#im not saying you’re american but i’ve noticed this is very much a thing in the US

[evermoredeluxe]

Did you not watch miss Americana? She spoke tons about how she was no longer going to be silenced and how she was going to speak out about important things... then you know. Didn't.

So idk where you get 'she never claimed to be an activist' from

Also for the boting thing she just v occasionally says 'vote!'. She hasn't even mentioned the reasons why it's not that simple (disenfranchisement, purposely making it harder in POC communities, the fact that voting in the two party system means voting for two candidates who are going to oppress you etc). Saying 'vote!' Is not that helpful (nor obviously is working with abusers, dating racists, being friends / friendly with all sorts of really awful people). But yeah all completely at odds with all the miss Americana stuff

as for your first point, imo, she very clearly meant speaking when she wants to not speaking for every issue (for example: in 2016 she wanted to specifically speak against trump, but she was stopped, but if the same thing were happening now in 2023, she would speak). she is not an activist by any means, not even close to one. i have to laugh like im genuinely ??? by the notion that people think that.

as for your second point, i agree, i would love if she went into those issues and talked about them. but that’s solely because she would bring attention to them (same is the case with infinite other things), not because i want to learn about this stuff from her. it’s not her job to educate people - i want real political people to talk about this because they don’t and they actively benefit from it, not a fucking popstar. her job is to aid, which she very much does. where i am gonna counter you is that you may think her “vote!” posts are whatever, but real people involved in politics value them because they are amazingly impactful. go see the nvrd tweet about her recent one.

[faunandfloraas]

Aussie question time: when I find out an idol is American/Canadian, their image in my mind completely changes because now it’s like “Oh I know exactly who you are, I grew up with your type around me” there are subtleties that I’m going to understand that others might not. So with all that said, I’ve been curious about what that’s like (if you experience it) w the skz aussies (throw in a lily if you’re feeling it -v-) 🎤

this is wayyyyyy too long so I'm putting it under a read more- also disclaimer: i dont know these guys and these are just my opinions, dont take em too srs <3

Hmmmm... Well I guess I'll start with Felix- I've said it before a bunch but the whole "Felix is a tiny uwuw baby sweet summerchild who is just such a baby" etc. etc. has made me laugh from the get go- because Yep! he is incredibly sensitive and sweet natured and kind and he cries a lot- 100% that is true. Dont think I'm saying it's not. But like. He also grew up in western sydney, he grew up in a area that if you google it one of the first suggestions is "is it safe" but then at the same time he went to private catholic school im pretty sure. and i saw pics from back then that he'd posted back in the day of cool little felix with his gold watch and his fade and all his little homeboys looking rowdy on the train- I know that kid and while that kid can also be sweet and sensitive, he's not incapable and hes not a baby. Good recent example was when he went on that Jewel box show with the gay dudes and people were acting like he was *so uncomfortable* and sooooo out of his element and so this and so that- theres gay dudes all over sydney, there's gay dudes all over australian media- the idea felix couldnt handle that was simply laughable to me- but it kinda shows how many outside perceptions of him still very much fall into that vaguely infantalizing thing. Like when he was the one who was happy to go up to adam levine and dj snake in that skz talker while the other boys were much more shy? that didnt shock me at all. felix went to korea as a whole teenager laregly against his parent wishes- he's actually quite an outgoing and brave guy. Outgoing guys can still be sweeties, though- one doesn't negate the other.

One other aspect of Felix i think a lot of fans just gloss over but is easily noticeable by me is that he can kindaaaaaa be ... a lil bitchy? like he's never ever mean or cruel dont get me wrong- but he has a slight bitchy streak, he rolls his eyes AND he's actually much more sarcastic than people bring up? Again- he does it a lot with Chan and that doesnt shock me- they both are aussie boys, Chan will get it and I think Felix can very much be himself with Chan, he doesn't necessarily feel the need to put up an extra air of like... Sweetie boy-ness? bc when he calls chan a cunt on live chan just laughs and goes OI!! so yuh the main thing with felix is while i do think hes a little sweet guy, ive never from the get go had a hard time seeing him outside of that box, too. Also maybe that's a lil bit aussie humour slipping under the radar here or there 🤔

Chan to me from the get go too was pretty much like. Prototypical overachieving aussie Good Boy. Like, i had a drafted post i never posted bc it was too niche- but it was essentially about how he speaks about sports and the like, and it just said "We get it. You went to zone carnival" which was the sporting event that the kids who got gold or 1st place were sent to. If you went to zone, you were the Successful kid. I think these days most fans perceive him as... a bit of a goofy guy? but I have gone through the archives and i have seen the comments from people talking about how chans such a bad boy- thats shit is so funny to me bc you can show me every iteration of chan and I'd never, ever think he's a bad boy. Like he wishes he was a bad boy, he kinda cosplays a bad boy- even him referencing swearing bc of his australianess and shit over the years makes me giggle a little bc i feel like felix def 100% swears all the time but he doesnt like Smirk about it too much? he doesnt really bring it up? things like that stand out, it to me feels very like Oh yeah I'm this naughty Aussie boy who swears hehe and then all the australians are like ? Girl we all do huh lmao

Otherwise, I dont have as much to say about chan as i do about felix, funnily. Like idk people might perceive differently to me, but nothing too far off? I will say that given Chan's success and the fact he was seemingly a very well achieving kid too (maybe not debuting for such a long time is part of this) he is WAY more humble than I'd expect. Like not to besmirch Australian men but a lot of them can be really loud and cocky, especially the famous successful ones (any sport star) it's almost encouraged to be like that if you're a dude (but only to a certain degree, anything beyond a certain point and you'll be roasted lol) So I have to give credit where it's due and say that Chan *Seemingly does have a very good nature and I appreciate that about him! Its probably why I like him so much bc he actually very much doesn't give off those vibes- he doesn't seem like that overly macho cocky bloke I know very well. So that makes him good fun for me- he's very successful and he's confident and yet he doesn't activate any of my bitch instincts- thats impressive! I don't know him, so I'll never know for sure of course, i feel like i need to make that disclaimer but still I do believe he has a good heart, and he tries so hard! and I appreciate that.

Lily is weirdly like Chan. like she's hilariously like chan tbh- I wonder how they really get along sometimes bc I feel like they might look at each other and be like Hm... we the same............ ? Lmao I will say though, lily is a bit out of pocket and half of that I believe is her personality but half of it is just.... I think she's just australian 😭 like i cant lie you get me as a teenager to early 20 something and put me on a live and I can promise I would be saying as much ?? shit. Like, I do think Australians are a little loud and not necessarily always.... tactful (again Not everyone, but yk.) lily certainly fits that bill to a T. I appreciate that regardless of her idolhood she does still say things that maybe she shouldn't, she shrugs off a shoplifting confession, she says she'd murder someone if she had to, she bought and wore a shirt that fans quickly tracked down and found out all the proceeds were going to Palestine- she would have known what that suggested. she clearly had this goal of being an idol since she was a baby, like literal baby but she hasn't sacrificed her broader personality, even the parts that could potentially be off-putting to those idol fans that expect perfection and nothing else. I appreciate that in her! and I hope she never loses her little weird girl spark bc it does make her very dynamic! Her slightly gruff aussie girlness is very fun for me to see in the idolsphere bc it def feels out of place, but in a refreshing way...

so yeah. Idk if this was sensical, I was making dinner so I put my phone down a bunch and it's probably disjointed but thats my opinion... my thoughts, my ideas! Idk my take on them. Thanks for asking 🫡

[twopoppies]

Hello Gina,

I hope you're well.

As for me, yes, I'm still here, even though I'm much less involved and less active.

Except for the fics, of course. ☺️

That's what brings me here today.

I'm reading a fic (not larry but that's not the point) and, as is often the case, the characters say "love", "darling", that sort of thing. In French and in my way of thinking, which I suppose is also French, saying "darling" or "love" to someone, especially outside a sexual act, implies feelings that are not friendship. For me, the word "darling" comes after "I love you", or at least after a label has been attached to the relationship (are we boyfriends or not?). And yet, in many fics, even very very good ones, characters often don't seem to notice. I've got used to it by now, you'd think… But still: is this something typical from the USA? (I get the impression that it's usually American authors). Or is it something specific to fics?

What do you think?

Hi, Fred. I’ve missed seeing you around! That’s a really interesting cultural difference. Americans do use terms of endearments pretty freely. Although, it somewhat differs from region to region and among different cultural groups (for example: people from the South tend to use them more freely IME).

I happen to use them a lot, but only with friends or my children’s friends. I wouldn’t greet the cashier at the market that way. And some people will only use them sarcastically (as in, “honey, you’re in for a big storm” or “sweetheart, I’m going to kick your ass”).

In this fandom, even American authors most likely use words like “darling” or “love” because Louis uses them freely. Niall uses the word, “pet” often. I think that’s just done in an effort to make them sound British (or Irish, as the case may be).

[clubdionysus]

MOTHER HOLLY HOLLY HOLLLYYY. I like to think I am an OG as I’ve been reading your works since you had to convince us that Throttle was NOT going to be like Icarus.

Still too traumatized to finish Throttle😭😭 But I know it’s going to be good when I do catch up.

But i HAVE to say, I think you’ve completely out done yourself with this one. Bad Decisions is absolutely insane and I absolutely love it. If this became an actual book in stores, I’d buy the paperback and I only audible novels nowadays😭😭. Even though I still can’t understand the British slang you know in there as an American, I love it solely bc it almost feels like a trademark in all of your stories to incorporate these british words I’ve never heard of even though English is my only language.

We started with You Up being my comfort story to being obsessed Disco Ball and her little buzz lightyear. I LOVE how in almost all your stories (give or take for the couple darker themes) Jungkooks personality is the same to the core, but they’re all still unique to the story line and the female lead is so real. It’s real, the people you create and I love that I can visualize it, feel right there in your stories. Feel involved and understand them.

I just have to express how MUCH i love your writing and BD just so happens to be the best of all time. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it being finished. Although I only just started #57, I wish you could write them FOREVER!!! I don’t know how it will feeel to reread the story bc the FEELINGS you stole from me!!! RUDE!! TOUGH LOVE I GUESS IS YOUR THING.

BUT YOU ALSO ARE SO NASTY!$!!! THESE TWO ARE NASTY!!! I LOVE NASTY!!! I’m starting to think you’re a TI*** gal with the reoccurring themes maam!!

LASTLY im obsessed with the style you write in. Your ability to go from such beautiful descriptive writing to it being so casual, almost as if we are reading their exact thoughts in that exact moment. I love how you can fluidity transition from internal POV to such conviction. It’s fun and amazing at the same time. I definitely think it keeps my short attention span engaged with the conversational/real world writing. Almost as if you are writing transcriptions.

Anyways HOLLY YOU ARE MY FAVORITE AND IVE BEEN READING YOUR STORIES SINCE LIKE 2020 and I’ve LOVED being along in this journey with you and I’m already dreading the ending of BD and don’t want it. But don’t hold off I don’t like that either. EITHER WAY whatever it is will be good, NEVER BEEN disappointed… excepty maybe for the way Byeol isn’t American bc if that nasty red goblin tried it, we would of been in a fight the second she looked at me funny. LOVE FROM TEXAS MISS HOLLY CANT WAIT TO CONTINUE READING YOUR WORK EVEN IF YKU END UP A PUBLISHED AUTHOR

^^ me @ u rn :( waaa so cute!!!!!!

thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!! where to even begin with this ask??!!!!!! firstly, just pls accept the biggest thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts with me!! <3 I know it must have taken a lil while to write all that out!!

im answering under a read more just for the sake of peoples dashboards hehe

LMAO im making edits to the answer bc i reread and have just noticed a few more things - first MOTHER? am I mother???!!! hahaha that's killed me off. in my mother era

I AM SORRY FOR THE ICARUS TRAUMA

.... or am i hehehhee

it's funny because i very nearly killed jimin in throttle to make up for not killing him in icarus LOL but I made a promise I had to keep!! the throttle ending is v tame!!! people were actually disappointed with it LOL but it's a fable!!! a cautionary tale!!!! is the opposite of icarus!!!! it does exactly what it needs to :D

Thank you SO much for your kind words!! bad decisions has been such labour of love, and the response has been so heart warming. you really do get back what you put in, yanno!!

the funny thing is, bd is three-four standard novel long already. if it was a 'real' book, it'd be an entire series hahaha, no publisher would ever pick it up, so it will forever be our special lil fan fic <3

i always try and make sure my jungkooks are close to him in some way shape or form. even slut war jk is gonna be very jk (just more so the eccentric, slightly unhinged side). i think the wonderful thing about having a muse like jungkook is that he just offers up so much of his heart to us fans, and it makes it so easy to write something that feels so 'true' to him. our baby star candy <33

i do think, out of all of my jk's, bd jk is probably the one that draws on his real personality the most, but that's partially because it was written in tandem with all those weverse lives of him being the absolute best boy :(

lmaooooooo, bd jk gets his nastiness from my virgo boy. sigh, i just love virgos <33and re: titties it'ss bc i have arguably the biggest ones known to man </3 life is so hard </3333

ahhh see it's funny, my friends irl who don't know much about my writing always say that whenever they read my writing, its sounds like how I talk, so I definitely think my narrative voice matches my actual voice. it's taken me a while to develop my writing style and its something I'm proud of bc I feel like I've managed to establish a voice that you just *know* is mine.

thank you so so much for this ask. i saw it when it came in, but was in the middle of something at work, and so I have just been thinking about it for the past couple of days with a lil smile on my face. I'm so so grateful to have such kind hearted readers <33

sending love from daegu!!! <33

[astrolaurical]

Looked through all your #life in korea posts and I have to say it: this is soooo refreshing. Finally someone who’s a fan but also can say things as they are. I’ve been following your blog for a while but didn’t look at the tag before so I just found out. It is exactly what I always say when I talk to other kpop fans and especially bts stans: dont forget to look at them as men bc at the end of the day this is what they are, men. Men from a very misogynistic country. Also (maybe bc im christian but idk) dont really like the term “idol”, it makes it easier to forget they are human beings. Human beings with crazy talents, amazing entertainers and great musicians, yes. But why is it considered so bas when you point out the human aspects of them?

https://at.tumblr.com/astrolaurical/like-jungkook-really-does-seem-like-a-bit-of-a/a2awocxguurv

When it comes to jungkook tho, it is so much worse. So many delulus thinking defending him will make them his girlfriend, when they just look so… ignorant? I think is the best word. They dont know and dont want to know. And it is even worse when you see it happen in conversations in real life and not just online. Majoring in Languages and Cultures it is one of the first things they teach you to not glorify a culture and to not indulge in the “honeymoon phase” when travelling, to see things in context and from all perspectives. So it is even more surprising to see colleagues at university studying my same subjects, acting so rude and personally offended when you let them notice these REAL things. so crazy to see so many people turn a blind eye when it comes to their favorite kpop stars. Jungkook is great and so talented and so handsome but he is also a korean man and it is ok to see him for that. You’re not a hater if you acknowledge it. (Sorry for my english, not native)

YES TO ALL THIS

I minored in anthropology and they always harped that same thing so I’ve always had a kind of detached way of viewing cultures which helps to separate me from my own American culture to see the positives and negatives and can then do the same to others while finding common links in all.

I was a major stan of 1D. Then they all started excessively partying, especially during the Midnight Memories era. Like there were pics of my beloved Harry peeing in the bushes with his translucent white butt out for the world to see. That was when I was like whoa, Simon Cowell is losing his grip on the PR side of them it seems. And then it all went downhill from there. Fighting on Twitter. The random baby they concocted for Louis that disappeared. More drunken nights out and being caught with illegal substances.

That was when I was like: I was infatuated with the MARKETING of these boys. They showed their true colors and I don’t like it AT ALL. Like if we hung out in real life I would be MISERABLE because I don’t party. It was a huge wake up call to idol life and ever since then I take everything with a grain of salt and whenever I see any celeb do an interview I decode their words through the lens of how someone not media trained might say it.

And bts have shown their partying sides before. Remember In the Soop s2 where Jimin got so wasted that he hurt himself?? I could easily see Harry being replaced by Jimin in that photo. They both are charming and like to make others laugh. And who’s to say that BTS don’t have photos of each other in compromising positions like that. Hobi has that huge hard drive of pics. And RM showed how he struggles with his true self VS his idol self in the latest Run BTS episode. I think that is a PERFECT example of how they really cover up their true selves all the time.

[dearhaunt]

do you have any tips on finding a personal style? i’m one of those people who’s desperate for belonging, so i end up unintentionally trending hopping. any advice would be great.

~ btw you’re my fav mutual ~

૮ ◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა mm i’m not sure i’m the best to ask as i’ve kind of liked the same (or similar) stuff forever & have not been one for big style changes … consequences of my autism (lol)! but i will do my best to help ( ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ )

but i would say maybe take a look at all of the trends you have been & are attracted to — is there a through line? anything in common between them? maybe note overlapping characteristics, silhouettes, fabrics, etc! what /aspects/ of these trends are you liking specifically? perhaps taking this composite of details might clue you in on what you like or what feels good for you!

i am also a huuuge fan of lists. if i notice that im looking at or thinking of a certain thing (piece of media, person, magazine, clothing brand, etc) often and that its inspiring me / giving me outfit or styling ideas, i note it down! i have it in my notes written as ‘sunday-alice fashion & presentation inspirations’ hehe .. some things on this list are very specific and some are more vague! some excerpts from the list: ‘librarians,’ ‘amy lee from evanescence,’ ‘american mcgee’s alice,’ ‘ballet costumes,’ ‘porcelain dolls,’ ‘mana,’ ‘vintage nurse uniforms,’ ‘grindhouse gothic films,’ ‘yoshihito sasaguchi for Elle Japan June 1999,’ & ‘old school gothic lolita.’

+ despite having a pretty concrete sense of style i also of course dabble in taking part in certain fashion or trends if they have aspects/details that overlap with my tastes — there’s no shame in that!

& that is so sweet anon ♥︎ ty! much love

[solar-halos]

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo: the weird stuff

mk. this reminded me of the west side story discourse where someone said it was really disappointing that characters like anita really wanted to assimilate because it showed how they were putting whiteness on a pedestal. but can i tell you a secret?

i can’t think of anyone on my non-white side of the family that doesn’t put whiteness on a pedestal. the first thing my dad did when he came here was assimilate. when you’re told that anything other than whiteness is weird and strange and undesirable, you’re going to do everything in your power to distance yourself from that. obviously, my dad and the rest of his community is at fault for perpetuating that attitude—for actually believing that whiteness inherently has more value than their actual identity—but let’s not ignore the root of the problem: in the US, white people—especially wealthy white people—like you more of if you assimilate. that’s not to say that they’re gonna respect you, or even be fucking nice to you, but i think it’s very understandable why people like my dad or fictional characters like anita thought that assimilation was their only option to live the american dream. i know im not explaining this very well, because i have no idea what its like to move to another country and immediately get picked out as “other,” so this is just me saying what i’ve noticed from observing people in my family

with that being said, it absolutely makes sense why evelyn repressed her cuban heritage for so long. monique is a separate issue, because i think the author wrote her very poorly from the get-go (like, seriously? killing off her black parent but then keeping in the white patent is such a tired trope, but it might even be something she did subconsciously bc she’s obviously not going to be familiar with writing the dynamics of a biracial family other than the very basic blurbs of “everyone disapproved of my parents relationship” that was regurgitated throughout the entire story)

anyway. back to evelyn. it was really disappointing that her cuban identity was consistently only mentioned in passing throughout the entire story. i thought we were gonna be building up to something—anything—but all that happened is that evelyn moved to spain. which is another thing that’s so fucking crazy to me. dialects can be tricky, and the author certainly acknowledged that, but i have friends who grew up with mexican spanish being their first language that cannot understand different dialects from places like argentina and (you guessed it!) spain. and then saying “mexican spanish” and “argentinian spanish” is an oversimplication in itself, cos there’s plenty of dialects within that.

i don’t know. i guess what i’m trying to say is that, at first, in the 50s, it really makes sense why evelyn completely ignored that side of herself. i thought it was bc she couldn’t afford to think that way, but now it’s just obvious that the author had no idea how to develop that storyline bc she’s not cuban, she’s not hispanic, she’s just a white woman writing a cuban character. and, honestly? im not going to claim that i’ve exclusively written what i know, because ragging on her for writing a character she’s not exactly like would be so hypocritical of me. i write annie cresta as a woc all the fucking time, even though i’m white passing, so i’m not going to sit here and say that the author should only write people that look like her. but the stuff i include about annie that i’m not personally familiar with is either based on experiences i’ve witnessed or feelings im familiar with (like the feeling of not really fitting in to either side of my family, or even feeling like i “belong” too much to a certain side), so i think that maybe she should have tried to put more effort into that. i’m not sure how, because i know studying something doesn’t atomically mean you know have a personal connection to it, but i feel like it could have made evelyn’s experiences feel more organic. she kind of reminded me of rita hayworth, except, yk, rita hayworth was kinda just white mixed with white. but it was the 50s! anything that wasn’t all-american was somehow a threat, so maybe she could have gone down that route? like, yeah, rita was still white, but she still got a whole chunk of her identity erased. like im not sure what specific type of white the author is but maybe that would be more in her ballpark

also. i tried not to read other people’s thoughts on this bc i didn’t want it to heavily influence mine but i saw someone say that she catered completely to the male gaze with her relationship with celia. and as a queer woman, im gonna say i don’t think so. like, there was a weird moment where evelyn said that celia’s obsession with her tits mirrored all the straight men she’s been with before, but i took that as a 1950s-not-really-concerned-about-the-nuances-of-sexuality thing. but reading other people’s opinions i will admit that maybe that wasn’t the authors intent when writing that, so maybe it was just a happy coincidence that she wrote something like that in a very hostile time period so that she could just use the “but it was the 50s!!” excuse if someone started questioning it. also, someone said that the last thing on a woman’s mind when kissing another woman is how different they are from men, but i think we’re gonna need the older sapphics to weigh in on this. like, again: it was the 50s. evelyn was fucking scared. she had no idea what bisexuality was. and then she’s suddenly kissing a woman. she’s kissing a woman, even though she “should” be kissing a man (1950s rhetoric), and that’s scary and celia is so different than anyone (men) she’s kissed before, but it somehow works? like she’s softer and has a more feminine figure and is nothing like a man, but that doesn’t matter to evelyn bc she loves her anyway. that’s what i got from her immediately comparing celia’s figure/physique to don’s. she wasn’t necessarily comparing it to say which one was better; she was pointing out how, despite all those differences, the kiss still felt right anyway. it felt good anyway, even though everyone (aka the homophobes) said it shouldn’t

so i guess what im trying to say is that evelyn ignoring her heritage and making homophobic comments seemed more like a product of her time and internalized hatred that she needed to work through. for me, the problem arises when she doesn’t work through it because the author had no idea how to approach the issue. and im sorry maybe this is internalized queerphobia on my part, but i really didn’t have an issue with how evelyn and celia’s relationship was portrayed. like i mentioned in my first post, the stuff they said to each other was genuinely so romantic. i’m not saying the portrayal wasn’t flawed at all, because i could certainly tell that the author probably wasn’t queer while i was reading it, but i’d take this to “love, simon” any day. like i know that author is bi, so i did enjoy “leah on that off beat” in middle school, but her writing about gay men gave me the same vibe as the author of this book writing about sapphic lovers 😭😭 like it was cute i guess (from what i remember) but you could tell that this was uncharted territory for both of them

however, i do understand that a white woman writing poc into her stories is taking away platforms for woc women to write woc characters. people are always like “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” which i don’t think is true. like i said, writing annie cresta as someone who isn’t white passing even though im white passing myself is kinda the same thing as what this author is doing, but i think something that makes or breaks how u do this is writing about what u personally know, even if it’s just a little bit, so you have something to build off of. (i’m also adding a disclaimer here saying that even though i am writing what i know, that absolutely doesn’t mean there isn’t room for nuance. what im doing is flawed in itself, too. there’s no defending that, either. it’s just more authentic to me than writing about an all-white family, bc id have no idea where to start. but this isn’t even about me sorry im just trying to say that people acting like its impossible to write characters that aren’t exactly like you in a way that’s still authentic isn’t really true, it’s just harder)

as i was saying, the author is writing about what she knows, too, but since she’s just white, she’s not gonna know much unless she goes out of her way to try. i just don’t understand why she didn’t go down the rita hayworth route. it’s the approach i personally would have taken. because, even though i dont know what its like to be spanish—this author probably doesn’t, either—the experience of being Othered bc of very minor deviances of anglo saxon beauty is something i can relate to. i never say “my hair is too light” i always say “my nose is too big.” that’s not exclusively a nonwhite problem, and i think that’s where the author messed up. she shouldn’t *only* write what she knows, per se, but she should definitely be writing about things she’s familiar with. and i know im talking about myself way too much, but i just think it’s weird that even though im someone who isn’t technically only white, i still would feel more comfortable writing a person from more modern history that is (annie being in panem gave me a lot of leeway), so i don’t know why she felt comfortable writing a person that isn’t

uh oh. this post got very very long. but i guess what im trying to say is that evelyn’s struggle with her identity was less authentic as the story progressed, and that was solely because the author didn’t know how to make it feel organic, which is super unfortunate. also, new talking point: no fucking way would harry and evelyn be like “welp. the only way for us to have a bio baby is to raw dog it.” like WHAT? again i’m sapphic and i like men but if that were me we’d have to figure SOMETHING out, im not having actual sex with someone when i have a girl. like idk just the thought of putting the work in is nauseating to me, she literally just needed the sperm so harry could have jacked off or something. tbh i don’t rlly wanna think about this. maybe it’s the asexual in me

conclusion: if i’m having these thoughts, as someone who is kinda white, how much more severe is it for people who aren’t? like atp the author needs to just stop writing hispanic characters it’s like a theme for her and no one is ever fucking happy about it

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 10

A/N: I can’t believe I’m already on part 10 for this series and to be honest it’s fun to write. And in all seriousness, the tumblr mobile app needs to allow you to put a read more link. But anyways love you all and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list! Mwah! 🖤🖤🖤

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, some violence, and blood

“Im sorry, did you just say Madripoor?” You blinked at Zemo, dreading the destination ahead of you.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.” Sam questioned, looking between you and Zemo.

“Imagine Mos Eisley from Tatooine but without the aliens and blasters.” You tried to make an analogy. “In other words, a shithole. And to be honest, I’d rather be in Mos Eisley.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky explained to Sam.

“It’s kept its lawless ways.” Zemo added before turning to James. “But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You had a feeling Zemo would suggest all of you going in with different identities, and being the only woman in the group, you already had a wild guess you weren’t going to be ecstatic about yours. You looked to Bucky with a frown on your lips. You knew what Zemo had meant towards him, and you didn’t know how it would affect him to transition back into the person he tried so hard to deviate from. Bucky saw the sympathetic smile you gave him, and he returned it with a look that reassured you that he would be fine.

“Y/n.” Zemo now spoke to you, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “I’m sure you are aware of the conditions.”

“Zemo if you...” Bucky trailed off as he glared at him, silently warning him to watch what he says next.

Sam and Bucky kept their eyes on Zemo, waiting to hear what his suggested persona for you was and ready to beat his ass if he dared to suggest something that would be demeaning to you.

“No way in the pits of Tartarus. I am not going in as an escort.” You voiced with a clenched jaw. “And if it’s eye candy you need, you have Sam.”

Sam gave you a surprised look from your comment, flattered to have you recommend him to be the designated eye candy before going back to the topic at hand. “Hell no Zemo. You’re not having y/n pretend to be an escort.”

“I’m afraid Sam is already going as someone.” Zemo sat back with his hands folded in his lap. “And don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on having you go as an escort, it isn’t befitting of a baron like me. Plus, I figured it would be uncomfortable for you, so I was going to suggest you act as my fiancé, if you are willing of course.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering on the subject. You were a bit relieved in all honesty. But to pretend to be Zemo’s fiancé and be in close and almost physical proximities with him?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to y/n.” Sam uttered to you.

“I’ll do it.” You confirmed.

“Are you sure?” Zemo asked you again, making sure you were comfortable with acting the part.

“I thought Zemo might step out of line with this one, but we don’t want you to do something that will make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure. I’ve had to do things I wasn’t comfortable with plenty of times in the past.”

Once you had all landed, Zemo decided to stop by a place so that you all may get dressed. You had already packed a dress and a pair of heels with you just in case for situations like these, since this wasn’t the first time you had to dress up for a mission. The dress you wore was a black, burned velvet silk slip-like dress with the velvet print being dark red roses. The dress wasn’t too tight to be constricting of movement and fit perfectly around around your curves. If the situation should arise that you needed to defend yourself, you needed the freedom to be able to move. Going down, the fabric flared slightly at your hips, brushing barely against the floor with your heels on. The skirt was slightly sheer from the bottom of your thighs and down with the floral velvet print, and had a slit going up your right thigh, perfect for kicking and concealing your dagger. The top torso portion of the front of your dress was a spaghetti strap cowl neckline that stopped just above the curve of your breasts, allowing for just a bit of cleavage. Your back was left bare, stopping at your mid back with thin straps that came across in a pattern. Your dress almost had a Grecian/witchy look from the way it draped over your chest and hips. It wasn’t too formal or too scandalous, it was elegant and classy, and showed just the right amount of skin where it wouldn’t be too revealing.

Even though you completely loathed and detested heels of any kinds, your heels were fairly simple, made of black velvet with straps that came across your ankles and toes. You dreaded heaving to wear them but at the same time you’d stick out like a sore thumb if you wore your docs with these. Perhaps you should’ve brought your nicer sandals, but it was too late now. You kept on your mother’s necklace and wore a set of amethyst drop earrings, throwing on a silver cuff bracelet on each wrist. Your hair was let loose to conceal your short sword that you hid on your back underneath your dress, the hilt resting right between your shoulder blades. You prayed that having your hair down would cover the scars and the sword you had on your back. But you were mostly focused about the scars, you failed to mention them to the guys about it since it was something that was hard for you to share. The only makeup you had on was some eyeshadow and mascara to darken your eyes, very little blush, and a lip tint.

The last thing to do was to put on some perfume, so you spritzed on your favorite oil based one that you had from Olympus on your pulse points. The scent was filled with incense-like scents like dragon’s blood, sage, crushed red roses, sandalwood, ghostly white musk, absinthe, almonds, and heady gardenia. It wasn’t as harsh as the common alcohol based ones, this one was more earthy and ancient, and every time you wore it, the scent lingered and heads turned. You gave yourself a once over when you were done, taking in a deep breath before heading out to join the others.

You became nervous as you saw them gathered together, talking amongst themselves as they haven’t noticed you yet. You rarely ever wore dresses these days, especially of the kind you were wearing now which left you feeling bare and exposed even though the dress wasn’t at all much revealing. So as you approached them, you couldn’t help picking at your fingers in anxiety.

The men turned at the sound of your heels clicking against the ground, and when they laid their eyes on you, they couldn’t help but gawk with their mouths parted open, as if they had seen the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. You chewed on the inside of your cheeks as you saw how they stared at you.

“Wow.” Sam was the first to say something. “You look like a million bucks.”

“What? Never seen a woman in a dress before?”

“No, I’ve just never seen you in a dress before.” Sam answered. “You’re always dressed like some hippie/librarian, with your bands shirts, sweaters, plaid pants and jackets.”

“Haha vary funny.”

“Also since when did you have muscles?” Sam noticed as he poked your bare arm. “And since when did you have a tattoo?” He observed the mark you had on your upper right arm, right below your shoulder. It was the mark that was given to you to signify your Olympian status and what you represented. It was about the color that henna left behind after you wiped the paste off your skin, the color of ginger and bronze. The center of your mark was a lightning bolt, which represented a child of Zeus. Below that was your symbol, the torch and the triple moons.

“Since when did you start asking so many questions? But yeah, I’ve always had muscles Sam, I was trained in combat since I was, you could say 9 years old in human years. Also, technically everyone has them, it’s what allows us to move and lift things. And that.” You pointed to your tattoo. “Is my goddess mark, not a tattoo. Every Olympian god has one and they each have their personal symbol that represents them.”

“Wait, so you’ve been trained since you were a kid?” Bucky looked at you to clarify what he heard as they all started to head out.

“Technically, everyone on Olympus starts training that young. Then, when they become of age, a tournament is held to display their skills, following a ceremony after, to celebrate their victory.” You explained as you walked beside them.

The four of you were currently walking on the bridge that led to Madripoor. You could see the city’s skyline out in the distance, the cyberpunk like buildings lighting up the night sky.

“Do you need my coat?” You heard Zemo say beside you, making you look at him.

“Sorry?”

“Do you need my coat?” He repeated himself, referring to how your arms were bare against the cool night. “I wouldn’t want you to get cold.”

You stared at him, stunned from the kind gesture as you tried to form words to say. “Oh uh.....I appreciate the gesture, but I’m fine actually. I’m not that cold.” Though you didn’t want to admit it, you actually would’ve liked to try on his coat, because in all honesty it was a damn nice coat.

“We have to fix this.” You heard Sam say with irritation visible in his voice. “I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing.” Zemo mentioned as he pulled out his phone to show Sam. “The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me, though.” Sam observed the photo.

“You smell this?”

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam sniffed the air as you did the same.

“Smells rancid.” You scrunched your nose at the smell.

“Madripoor. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error.” Zemo instructed as a black car pulled up in front of you. “High Town’s that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town’s the other way.”

“Let me guess. We don’t have any friends in High Town.” Sam remarked as he opened the door for the back seat.

“Y/n. A moment please, if you will.” Zemo uttered to you.

You stopped in your tracks, seeing Bucky and Sam stand on either side of the car doors, looking between the two of you and especially Zemo, with caution. You nodded your head at them, signaling you were fine and that they can get seated. And though they sat themselves inside the car, that didn’t stop them from keeping their eyes glued to Zemo to make sure he didn’t pull anything stupid.

“What’s the issue?” You turned to Zemo, giving him your attention.

“Since you will be portraying my fiancé, there’s a certain key element you will be needing to complete the image.” You watched as he pulled out a ring from his coat pocket, displaying it in front of you. “If I may?”

You stared at Zemo blankly before nodding your head and holding out your left hand for him. You knew this was only for a show, but you couldn’t help but stiffen as he delicately held your hand with his gloved one before slipping the ring onto your ring finger.

“There.” Hi smiled softly at you, his hand still holding yours. “Now you look the part.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, leaving behind a trail of warmth as he gazed down at you. Zemo swore he could have gotten lost in the violet swirls and gold flecks of your eyes forever, which now sparkled against Madripoor’s lit up skyline, the neon city and the places he’s visited not even coming close to the beauty he held before him.

You tried not to blush under his gaze as you gave him a polite smile before slipping your hand out of his. “I should probably change my eyes huh.” You remembered, changing your eyes to a normal color known to earth. “Should I hide the scar?” You asked him, referring to the one on your face.

“I think you should leave it. It suits you, and besides, you never know who might recognize you without it.”

Nodding your head at him, you headed to the car and settling in beside Bucky as Zemo followed, getting in the passenger seat in front of you. In the car ride there, you glanced down at the ring Zemo slipped on your finger, it was definitely a beautiful elegant ring, with a rose gold band and a pear cut garnet in the center that had diamonds that accented the bottom. Once you arrived in the city, you walked through the neon lit streets beside Zemo while Sam and Bucky followed behind. You loosened up your body as you went, swaying your hips slightly as you tried your best not to walk like a bodyguard and look threatening as everyone’s eyes followed the four of you strolling through the streets.

“Here we are.” Zemo announced, stopping in front of a bar before speaking to Bucky in Russian. “Ready to comply… Winter Soldier?”

As you went in, Zemo leaned in to whisper in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck and startling you as he spoke in a hushed tone. “I want to apologize in advance, forgive me.”

You looked at him with furrowed brows to question what he meant until you felt his gloved hand slide across your back before resting on your waist, pulling you closer to his side. You noticed how his hand fumbled after brushing across your sword as he gave you a questioning look. What was that on your back? Did you really conceal a full on sword on your back underneath your dress? On your way to the bar table you saw people stare as you went through, some of them gawking in surprise at Bucky, or the winter soldier as he was now portraying, while the slimy men in the area roamed their eyes over your body hungrily. Zemo noticed your uneasiness from the way your muscles tensed, though your face didn’t show a sign of it, and glared at the men who dared to lay their eyes on you, only pulling you closer to him to prove that you were with him while Bucky and Sam noticed this as well and positioned themselves where you were blocked from the view of your peers, allowing you to breathe a little better as you approached the bar.

“Hello, gentlemen.” The bartender greeted you all. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed.” Zemo answered for him. “We have business to do with Selby.”

“The usual?”

Sam nodded his head.

“And for the lady?”

“Um Something fruity.” You answered with a flirtatious smile, silently hoping they had something like that on the menu and that you hadn’t blown their cover by ordering the wrong drink.

The bartender handed you what looked to be a pineapple martini and you internally thanked the gods for your sheer bit of luck, taking the drink and thanking the bartender with another smile. You watched as he went to work on Sam’s drink, pulling out of a jar what definitely was a snake. You gulped, your stomach feeling nauseous as you saw the bartender cut open the dead snake, taking out its guts and throwing it in the shot glass. You were mortified to say the least, snakes were one of your symbols and you had owned plenty of the gentle little creatures. You shot Sam a sympathetic look once you saw his expression.

“Cheers.” Zemo held up his glass while Sam stared at his before gathering the courage to drink it all in one go. If Sam wasn’t going to throw up, you were going to do it for him.

While your eyes were trained on Sam’s expression, you felt someone breathe over your neck before feeling a clammy hand graze across your ass.

“Hey baby-“

Your eyes widened before you grabbed the wrist of the man behind you in one quick motion, twisting his arm to an unnatural position as you yanked it away from your body, causing the sleazy looking individual let out a yelp of pain. You would’ve crushed his wrist like crumpled paper if Zemo hadn’t put a cautionary hand on your arm as he whispered to you. “Careful now.”

You let go of the man’s wrist before shoving him aside like a pile of garbage. If their identity wasn’t at risk of being revealed, Zemo, Sam, and Bucky would have gone over there and beat the guy up after you were done with him.

“I got word from high. You ain’t welcome here.” You watched from behind Zemo as a bearded man approached him.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo gestured towards Bucky.

“New haircut?”

“Or bring Selby for a chat.”

The man glanced between Zemo and Bucky before leaving.

“A power broker? Really?” Sam turned to Zemo.

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” You asked.

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”

Another man was approaching in your direction, most likely to kick you all out or worse, and after following your gaze, Zemo turned to Bucky, speaking to him in Russian just as the man laid a hand on his shoulder. “Winter Soldier. Attack.”

You stood back, watching as Bucky grabbed the dude’s arm and twisted it back. You refrained yourself from intervening as Bucky took down the men that fought against him.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo commented to you and Sam.

Bucky slammed one of the men down on the counter. And as you heard the clicking of guns being loaded, your defensive mode nearly kicked in as you almost reached for your sword before Zemo stopped you.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.” Zemo whispered to you both before turning to Bucky and speaking in Russian again. “Well done soldier.”

You let your arm drop back down to your side, not a single change in your expression as you eyed everyone around you.

“Selby will see you now.” The bartender spoke up after getting off the phone.

Zemo gave him a thanks, nodding you over and holding out his hand for you to take as you went to his side again, Bucky and Sam following after you. You went through a back door, going down a dark corridor with Zemo’s hand on your back as he guided you through.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” You heard a woman’s voice speak, turning your head to see an older woman in a suit with short white hair lounging back on the coach with her security around her.

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo sat down on the couch before waving you over when he saw you standing near Sam. “Come sit schatzi.”

You straightened up, plastering a smile on your face as you went over to him. Selby’s eyes followed you curiously as you placed your hand in his, your eyes rapidly moving in nervousness for what area would be the most appropriate area to sit. Were you......were you supposed to sit on his lap? Is that how couples work? No, that would be inappropriate. Before things got awkward, you quickly plopped down on the empty spot next to him, crossing over your leg in a way so that it draped over his, leaving your thigh completely exposed from the slit in your dress, save for the dagger that still remained hidden. Sam and Bucky widened their eyes at what you just did, while Zemo stiffened at this sudden movement from you as you also draped one arm around his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. Were you even doing this right?

“A lot has changed since you were here last.” Selby observed the two of you before her eyes landed on your ring. “Who’s this pretty little thing?”

“This.” Zemo looked at you with a loving look, throwing an arm around your waist to draw circles on your bare back, while his other hand rested on your thigh, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin as you felt shivers go down your spine. “Is my fiancé. Gorgeous isn’t she?”

How long has it been since you were this close and personal to someone? The last you could remember, women still wore corsets and people still rode carriages. You felt your body heat up from being this close to him, and from the way he stroked your back. How was a mortal man able to leave you feeling like this? If he was able to send shivers down your spine with the mere touch on your back with his gloved hand, you wondered how it would feel to have his bare hands on you, just skin to skin. And if you were being honest, you never really were a fan of cologne but his smelled of a deeper earthy tones with hints of musk, and you were surprised and almost ashamed to say you liked how he smelled. You returned the same loving look to Zemo, trying to make it as believable as possible as you ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head before placing a kiss on his jaw close to his ear. Sam and Bucky couldn’t believe their eyes at the scene before them, the same you who preferred to be a hermit and didn’t go on dates because it involved human interaction, was cuddling up to none other than Helmut Zemo himself. Zemo’s breath faltered a bit from from your touch as he swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling not to break character. Being this close to you, he was able to get a whiff of your perfume and my goodness, Zemo felt as if he could drown in your scent, you smelled like the heavens, not overbearingly sweet, but dark and luxurious and even seductive. Is this what vampires and sirens smelled like when they lured people to their deaths? You raised a brow at Zemo, your heightened senses were picking up on his breathing patterns and heartbeat. Was he getting nervous?

“Extremely.” Selby commented, smirking at the two of you before roaming her eyes over your body. You could feel her taking you in but you kept your eyes trained on the side of Zemo’s face. “Where did you pick this one up? She looks like a fighter.”

“As they say, why not get a woman who can do both. She was part of the Sokovian armed forces, I met her through there.”

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” Selby added after finally taking her eyes off you.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we? I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby turned to Sam with a flirtatious grin, using her hand in a claw like manner as she let out a purr. “What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum.” Zemo got up off the couch, going over to Bucky and holding his chin between his fingers. “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or… condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but… things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me. But.....” She turned you with a sly smile which made your insides turn. “Throw her in with the package and you have yourself a deal.”

Zemo, Sam, and Bucky turned to look at you with dread upon hearing her words. This wasn’t at all part of the plan.

“No, no no. That wasn’t the deal.” Zemo stepped over to where you sat, blocking you from her. “She’s not for sale.”

“Why not?” Selby raised her brow at Zemo. “I’m pretty sure a man like you could pick up someone else to be your plaything or fiancé or whatever. I like this one in particular.” She turned to you again.

“That’s not-“ Zemo started before he was cut off by Sam’s cellphone vibrating.

You breath was caught in your throat and it felt as if the room had dropped in temperature. You could feel the tension floating around the air as everyone’s eyes were trained on Sam now, making you sit up straight and uncross your legs so that they were planted firmly on the ground. Your hand rested on your thigh just above where the hilt of your dagger was as your eyes darted around the room, watching each and every person like a hawk about to swoop down on its prey. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thebivirgin @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky @mylifeispainandiloveit @fillechatoyante @padmoonyfeorge @montypythonsholysnail

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Scribbles (bugsygames x gn!reader)

word count: 1.1k warning: swearing, soulmate au, bugsy is the love interest as she should be

masterlist

a/n: bugsy x reader. thank the discord for this one, bugsy simps. happy april 1st even though bugsy being a real person shouldn’t be a joke. she should be real. she deserves to be real. 

y/n is the gn reader and bugsy is only referred to as bugsy (confusing bc she's y/n in bts but it's fine it's fine)

soulmate au where what you write on your skin appears on your soulmates skin. i made my own rules so i hope they make sense but they aren’t super important so it’s probably fine if you don’t understand lol

bugsy handwriting in italic, y/n handwriting in bold 

___

"Y/n?"

Your eyes were glued to your hand, wide and unbelieving as your friends spoke in your ears.

"Y/nnn?" George sang lightly. "Quackity, I think they might have left."

"They're still in the call," Quackity noted.

Did you draw that smiley face on your hand? Definitely not, it looked too neat compared to your lazy scrawl.

"Yeah, but maybe they left their desk or something. Anyway, chat, we'll get them to answer that when they come back but I'm 98% sure they said they've never talked to their soulmate. And yeah, Quackity and I haven't yet either."

"One time, I was so sure that I had something written on my arm but it turned out I fell asleep on my homework and it rubbed off on my arm," Quackity said with a laugh. "Probably a good thing or else their first words to me would have been about the flaws and successes of the American judicial system."

George laughed loudly and you wanted to speak, but you still couldn't look away from the small scribbles by your thumb. You let a small laugh out and the boys noted your return to the real world.

"Oh, they're back. Did you hear what happened, Y/n?" George asked.

"Uh, kinda. I was here, I just zoned out."

"A dono asked if any of us have talked to our soulmate before."

"Um..."

"Wait, have you?" Quackity asked.

"No... but I just found something I definitely never drew on myself," you said with a nervous laugh. You had always dreamed of the day you'd meet your soulmate and now that it was here, you didn't know what to do. "I guess the stomachache I felt earlier was the soul connection, not the flu."

"WHAT?" George yelled. "No way! What does it say?"

"I'm not talking about my soulmate marks on stream, George. It literally just happened."

"Okay, fair. We can move on. Do you have any magma blocks I can have?"

"Um, yeah, hold on," you said, clearly distracted as you kept staring at your thumb. "I'm trying to find a pen first."

"I can't believe Y/n would rather talk to their soulmate than us," Quackity teased dramatically. "That's so rude."

"Quackity, shut up!" You laughed but grabbed a pen and ripped off the cap, hesitating before copying their doodle smiley face in your own sloppy script, along with a small message, hello there.

New ink appeared almost immediately, sending butterflies to your stomach. "Okay, I'm gonna go," you decided after reading their greeting. "You understand."

"No, I don't!" Quackity joked. "We're your friends! They're a stranger!"

"You'll understand one day when you get to talk to your freaking SOULMATE."

"Wait, magma blocks!" George reminded and you quickly told him where they were in your base. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Bye, sorry for leaving."

"It's all good, go get that dick or get that pussy or whatever," Quackity joked.

"QUACKITY!"

He laughed loudly in response and George joined him.

"Bye, guys. Bye, chat!" You disconnected soon after and ripped off your headphones as you grabbed the pen and sat on your bed.

You found the hi :) they had last written and wrote underneath it sloppily, I'm y/n, what's your name?

do you mind if i hold off on telling you that? i'd rather get to know you first :)

of course! sorry I'm very excited!

it's okay! they wrote back quickly. i'm just kinda shy :P

well you sound really sweet, you wrote on the outside of your forearm.

hehe thanks

pronoun checkk? i'm she/her

they/them, you wrote before adding, this is so cool, I can't believe we already have the connection, my parents didn't get connected until their 30s

i know!! she wrote underneath. i didn't expect to get a soulmate for another few years at least!

i've always been so confused about when your soul connects with someone else?

there are two parts, a) you have to have similar interests and b) you have to be two relationships away from each other. so you know someone who knows someone who knows me

and you and I have similar interests

im bad at explaining :/

so one of us finally made the connection by making a new friend i guess? or getting a new hobby?

You found her message about not explaining well and wrote a small reassuring note next to it, you explained perfectly, before writing your new message under the most recent.

i haven't met anyone recently, have you?

You waited for a response and smiled when you saw the word leg written next to your last sentence. You glanced at your legs to see her response above your knee. You guys were definitely running out of space quickly.

I've met a few people... if it's who i think it is, do you happen to like... minecraft?

oh gosh yes?? who do you know??

I’ve always wanted to ask someone this

y/n, are you friends with georgenotfound?

YES?

NO WAY. I WAS HALF JOKING

WAIT REALLY YOU'RE FRIENDS WITH HIM TOO?

I met Sap recently so since he's friends with him and you're friends with him, that’s why we got connected!!!

You laughed as you looked down at your arms and legs, which were getting crowded with pen scribbles. You and your soulmate had only talked for about ten minutes and were already a mess. Maybe you two should have planned out the space better.

wait... do you know who bugsy is?

YES! I love her so much, I haven't met her yet but I want to so bad

Your soulmate hadn't responded so you kept writing.

I keep trying to get people to introduce me but none of my friends have met her yet

Y/n... you just did

what

nice to meet you, y/n, im bugsy :)

I'M SO EMBARASSED NOW OH GOSH

don't be!!! I've seen a few streams with you in them and you sound so sweet

do you wanna talk on discord or something? I'm running out of space

You wrote your Discord number next to her last message and ran back to your computer, waiting for her friend request. What are the odds that your soulmate would happen to be the streamer you adored from day one? You needed to find out how to keep your cool so you didn't scare her away.

You let out a small scream as an incoming call came from her. "Oh no," you said to yourself before breathing deeply and hitting accept.

"Hi, Y/n!" she chirped happily and you swore you almost evaporated.

"H-hey," you stammered out, slapping your forehead after. "Sorry, I just... I've been dreaming about having a soulmate for so long, and now that it's you I just..."

"I'm nervous too," she admitted. "Your voice is so cute."

"Holy shit," you muttered and she giggled in response. You played with your hands in your lap and noticed ink spreading across the back of your right hand. She was drawing little hearts all over it, making your own heart beat faster. "It's been twenty minutes and I'm pretty sure you're already going to kill me."

[starbuckie]

𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

challenge: time travel challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld​

prompt: “we’re divorced?” 

pairing: sirius black x reader

words: 5.7k words

warnings: FOURTH WALL BREAK!!(sorry im very excited about that), lots of angst, almost smut(hehe), sirius lowkey has a breeding kink, sirius is an asshole for a bit, the smallest bit of fluff, fix-it, and the same time travel theory as back to the future

summary: an unnatural occurrence lets a woman go back in time to try and change everything she’s known for the past twenty years.

a/n: wow, i normally don’t write for harry potter so this was a nice change. anyways, this is for yvette’s time travel writing challenge, and everybody say HAPPY BIRTHDAY YVETTE! i’m so sorry this is late, it got deleted and i needed to re-edit, but i truly appreciate your friendship and your lovely, amazingly beautiful self, and I’m so so glad that we became friends :)  this fic is not beta-read at all, so if you see any mistakes tell me, but otherwise i really hope you enjoy this fic<3

main masterlist || harry potter masterlist

It still wasn’t over. After all she had lost, more specifically everyone she had lost, and the shitty cycle that she had to call her life, it still wasn’t over. The people she had watched the life drain from, the screams of those suffering from the loss caused by the Dark Lord, and yet life still hadn’t had its fill of torturing Y/N. Grimmauld Place felt empty without the kids, without the Weasleys, but they had gone back to their home and soon enough she would have to as well. Harry had gone back to Hogwarts with Dumbledore, though she’d argued to hold onto him just a bit longer after-

After Sirius had died. 

Time had passed, maybe two or three weeks, but no matter what the woman couldn’t bring herself to get out of Sirius’ old bedroom, simply staring at the ceiling with her tears at bay. Her and Sirius had been a complicated thing, to say the least, a topic nobody had brought up since 1983, when she had banned it. Not as if there was much to talk about after the divorce and Sirius going to Azkaban. After Lily and James had died, after she had fought with Dumbledore for custody of Harry, after she had become a professor at Beauxbatons and moved to France without a second thought. Sirius had been locked up after he’d hurt her in the worst possible way, and Y/N’s heartbroken soul found no other reason to return to England. 

But, she pushed those bad memories to the back of her mind. It seemed so trivial, looking back on it. Not the broken house, of course, that had been his own mistake. But Y/N had many regrets, all of them seeming to revolve around the mischievous black-haired man who she had fallen in love with as a teen. The night it went down, the night their relationship had fractured at the seams and fallen down, was her greatest one however. It had been so stupid, so, so stupid, but they’d both gotten caught up in the moment, and Y/N had let him die without knowing how much she was sorry for that night that they let their fears consume them. 

The cries that she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free from the restraints of her heart. “I’m so sorry, Siri,” she whispered into the air, “I couldn’t save you this time.” As the hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks, Y/N shuffled across the room, letting her feet drag her to the old Black family room, the dark green walls embracing her rainy emotions. 

A little gasp escaped her lips as she looked at the portraits among the wall. The Black family tree was faded along the age-old wall, but what she was really looking for was the burned out image of her raven-haired love. There, right next to Regulus, was a black spot, scorned and scarred by the prestigious family for being a blood traitor. Y/N smiled and traced the burn with her finger, remembering their fourth year when she had accompanied him home for the holidays so he wouldn’t be completely alone in the hellhole he had to call his house. Sirius had snuck them up to this room and spent the night talking in hushed whispers sworn secrets. “I’ll be yours forever, Siri, and I’m sorry for fighting with you. I wish-” she sniffled, glaring at the spot in the wall as she tried to garble out her words, “I wish, I could go back in time, and just fix it. Just me and you, and that stupid night, with the bloody fight about children because you deserve it all, darling.”

“Ah, I think you can.” 

Y/N turned around, her eyes wide with fear. That was not Kreacher’s voice. There stood a younger woman, around nineteen, a scroll of paper and a quill in her hand. There was a whisper of a smirk on her face, brown eyes glittering even in the dimness in the room. “Who the hell are you?” Y/N looked at the door, which was still closed as she left it. She cast her wand out, pointing it at the stranger who did nothing but smile. “How did you get in here? Are you with the Lord?”

“With Voldemort?” The woman simply laughed. “Dude, I’m not with ‘the Lord’,” she added with air quotations. “Also I’m not really even here, so don’t you worry about that. My name’s Malia.”

Malia held her hand out, but Y/N kept her guard up. “You’re American. What brings you here? Are you a muggle?”

“Oh, nope, not a wizard, I’m just the author of this story.” Malia confided. “I’m here to tell you that you can fix this.”

“Fix… what?” Malia just rolled her eyes and sighed, staring up towards the ceiling as she spoke.

“God, did I write you to be hard of hearing now, too? I ought to fix that when I get back.” The woman blankly stared at the strange girl, wondering what the actual fuck she was talking about. “I can give you the chance to go back in time, Y/N. It won’t be for long, it’s really not gonna be interesting for more than two hours at most, but that should be enough time to tell the gang about what’s to come with Voldemort.”

“Like... time travel?” Y/N asked. The only way she knew how to time travel was the time turners. “But all of the ti-”

“Time turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve read Harry Potter more times than I’ve said ‘I love you’ to my parents.” Malia smiled. “I’m the author, I make the rules, and my rule is that I’m giving you two hours in 1978 to talk to Sirius so he can fix the emotional fucking mess left behind by J.K. Rowling.”

“Who’s J.K. Rowling?” Malia shuddered at the name.

“A raggedy-ass, transphobic bitch who wrote y’all into existence, but she’s not of importance right now.” She checked the small, rectangular box in her hand, which glowed and provided little light in the darkened room. “Let’s see, it’s currently eleven-forty, so you have until one-forty to find the Marauders and fix this future. It may not be fixed in the books in the future, but if you are able to do it here that’s all that matters.” Malia’s brown eyes were downcast, her bright and loud personality dimming for just a moment before returning to Y/N’s confused gaze once more. “Try not to screw up too much while you’re there, just enough that you defeat the Dark Lord the first time. Tell Sirius all you know and that should be enough for him to fix all the mistakes, but do not under any circumstances let him or anyone else know who you are. I wish you luck, Y/N, it was nice to meet ya in person.” 

And with a peace sign in front of her face, she disappeared into a flash of neon pink light. 

“Bloody hell! Fix my future? Talk to Sirius? If this even is time travel, then how am I supposed to get there- AH!” Y/N’s body felt like it was turning inside out, her guts being torn from her stomach and back into it again. A delirious giggle arose from her lips in the black void she was pulled into, and a soft chatter could be heard, like voices at the end of a tunnel. 

“Blimey, looks like we got ourselves a nutter on school grounds.” Y/N’s arms flailed around, desperately seeking some sort of grounding surface to hold on to when her back hit a rough surface. There was an audible crack somewhere in her body, but she felt so sick that she couldn’t tell where. 

“Are you okay, ma’am? You just appeared from the sky and hit the ground.” Warm, brown eyes met Y/N’s, a familiar mess of black curls resting atop of the boy’s head. Large, rounded glasses sat perched on the tip of his nose, and an impish smile, one she used to know so well before he died, met his lips. 

“James,” she sighed. The boy stared at her strangely, and only then did she notice the three other boys and girls each behind them. Remus, Peter, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, and Alice. 

Sirius.

The sight that met her eyes made her nearly emotional. It had technically been only three weeks since she had seen him, but here was the young boy she had fallen in love with. The one who charmed her with his smart words and witty retorts to her brush-offs, who used to hold her in his arms in the most intimate and gentle ways. His grey eyes sparkled with curiosity, the infamous Marauder mischief swirling within the silvery pools.  

Seeing him so young tugged at her heartstrings, and though she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms and never let go, a small, niggling feeling at the back of her head held her back. Was there something wrong?

“You know me?” Oh right, she was currently thirty-five. Looking around she noticed that she was outside the quidditch pitch, and there were other students, staring at her with widened eyes. No one knew she was Y/N L/N, their fellow schoolmate and probably one of the very few of them that survived the Death Eaters attacks. None of them were aware how it ended, or how it was currently going for them back in 1996, and in this time there was the first Wizarding War going on and they had every right to be terrified for their lives.

James now took a more defensive stance, standing tall and holding his wand out. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t give him the answer, instead letting her mouth gape open as she stared at him with wide eyes. Y/N looked across the grounds for the nearest exit, which was down by Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. It was her only choice at this point, to hide in the dark, creepy space, maybe just until the students went away so she could find Sirius and talk to him alone. It’d be hard to separate him from the boys, but if Lily were occupied with James it sure would be easy. 

Her younger, seventh-year self didn’t seem to be in the audience, thank Merlin, and with that knowledge, she got up and ran, ignoring her screaming muscles. That time travel really did a number on her. 

As she ran through the crowd, shoving people aside, she heard the students mutter, too much in shock and disarray to stop the crazy, old woman who knew James Potter.

“This is dodgy.”

“Someone ought to tell Dumbledore about this.”

“She kinda looks like Y/N L/N.’

“Don’t insult the poor girl like that, that wonker is ages old.”

“Come back here! Who the bloody hell are you?” Y/N’s heart beat quickly in her chest, threatening to burst out. Only three minutes in the past and it was all going straight to shit. “Stupefy!”

Shit. “No, James, please don’t-“ Her body hit the ground and her eyes closed, the last thing she saw being the pumpkin patch by the hut.

-

“I see you’re awake now, Ms. L/N.” Dumbledore stood above Y/N in the hospital ward bed, his grey beard dangling in front of her face. Her first instinct was to start blaming him for everything that had happened, starting from Lily and James’ deaths to Sirius’, already opening her mouth to call him an old, senile cow, but then she realized that Harry hadn’t been sent to the Dursleys yet, much less been born yet, so none of it would have an effect on him. Y/N’s second instinct was to question how Dumbledore knew who she was in 1978, but her former Headmaster started to speak before she could do so. “I must admit, it’s very courageous, that stunt you just pulled. I don’t think Ms. Louie will be too happy about that.” Y/N sent him a questioning stare. “Malia, the girl you met earlier. Malia Louie.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, how did you know it was me?” She was dressed in a white gown that went to her knees, and behind him she could see her blouse and jeans folded and clean. Ah, the Hospital Wing. She had brought the boys here more times than she could count in her years at Hogwarts. “I don’t exactly look as young as I used to.”

“Ah, don’t worry Ms. L/N, you’ve kept your good looks quite nicely, even in your older age.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his wrinkled eyes sparkling with joy. “And speaking of young, if you are still worrying yourself about your younger self, you can put that to a stop. I am aware that you are not able to tell anyone who you are, and time travel is exceptionally dangerous if you are seen by the other version of yourself. I’ve already told the students that you were just a stray witch, misguided in your ways and that you were well taken care of. However, I think that brings us to the question of what your intentions are in the past, Ms. L/N.”

“Headmaster, I don’t think I can tell you about my business here. I’ve already messed up by letting the school see me by letting everyone see me, I don’t know why that girl even sent me here, it’s clear that this was a mistake.” Y/N sat up on the headboard, feeling her eyes fill with tears once again. The tall arches of windows let the sun in the room, and she could see the specks of dust swirling around in the golden light. It had to be close to the end of the year for them, maybe sometime around April or May, near the end of N.E.W.T.s at least. She could imagine that it’d be easy for her to get out of Hogwarts for the day, with all the students studying for the stressful exams in the library, maybe she'd make her way to Hogsmeade and walk around or visit Hagrid under a false name to have some tea. He was always open for a nice cuppa with strangers on any free day he had. “Thank you Headmaster, for your kindness, but I really ought to be going. I-it was nice to see you.”

Y/N started to help herself out of the bed, swinging her feet over to touch the cool stone ground. Bones cracked with pain and fatigue, her muscles stretching sluggishly. Merlin, that she was not expecting that much hurt from the fall, but she should have never underestimated James Potter. No one ever should if they want to keep their good mind and sanity. 

Dumbledore handed her her clothes, cracked lips set in a straight line as he nodded solemnly. “I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are here to do, Ms. L/N, but I have no doubt that you will.” With a sly wink, he added, “You were always one of our most ardent and bright students.”

Y/N let herself smile, and with a wave, swiftly brought herself to the door. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

After slipping outside, she ran down the corridors, echoes of her feet ringing lightly behind her. The courtyard proved to be empty and she quickly ducked behind a column and tugged her jeans on hastily, making sure that no professors came walking past. Though the sky proved to be bright and cheerful, a slight breeze carried through, making her fall off balance and fall on the cemented ground. 

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re in need of a little help.” Y/N looked up to the speaking figure, one that she both loved and dreaded to see. 

She gathered herself quickly, her mind running fast and heart beating out of her chest as she tried to get out. “Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I think I’ll just get up and going now, I don’t need to take time out of your day like this-”

“I know who you are, Y/N.” 

Y/N came to a full stop, going against her brain that screamed at her to run away. Sirius looked downtrodden, his grey eyes watering despite the small hint of a smirk on his face. Though he was always one for playing around and not taking anything seriously, she knew when it was time to stop pretending and get real. “How’d you know it was me, Sirius?”

“You really don’t look bad for your age, darling.” He offered her a hand to help her up and she took it graciously, eyeing him nearly guiltily and forgetting about her promise to Y/N. But that was useless now, this moment with her first love was much more important. “Also you have the tattoo on your chest. I knew it was you the moment you landed on school grounds.”

She traced his gaze to her left collarbone, where a paw print, just barely visible beneath her low-cut blouse, sat. It was his, or Snuffles’, paw print, and at this point in time they had probably gotten it done about three months before. He had one for her too, a horseshoe for her horse patronus, right on his left side of his chest too. So they’d always be right next to each other’s hearts, as cheesy as it seemed.

But they were dumb, lovesick teenagers, and they acted the part well too. Their love was all-consuming, shagging in under the bleachers at the quidditch pitch and making out under the stars. It was fast, everything was fast, decisions, ideas, classes, all of them under the impression that they had to do everything right then or they’d be dead before they got to actually live. They had dreams of marriage, and a big, big family, obviously so far away from his family so they could never hurt their children’s lives the way they had hurt his. 

They were fantasies, Y/N had known that well enough when she and Sirius got divorced, but it was something that eighteen year-old Sirius Black held close to his heart. No matter how shitty his life got, he was always a firm believer in a happy ending. In their happy ending. 

“How am I right now?” They now stood over the Black Lake, staring into the glittering depths of the water where some mermaids could be seen sneaking peeks at the handsome boy and the strange lady who had fallen from the sky. 

Sirius stared at her questioningly for a moment. “How are you doing right now? I mean, I believe that I should be asking you that ques- oh, Merlin, I’m such a git, you meant your younger self.” Y/N laughed at that, her heart lifting with the goofiness of the old Sirius relieving an ache in her heart that she had had for so long. Not that old (it felt weird to say that) Sirius had been anything less than silly and snarky, but it was never directed towards her. It was nice to have the resemblance of their old relationship back, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. “I suppose that you’re okay. You didn’t see, well, your big moment on the field, but at this point Lily has probably opened her big, fat mouth and told you. N.E.W.T.s are just finishing up, so you’re much more light-hearted than during the study season.”

“I really did have a stick up my arse during exam time, you always told me to loosen up-” 

“Y/N, cut out the small talk, I think it’s okay for me to ask how and what is happening.” Sirius cut in.

So she told him. Y/N had always been upfront with people about everything. Or rather, she had learned how to be upfront with people after her and Sirius’ divorce. Without details of the deaths, she explained how she was sent back into the past to fix it in some conceivable way. However, she did tell him about the fall out. Maybe she wanted him to understand her pain, even though it was a younger him, but she had to admit to herself that it was because she just wanted Sirius, in whatever form life gave her to hear out her grievances and apologies. 

Since her Sirius was dead before she could.

“We’re divorced?” Sirius looked about ready to break down into tears, almost as if the concept of them breaking up or separating was foreign to him. “What exactly did we fight over, Y/N? That doesn’t seem normal for the two of us.” Sirius asked.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a normal predicament for us. either…”

Sirius slammed the door shut, efficiently pinning her against it with his white button up ruffled up, navy tie hanging from his neck loosely. Y/N’s arms were held down tightly against the oak wood, the sensation of the cold door burning into her rather warm skin making her squeal. Her husband’s tongue worked its way through her parted lips, low groans rising from the back of his throat from the way she moaned in tandem with his hips pushing into hers. Legs wrapped around his tapered waist, the pink, floral skirt Y/N wore rising high on her thighs, revealing more of her flesh to the lust-filled man. Both of their giggles echoed off the hallway walls of their small cottage home, just four miles west of their best friends’. 

As the twenty year-old man threw his wife unceremoniously on the bed, he shed himself of his shirt and swiftly unbuttoned his slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room. Merlin, Y/N looked ethereal laying spread out on the bed, panties around her left ankle, swollen lips parted with short puffs of air leaving them. “You just get right down to business, don’t you, Black.” 

Crawling over his body, his hot breath hit her neck as he growled against her skin. “Could say the same thing about you, darling.” Sirius’ lips made their way down every inch, every curve, nook, and cranny of Y/N’s body, smoothly slipping her clothes off as he did so. Her sweet gasps filled the bedroom, back arching off the bed to meet his chest. “I’m going to put a baby in you tonight, sweetheart, we’re-”

Y/N sat up straight, her eyebrows trained in confusion at her husband. “What? A baby?” 

Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest. “Yes.” He remarked in a clipped tone. “Is that not what you wanted?” 

Her mind recalled her words from earlier that day, as she chatted happily with Lily about the news of her pregnancy. “Siri, I said I may one day enjoy having a kid of my own. Not right now, of course, but later. After all, we only got married a few months ago, don’t you think we should hold off a bit on that? We’re twenty years-old, Siri, there’s so many years for that.”

Rage filled Sirius’ blood like a spreading fire. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much about his anger as it was his hurt and fear. Fear that she had realized how fucked up he truly was, fear that she realized what he had known all along- that she deserved better than him. “So you don’t want a baby with me?”

“I never said I didn’t want that, Sirius, I just said that I’m not ready!” Y/N yelled back. At this point both of them stood on opposite sides of the bed, faces hot with tears. “We’re in the middle of a bloody war, people we know, people we love, have lost their lives, and it is not the ideal environment to raise a child, Sirius! Just because James and Lily are ready to have one doesn’t mean that I am too!”

“When will you be ready, Y/N? When will it ever be enough time for you? When will I be enough for you?” The heartbroken girl tried to interject, but her voice was cut off by her husband’s quickly enough. Sirius climbed onto the bed, holding her chin harshly with one hand. “Tell me, did you ever want to be with me in the first place?”

“Yes, Sirius, of course I wanted to be with you.” His heart hurt looking at the love of his life in tears, but even that was able to melt his cold facade. “I love you more than anything in the world.” 

“Then fucking prove it, Y/N.” With that declaration, he removed his hand from her face and gathered his clothes, slamming everything in their shared room as Y/N quivered, knees ready to buckle on the spot. “I’m going out, don’t wait up for me.”  

As soon as the front door shut, she fell to the ground in tears, the laughter that once filled their home replaced with the sound of her shattered heart. 

Y/N had done her best to not tear up during her explanation of the events that had taken that night, but Sirius' eyes watered, refusing to believe the truth. “No. No. I didn’t do that. Y/N, tell me,” he gripped her biceps with trembling hands, “please tell me I didn’t really do that. I can’t believe that I-I, that I-”

“You were drunk, Sirius, I don’t think you truly knew what you were saying at the time.” She sighed, “But people always say that drunken words are just sober thoughts.” Y/N rubbed her arms, just shivering slightly in the Scotland breeze. “You came back two hours later punching the wall and breaking it, and that’s when I knew that we wouldn’t last.” 

The raven-haired boy’s head started to shake, even more mortified of the actions that his future self, the man he’d be in just two years' time, had done. “I packed up my things, not that there were many, we’d only moved into the house a month before, left, and I sent the divorce papers a week later. It was probably better that way, you would’ve divorced me if I hadn’t done it first.” Y/N had gotten used to telling her sob story to colleagues at Beauxbatons, to her family, but it felt different with pre-divorce Sirius. Of course, she had never thought she’d be in this citation either, so no one could really blame her for feeling weird. “You signed them easily, and my lawyer made sure that I never had to see you again.”  Until Lily and James died.

“Until…” Sirius led on.

“Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you’ve always been able to read my mind. Shouldn’t have doubted it for a second.” He smiled at the sentiment, gesturing for her to continue. “I can’t tell you, Sirius, I hope you can understand that.”

“Why, Y/N, what happens that can be any worse in the future?” Oh dear, Sirius, you really do not want the answer to that question. She needed any way out of this conversation, after all running away was what she did best, and her eyes already searched for several routes to which she could run. Not that Y/N could ever outrun Sirius in his animagus form, but it was nice to have the belief that she could. The boy sensed her distress and grabbed hold of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, darling, but I have to admit that I am a bit worried, just in the slightest.”

Y/N let herself calm down, squeezing Sirius’ hand and noticing his watch. She had actually given him that watch, gold-plated and dark grey metal, but it wasn’t the beauty of the gift that caught her eye, but rather the actual time on it. One-thirty. 

How had that much time gone by so quickly? She was going to be sucked into the black void of time travel again in ten minutes, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to unload nearly twenty years worth of history onto Sirius. No, he would go insane from that much knowledge, which was exactly against what Malia had advised. 

“I don’t have enough time to tell you everything that happens in the future, Sirius. But what I am about to tell you is vital, absolutely vital for the good of all of us in the future.” Sirius nodded with a serious sort of smile on his face. “Don’t let Peter be Lily and James’ secret keeper. When the time comes that they move away, I’m not going to tell you where yet, do not under any circumstances let Peter be their secret keeper. I know he’s one of our best friends right now, and do not tell anyone about this, but he’s going to betray us in the worst way possible.” 

While Sirius was shocked, he nodded solemnly and ran a hand through his long hair. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N. Can I fix us, Y/N? I don’t know if you should be letting the key to a happier future rest in my hands.”

“I full heartedly trust that you’ll do some good, whatever the outcome may be. As for fixing us, I hope you can, but depending on what happens we’ll just have to wait and see.” She sighed, “If you want my opinion on it, I think that we both should have waited longer to get married. It was right after James and Lily got married, but we aren’t and never will be them. We both had a lot of growing up to do, so I would take it slowly. Communicate your wants and needs in the relationship and in the end it may not even be us together. But I know you, Siri, don’t let this get in the way of your entire life. The most important part is that you tell James and Lily about Peter.”  

She glanced back up the school grounds where students could start to be seen leaving their classes. “You better get back to the castle, Sirius. McGonagall is going to come for your arse and this time the boys aren’t going to be able to cover for you.”

“If they knew where I was, darling, I don’t even think they’d believe me.” Sirius chuckled.

Y/N nodded in agreement and pulled Sirius into a tight hug. “You can do this, sweetheart, and even if you can’t, it will not stop me from loving you any less. Maybe the future wasn’t meant to be changed, but regardless of whether that is true or not, I know that you will try your hardest, Sirius. Just try not to die, okay?”

The boy was still clutching onto her tightly, his tears soaking her rose-colored blouse. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

With one last kiss on the forehead, she smiled at him. “I know you will, Siri.” 

-

Y/N’s arse hit the floor once again, her spine cracking once again. “What’s the year?” She yelled out, reaching for the walls of the black family room. 

But it wasn’t there. Upon opening her eyes, she saw James, Lily, and Sirius sitting at a wooden table in her old white cottage. A nice tea set, her grandmother’s as she realized later, sat in the center, along with a large stack of letters. “Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you, I’ve been worried sick!” 

Her red-headed best friend scurried over to her, brushing invisible dirt off her shoulders and pulling her up abruptly. James fixed the glasses on his nose, cleaning them off with his striped jumper. “You look a little disheveled right now, Y/N, what ran you over?” 

“You know who she reminds me of right now, Jamie? That crazy witch friend of Dumbledore’s that made her way onto campus back in seventh year.” Lily giggled as she hugged Y/N.

“Merlin’s beard, you’re right!” James walked over to the woman of the hour, ruffling her hair with a smirk on his face. “If you were about twenty years older I’d have no trouble believing you were the same person.”

While Lily and James recalled their memories from the strange woman all those years ago at Hogwarts, Sirius pulled Y/N aside, an arm wrapped around her waist. The warmth radiating from his body was nice, embracing her in a comfort she hadn’t felt in so long.

“I’m going to go ahead and believe that I did something right?” Sirius grabbed her hand, and only then did she notice the coolness of metal sitting on her left ring finger. There sat the single band of gold, a small ruby encased in its plating. She had once joked that diamonds were too overrated, and he went out and got her the most vibrant gem he could find, claiming that it was just like her. But regardless of its shape, size, or type of gem, it was there.

“Yeah, Siri,” Y/N replied with tears in her eyes, “you did good.” 

“Oi, Blacks, stop making out and get over here, we got a letter from Minnie!” James yelled, making both wives chuckle. “Harry’s gotten himself in detention for punching Malfoy again.”

“Oh, thank Merlin, the boy deserves a few more good hits.” Sirius laughed. 

“McGonagall still talks to us?” Y/N asked in amazement. “You’ve got to get me caught up.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ve got all the time in the world.” Sirius gently placed his lips onto hers, and for once in nearly twenty years, Y/N felt at peace. There were no more hasty warnings of the future, no psychotic old men coming after her family, no young girls rushing in to tell her how to fix her screwed up life. Cracked, pink lips moving against her own, his tongue delving into her mouth, and Y/N knew she was finally off the clock.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: Captain Boomerang

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: George Harkness, also known as Captain Boomerang. Patient suffers from Alcohol Abuse Disorder and Antisocial Personality Disorder. He is noticeably low-functioning. Session One. Good morning, Mr. Harkness. 

Capt. Boomerang: G’day, mate. 

Hugo Strange: So, Mr. Harkness, how have you been feeling? 

Capt. Boomerang: Mister Harkness? I must be movin’ up in the world. Or gettin’ old. 

Hugo Strange: What do people usually call you, then, Mr. Harkness? 

Capt. Boomerang: Things that you can’t repeat in polite society! (Laughs) But my mates call me Digger. 

Hugo Strange: Digger? 

Capt. Boomerang: Oz slang. Means soldier. My mum gave me the nickname when I was an anklebiter, and it’s stuck ever since.

Hugo Strange: Oz? Anklebiter? Are you speaking English, Mr. Harkness?

Capt. Boomerang: Don’t tell me you’ve never met someone from the Land Down Under, mate! 

Hugo Strange: You’re Australian? 

Capt. Boomerang: Reckon! What did you think I was? 

Hugo Strange: To be honest, I thought you were an American pretending to be an Australian. It would explain why your costumed alias is such a gigantic Australian stereotype. And why you have such a ridiculously strong accent. 

Capt. Boomerang: What are you talking about, mate? I ain’t got an accent any stronger than anyone else from Korumburra. 

Hugo Strange: Where? 

Capt. Boomerang: Crikey! You Yanks really don’t know anything about geography, do you? (Pause) Though I guess I can’t really blame you for not knowing Korumburra. It’s a dinky little place just outside of Melbourne. 

Hugo Strange: I see. (Pause) So tell me, Mr. Harkness...why boomerangs? 

Capt. Boomerang: They say to play to your strengths, mate. My strength happens to be throwing boomerangs. 

Hugo Strange: Yes, but why boomerangs specifically? Why not, say, throwing knives? 

Capt. Boomerang: ‘Cause Captain Throwing Knives don’t have the same ring to it, mate. (Laughs) But really, mate, the answer’s simple. After you throw a knife, you gotta retrieve it. Boomerangs? You don’t have to do that, ‘cause they always come back to you. Makes ‘em a real convenient weapon. 

Hugo Strange: Fair enough, I suppose. But why do it in that ridiculous boomerang-print stewardess outfit? And why call yourself Captain Boomerang? 

Capt. Boomerang: The costume and the name came from my ex-employer, W.W. Wiggins, not from me.

Hugo Strange: W.W. Wiggins? The...toy tycoon? 

Capt. Boomerang: That’s the one. He brought me to America to be his corporate shill. Captain Boomerang was supposed to be an advertising stunt for W.W. Wiggins’ toy boomerangs. 

Hugo Strange: (Trying to suppress laughter) You were...a toy mascot, Mr. Harkness? 

Capt. Boomerang: For a couple of months, yeah. And let me tell you, for a bloke as rich as he is, W.W. Wiggins is a bloody cheapskate. 

Hugo Strange: Is that why you turned to crime, Mr. Harkness? 

Capt. Boomerang: That, and the job was getting real old, real fast. I don’t know if you know this about anklebiters, mate, but they got a nasty habit of kicking toy mascots in the shins. 

Hugo Strange: So you took to a life of crime and turned the toy mascot into your supervillain identity? 

Captain Boomerang: Why not? Spared me the work of having to come up with a new identity. (Pause) And, as it turned out, helped me get some revenge, too. 

Hugo Strange: What do you mean, Mr. Harkness? 

Capt. Boomerang: Well, I found out later that W.W. Wiggins is my bloody biological father! I’m his bloody son, and he knew that, but he still used me as a bloody corporate shill! 

Hugo Strange: And so now you see your use of his toy mascot for crimes as revenge on him for not telling you about your true relationship? 

Capt. Boomerang: Too right, mate! (Pause) But really, livin’ well? That’s the best revenge, mate...and since I became Captain Boomerang, well...I’ve been living really well! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Harkness, your records indicate that you spend all of your money on food, alcohol, and women.

Capt. Boomerang: Exactly! It’s like I always say: the only three things that really matter in life anyhow are a foamy, a feed, and a feature. 

Hugo Strange: (Frustrated) Mr. Harkness, you’re currently $10,000 dollars in debt. When you aren’t in prison, you live in places that are veritable dumps, and, other than the so-called Rogues, you have no friends. You spend most of your life either inebriated or hung over, you frequently wind up in the hospital after picking fights you have no hope of winning, and your family has all but disowned you. Your life, Mr. Harkness, is a disgrace. 

Capt. Boomerang: Says you. I think I’ve got a very desirable lifestyle, myself. 

Hugo Strange: I am starting to understand why the psychological report from Belle Reve described you as a low-functioning sociopath, Mr. Harkness. 

Capt. Boomerang: In speaking of Belle Reve, mate, why I am here and not there? I know Iron Heights ain’t in such good shape right now, but I can’t believe that Mrs. Waller would pass up an opportunity to get me back on the Suicide Squad. 

Hugo Strange: I don’t know, Mr. Harkness. The bureaucratic decisions that led to Arkham Asylum’s population increase have not yet been adequately explained to me-or, I must assume, to Mrs. Waller. All I can tell you is that all of you Rogues are currently the responsibility of the Arkham Hospital for the Criminally Insane, not of Belle Reve or any other prison. (Pause) Why do you call her Mrs. Waller? You don’t exactly seem like the type to respect authority figures. 

Capt. Boomerang: Have you met Mrs. Waller, mate? If you don’t respect her, she’ll eat you for brekkie! 

Hugo Strange: (Amused) I assume you had to learn that the hard way, Mr. Harkness? 

Capt. Boomerang: None of your business, mate! 

Hugo Strange: I’ll assume that that means yes, Mr. Harkness.

Capt. Boomerang: (Petulantly) I gotta say, mate, you’re the nosiest warden I ever met. 

Hugo Strange: I am not a warden, Mr. Harkness. I am a psychologist. 

Capt. Boomerang: You’re a shrink? 

Hugo Strange: Yes. This is a therapy session, Mr. Harkness.

Capt. Boomerang: In that case, mate, you can go ahead and end the session right now. I’m perfectly happy with myself just the way I am! 

Hugo Strange: In your case, that is why you need treatment, Mr. Harkness. The fact that you are content with being a drunken thug shows a deficit in both personality and character, one that must be addressed-if only for the good of wider society. 

Capt. Boomerang: Look, mate. The only good I care about is the good of Digger Harkness. 

Hugo Strange: You cannot really believe that constant inebriation is good for you, Mr. Harkness. 

Capt. Boomerang: Ain’t exactly like I’m gonna be livin’ to a ripe old age, mate. Why not enjoy myself while I got the chance? 

Hugo Strange: (Changing the subject; the conversation clearly isn’t going anywhere) Your file says that you have a son, Mr. Harkness. 

Capt. Boomerang: I do. His name’s Owen. Little anklebiter’s a regular chip off the old block, he is. He throws boomerangs like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve been thinking of bringing him into the family business someday; once I get too old to run around fighting the Flash all the time. 

Hugo Strange: The family business...meaning costumed crime? 

Capt. Boomerang: Well, I ain’t gonna make my son a toy mascot. 

Hugo Strange: (Frustrated) Mr. Harkness, being a criminal is bad enough. Leading a child into a life of crime is far worse. 

Capt. Boomerang: I can’t see why. I’m a criminal, and life worked out just fine for me! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Harkness, you know how much it hurts to be used by a father. If you lead your son into a life of crime to make your own life easier, you’ll be doing the same thing to him as Mr. Wiggins did to you, only worse. You’ve spent your entire adult life in institutions, Mr. Harkness. You know what they’re like. What do you think they would do to your son? 

Capt. Boomerang: (Long pause; then quietly) They’d kill ‘im. 

Hugo Strange: What was that, Mr. Harkness? 

Capt. Boomerang: I said that...that they’d kill ‘im. I do just fine in prison, ‘cause everybody knows that I’m one the meanest, dirtiest fighters in the business. But Owen? Unfortunately, that’s the one trait of mine he didn’t inherit. Kid’s actually nice; he couldn’t play dirty if his life depended on it. He’d be worse off than the bloody Piper! At least he has mind-control powers going for him. 

Hugo Strange: Exactly, Mr. Harkness. Do you still think it’s a good idea to lead your son into a life of crime? 

Capt. Boomerang: S’pose not, mate. Wouldn’t want to lose the only person who hero-worships me, now would I? 

(Long pause) 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Harkness? 

Capt. Boomerang: Yes, mate? 

Hugo Strange: You are disgusting. 

[jackiearbs]

things that rwrb characters have said that i will never forget, a thread:

alex claremont-diaz, giving off dumbass™ energy (he has the most on this thread, for obvious reasons) 

- "put them in my room, put them in my room, put them in my room-" 

-  “Jesus Christ, it’s like they can see into your soul. cornbread knows my sins, Henry. cornbread knows what I have done, and he is here to make me atone.”   

- "do it for the 'gram"

- "leading member of korean pop band bts kim nam-june" 

- "whatever, fine. henry is annoyingly attractive. that’s always been a thing, objectively. it’s fine.”

- "see attached bibliography"

- "i said, you look great, baby!”

- "yo there’s a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe"

- "awesome, fuckin' love doing things out of spite.”

-”Huge Raging Headache Prince Henry of Who Cares”

-”it is amazing you can sit down to write emails with that gigantic royal stick up your ass.” 

- “who names a dog David? He sounds like a tax attorney.”

-” “Do I go on your side of the cubicle and turn off your Dropkick Murphys Spotify station, no matter how much I want to?” Alex demands. “No, Hunter, I don’t.”

- “for fuck's sake, man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me good-night.”

- “Bake Off makes Chopped look like the fucking Manson tapes.”

- “THEY KNOW. THEY KNOW I HAVE ROBBED THEM OF FIVE-STAR ACCOMMODATIONS TO SIT IN A CAGE IN MY ROOM, AND THE MINUTE I TURN MY BACK THEY ARE GOING TO FEAST ON MY FLESH.”

- “You’re from Boston, Hunter. You really want to talk about all the places bigotry comes from?” (he really hates hunter goddamn) 

-”so, what? you want me to quit politics and go become a princess? that’s not very feminist of you.” 

hrh prince dickhead😎  - "the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed. O, fathers of my bloodline! O, ye kings of olde! Take this crown from me, bury me in my ancestral soil. If only you had known the mighty work of thine loins would be undone by a gay heir who likes it when American boys with chin dimples are mean to him.”

-"“I’ve been gay as a maypole since the day I came out of Mum, Philip.”

-”i will turn this car around.”

- “yes, the cocaine, alex.” 

-”i am a delight!”

-”have i mentioned lately that you’re a demon?” 

- “are you psychoanalyzing me? i don't think royal guests are allowed to do that.”

- "i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.”

-“the phrase ‘see attached bibliography’ is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me.”

-"i just mean to say, you know, Philip is the heir and I'm the spare, and if that nervy bastard has a heart attack at thirty five and I've got malaria, whither the spare?”

- “they wanted something less fruity than the truth, but truly, what is gayer than a woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown every day of her life, for the drama?”

- “You are a delinquent and a plague. Please come?”

- “fat and sexually conquered, snuffed out in the spring of my youth. Here lies Prince Henry of Wales. He died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.”

june:  “- that is a clear quartz crystal for good vibes do not @ me.” 

- “He’s just so frail, it’d only take one good push-”

- “ugh! men! no emotional vocabulary. i can’t believe our ancestors survived centuries of wars and plagues and genocide just to wind up with your sorry ass.” 

nora: 

-”sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again? my bad. hello, would you like to come out to me? im listening. hi.” 

“prince henry is a biscuit. let him sop you up.”  

- “you’ve been, like, Draco Malfoy–level obsessed with Henry for years.”

- “i don’t know, man. I was in my junior year of high school, and I touched a boob. It wasn’t very profound. Nobody’s gonna write an Off-Broadway play about it.”

dahra: 

- “You need to get back to fucking England now, and if anyone sees you leave, I will personally end you. Ask me if I’m afraid of the crown.”

- “both sides need to come out of this looking like your little slap-fight at the wedding was some homoerotic frat bro mishap, okay? So, you can hate the heir to the throne all you want, write mean poems about him in your diary, but the minute you see a camera, you act like the sun shines out of his dick, and you make it convincing.”

-”come on, you backyard-shooting-range motherfuckers,”

ellen (should i say PRESIDENT claremont) 

- “Diaz, you insane, hopeless romantic little shit"

-  “I had Planned Parenthood send over all these pamphlets, take one! They sent a bike messenger and everything!”

- ”where? Are you hiding a turkey habitat up your ass, son? Where, in our historically protected house, am I going to put a couple of turkeys until I pardon them tomorrow?”

-“As your mother, I can appreciate that maybe this isn’t your fault, but as the president, all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term.”

PEZ !!!

- “frolic naked in the hills, frighten the sheep, return to the house for the usual: tea, biscuits, casting ourselves onto the Thighmaster of love to moan about the Claremont-Diaz siblings, which has become tragically one-sided since Henry took it up with you. It used to be all bottles of cognac and shared malaise and ‘When will they notice us’-” 

-”-and now i just ask henry, ‘what is your secret?’ and he says, ‘i insult alex all the time, and that seems to work.’” 

**extra: nicer quotes from alex and henry 

alex heartthrob diaz  - "never tell me the odds"

-"we were not afforded that liberty."

-“I hate this so much. I know. But we’re gonna do it together. And we’re gonna make it work. You and me and history, remember? We’re just gonna fucking fight. Because you’re it, okay? I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you. So, I promise you, one day we’ll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.”

- “On purpose. I love him on purpose.”

- “history, huh? Bet we could make some.”

- “But the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.”

-“Take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.”

- “Someone else’s choice doesn’t change who you are.”

- “I am the First Son of the United States, and I'm bisexual. History will remember us.”

- “America: He is my choice.”

- “Give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart, There's so much of you.”

- the entire list of the things he loves about henry. i would die 

henry: 

-”i’ll be damned but i miss you.” 

- “when you rang me at truly shocking hours of the night, I loved you. When you kissed me in disgusting public toilets and pouted in hotel bars and made me happy in ways in which it had never even occurred to me that a mangled-up, locked-up person like me could be happy, I loved you. and then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. Can you believe it?”

- “it sounds like you did your best.”

- “I’ve bloody well had it. I’ve sat about long enough letting you and Gran and the weight of the damned world keep me pinned, and I’m finished. I don’t care. You can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse, Philip. I’m done.”

- “Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all?”

[hobidreams]

Heyyy, sooo when I heard that BTS didn't win, I was so sad ; especially because we know the Grammys are using them for the money and to have people watch their show. Anyway, as I'm not American and I didn't really know how the Grammys worked, I searched on the Internet and I was kinda scared to find things that would confirm the accusations of racism/xenophobia about BTS losing the award. However, I feel like, from what I read, it doesn't seem like it ?? Like I can't tell for sure right but I wanted to know what u think about it cuz here's what I found (sorry if you already knew how it works) : there's the Recording Academy's voting members : songwriters, producers ect, who are in charge of voting for 2 things. First, the artists who get nominated and then the ones who win. Sooo my conclusion is that, they wouldn't have voted for them in the first place to get them nominated if it was really xenophobic, right ?

It kinda ease my mind to think that it's very much possible that it's just a matter of "Who they thought deserved it the most".

Just wanted to share this, sorry to bother and I wish u all the best with your writing ! ❤

Lots of love ❤

hi babe. i can tell youre coming from a good place. i don’t wanna burst your bubble & i’m usually all for looking on the bright side of things but in this case... im sorry but there definitely IS a selection bias.

the way i see it is that nominations are really just that. they’re not awards. if you ask me, the Recording Academy had a tremendous amount of pressure on them to do something for BTS. they’ve seen the power that BTS holds for getting viewers. they wanted to use that for their advantage. this is proven by the way they put BTS last because they KNEW their viewership would drop the second the boys finished performing. just look at how the viewercount of the youtube pre-show stream went from 1 mil -> 500k, literally HALVED, after the Pop Duo/Group award was announced. the Grammys have been losing viewership year after year, so they needed BTS’ starpower. yes the voting committee might be made of many people, but that doesnt mean a group of people cant be biased as they vote (see any political election ever). honestly the grammys are less actual awards & more like a huge marketing ploy lol. by nominating them, they had another excuse to put the boys in more marketing material. what im saying is they most definitely would have nominated BTS without ever having the intention of giving them the grammy. these two things are not correlated.

also, the thing is, you need to keep in mind that racist and xenophobic actions have been going on LONG before BTS were ever on the scene. i’ve seen too many people focus on BTS’ loss to the point that they seem to not even recognize that this is nothing new. even if the boys DID win, the grammys would STILL be xenophobic & racist. black artists in particular have been snubbed time and time again by the Grammys. what other reason could there be for not nominating The Weeknd for ANYTHING this year even though his song has been such a favorite on the charts all year? in 2019, after winning his grammy, Tyler the Creator spoke out about how they keep forcing black artists into the rap/urban categories even when they are clearly making pop. he explains it well here. it's like a consolation prize while they save the big awards for the white people. if you're not from America or another largely-white country, then you might not know that this is a typical attitude towards POC: uplift or hire or nominate one person to say "hey we're diverse!" while not actually making any real efforts to be inclusive.

also do notice that most of the POC artists that won awards did so on the non-televised portion of the night, and they were forced to endure the absolute garbage that was Bill Burr, butchering their names & joking about it. so im sorry. i cant agree with you even though i wish these award shows were so much better than they are too 😔 (thanks for the love & for asking my thoughts on the matter! 💗)

[olderthannetfic]

It's really surprising that you're so well versed in older fandoms and yet participate in new popular ones (that cdrama, kpop) is this by design? Im in my twenties and my interest turnover is already way slower than it used to be

You know, that’s a really interesting question. I wouldn’t say it’s by design exactly in that I do tend to just follow what strikes my fancy, and I can’t force myself to want to write fic for just anything. (I find it easier to like reading fic without serious involuntary emotional investment, but writing takes more. Vidding I can do on command most of the time, but I don’t usually bother unless I have a lot of feels or I’m fulfilling someone’s prompt.)

However, me getting into BTS was 100% due to me wanting to understand BTS enough to explain to people who weren’t very interested but wanted to know what was going on in fandom lately. Under normal circumstances, I run the dance party at Escapade, the oldest extant slash con. We borrowed vividcon’s thing of playing fanvids on the wall--all of them set to dance music--as the soundtrack for the dance party. This means I’m creating a 3-hour mixtape of fannishness, which has amazing potential to make people feel in the know about Fandom Today... and equal potential to make them feel alienated if nothing they care about shows up. Only about 100-150 people attend the con, so it really is possible to make a playlist that feels inclusive yet informative--it just takes a huge amount of work.

Every year, I do a lot of research on which fandoms are getting big and look for vids from vidders people won’t have heard of, so there is an element of consciously trying to keep up with things. Generally, I only get into these fandoms myself if I had no idea what they were and then suddenly, oops, they’re my kryptonite, like the buddy cop android plot in Detroit: Become Human, which sucked me in hard for like 6 months on the basis of a vid.

(So if you’re into cross-fandom meta and associated stuff as one of your fannish interests, you tend to have broader knowledge of different fandoms, old and new, than if you’re just looking for the next place you’ll read fic. It’s also easier to love vids for unfamiliar things than fic.)

But though I was only looking for a basic primer on BTS, BTS has 7 members with multiple names and no clear juggernaut pairing, not to mention that AU that runs through the music videos and lots of other context to explain. The barrier to understanding WTF was going on at all was high enough that to know enough to explain, I had to be thoroughly exposed... And once I was over that hurdle, oops, I had a fandom.

--

In terms of old vs. new, here’s the thing: kpop fandoms in English and c-drama fandoms in English right now feel a lot like anime fandom in English did in the early 00s. I had a Buddy Cops of the 70s phase in the middle, but my current fannishness is actually a return to my older fannishness in many ways.

What do I mean about them being similar?

Yes, I know some wanker will show up to say I think China, Korea, and Japan are indistinguishable, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the way that I used to routinely meet Italian and French and German fans, Argentinian and Mexican, Malaysian and Indonesian and Filipino too. English-language fandom of SPN or MCU may have all those fans from all those countries, but it feels very American most of the time. English-language fandom of a non-English-language canon is more overtly about using English as a lingua franca.

It also tends to attract people who as a sideline to their fannishness are getting into language learning and translation, which are my other passion in life after fanworks fandom. (I speak only English and Spanish and a bit of Japanese, but I’ve studied German, French, Russian, Mandarin, Old English, and now Korean.)

Nerds arguing about methods of language learning and which textbooks are good and why is my jam. This is all over the place in English-language fandoms of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean media. Those fandoms also tend to be full of speakers coming from a Germanic or Romance languages background who face similar hurdles in learning these languages. (In other words, if you’re a native Japanese speaker trying to learn Korean, the parts that will be hard for you are different than if you’re an English speaker, but you’re also usually not doing fandom in English.)

There’s also an element of scarcity and difficulty of access and a communal attempt to construct a canon (in the other sense) of stuff from that country that pertains to one’s fannishness. So, for example, a primer explaining the genre of xianxia is highly relevant to being a n00b Untamed fan, but just any old thing about China is not. A c-drama adapted from a danmei webnovel is perhaps part of the new pantheon of Chinese shit we’re all getting into, but just any old drama from decades ago is probably not... unless it’s a genre precursor to something else we care about. Another aspect here is that while Stuff I Can Access As A N00b Who Doesn’t Speak The Language may be relatively scarce, there’s a vast, vast wealth of stuff that exists.

This is what it felt like to be an anime fan in the US in 2000. As translation got more commercial and more crappy series were licensed and dumped onto an already glutted market, the vibe changed. No longer were fans desperately trying to learn enough of the language to translate or spending their time cataloguing what existed or making fanworks about a show they stuck with for a bit: the overall community focus turned to an endless race of consumption to keep up with all of the latest releases. That’s a perfectly valid way of being fannish, but if I wanted that, I’d binge US television 24/7.

Anime fandom got bigger, but what I liked about anime fandom in English died, and I moved on. (Okay, I first moved on to Onmyouji, which is a live action Japanese thing, but still.)

Hardcore weeaboos and now fans of Chinese and Korean stuff don’t stop at language: people get excited about cooking, my other other great passion. Times a thousand if the canon is something like The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, which is full of loving shots of food preparation. People get excited about history! Mandarin and Japanese may share almost nothing in terms of grammar or phonology, but all of East Asia has influence from specific Chinese power centers historically, and there are commonalities to historical architecture and clothing that I love.

I fell out of love with the popular anime art styles as they changed, and I’m not that into animation in general these days. (I still own a shitton of manga in art styles I like, like Okano Reiko’s Onmyouji series.) I’ve become a filmmaker over the last decade, and I’m very excited about beautiful cinematography and editing. With one thing and another, I’m probably not going to get back into anime fandom, but it’s lovely to revisit the cultural aspects I enjoyed about it via live-action media.

BTS surprised me too, to be honest. I really dislike that early 90s R&B ballad style that infests idol music (not just Korean--believe me, I resisted many rounds of “But Johnny’s Entertainment though!” back in the day). While I like some of the dance pop, I just don’t care. But OH NO, BTS turn out to be massive conscious hip hop fanboys, and their music sounds different. I have some tl;dr about my reactions in the meta I wrote about one of my fanvids, which you can find on Dreamwidth here.

--

But back to your comment about turnover: I know fans from the 70s who’ve had one great fannish love and that’s it and more who were like that but eventually moved on to a second or third. They’re... really fannishly monogamous in a way I find hard to comprehend. It was the norm long ago, but even by the 90s when far more people were getting into fandom, it was seen as a little weird. By now, with exponentially more people in fandom, it’s almost unheard of. I think those fans still exist, even as new people joining, but we don’t notice them. They were always rare, but in the past, only people like that had the stamina to get over the barriers to entry and actually become the people who made zines or were willing to be visibly into fanfic in eras when that was seen as really weird. On top of that, there’s an element of me, us, judging the past by what’s left: only people with an intense and often single passion are visible because other people either drifted away or have seamlessly disappeared into some modern fandom. They don’t say they’re 80 or 60 or 40 instead of 20, so nobody knows.

In general, I’m a small fandoms and rare ships person. My brain will do its best to thwart me by liking whatever has no fic even in a big fic fandom... (Except BTS because there is literally fic for any combination of them, like even more than for the likes of MCU. Wow. Best fandom evar!) So I have an incentive to not get complacent and just stick with one fandom because I would very soon have no ability to be in fandom at all.

My appetite for Consuming All The Things has slowed way down, but it also goes in waves, and a lot of what I’m consuming is what I did back in 2000: journal articles and the limited range of English-language books on the history of m/m sex and romance in East Asia. It’s not so much that I have a million fandoms as that I’m watching a few shows as an expression of my interest in East Asian costume dramas and East Asian history generally.

I do like to sit with one thing and experience it deeply rather than moving on quickly, but the surface expression of this has changed depending on whether I’m more into writing fic or more into doing research or something else.

But yes, I do do a certain amount of trying to stay current, often as a part of research for fandom meta or to help other people know what’s going on. Having a sense of what’s big doesn’t automatically mean getting into all those things, but I think some fans who are older-in-fandom and/or older-in-years stop being open to even hearing what’s new. And if you’ve never heard of it, you’ll never know if you might have liked it.

[toriwakes]

Chrysanthemums [Draco Malfoy x Potter!Reader]

summary: you’ve lived in america for the past 15 years of your life. then, everything changed with one letter.

content warnings: very light cursing. some angst (?)

a/n: omg hi!! officially my second request, im so excited to share!! i know it’s SUUUUPER long but bars with me? i’m so proud of it and i’d actually love to do a mini series w this so lmk what u all think! ty for the request @peneflop !

everyone in america knew about harry potter. even though voldemort was a criminal in another country, americans felt just as worried. when the news got out, everyone was all over you. ‘(y/n) potter! are you related to him?’ you didn’t know the answer. but it was most likely not, right?

you sat next to your best friends, wishing them a good morning. “want to go pick up the mail?” lena asked. you nodded. the three of you walked down the halls, giggling and gossiping. “what’re you doing for halloween, (y/n)?” gina asked. you shrugged. “dunno. probably nothing. why?” she let out a dramatic gasp. “you’ve gotta come to this party! please don’t miss it, it’s gonna be amazing!” you laughed at her and turned the corner, entering the mail room. “i’ll think about it.” she made a face and you all separated to open your mail boxes. you flipped through your letters- nothing special. then something caught your eye. a parchment envelope with a burgundy wax seal. “guys?” your two friends rushed over. “what?” the said in unison. with a shaky hand, you lifted up the letter. “holy.” “shit.”

it was settled. you were moving to london and going to hogwarts. you were not keen on the idea at all, but the albus dumbledore demanded you be there. no witch could just say no. right now you were at the station, watching as hundreds of witches and wizards staggered around. “why’d you have to go before halloween?” gina sighed. you pouted. “i’ll write to you both once a week. i’ll tell you everything.” “yeah, you better!” lena teased. then you were met with anna. anna was your care taker. she wasn’t related to you but she cared for you since you didn’t have any connections to your family. you were told that your parents died in a car crash and they were both only children, so you had no aunts or uncles. poor circumstances, but that was your life. “i’m gonna miss you.” you said it quickly, afraid you may cry if you spoke too slow. “i’ll miss you too.” she was already crying. “now go, everyones already on.” you hugged them and waved goodbye before boarding the train.

you didn’t know anyone here. you shuffled to the back of the train and tried not to make yourself stand out too much. you walked back as far as you could and found yourself in a dark section of the train with empty booths. you smiled and sat down, pulling out your book that you brought along. you were daydreaming of lena and gina when you heard footsteps. when you shifted your gaze to the doorway, you jaw almost dropped. a tall (yet skinny) pale boy stood there. he along with two beefy men didn’t pay any mind to you. you hoped they wouldn’t notice you, but you were the only one there, it was unlikely they wouldn’t. they actually all got situated and you thought you were in the clear- until someone else came in. “i saw the saint on the way in. almost puked.” a brunette girl in all black clothes joked. they all laughed. “how was everyone’s- oh?” she saw you. the three boys looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. “hello, i’ve never seen you.” she spoke softly and say in front of you. “yeah. i’m new, it’s nice to meet you.” you stuck out your hand for a handshake. “american? that’s cute. i’m pansy.” she took your hand and you smiled. “pansy, that’s a pretty name. like the flower?” she didn’t say anything. you cleared your throat awkwardly. “i’m (y/n).” she smiled as a response. “would you three stop being so rude? introduce yourselves!” she was referring to the three boys. the blonde one stood up first. “malfoy.” he said curtly. you gave him a friendly smile. he didn’t return it. “goyle. that’s crabbe. he doesn’t talk much.” crabbe gave you a smile that you gladly returned. “come sit with us.”

for the next hour or so you bonded with your three new friends. pansy did most of the talking, goyle occasionally dropping in. draco didn’t speak too much but you could tell he was listening. every time he did, however, your ears got hot and you felt warm. he was very cute, but you didn’t know him like that. “the trolly is passing. (y/n), if i gave you some galleons would you get us some snacks? anything is fine.” you nodded, but were mildly confused. what the fuck are galleons? “pansy, she’s american. she doesn’t know what galleons are.” draco said. “oh- that’s right. go with her then.” pansy suggested. you took the gold coins from pansy and stood, draco following you. “hello! anything from the trolly?” the kind old woman asked. you picked out the thinks that look the nicest, draco talking the coins from your hand and giving them to the woman. you ignored the race in your heart when his hand touched yours. “did you get that?” he asked. you nodded. “you don’t speak too much, do you.” it wasn’t really a question. as you were about to answer, you made eye contact with a boy with very round glasses. could it be harry? draco noticed this and ushered you forward. “don’t talk to him.” just wait till they found out about your last name...

the students piled into the great hall, which was huge and rather beautiful. gather headmaster, who you recognized as professor dumbledore rose and spoke a few words. then, he made eye contact with you. “let the sorting ceremony begin!” you shuffled in with all the first years feeling awkward. the upper class man gave you strange looks- they must’ve thought you were daft. finally, you heard your name. “(y/n) potter?” you heard gasps in every direction. you stepped forward and sat on the stool. then, you felt the hat on your head. your hands were sweating.“another potter, eh? same qualities as the first yes... but where to put you?” everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seats. the 7 minutes that had passed felt like 10 hours. then, you heard a small voice in your head. this voice wasn’t yours. “what’ll it be then? gryffinor or slytherin?’ you blinked. ‘just put me where you think i’ll exceed.’ you don’t know how, but you felt the sorting hat smirk. “SLYTHERIN!” the hat boomed. a mixture of gasps and cheers erupted. the witch who sorted you pointed to the direction of the house decorated in green and silver- you beamed when you saw pansy. you sat next to her and she embraced you into a hug. “bloody hell, you didn’t tell me you were a potter! you don’t remember anything from that night, do you?” draco didn’t say anything. “what do you mean?” you asked. now they all just looked at you weird. “do you actually not know what happened?” draco asked. you shook your head. “(y/n)...almost a decade ago, voldemort killed your parents. you and harry survived, you’re the only two that have ever lived after getting hit with the killing curse.” hearing all of this was almost too much to handle. so you did have a family? it wasn’t a car crash? your brother is the chosen one? “how? how did no one know?” pansy looked at you with pity. “you two were separated as infants. no one knew what you looked like. besides, for some reason you don’t have the scar like he does.” pansy said while moving your hair out of your face. scar? like the one on your chest? you didn’t mention it, but you wondered if that was what she meant. “we’ll treat you all the same. don’t you fret.” pansy smiled. “thank merlin she’s not a gryffindor though.” goyle commented. everyone laughed. “what’s wrong with the gryffindors?” draco eyed the table behind you. “they’re a bunch of snobs. think they’re so much better than everyone because they’ve got potter on their side, well guess what? now so do we.” you hummed and turned around. harry was gazing at you already.

that night you found a tie, a sweater, some slytherin robes and a little slytherin flag in your dorm. if harry was a gryffinor, shouldn’t you also be? you shook your head from the thought- you’re done second guessing yourself. to take your mind off it, you pulled out your stationary and began to write to your best friends back in america. boy did you have some things to share...

officially 3 weeeks till halloween. your friends were sending you letter about how excited they were, but you were bummed. you didn’t tell them that your parents died on halloween, you knew it would kill the fun for them. you smiled at the letter and the cute picture of them attached. you pinned it to the cork board- right next to the slytherin flag. you smiled to yourself and grabbed your school bag, existing the dorms and heading into the common rooms. your friends seemed to be waiting for you. “finally! i’m starved, let’s go.” pansy linked arms with you and led you out, hiding you to the great hall. the stares you used to revive everywhere faded. it was like you were always there. “what classes do you all have today?” you questioned, biting into your bagel. “astronomy, potions, transfiguration and defense. you?” draco asked. you and draco finally became formal friends. you owed it all to the many classes you shared together and pansy’s constant pestering. “the same. i just gave potions first.” everyone dove into conversation about their school schedule, followed by how much they hated it. you laughed every now and then but your mind was somewhere else. you had harry in a few classes today. you and him haven’t talked at hall, surprisingly. you were simply too intimidated to do so. “(y/n)!” goyle was calling you. “yeah?” “i said we better get going. if your first class is potions, you don’t want to be late.” you simply nodded and headed with your group to your classes. everyone broke off to their classes as you walked around the castle, but you noticed that draco stuck with you. “i thought you had astronomy?” you only asked once he was outside your classroom. “i do.” “then why are you here?” you never really noticed how much taller draco was than you. “i just wanted to make sure you got here safe. if that not what friends do?” you cocked a brow. “you never walk me to my classes. “bloody hell, im sorry i won’t do it again!” he said quickly. you chuckled. “that’s more like it.” at that, you entered class and he walked away. there was something about him...

“pay attention mrs.granger.” you felt like rolling your eyes at your professor. he was always finding a reason to kick on the gryffindors. however when snape saw nearly everyone was struggling, he huffed and raised his hands to gain the class’s attention. “alright. split into groups of two and finish the potion. do not pair with someone from your house.” everyone shuffled around- harry was looking at you. you acted first, picking up your books and moving to harry’s desk. “hi.” you said. “hello.” he responded. you two worked silently but used teamwork. you ready him instructions while he acted out. “wow, we’re doing way better than i thought we would’ve.” you gave him a curious look. “not that i didn’t think you’d do good, i meant-“ you cut him off by laughing. “you really are my brother aren’t you?” he went quiet. “about that.” you moved your head up to look at him. “i guess we should talk about it.” he nodded in agreement. snape approached your table. “since you two like to do a lot of chatting, we’ll test your potion. snape stuck a dropper in the potion and poured it onto a round item covered in warts. slowly but surely, the warts popped away. “perhaps you’re not as incompetent as i thought.” was all he said before leaving the cauldron and dismissing you both.

you and harry spent the rest of potions and a bit of lunch sitting outside, talking about life and everything you missed out on. “so when you were thirteen- you blew up our aunt?” harry laughed harder at the memory. “harry! there you are.” hermione and ron showed up behind him. “oh- hey guys. wanna sit?” hermione gave you an uncomfortable look. “i’d love to, but i need to speak to you alone harry.” just in cue, you heard your best friends voice. “(y/n)!” you turned around and saw pansy as well as draco. “it’s fine, i have to go anyway. see you later.” you hugged your brother and you both split off. “finally talked to him?” pansy questioned. “yeah. it felt good.” she smiled as a response and the three of you settled on hanging out near the lank for the remainder of lunch. you didn’t catch it, but draco smiled at your happiness.

one week till halloween. you were more upset than happy, but harry wasn’t too effected, but he’s known the truth for 4 years. you found out last month. since it was a weekend, the hogwarts students were roaming about, chatting about their plans for the big night. your friends apologized to you, explaining that they all had detention early morning with mcgonagall. well- all but one. draco walked up to you in the common room and sat beside you. over the past month you and draco became even closer than before. you found yourself having a lot of alone time with him, learning new things about the boy every time. the more you learned a the more interested you became, and before you knew it; you were slowly falling for draco malfoy.

“hey.” you chimed. “do you want to go for a walk?” he said after a minute of silence. you noticed he wasn’t making eye contact with you. you set down your book slowly. finally he looked at you, curious why you were taking so long to answer. “are you bloody deaf? i asked if you wanted to go for a walk.” you giggled while nodding. “yes-yes, i just love hearing how sassy you get. cmon.” you left first and you could hear draco mumbling something along the lines of ‘i’m not sassy...’ under his breath. you thought he was adorable.

the two of you ended up at the lake. it became a usual hangout spot for you and your friends. you did things like talk the day away, finish homework and especially practice magic here. there was a small patch of flowers in the grass- that’s how you identified your spot. as you and draco relaxed you flicked your wand, a flower now blooming in your hand. “..you love that spell.” he said, interrupting his last sentence. you looked at him, moving your body so that you were facing him. “guess i do.” you hummed softly, leaning forward to tuck the chrysanthemum behind his ear. he looked at you like you had three heads- was he not used to kind gestures? “that looks nice next to your hair.” you commented. his confused gaze stuck. you ignored it and continued swishing your wand, anxious that you may have done something wrong. just then, draco let out a sigh. “goddamnit.” he sounded defeated. “what’s wrong?” you asked. he finally looked at you normally, but this time he looked sad. “you. this is all your fault, you know that? i’m supposed to be this cold hearted, asshole type of guy. i wasn’t going to let myself get soft for some girl, especially an american.” you had no idea where he was going with this. the more he spoke, the more nervous you got. is he saying he doesn’t want to be friends? “but you’re so kind, and smart. you care so much about your friends and those you love. how could i not like you? and you being gorgeous is just a bonus...” you could not believe what you were hearing. was he admitting to having feelings for you? the silence scared him, so you spoke up. “are you saying what i think you’re saying?” he winced. “bloody hell, i’m saying i like you, you dimwit!” so you were right. “well..i like you too, draco?” he widened his eyes and tilted his head as if to say, ‘really?’ “yes, you dimwit.” you mocked. he chuckled and pulled out his wand. “hold out your hands and close your eyes.” you did as he asked, feeling something sprout in your palms. “open.” when you did, what appeared to be a flower crown (made up from chrysanthemums) rested in your hands. you gasped from joy, lifting it up so you could get a better look at it. “i love it.” you spoke. “(y/n)...would you ever consider being my girlfriend?” you felt time stop. draco really wanted you to be his girlfriend. “yes!” you said happily. he beamed back at you, looked at the flower-clad ground and smiling even brighter. “cool.” he chuckled. “cool.” you responded.

a few days later when you finally got the chance, you ran to your dorm to write to lena and gina. they were gonna flip! just as you planted the wax seal, you heard screaming coming from outside your door. there was pansy, bursting in and hugging you. “you’re dating draco?! oh my god!” she squealed. you laughed at the excitement. “yes! it’s amazing isn’t it?” you said. “yes! oh i’m so excited, my two best friends- dating!!!” pansy smiled greatly. “i’m going to the owlery, would you-“ “DRACO! take your girlfriend to the owlery!” you shook your head at pansy, bidding her goodbye and leaving with draco.

“who are you sending this to?” draco questioned as you attached the letter to the owls leg. “my friends back in america.” you stared as the owl flew away, farther and father, until it was out of sight. suddenly you felt a hand wrap around your waist- draco was looking at you with heart eyes. “what?” you laughed. “you’re just...really gorgeous.” you blushed hard. you didn’t even notice that you were staring at draco’s lips- and he was staring back. you both leaned in closer and one of his plate hands cupped your cheek. “can i kiss you?” he whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure you heard it. still, you nodded and he closed the gap. his lips were as soft as clouds, fitting like a missing puzzle piece with yours. you could’ve stayed like that forever; just you and him. but all good things must come to an end, right? “(y/n)?” the voice of your brother alarmed you, making you break away from draco. “potter.” draco spat. “get away from her!” harry ran to pull you away from him, standing in front of you as if draco was going to hurt you. “harry what are you doing?” you whined, moving him out of the way so now you were in between the boys. the way the two boys looked at each other- you knew there was some history you haven’t discovered. “protecting you? you don’t know what he could’ve brought you up here for!” draco looked at you; he was extremely annoyed. “harry, draco’s my boyfriend. i’m fine..” harry’s mouth hung open, eyes flickering from you to draco and back again. “potter, is there a problem?” draco asked in his usual sassy voice. “let’s see; you’re dating my sister, why would we have a problem malfoy?” shit.

harry stormed away out of rage. the walk back to the common rooms was silent. your head was too full to talk. you had just reconnected with harry, were you going to ruin it all just by being with draco? you really likes the blonde, but was he worth ruining your new founded family? “what are you thinking about?” he spoke finally. you snapped out of your gaze, shaking your head. “nothing.” “no, i know you’re thinking. you get all quiet when you think.” he knew you well, which made you feel a little better. “i think harry’s mad at me. i just met him and he already hates me.” draco cupped your cheeks, making you look at him. “listen to me- he does not hate you. you’re his sister, his only family. he couldn’t hate you.” you smiled in his hands. you told him you’d meet him back in the common room later. you had to find harry.

you walked around the castle for what felt like an hour, finally finding him in an empty classroom on the third floor. you entered silently. he was sitting on a desk with his back facing you. “hi.” you choked out. harry turned around and said nothing when he saw you. you took it upon yourself to sit next to him. “harry-“ “do you like him? like, actually like him?” you thought about it for a moment. you considered lying, maybe that’ll make him hate you less. but you knew he’d eventually find out and it’s only make things worse. “yeah. i do.” harry put his face in his hands. “not only are you a slytherin but you’re dating my sworn enemy.” he shook his head and laughed while saying it. “hey!” you said while playfully shoving him. the laughter died and you sat in sad silence again. “i don’t me being with draco to mess up our relationship.” harry but his lip in thought. “is there anything i could do to make it up to you?” you pleaded. an idea popped into your head. you pulled out your wand and swished it- a flower wreath following. “chrysanthemums?” harry asked, taking the wreath into his hands. you smiled. “yeah.” he put the wreath on his head as a joke, but it brushed some of his hair out of his forehead on the way. “i meant to ask you about the scar.” “what about it?” he said. you moves your shirt down, exposing the lightning bolt scar on your chest. “blimey.” he looked very shocked. “i don’t really know what this means.” you whispered. harry shook his head, implying he didn’t either. “are we alright then?” harry fidgeted with the wreath. it dawned upon him that no- he couldn’t stay mad at you. you’re the only family he has left. “i guess.”

over the next week you magras to patch things up with harry and draco well enough to celebrate halloween in peace. the feast was ravishing. you ate so many sweets that you couldn’t imagine having back in america. as per usual you sat with the slytherins- but something was telling you u that you should be with harry. so without a second though you turned to draco, “what do you think of eating with harry?” he almost spit out his pumpkin juice. “you brother hates me (y/n), you know that.” he knew you were going to get your way, but he was trying to convince you not to. your mind was made up. “he’ll have to deal with it.” let’s just say gryffindor wasn’t too fond of having slytherins at their table.

being draco’s girlfriend was a blessing. he showered you with gifts, affection, appreciation. you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. there was never a time where you doubted his feelings for you. now was one of them. you two were in his dorm, listening to the soft, low music coming from his record player. you were both just gazing at the ceiling while wrapped in each other’s arms. it’s not that you didn’t love lazy days with draco- you certainly did. you just really wanted to do something right now. “draco?” you finally said. “hmm?” you loved when he responded with a hum. you couldn’t explain why, but it made you go all fuzzy inside. “i wanna do something fun,” you flipped over so you were hovering above him now. he scrunched his brows. “like what?” you thought about it. what could two, 15 year olds do at one in the morning? “wanna sneak into the kitchens?” he burst out in laughter. you wanted to ask him what was so funny, but with a smile like that? you had to laugh with him. “alright- alright. let’s go.” so that’s how you two ended up there, pajamas and all. everything would’ve gone fine if draco would’ve just worn shoes. “bloody hell!” he screamed, dropping all the snacks. draco stubbed his toe on a nearby cart, and of course he had to be dramatic about it. “draco hush!-“ but it was too late. the lights turned on and the house elves caught you, immediately reporting to filch.

you never wished draco wasn’t such a diva more than right now. your saturday was being stolen by detention. even though you were with him, the detention was being watched by snape and you weren’t risking it again. you checked the clock; still two hours? god, you were gonna be here forever if something didn’t happen- “professor!” it was dolores umbridge, dressed in all pink, stumbling through the door. “yes, professor?” snape sneered. she straightened herself up and spoke in her high voice, “there are difficulties with some gryffindor student i could use some assistance with.” she said. “is there anyone else you can ask? i’m preoccupied at the moment..” she giggled. “yes, but i’m sure these students will listen to you.” umbridge looked at you and draco, obviously noticing the green color on your robes. “besides. i’m sure they’ve learned their lesson- haven’t you, children?” you both nodded frantically. “you’re dismissed.” you and draco shot up, not asking any questions and only daring to speak once they were both out of ear shot. “you’re an idiot, you know that?” you told him, playfully (but not really) shoving him to the side. he took your hand and put it in his, smirking to himself more than at you. “‘m your idiot.” rolled your eyes at the blonde. he really was.

before you knew it, the school year was passing by. you and harry were going to america along with some other friends to visit your home. ron was a nervous reck on the plane, not understanding why muggles put themselves through this torture. finally the four of you landed, slowly but surely making it through security and such. that’s when you spotted your two best friends- from miles away, at that. you ran towards them at full speed, almost toppling then over when you embraced them. “i missed you so much!” lena shouted. “i missed you too! god i have so many stories- oh! i need to introduce you to some people!” you face palmed, completely forgetting about your guests. “this-“ you grabbed harry’s arm and shoved him in front of you. “-is harry.” your friends gave you the exact same look; ‘is he..?’ you nodded. “erm- pleasure to meet you. i’m her brother.” both their eyes went wide, and they both hopped on him. “anna is going to go crazy! two potters- wow! she’s already had enough with toria let me tell you-“ “gina!” you scolded. she just laughed. “ah yes, this is ron, he hated me when i first met him.” ron threw his arms up. “you’re a slytherin, what’d you expect?” you hit him in the head as a response. you also ignored how lena ogled ron. then, you felt your boyfriends long arm snake around your waste and press a chaste kiss to your head. “it’s not as bad as i thought it’d be here.” he commented. “and this my dear friends; is draco. my boyfriend.” draco smiled kindly and held out his hand. they both shook it. harry rolled his eyes in annoyance. then you saw her. “anna!” you’ve done a lot of screaming today, you noticed. harry showed up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder. “who’s that?”

harry almost cried when he found out he had a guardian. he had told you about sirius, but he sadly passed away. it’s like he was getting a second chance. anna took you all home in her van (ron getting even more nervous now). right now, all of you sat in anna’s back yard. “did you learn anything cool over there? new spells?” gina inquired. you smirked, pulling out your wand and preforming the spell you’ve mastered this school year.

“chrysanthemums?”

[mintmatcha]

9 months, 28 days

Chapter 3 of 10 Months

CW: discussions of death

A/N: this is the end of the beginning! im not sure exactly how long this stories going to be but yolo

The cafe is almost empty, just like always. That’s why they loved this place so much as kids. No one they knew was ever here, sitting in the mothball scented booths- only the occasional elderly couple who didn’t give a fuck that the place hadn’t updated it’s decor since 1995. Clouds rolled in overnight, painting the town a somber grey. Mattsun feels like it should match his mood, but it doesn’t. He’s not sad, he just… is. There’s this weird, turbulent void in his chest where his despair should lie.

Hanamaki’s in the corner when he arrives, nestled into the booth with a mug. He watches the rain trickle down the window, tracing the paths of the drops with his finger tips. It’s very ‘white girl protagonist’ Mattsun decides. Like he’s the star of a Hallmark movie. The void in his chest pulses and he swears, just for a flash, it was warm.

“Hanamaki.” Mattsun slides in across from him.

“Well, lookie here at the big boy in his big boy suit.” Hanamaki taps his nails against the glass, not even looking at his friend. “Did your mom help you pick that out?”

“This is technically a business meeting, so I had to wear something nice.” he explains. “Or else my boss is going to think I’m just screwing around.”

That’s what it feels like. It feels like work. He’s just putting all of this into his little box, so he can file it away in the storage files of his mind. He’ll process it later, when the moment’s right.

Or never.

Makki tents his fingers together, like he’s some sort of super villain. He’s always had this casual, uncaring air about him, but it seems to have developed further into a chaotic mess. “Ah, so you’ve decided to plan my fun-eral.”

The black haired man sighs. “Only if you stop calling it that.”

The waitress wanders up, expecting orders in her typical, unfriendly way. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the same woman from years ago, still equally sick of her job.

Neither of the men look at the menu. Mattsun orders a cheeseburger omelette and a coffee with six sugars, the same horrible thing he’s been getting since high school. ‘The American Experience’, they called it. Makki orders plain toast, notably not the same thing he’s been getting since high school.

“You should eat more,” Mattsun says, “You’re too thin.”

“Who are you? My mom?” he takes a long swip from his mug,

“If I was, I wouldn’t be-” Mattsun stops himself, much to Makki’s delight.

“Oh, please make a dead mom joke. Please.” Makki’s on the edge of his seat, leaning halfway across the table, “My mom would have loved you making a joke about her.”

Mattsun slinks down so far that his knees pump against the booth across from him. “That’s… yeah, you’re right. She would have loved it.”

Mattsun wants to say he misses her, but it doesn't seem fair. To miss Hanamaki Hana would be to miss Hanamaki Takahiro, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to miss Hiro.

Makki looks exactly like his father. He's there in the too thin nose, the gap between his canines and molars, and the clubbed way their fingernails grew.

but his mom's in his idiosyncrasies. She's in the laughter, the winks, the tiny things that make Takahiro himself. Truly a mama's boy, Makki taps his cup against his front teeth the same way she did. It's their thinking face.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mattsun regains control. His notebook and reading materials jut out against his stomach from their spot in his coat.

“Are you really sick?” It surprises both of them. Maybe it was the thought sitting at the top of his head, maybe he meant to say it. All of this just feels too sudden, too random, Mattsun just can’t quiet his doubts.

This is why the time apart was good; Makki made him do stupid things, made his brain stop working.

“I- uh. Yeah.” Makki's face doesn't change, but his shoulders fall. The tension in his body deflates as he goes back to looking out the window. "You're such a dick."

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You really think I’d lie about all of this?” he laughs, but it's flat, "To do what? To crawl back into your life?"

"That's not what-"

"Newsflash, asshole- I've been doing great without you.” the mug slams against the table, “I've been really, truly, wonderfully happy since-"

The other man picks up one of the pieces of toast and examines it, before carefully ripping the crust off. It’s a delicate procedure, carefully peeling off the edge on one, long piece. Makki opens his mouth to continue, then closes it with a low, thoughtful hum as he rolls the crust into a little ball.

"Makki." Mattsun holds up a finger, pausing the conversation for a moment as the waitress approaches. They sit in silence, mumbling only a quiet thank you as she

drops off the plates. She doesn't seem to notice the tension in the air or if she does, she doesn't care. She pours the coffee carefully, counts out the sugar packets like she's rationing them. As soon as she turns, he sighs and curls his hand into a tight fist, holding it in the air for a second before letting it fall. "Continue."

“This was a dumb idea. Forget I even asked you to do this.” he tosses the bread ball into his mouth and chews, “I’m just gonna go.” Standing suddenly, he grabs his coat from the booth beside him.

This would be the third time he let Makki leave and, according to the time left, the last. Life is fickle, an unpredictable lace pattern made by the people in your life coming and going. Mattsun was used to dealing with the final goodbyes and usually found comfort in it. No more chapters to write, all secrets buried and forgotten- truly, nothing left but what you can see in rose colored glasses.

And yet some part of him- the stupid part, the crazy part, the self loathing part- panics at the thought of seeing this end.

"I know you're better without me." Mattsun sighs, "But I want to help you, if you'll still let me."

“Stop.” Mattsun’s heart pounds so hard, dancing across his skin, that he can barely recognize he’s touching Makki, holding his wrist down against the table. “Sit. Eat."

Makki just raises a brow.

Reluctantly, he complies, but not before he tugs his hand out of his friend's grasp, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer. A boundary has been set- no touching.

"I'll let you." he turns his attention back to the mangled food on his plate, "But only because I want to finish my toast."

"We good?" They are not, but Mattsun prays for a lie.

"For now. But watch yourself." It's a win, albeit a half hearted one. Mattsun pulls a tiny notebook from an inner pocket of his coat and flips through the pages until he reaches the last page; it's the farthest out thing he's planning, of course. It’s marked ‘The Hanamaki Service.’

They let the silence sit between them as they pick at what’s in front of them. The terrain of this relationship is uneven, constantly changing. It’s like hiking a mountain in the winter, Mattsun decides, one wrong move, one noise too loud, and the whole thing will come crashing down,

Why does he even care?

Makki’s happy without him, he’s fine without Makki.

He shouldn’t care, and yet he stays.

The black haired man stabs a hunk of egg and watches the half melted cheese try to stretch. “So, to put it all simply: what our home does for you is the basics: Legal procurement, transportation, preparation, and disposition- you don't have to worry about any of it. We also offer a location for interment and service, depending on the type of service you require, of course."

"Location?"

Mattsun takes a bite. "For the service and for you to, um, rest."

"You mean rot."

Maybe eating wasn’t the right choice for this conversation. The texture of egg now feels wrong in his mouth.

"Don't say it like that." The preservatives slow that down, so the rot won't happen for a long time, he brain reminds him. It doesn't help.

"I already have those places picked out though." Mattsun waits for a joke to follow, but he’s surprised when his friend says, "Bury me near my mom and hold the service here."

"Here?" Mattsun asks, “There’s nicer places.”

"Save a dying business with a dead guy. It's irony."

"Okay, well. That's-" he sighs and scribbles into his notebook. This wasn’t going to be a traditional job, was it? "At least the catering is done then."

"Perfect." Makki pushes away his empty plate, "I'm a natural at this. You should hire me.”

"Long term positions only, sorry." It slips out before Mattsun can censor himself, but Makki just snorts into his tea.

It’s frustrating that they click together so well, especially because nothing’s been resolved between them. One minute everything threatens to break, the next they can sit here and joke with each other. The issues sit there, waiting in the corner of the room, cocked and ready to fire. If they just didn’t look, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when it finally attacked.

If they didn’t look, maybe they can pretend nothing happened.

Mattsun reminds himself that he doesn’t care. There's still that blank space inside him.

“Next step would be flowers.”

It’s not. They should discuss embalming versus cremation, but the words stick to his throat. He’s asked so many times before, stared forward as loved ones debated what to do without a care in the world. This time shouldn’t be different.

“I’ll think about it. Can’t say I know too many flowers off the top of my head.” Makki digs his phone from his front pocket and scrolls, looking through everything before tapping out a quick question. There's a twitch of his brow, barely furrow, but it's gone in a flash. Before Mattsun can even ask, Makki's gathered his coat in his hands. “Gotta go.”

“What? We just started-” The whiplash is what hurts. Just as Mattsun feels like he's found his footing, it's gone again, slipping out from under him. This must be some level of hell

"Something came up." he shrugs, "Don't worry about it."

"I won't."

"You're such an asshole." he says, "You're supposed to at least pretend to care."

Yeah, he knows. That's how life works. But he can't just pretend; it's a gateway to actually feeling.

"I'll try." Mattsun offers, "It was nice to see you."

Makki rolls his left shoulder over and over again, like he's trying to work out a kink. "Was it? Was it really?"

"Kind of."

"Thanks," there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "We'll do this again."

And like that, with no formal goodbye, he just starts to leave. Mattsun wants to protest, but he’s grateful. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how hard he'd been digging his fingers into his thigh. The void in his stomach somehow feels smaller and larger all at once. He kind of wishes it would just swallow him up and this would all be done with.

It's so easy not to care.

“Oh, and Mattsun?” Makki pauses by the door and picks out a familiar black umbrella that was leaning against the doorframe. He twirls in in his fingers like a baton before pressing the button and letting it unfold. It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Mattsun just looks down at the table. His food is barely touched but he doesn't plan to eat anymore. With his heart in his throat for no good reason, he feels nauseous. Despite himself, he wonders if Makki still smells like cedar aftershave and the discount brand laundry detergent.

“That fucker didn’t pay.”