was not by your hand. The tall ghoul who looked like he had walked right off the set of one of those western movies with his cowboy hat, ragged leather duster, and shotgun strapped to his back had stolen the last of your food and water while you stepped away to relieve yourself. You had come back to him chewing on your stash of jerky while letting his scruffy companion, “Dogmeat”, drink straight from your water flask. You learned quickly that no matter what, he’d treat the dog better than you. He kept you on a leash, his lasso was tied around your waist and tethered to the weapon belt that might as well have been fused into his skin. Anytime you weren’t keeping pace he’d give a rough tug of the rope, causing it to bite into your belly. Argued it’s easier to keep track of you that way. 

While you lamented over the loss of your food and water and debated if hiring the old ghoul was a smart choice something catches your attention stopping you in your tracks. Along the edge of the tree line, you spot the remains of what looked like a house, bigger than any house you’ve come across. The roof and windows were still somewhat intact and something that looked like brick peeked through the vines that had taken over the structure. You felt the bite of the rope at your stomach. 

“Now, I done told you what’ll happen if I gotta tug this damn rope again…” the Ghoul threatened from in front of you.

“I saw someth-”

“You ain’t seen nothin’,” he spat. “A mirage. Just that pretty lil’ head of yours playin’ tricks sweetie.” He tugged the rope again, urging you to move along not even bothering to look in the same direction as you. 

Sweetie. Whenever he called you that you could feel the heat of a thousand rads shoot through your body, making your blood boil. 

“Maybe my mind wouldn’t be playing tricks if I still had my food and water!” You didn’t budge, refusing to play his stupid game. You were in charge, hiring him to escort you to the Old World Wall safely. 

He turned to face you, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat but his features were twisted into a scowl. “What was that lil lady?” 

He didn’t scare you. You cleared your throat. “I said. I NEED water. You don’t get any caps or vials if I’M dead!” He stays silent, still glaring. A month's supply of vials upon arrival was on the line and he knew it. You point towards the treeline. “I saw a house over there. We're out of rations and it's getting dark. Can we at least set up camp there?” 

His answer is wordless, whistling a command to Dogmeat to run ahead to the house. He gives another tug at the rope, commanding you to follow behind him, a cautious hand at his holster. 

The inside of the house was far nicer than the outside led you to believe. While everything appeared to be overrun by nature the original bones were still there. Holey yet plush couches formed a sitting area around a fire pit that recessed into the tattered wall. The floorboards creaked and moaned under the new weight as the three of you walked around making sure the area was clear. Dusty paintings littered the walls, images nearly impossible to make out in the dim light. 

“Now smoothie,” the Ghoul started, taking a quick break to puff his inhaler, “I’mma take you off yer leash and scope the perimeter ‘fore we hunker down.” 

You nod, happy to have some relief from the scratchy fibers of the rope and to get some sort of break from your freakish travel partner. Not that you didn’t hate him but the way he spoke and stole from you did wear on your nerves. All of the stupid pet names that cowboy gave you did something to you. You couldn’t place it, a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, a milder feeling of what he did when he’d make a pass at you. And despite how much he annoyed you, you found him strangely attractive. On those sleepless night when you were sure he was sleeping, you’d study his features, imagining his strong hands around you as he pulled your hips down onto his, his cock hitting your core just right making your back arch and pulling the same loud cries of pleasure you had heard him pull from others in the adjacent room of whatever hostel would allow a ghoul and his dog. 

The smell of viscera and tobacco cloud your senses, and you feel a gloved hand around the back of your neck, ripping you back to reality. “And be good for me while I’m gone.” The heat of his breath travels down your neck and straight between your thighs. 

You watch as he slinks away, stopping at the crumbling doorway—a dark shadow masking the top half of his face. “Oh and sweetheart,” he pulls a cigarette from one of the pockets of his duster, lighting it before he continued, “be a doll an’ rangle somethin’ up for dinner. Ain’t much in the mood for ass jerky t’night.” He flashes you a smile from underneath his hat before leaving, Dogmeat happily cantering after him. 

The house is larger than it looks on the inside and despite its current state of ruin, you could see it in all of its glory, like one of those fancy houses you see in the movies. People smiling and laughing around a table piled with food, dressed in the most beautiful clothes that shimmered against the light. Women with beautifully painted faces and clean, perfectly styled hair. Those movies always made you wonder about the world before the bombs, before everyone wanted to kill everyone else, before the fear of radiation. 

You find your way into the kitchen, cracked black and white tiles decorate the floor, dingy teal cabinets matching the Atomic Queen appliances hug the walls. You take care to peek behind every cabinet door checking for any food or water that might have been missed by whoever came through here last. You manage to find some unlabeled booze and canned food tucked behind the remains of some long abandoned animal nest, while it isn’t much at least you’ll be able to eat tonight. In another cabinet you find some Sugar Bombs, the box is dented and beat up but surprisingly unopened, lucky you. 

You move towards the back of the kitchen, finding yourself in a small dark room. The smell of mildew and rot is so strong your stomach would've turned if it wasn't already empty, it's so bad you couldn't bother to examine the shelves that lined the wall. You make a mental note to ask the Ghoul to check for loot, of the two of you, he had the stronger stomach to rifle through damn near anything. Pushing through the door to the other side, fresh air greets you, a welcomed relief to your lungs. The very last dregs of sunlight shine through the windows that made up the roof, tall green trees kiss the glass in a desperate attempt to break free. If it wasn't for the roof you would've sworn you accidentally found your way outside. 

With one hand on the holster of your knife you creep with the brick of the wall at your back, slowly examining the plants in front of you. You recognized a few, Daffodils, Marigolds, even Tato vines. However a majority were new to you;  large flowers the size of your head, and plants that seemed to grow from the roof. You spot some pear and apple trees with the largest fruits you’ve ever seen further into the room. As you found your way to the perpendicular wall, you noticed that it was made of a giant window. You remember seeing building plans for something similar in a pre-war book years ago, a glass house that kept the plants inside at the ideal temperature. For whatever reason the plants in this glass house were thriving on neglect, carrying on with life as if the bombs never dropped. 

BANG! 

The sound makes you drop to the ground, covering your head. Whatever it was you just hope it was coming from the Ghoul. 

Just as you're about to get up, something catches your eye. You crawl towards the brush to get a closer look, little red fruits perched on vines decorated with white flowers cover the dirt by your feet. You pluck one, rolling it between your fingers the skin is rough, yellow dots littering the surface of the red flesh. The sweet scent of the fruit travels to your nose and entices your palate you know better than to put anything in your mouth. Instead, you procure the small tin that you use to store food from your bag and fill it with the mystery fruit. 

BANG! 

Hastily you shove the container back in your bag, whatever was going on outside had you a fair bit more concerned now that you could hear Dogmeat barking wildly. You quickly get up and make your way out of the glass house, through the dark storage room, and past the kitchen. Not stopping until you've collided with a large solid mass, sending a plume of dust into the air as your ass hits the cushion of the couch. 

“You’re ‘sposed to say ‘scuse you after runnin’ into a fella sweetheart.” 

You look up, your eyes meet the dark shadow of the Ghoul's from under his hat. Yellowed teeth show through as he grins wide. You look down to see in his gloved hand are two Rad Rabbits, in the other an unopened can of purified water. Relief washes over you, knowing that your dinner would be more than just Cram and Sugar Bombs. 

“I believe a thank you's in order.” His stupid handsome grin growing even wider. Clearly proud of himself despite him having taken down much harder prey. 

You glare at him before softening, in some way, you feel like this is his way of apologizing for earlier. Any time he pissed you off he would at least make up for it with his actions. Stolen stimpak? Within the next day, you'd find it replaced along with a bag of RadAway. A few bottle caps would find their way into your bag too, when you brought it up to him he'd deny it, telling you to keep a better eye on your shit.

“Thank you,” you pause, it just dawned on you that you didn't know his name. He was the Ghoul, the Cowboy, your escort across the wasteland. But no name to attach to him. You fish for a polite title for him, and if you knew him better you would've punctuated your gratitude with a kiss, yet the older man didn't seem like one for physical contact. “Thank you, Sir.” Is what you land on. 

His smile fades as if your gratitude offends him and he tosses rabbit carcasses into your lap.

“Make sure Dogmeat gets her fair share. She found ‘em after all.” He says, patting the mutt beside him before making his way to the firepit, and lighting another cigarette. 

[queenbeehistoria]

so. in aot, it's canon that the characters smell like ten cans of bounce that ass. literally in the scene where they find that ocean, it's the first time they touched water in MONTHS. they smell like straight ass. speaking of ass, people is saying it's canon that they have SKID MARKS. however, denial is a river in egypt. and i refuse to believe that EVERYBODY smells like wet booty, dick, and pussy (in the words of moneybagg yo).

so, aot characters that (i feel like) take showers.

you'll find HITCH dead before you'll ever find her with skid marks in her drawls. my girl take baths, okay? she may not have soap but all she needs is a lake and whatever cleaning supplies they have. people judging her for wanting to smell good when titans are eating people, but she'll rather smell good and get eaten than smell like shit and get eaten. they can judge and laugh at her all they want, but she's not walking around with dookie stains in her drawls & killing birds with her breath 🤷🏾

here's the thing. MIKASA does take showers. she might skip a day or two, but she isn't as bad as the others. her only issue is that FUCK ASS SCARF. THAT FUCKING SCARF SMELLS LIKE WW1 PRESERVES. SHE CAN KILL TITANS WITH THAT BITCH ALONE LIKEEEE.... that scarf gets washed like three times a year, four if she feels like it. but other than that, she doesn't stink <3.

baby, this is LEVI. you KNOW he takes showers. when he hops in the shower, that water is crystal clear. not a dirt spec to be seen. he don't give a fuck that he's fighting titans, he ain't fighting them smelling like dog shit. his area is clean and so is his body.

ERWIN takes showers and he's getting every spot. there's not a single dirty spec on his body. he's so clean that the mf is shining. he gets in the tub for sure.

PETRA also takes showers. she might skip some days, but it isn't dookie stains bad. like she hits up them lakes for sure. the water isn't brown when she showers, it's just some dead skin here and there. other than that, my good sis is clean.

HISTORIA + YMIR def showers. "but they was in the 104th, and they didn't have baths!" NO, THEY WASH THEIR ASS. any source of water, historia is dunking herself in it. if she ain't finna be smelling bad, her girl isn't gonna be smelling bad either. SKID MARKS WHERE?

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do a romantic Naoya Zen'in with a female!sorceror!reader please! Thank you!

Oh he's going to be such an asshole... so I hope you know what you're expecting- I'm on Chapter 143, so some info may be wrong.

Possible JJK Manga Spoilers within this for chapters after where the anime (Season 2) leaves off!

Yandere! Naoya Zenin with Female Sorcerer! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Controlling behavior, Sexism, Condescending/Degrading behavior, Possessive behavior, Attempted forced marriage/courting, Stalking, Violence, Blood, Murder, Toxic masculinity, Threats, Forced relationship.

You just know he's going to be horrible to deal with due to his family's principles.

The Zenin family canonically has sexist views, seeing women as just wives.

This is seen with Maki and Mai in the series, Naoya's language only confirms it.

It's canon that he views women as wives and thinks if they aren't three paces behind a man, they should be stabbed in the back (Actual quote, you wish I was joking.)

So it's safe to say Naoya is going to be hell.

He's such an entitled brat, tone and behavior often dripping in arrogance.

He would refuse to see you as skilled.

Being around Naoya as a female Jujutsu Sorcerer often comes with... comments.

Comments literally no one asked for.

Naoya would be degrading and condescending towards you.

He'd often view you as weak.

You could never measure up to him in a battle.

Like he did with Maki and Mai, he likes to break you down.

But here's the worst part.

Naoya would be the type of person to bully you because he likes you.

He definitely finds himself wanting your attention, so he'll get it in any way he can.

It's so easy to hate him, he doesn't even mind all that much at first.

Naoya would hunt you down just to mess with you.

At first it's just because he finds your goals to be stronger preposterous.

Although... before he even realizes it, he may follow you because he finds you attractive.

He likes that you're strong for a woman and might even see you as good wife material.

Naoya stalks you around, watching you kill Curses before stepping in to essentially steal the glory.

It's like in some twisted way he's trying to impress you.

Naoya treats you like you can't do anything alone.

He acts like he should be the man in your life.

He's so possessive... he thinks he owns you.

If he doesn't, he knows he will at some point.

Naoya is a nuisance to you due to both his beliefs... and the growing attraction he has.

You hate his guts... but Naoya feels he can't live without your attention.

He loves it when you look at him, he loves it when you react to him, he finds it cute when you fight him.

He believes he is leagues above you in power... yet adores you all the same.

Naoya would definitely put you down, then try to pull you into relying on him.

He tells you you're weak on your own... that you need him in your life.

In reality, it's the other way around.

Naoya feels he needs you.

However, Naoya is a prideful man and would never want to admit to that.

Naoya would often claim himself to be your man, be that boyfriend or husband.

In fact, Naoya may just jump straight into husband territory.

He's unwilling to believe you have any other choice.

Hate his guts? Sure... but you'll be married someday in his eyes.

He hates it when you disobey him to make him upset.

You want nothing to do with him, you want to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer without Naoya breathing down your neck.

Naoya is a Sorcerer who quickly turns to violence to get what he wants.

In the manga we see him quickly deciding to kill Megumi and Yuji to become head of the Zenin clan.

Imagine if you had a suitor already? Y'know... one who supports your career?

Naoya won't stand for that.

I can see Naoya stalking you until seeing your lover, only to confront them.

As I said, he feels he's the only man and partner for you.

So Naoya would probably kill them... with no regrets... in front of you.

The blood covering his clothes means nothing to him.

All that matters is making you his.

He's such a hypocrite, telling you to rely on him as if you need him.

You're capable on your own, but it's like he refuses to see that.

He wants you to listen to his every order, to beg to be with him.

In reality he's projecting, wanting to do that to you yet his pride won't let him.

At some point he gives in to the fact he loves you.

He loves you, he needs you, why can't you obey him?

The fact you're a woman who won't listen to him breaks him at times.

Yet he's determined to make you his wife.

It doesn't matter what you think of him...

Naoya is a selfish entitled brat who's used to getting what he wants.

He knows at some point he'll get you.

It doesn't matter how much blood he spills to make it happen... or if he has to break you mentally.

He'll make you his... his perfect little wife... who needs him as much as he needs you.

Naoya could drag you into his arms kicking and screaming, the blood on his clothes staining your skin as he grins down at you.

He doesn't care if he has to drag you to your wedding bound.

Naoya knows he'll have you... that you'll be his and you'll give him strong heirs...

You'll learn your role like every other woman in his clan... forced to stay by his side like the good wife he knows you are.