#in front of everyone bc i should have known better than to do that and pulled her aside to speak privately instead.

[rubberbandballqueen]

boy at work: would you rather have 0 boyfriends or 999 girlfriends

girl at work: 999 girlfriends

boy: WHAT?!?! but that makes you gay!!!!

girl: so?? i'd rather have 999 girlfriends than 0 boyfriends!!!

boy: but that makes you GAY!!!!!

me, finally intervening: and? it's LITERALLY pride month

[moonlightspencie]

reader x spencer + best friends to lovers + angry love confession — hear me out. literally everyone on the team can tell they’re in love & they even realized before they did. maybe one of them has started going on casual dates (and they hate every minute of it bc it’s not the spencer or the reader) bc of this, either spencer or reader start distancing them self from the other because it’s just hurting them to watch that. when they kiss one says “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do this” !!

okay it ended up being a tad different, but i still like the way it turned out!!! definitely still idiots in love lolll

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

—————

“What about you, mama? You got any weekend plans?” Derek asked you, raising a brow.

You smirked. “Yeah. I got some plans.”

His eyes widened in question, waiting for some elaboration. Spencer looked up from his desk, secretly curious to find out what you’d be doing.

Emily grew impatient. “Well? Are you just going to leave us hanging?”

“I’ve got a date,” you said quickly, smiling to yourself as the team reacted.

“Ooh, who’s the lucky guy?” JJ asked, leaning in closer.

“Y’all don’t know him, I can almost guarantee that. My friend Hannah set it up.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, burying himself back in his paperwork. Derek noticed, not letting that reaction slide by without some jeering.

“What? You jealous, pretty boy?”

Everyone’s attention was drawn to Spencer as he glared at Derek. You particularly had interest in the reaction he had. He’d been extra prickly lately, and while part of you hoped he was jealous because you wanted him to care, you also kind of liked the idea of him being annoyed by your actions at least once this week.

“Why would I be?”

“Maybe cause I can actually get a date, for one,” you chimed in, receiving a light smack on the arm from JJ.

You merely shrugged it off.

“I choose not to date anyone who comes along.”

You scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, about to say something more when Derek broke it up, reprimanding you both for acting like ‘a couple of middle schoolers.’

“You started it,” you noted, leveling your gaze at Derek. “I was perfectly content ignoring his little huffy attitude.”

“I’m not being huffy,” Spencer said, staring you down.

“You have been all week.”

“No, I haven’t.”

You quirked a brow, giving him the ‘we’ll talk about this later’ look. He sighed, silently going back to his work. Everyone else decided that was about the time they should return to their own business, knowing better than to get in the middle of you two when you were mad at one another.

Near the end of the day, you decided to go and talk to Spencer about whatever was happening that was causing him to act the way he was. You started walking to his desk, though he abruptly stood and gathered his things.

“Spence,” you called as he tried to leave his desk. “Spencer.”

He ignored you. He really should’ve known you better than to do that. You followed after him, trapping him at last in the elevator.

“What is your issue?” you asked, your tone harsher than you intended.

He sighed hard. “I need to go home. I don’t have an issue.”

You stood in front of him, forcing eye contact that he was desperately trying to avoid.

“You ran away from me.”

“No—”

“Yes. You did, and everyone saw it happen so don’t even try acting like you didn’t.”

“Everyone knows your business already, what’s one more thing?”

You furrowed your brow. “Excuse me?”

The elevator dinged, and he started walking away from you. You pursued him quickly.

“Are you talking about earlier? You really think I was out of bounds to tell our friends I had a date?”

He stayed quiet, his jaw ticking as he pushed out of the doors. He was relentlessly trying to get away, but your willpower could certainly be stronger. You followed him into the parking lot, grabbing him by the arm when he tried getting further.

“Spencer,” you called out, clearly annoyed. “This is ridiculous. You’re going to talk to me about this now or we’re never talking again.”

He turned, staring at you for a few moments. He shook his head, anger on his features that looked deeply out of place.

“Why?”

“Because you’re acting like a toddler—”

“No,” he stopped you. “Why are you— You’re constantly going out. Why? You never did that before. Why now?”

You were taken aback, mentally and physically. You tried formulating an answer, though nothing quite provided a good cover-up for ‘I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I can’t stop thinking about you and I need to get over it’.

“Why do you care?” is what you settled for.

“I don’t know,” he exclaimed. “I just hate it.”

“Then why don’t you go find someone to date?”

“Because I don’t want to,” he said, matching the venom in your voice.

“Why not?”

“They’re not you!”

“Okay? Every person I’ve dated lately hasn’t been you and I’ve gotten over it,” you spit out, not quite realizing yet what either of you had said.

He geared up to yell back at you when his face morphed from anger to sudden confusion.

“Wait, what?”

You still weren’t quite sure why he looked so confused.

“If I can date someone and get over the fact it isn’t you, I’m sure you could manage the same,” you said quickly.

Oh.

“Wait,” you stopped. “What?”

“What do you mean they’re not me?” he asked, still questioning a little aggressively.

“What do you mean?”

His brain connected those remaining puzzle pieces pretty quickly from that point. His face dropped in shock, hands moving before his head could tell him ‘no’. He grabbed your arms to pull you in, hands holding to your face the second you were close enough, slamming his lips to yours. Your own shock faded quickly enough to kiss him back, your own hands grasping at his wrists.

You broke apart after several seconds, looking at him wide-eyed.

“You have no clue how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, words practically tumbling from his mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, still feeling in the mood to argue.

“You didn’t either,” he shot back. “You started dating people.”

“Yeah, dumbass, I had to get over you at some point.”

He rolled his eyes, then settled them back on your face. He took you in, a light smile on his face betraying him.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You nodded. “Same here.”

Derek and Emily strolled out of the building, immediately spotting their two favorite idiots making out next to the government building in which they worked. Emily smiled, then looked at a shocked-but-excited-looking Derek.

She patted him on the shoulder. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

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[rainbluealoekitten]

this is definitely not a witchcraft blog but regardless i do participate occasionally with online witchy theatrics and i have an opinion i'd like to share.

there's too much pressure on learning the basics and not enough resources that teach damage-control.

this is in relation to fear-mongering discourse, bc almost every witchy "content creator" (hate that term) and almost every witchy book, podcast, whatever, seems to put a focus on protecting yourself, putting up wards, easy peasy baby beginner witchcraft. which! yes, that is important, but it also means that it perpetuates the idea (and often full out says) that you should never do blood magic. you should never talk to these entities. you should never make bargains, you should never do divination without cleansing, you should never curse, bla bla bla don't go outside at night!! it's spooky!!!

great, now we've got a bunch of witches who are scared shitless and won't actually do anything beyond blow cinnamon through their front door.

there are a lot of people who claim to be teachers, but a good teacher is someone who pushes you. not someone who limits you.

some witches love to tell you to fuck around and find out, but again, only provide resources on warding. we've got witches who ward so much that they can't even get friendly spirits to talk to them. banishment is seen as a basic skill, but if everyone is too scared to practice their craft, they're not going to even end up with an entity to banish!

i'm starting to ramble, but my point is that i want to see more content, more books, more generalised resources that teach you how to unfuck a situation. not prevent it, unfuck it.

you did blood magic? great, it's not always going to work out, here's how to unbind yourself from this entity, now you know to do this slightly differently. you've done a curse and it's backfired? don't panic, these are some ideas on how you can undo your spell, and next time you might want to choose your words/ingredients more carefully. you wandered into the wrong part of the woods and upset some ancient spirits? it's more common than you think! luckily, there are plenty of ways to go about this situation.

etc etc. people do dumb shit. that is part of life. just like with sex ed, teens aren't going to abstinate, they're going to be too scared to go to an adult when they get an sti.

yes, some practitioners will basically stop practicing out of fear of doing things wrong, and many others will do things wrong and end up entirely alone, scared, and with no resource that can guide them out of it, all because you should have known better, you should have warded, you should have stuck your head in a fucking hole.

anyways. this is the end of my rant but i hope it also comes off as encouragement to anyone who is in some way sharing their practice and sharing resources, especially the much wiser witches who have fucked around, please share what you've learnt. <— i'm asking this in a very sincere, very hopeful way, i really wish it was normalised to share spells and prayers and basic actions to help witches through really tough times.

[daisylark]

Hey, this is kinda gonna be a rant so if you're not in the mood for that feel free to delete.

I saw your post -

https://www.tumblr.com/daisylark/741324260680794112/man-takes-a-womans-spot-in-a-womens-shelter-and?source=share

- and it hit me a certain way. Yes, I understand that this man is making it up, it's a fantasy. But I am a woman who has actually experienced living in a homeless shelter with a man, and it got to me.

I was 19 at the time, this was about six years ago. Literally the first thing he said to me when I walked in was that he still had his dick. (He phrased it as being intact and not having had bottom surgery.) I had no idea what he was talking about. at the time I was unfamiliar with trans ideology. Frantically googling to figure out what was happening was how I originally found radfems, bc they were the only people calling this shit out.

I could go on, but the thing that really gets me is that this experience was six or seven years ago, right. I'm in a better, more stable place in life, and have been seeking therapy for several years now. And the worst thing is THAT EXPERIENCE SPECIFICALLY has been a consistent impediment to getting to help.

Because even when I find a therapist, which is harder than you'd think, and do intake, which is exhausting and damaging every time, etc etc etc, so far no one can handle the specific trauma that I have from seeking shelter when I was at my most vulnerable and being gaslit and forced to cohabit with a man by the ppl who should have protected me.

And because my story is such a hot button issue, everyone kind of blue screens when they hear about it. Y'know? It's a little much to believe, in the current political climate, if you're trying to be a good progressive or whatever, that a 6ft pwecious wittle twans woman would act like that in a woman's homeless shelter. He was in his 40s btw. Ppl don't want to engage with it. They want me to be quiet. They've already decided I'm exaggerating.

The last therapist I had I started talking about this experience and the way it damaged my trust in institutions and so on, and the therapist interrupted to be confused, called him "they," and was asking about how he identified. I can be sitting right in front of someone I've known for months and the moment a man is brought up his hypothetical feelings take precedence over me.

So I understand that the reddit post is made up. But I saw it and I had to say, this shit fucking happens. It happens and it's real. The fawning over him doesn't happen quite like that, but in my experience, if a man is admitted to a woman's shelter his needs are already being prioritized and that is unlikely to change. I hate these men - the ones who go to the shelters, the ones who fantasize about it, the ones who support it. I won't forgive anyone who supports it.

Thank you for hearing me out.

Thank you so much for sharing this. I am so sorry that this happened to you. These are exactly the kind of things that we are afraid of. These are the things that people insist never happen, but they do.

These kind of things were the main things that peaked me. That a man's feelings would matter more than a woman's physical safety. It's horrifying.

[kheta]

Toxic Severus x Lily x James i cbf writing a wider story to go with this scenario/scenes so... have it as is bc I actually like it. And yess, delulu and oblivious James in amongst a toxic snily codependency is *kiss* tw: child-abuse, somewhat graphic depictions

‘You said it was getting better Sev,’ Evans’ voice was filled with a slow burning anger that James was attuned to. It was a bit shocking, really, everyone knew that Evans had the biggest soft spot for the slimy snake, sticking up for him at every turn. As if the Slytherin had any right to her kindness, filled to the brim with dark magic as he was.

Snivellus sighed, turning an equally as unexpected glare on the Gryffindor. James felt his anger whirling away, a tornado inside of his stomach. 

He knew the prat was every bit the bastard that James had pegged him for! Of course he’d save the way he treated Evan’s for their private moments. Too scared of the retribution from Gryffindor if they knew what he did to Evans.

The grins and laughter the two shared were obviously faked, Evans just wasn’t accustomed to how awful Slytherin students were, probably got all infatuated by the first pureblood that gave her a second glance, as if James himself couldn’t treat her better, couldn’t protect her more than the git standing before them.

‘He is Lils, why do you think he asked Cal to hire me? He wants to do better, honest,’ the nickname comes out of nowhere, as does the gentle tone. If he didn’t know Snivellus better, he’d think the soft admonishment was true, that the snake actually cared for a Muggleborn. But Slytherin’s are good actors, all that cunning had to go somewhere, right? James had been watching the snake for five years now and none of this git’s manufactured kindness had ever been on display before. 

‘He just– gets a bit scared sending me back to Hogwarts. You know how ma was treated, he doesn’t like the reminder.’

Evans sends out a short, aggrieved huff, dragging the snake to sit beside her as if he hadn’t thrown a cutting curse at James just last term. As if the Christmas holidays had somehow made the Snivellus a better person.

‘Sev, he’s– What he does isn’t right, he never should have to work to be a better Da, that’s fucking bonkers.’

No, what was truly bonkers is that Lily Evans had learnt how to swear over the Christmas holidays. 

Again Snivellus’ mask begins to crack, he pulls to the corner and sends a withering glare at Evans, of the sort he would never do in front of the rest of Gryffindor. James glared at him harder, grip over his wand tightening, a vindication settling over his standing form. Evans was too good for the snake, didn’t realise that his playing nice in front of other students was just a front to manipulate her, but James and Sirius knew better. Had been searching for the cracks in the fake friendship they’d had for years now.

‘Lils just drop it! It’s not like I’m an amazing son,’ he spits the words acidically, levering Evans with a smouldering, noxious glare he usually reserves for James, ‘And he’s a fair lot better than any other Da in Ends, he drove me here, didn’t he? Got me a job. Says sorry when he gets a bit into his cups. Let me keep going to Hogwarts even after Ma carked it, he’s no Harrison Evans but he fucking tries!’

Instead of backing down at the anger, walking away and ignoring Snivellus like she ignores James, Evans comes alive at the anger. Whipped over to face him, face flushing as she growls out, harrowing her own angry, captivating, green-tinged stare at Snape and lifting a finger to his chest.

‘My Da’s not perfect Sev, but he doesn’t fucking beat me blue!’

What?

‘It wasn’t even a beating, so what my arm’s a mess–’

‘No, no don’t you dare act like it’s all bloody okay! If my Da did anything like that you’d want me to te–’

‘If you fucking tell anyone I will–’

‘So what, I just let you go home and hope he doesn’t kill you this ti–’

‘Da would never!’

‘He would Sev! He’s been hitting you for as long as I’ve known you, why can’t you just accept–’

‘There’s nothing to accept Lils,’ Snape cries out, holding his hands up to cup her pointed fingers, ‘I’m telling you it’s not like that, Da loves me. He does, so just shut it!’

James wanted nothing more than to actually disappear. Disapparate? End up in another compartment, for sure. One that didn’t have Snape looking at Evans with the sort of pleading he had never once given to the Marauders. Needed to get away from the soft droop of his piercing raven-black eyes, to not notice how Snape’s lips went from dry and chapped to moist as he bit down, truly looking at Evans. Not through or past or over her like he did James. 

Snape wasn’t supposed to beg, wasn’t supposed to look at Evans with reverence, as if their weird, awful, wrong, fake-friendship meant anything to the slimy snake. Snape was a tome of dark magic and acidic words and gut-punching spells that masqueraded in a students body. He wasn’t– He wasn’t like Siri, stuck in an awful house, because Snape’s family had to love him, right? Snape made sense, a dark-arts loving snake in a family of dark-arts loving snakes, Snape proved that in their very first meeting. Siri was a Gryffindor stuck in a snake family, Snape– He had to be telling the truth. Evans just cared too much about the snake to know what normal discipline was like, Muggles were probably less strict with their kids. Maybe– maybe his dad never hit him and neither did Remy’s, but their parents were soft, Snape probably just had parents like Pete, who could get a little rou–

Godric, he felt sick. This was all wrong, he wanted to prank them, not watch enviously as the sleazy, greasy snake he hated held hands with the most beautiful witch in their year.

Instead of disappearing, James sits before the odd Slytherin-Gryffindor duo he had hated and he watched. This didn't make sense. That’s the only reason he was watching, he wanted it to make sense. Wanted Snape to show his true colours and Evans to learn the errors of her ways, picking a no-name Pureblood family like Snape to attach to, instead of an established family like Potter.

Nothing made sense anymore, because Evans moved to take Snape's tattered robe from his shoulders and James was going to have to watch them shag, wasn’t he? That was an awful thought, stirring inside of his stomach even as his eyes stayed spelled to the scene. 

He was going to watch the girl he had been asking out for the past year shag his mortal enemy. James didn’t want to believe the rumours going around, because even as a Muggleborn Evan’s was the prettiest, smartest witch he knew, but there was no other reason for a proper young lady to be unbuttoning another young man's shirt and it made sense really. Of course sex was why the Slytherin kept Evans around, what use did a no good pureblood like him have in a fragile, naive Muggleborn like Evans?

Except– Except today any form of sense kept unravelling because Snape’s school shirt was unbuttoned, falling to his long, floppy elbows and Evans was crying. Rolling his eyes, James paid no mind to the stab of disappointment aching somewhere near his waist, only grinning at the reaction. So they probably hadn’t ever shagged and looking at Snape’s greasy, lanky body had made her realise she could do better, there was no way a greasy bat like…

Snape had abs?

No. No! How dare he?

Snape was stupidly tall with an ugly mug and greasy hair and pasty skin. 

And yet. Abs. Now he didn’t know why Evans would be crying, because Merlin was Snape a bit more sculpted than he had ever presumed. Still wiry, with a small waist, pasty skin and a trail of dark, thick hairs snaking from his belly button, down to his trousers, but there was a concave near his stomach and chiselled, defined lines from his pecs down. Merlin above even James could admit if you put a bag over his head, Snape wouldn’t be half bad looking and then–

Well, then James’ roaming gaze caught on to what exactly made Evans gasp, what caused her to tear up and run her fingers over Snape’s sickly pale skin.

Snape had said his arm was a mess, which it was, mottled a blue darker than even the night sky. The bruises crept up in his shoulder in odd bunches. Snape talked about this mess casually, the same way Petey talked about his parents giving him a growling. Like it was just normal for Snape to walk around with his dad’s shoe size imprinted like a sick temporary tattoo across his shoulder.

Evans wasn’t overreacting. Snape’s dad might actually kill him, he thinks nostrils flaring. Gaze wandering over to the stark, yellow-green hand marks lining his elongated neck and the large, almost scabbed maroon-ish bite mark at his chest.

‘Sev– did he…?’ Evans ran her fingers up Snape’s chest and to the bite mark, her fingers making delicate circles around the wound causing his stomach to whirl oddly, her voice cracking as she whispered.

He wanted to sick up at the thought, though he was still unnervingly enraptured by the scene before him. Shivering at the touch, Snivelly snapped his eyes to Evans at the last minute, a weak, harsh laugh leaving his throat.

‘No– Merlin, no Lils, I told you I was necking with Alex for the summer.’

Evans pulls back at the admittance, a cute blush consuming her face as she glanced away with pursed lips. Despite the visage she was and the slow building relief from not having to watch his crush shag someone else, James couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed at the admittance.

Snape managed to snag a bird, but James couldn’t? 

Though, he thought once more staring at the duo, he didn’t just want any old bird like Snivellus. He wanted a proper, gorgeous flower. Pale and tall and beautiful, with brains and bite to boot.

‘Right. Did Alex also…’ Here she trails her hands from the bite mark to the handprints, her own slighter fingers not able to mask the rough bruises left there.

Merlin, did Snape like it rough? Did he like it when James pushed him around? The thought flopped somewhere uncomfortable for him to hang onto, his warm, walnut coloured eyes dilating at the prospect. Was that why Snape always fought back against his betters? Even he had to know that the Noble and Valiant House of Potter ranked far above most normal purebloods. Did he have to pull back on the pranks if Snape did like it like that?

Empathetically no, is the decision Snivelly makes for him, looking to the side, his long raven hair ghosting over his shoulder as he shook his head, making a mesmerising curtain against his pale neck

If anything that made it worse, something which Evans agreed on if the tight pulling of her ginger brows meant anything.

Wizardingfolks didn’t leave bruises like that on anyone's skin, much less their own kids. Even Siri’s shitty parents wouldn’t knock him about with their own hands, it was unheard of in Wizarding society, children were to be treasured and disciplined, not treated like blimmin’ house-elves in Dark Families.

‘Sev, just– just think about moving in with us, please.’

Okay, even James had to admit that was a terrible offer. Lovely as Evans was to look at, she was still a Muggleborn. Who would give up living with their own family for living with Muggles?  Not even Siri would, right? 

Would he… If it meant not being with his parents?

Merlin, would Pete? Could he just; offer it to them like Evans had? Without restraint or boundaries?

‘I don’t need your charity Lily.’

‘It’s not charity, it’s the soddin’ right thing to do, Tuney’s started Uni and ma and da would be thril–’

‘Your parents hate me.’

‘My parents don’t hate you, they don’t even know you Sev, you don’t let them try.’

Unable to be swayed by the witches' argument, Snape pursed his lips and looked away, his own long fingers coming up to hastily pull and button up his school shirt.

This left James with the unwanted realisation that he was stuck under his cloak, in a closed train compartment with the only two students his year happy to hex the life out of him if they knew he was there. Thankfully enough, after an agonising two hours of listening to them talk about potions and charms and some oaf named Dursley, the two begin to nod off.

Snape is first, his answers becoming more slurred as he continues to lean on the window to his right. After his answers become painfully incoherent, Evans sits in silence, her own eyes tracking the space between the two of them. In an unexpected show of audacity, when Snape is very firmly asleep, Evans leans her head against his broad shoulder, feet tucked under her inexplicably short skirt, the smooth valley of skin from her knees to ankle bare for all to see and her usually bright, emerald eyes coming to a soft, gentle close. He waits for a few minutes, watching as their breathing somehow becomes more in sync and opens the compartment door. Neither move to hex him, or move at all, Evans happily groping at Snivelly’s robes and Snivellus holding his arms to his chest, as if a beautiful witch wasn’t lying against his arm for the taking.

James leaves the compartment more keyed up than ever, a difficult, clawing anger at his chest. The two losers don’t stir for a bit as he slides the door shut with a firm, sudden snap.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There’s a million and one thoughts racing through his brain on a well-trimmed cleansweep, twisting and turning as they look for the golden snitch, the proper answer to these thoughts. The thoughts had in fact been racing through his brain for hours now. He trudges to where he had left his friends, sliding the door open and wrenching his cloak off immediately. 

Remy’s laughter dies down as he peers at James with a wide, amber-tinged curiosity. 

Not one to fully think through his decisions and having sat on this tantalising idea for far too long, James bunches his cloak to his school bag and pierces his still laughing friends with an inquisitive glance. The snitch was gleaming in his mind, Pete and Siri just had to move so James could grab it. Could hold onto the idea that Evans had unknowingly released to the aether. Neither Pete nor Siri notice him, too caught up in a game of exploding snap that had left Remy with some rather glaring soot marks and a messy bush of brown hair.

‘Move in with me,’ he states with more confidence than he feels.

Ocean blue and hazy grey eyes whip towards his direction, a sea of black curls and a soft trail of blonde hair both tilted to the side as they take in their missing friend. Neither spoke, their eyes darting around the room to look for whom exactly James was speaking to.

‘Both your parents are shite and I’ve had more money in Gringotts than I’ll ever need, move in with me.’ Both Pete and Siri don’t look inclined to say yes, their faces twisted to something almost Snape-like. He steamrolls ahead, voice steadily burning as he keeps talking. If a Muggleborn like Evans could make the offer, so could Heir Potter. ‘Mum and Dad would love to have other kids around the estate and I’m sick of seeing you two come back to Hogwarts worse for wear. We’ll be able to get it approved, a formal adoption and everything. You could be Peter and Sirius Potter and no one would bat an eye.’

Not particularly true, the Black’s could protest, but the status the Potter family held before their migration to Great Britain was greater than the Status the Black family held. Contentious for more current generations who mocked even the Malfoy’s for their migration from France in the 12th Century, but noble and with extreme merit considering the Potter Predecessors and all their achievements. Just because they were different continents, didn’t mean his family was powerless here, they didn’t need the stinkin’ Blacks to uphold their status. James could pull his friends into his family and make sure they never turned up like Snivellus, bruised to the days.

Neither Siri or Pete reply, both nervously clutching the cards in their grip. James was right to be worried, they had to know that. That’s why they were nervous. They knew they deserved better.

‘Jamie–’ starts Siri, voice dropping to a soft candour, his own face settling on a malcontent frown, ‘That’s… It’s a sweet offer mate, but my Uncle and I have a plan, you know that. I’ll get away from my family as soon as we graduate.’

Peter pipes up as well, ‘I know they might seem a bit, mean. But my parents genuinely care about me Jamie, I’m not gonna give up on them.’

James thinks of large, purple and green bruises lighting a pale, breathing canvas up and bristles at the words.

‘I don’t care,’ he spits, arms crossing over his chest as he plops down next to Remy, ‘Parents shouldn’t– Shouldn’t do that to their kids.’

‘They’re not doing anything Jamie, Siri’s parents like the Dark Arts and mine are strict, you really don’t need to make such a big offer.’

Petey’s wrong, because Evans made the offer and Snape has a helluva streak of bruises and Petey doesn’t even let himself eat to fullness, too worried about his mum’s apparent strictness.

‘It’s not normal.’ He cries, hands coming to slap against his thigh, seeing only a loop of healing bruises across otherwise unblemished skin. ‘You– You’re mum’s made you cry more than any snake at school and Siri’s mum made him cast an unforgivable, you– you can’t be happy there Petey.’

‘Mum might be a bit over-bear–’

‘You lost three stone this summer and she said that you were finally starting to look like a normal blok–’

‘Salazar’s bleeding hide Jamie! Why are you so strung about shite said in the pa–’

It’s hard, arguing against two people instead of one.

‘Don’t start Sirius! After everything your parents have said, after that howler in–’

‘So Mum was mad! It’s not a big deal!’

‘Mum’s aren’t supposed to call their son’s failures!’ He shouts in exasperation.

Peter snarls at him, his usually kind eyes seething, voice coming out of clenched teeth, ‘Not everyone has perfect parents James, you know this!’

‘They don’t need to be perfect, they just need to be ki–’

‘Oh, put a fucking sock in it Jamie! Why’re you trying to air our dirty laundry out for everyone to feck–’

‘It shouldn’t be dirty laundry, there shouldn’t be anything to air out, if your parents actually loved you–’

‘If you finish that sentence James Fleamont Potter I will hex you to pieces!’

Godric almighty he was so mad, couldn’t see beyond the crimson narrowing his vision. Peter and Sirius were wrong, were lying to him just like Snape was lying to Evans. That's the only reason Peter would pretend to be so mad at him. James would not let it go, wouldn’t let them think for a second that they were worth less than Severus fucking Snape, wouldn’t let them think that whatever weird, undisclosed behaviour their parents set on them was in any way right.

‘Why? Because I’m right? Because you know that normal parents don’t scream at you for eating dinner, Petey? Don’t lock their fridges and cupboards as punishment? Because parents who care aren’t supposed to make you use blood quills!?’

Sirius glares at the reminder.

‘Once! My parents used one blood quill, to teach me a lesson. Once, Jamie. Stop acting like this is a big, fecking deal!’

Sirius sounded so anguished as he screamed, his voice rising and quivering in the air, wet with his anger, the cards he had flying to the ground as he pulled James to his feet, grip unrelenting on his collar.

‘It is!’ He shouts, absolutely red with fury, channelling his inner Evans maybe, ‘It’s a big deal because I don’t know if the next time I see you after Summer Break is gonna be with the both of you shoved in a fucking coffin. It’s a big deal because parents are supposed to love you, supposed to care for you not– Not whatever the fuck your parents are doing now!’

Sirius doesn’t answer, his usually delightful features pulled into a withering glare, channelling as much Snape as James had been channelling Evan’s. Sirius chucks James with a frustrated snarl to the ground. Peter doesn’t answer the accusations either, chucking his cards down and moodily looking at the wall behind them.

They’re left with a sharp bang as Sirius leaves the compartment, all the quasi-confidence James had held crumbling as Peter stays silent and Remy just bumps their shoulders together, as if the contact could somehow pull James’ words from the air and lead the Marauders to the familiar, happy, camaraderie-based silence they had once held. He doesn’t know what to do now, so stuck in their regular routine to figure out where this had all fallen apart. Stupid fucking Snivellus and Evans, making James out to be the bad guy to his friends. Silently, James fumes, too lost in his anger to see why everything had fallen to pieces.

He was just being a Gryffindor, like Evans, why were his friends more mad than Snivelly at the inquisition?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The anger does not abate come morning, left to stew as he and his friends had stormed away, uncaring of the feast before him. Left to stew the next day, when Sirius and Peter pointedly waited for James to sit in their usual spot at back of Charms and made their way to the very front, leaving him with Remy’s shy smile and quiet humour. Left to stew in Defense, when Remy had wordlessly clasped James’ wrist and dragged him to the side when they were asked to pick partners.

It all comes to head a few weeks later, when they’ve got a break between classes and instead of mucking about with him, Sirius and Peter are down at the Lake with the girls. Its taking all of James' admittedly weak self-control to not pull his wand out, cast the incarcerous spell and haul his friends back to the Potter Estate, where they will be safe from any harm. 

Remy, in true him fashion, hasn’t yet figured out how to deal with any of their anger and has instead decided to keep James away from Siri and Petey as if the distance could somehow fix whatever he broke between them that weird, awful first day back at Hogwarts.

Coming onto nearly fifteen days from then, James knows his temper is frayed more so than usual. He’s supposed to be the one with the ideas, the one to push the Marauders forward. Instead he’s standing under an archway watching his friends like a stranger, Remus going on about getting a head start on their studies.

Seeing Sirius flirt with Meadows, James can’t appreciate Remus’ kindness. His friends were wrong, were lying to him and were frankly, being stupid and ungrateful.

There was only one other family who had migrated to Great Britain pre-12th Century and could claim to have an equal amount of acclaim as the Potter family, as far as James knows though, that family is less than a decade away from extinction. Not even the Noble and Striking House of Malfoy or the Malevolent and Acrimonious House of Lestrange could contest if the Potter’s wished to adopt from the almost ruined House of Pettigrew. Siri’s parents could be dicks about the whole thing, but if they didn’t want to cause a scandal in Pureblood Society by revealing their treatment of their Heir Apparent, the Black’s would do well to hold their tongue.

James was giving them a chance at freedom, at kindness for the sake of kindness, not for some weird screwed up power play like the Pettigrew’s and Black’s. He knows he can be a bit short-sighted at times, but really he was doing this for them.

Glaring at his friends, he sees a curtain of red near Meadow’s own black curls and feels his anger pulse to the sky. 

This was all Evans' fault. If the know-it-all bookworm hadn’t planted this idea in his head, James could still have his friends sitting and laughing with him, not– Not sitting away from him, ignoring him and rejecting him just like Evans did and Snape did and huffing, his eyes flicker to the biggest source of his consternation.

Snivellus, sat away from all his friends like the freak he is, hiding the damning things his parents did to him, just like James hid what Siri and Petey’s parents did to them.

The thoughts keep tangling in his head and before he knows it, before he can think better of it, before he can remember that there are other students around, he’s stalking to the area where Snivellus is sitting alone, huddled over a dark tome, the shade of the trees casting shadows on his skin.

He knows Evans is near, had seen her. He doesn’t care. This is all their fault. If Evans hadn’t– If Snape hadn’t.

Godric, he does not know what to do with the well of anger inside of him, how to dispel the furious conglomerate of emotions and memories stirring within. Something whispers in his mind, a vindictive voice he rarely indulges in.

Go on then, it purrs, he deserves it.

He does. 

Remus is coming after him, his voice soft, biting in the ways only Remus knows how to bite; softly, without malice yet filled with fervour. 

‘Levicorpus!’ He shouts, dangling Snape in the air. Snape’s wand slips to the ground from his pocket. 

‘James, knock it off!’ 

Who bloody well cares Remus! It’s Snivellus, Snivellus who started this screwed up thing. And it’s him who would end it, thinks James. If- if Peter and Sirius understood what James was scared of, what could happen to them, then they’ll get it. They’ll get why he’s being so protective. 

They couldn’t end up like Snivelus. 

Some people come around to gawk, he can feel their stares. He hopes Siri’s in the group, hope Petey recognises that this shit isn’t normal

‘You think you’re so smart don’t you Snape. Lying and hiding behind your thick books. Being a complete prat to Evans. Well you’re not. You’re a lying, cheating, cowardly snake!’ James reckons he sounds a bit like a banshee, not that it matters because Snape just glares at him, his eyes smouldering with the same heat James can feel in the pit of his stomach.

Good.

‘You think you’re brave, Snivellus, think you’re the hero–’

‘Potter! Put him down right this–’

‘Oh fuck off Evans!’ The clearing is so quiet that a pin-drop, a drop of rain could disturb them. Everything is so red he can’t even be bothered to care. ‘Like you’re any better. You walk around here like you’re the sweetest thing since treacle tarts, well you’re not. You’re just as much a conniving, greedy snake as this bastard.’

Someone– Remus he thinks vaguely– puts their hand on his shoulder, he shrugs it off, meeting Snape’s wide eyes.

Striding forward so he’s just under Snape’s floating figure, James thereafter drops Snape indelicately, catching his collar in his hand.

No one else dares to move around them, too shocked that James Potter himself had shouted insults at not just a Gryffindor, but at the Gryffindor, Lily Evans.

‘Think you’re so strong Potter, picking on someone without a wand.’ Snape’s growl is low, sending goosebumps running across his neck.

‘Think you’re so strong Snape,’ he mocks back, eyes rolling, bringing the older boy so close their faces just about touch, ‘Hiding your bruises.’

Snape pales at the implication, his previous bravado gone as he thrashes in James’ grip.

‘Get your hands off me you freak!’

Nothing, nothing matters anymore. Snivellus is a liar. Evans a coward. James the bad guy. None of it means anything anymore. Something blurry and tenuous whips around his brain.

‘What, scared of me, Snape? I thought you were used to being hurt. Isn’t that what this shit is!’

The thoughts aren’t connecting clearly, they're floating around somewhere and he’s ripping at Snape’s robes. Snape is trying to shove him off and there’s a high-pitched scream and scuffle going on behind them. Not that it matters– James is stronger than Snape, for all Snape packs a mean punch, James is the one on the Quidditch team.

He’s a bit unclear how it happens, but in seconds Snape’s robe has been unbuckled and unknotted, sitting against his shoulders and bearing all those horrible, ugly marks for everyone to see. James traces them with his bespectacled gaze like an artist looking at their muse

James doesn’t know what he wants to say, can feel a jumble of words twisting inside of him, but there’s a blur of ginger and he’s suddenly on the ground, six foot worth of ivory skin and bones straddling him and the girl of his dreams laying harsh, decidedly manly punches on him.

Godric, even for a coward Evans’ is enrapturing in her fury. He can’t think of anything else because unfortunately, she lays a quick, sudden fist to his face and he’s out quicker than a casted nox.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

i had originally planned to make a story from this where james has to grow tf up because peter can't condone what james did to severus and sirius is pissed that james made him empathise with severus and james still doesn't know why he's so obsessed with severus and lily, especially now that severus is the one icing him out and lily is hating him. and after like slow-burn revenge story levels of grovelling, he becomes friends with snily. this friendship is what brings the marauders back together because peter and remus can see how much james has grown and that his apologies are sincere and thoughtful and sirius is so jealous he can't keep being distant because like... he's james' best friend? not snape or evans? and then sirius chills a little because he can see the doechaser friendship rapidly develop into the catalyst that brings all of them into a relo...it's just like. the planning for that became too much. and i have no clue what amount of begging would actually make severus or lily look at james favourbly in this tbh.

[lvrsparadise]

'IVY' - M.S

synopsis - "i thought that i was dreaming when you said you love me"

warnings! - kissing (makeout), profanity, shitty ending bc i didn't know how to end it lmao, i think that's it!

A/N - so, tomorrow is my grandparent's memorial and i have to sit in a car for four hours. i love this, other than most of the ending, was kinda stumped w that one. pink + white is planned but i don't know how to put what i want into words, so if anyone wants to know the plot and help, please dm!! love y'all!

!3rd person! 

-5 years ago-

Matt smiled as he flung the stick into the water, looking to his best friend who stood next to him afterwards.

“How was that one?” The pair was maybe 14 or 15, not quite old enough to be out by themselves, but yet here they were, out at 2 in the morning.

“That one was a little bit better. I think the problem is that you’re throwing a stick.” She laughed and bent down to grab a rock before flinging it into the water, the rock going impressively far.

“Oh. Yeah that might be it.” He chuckles at his own dumb actions but shuts up as he watches her throw the rock in awe.

“That was a really good throw.”

“Thanks.” They turned to each other with huge smiles on their faces for a few seconds before bursting out laughing for no reason, just for the laughs.

After calming down from their laughing fit, the pair lays in the grass next to each other, looking at the stars.

“Are you going to get married one day?” It was such a wide and complex question for a 15 year old, but Matt couldn’t help but ponder at the question as he turned his head to the girl lying next to him.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I’ll marry you one day.” Those were serious words for Matt, but to help the mood, he laughs at it and soon the girl joins him.

“Maybe. Who knows what the future holds.”

----

-Present day-

!Reader’s POV!

I let out a breath and watched as the air left my mouth in the cold air.

I check my phone again.

Maybe he forgot?

I sigh. There’s no way Matt would’ve forgotten to come pick me up, he must be busy then.

I shoot off another text, this time to Chris.

Me: are you guys busy rn? Chris: yeah, we’re stuck in a meeting, and everyone’s phone is dead but mine 🤦🏻‍♂️ Me: oh, okay. Just let me know when you’re out. 

I drop my arm back to my side before looking around, again.

This is not how I planned to spend my afternoon. Waiting for a guy to come pick me up while I wait in the cold.

I mean, I get it. He’s a busy man, but that doesn’t stop a girl from hoping.

And what sucks, is there’s no benches around for miles. And there’s frost everywhere, and it’s cold.

---

!Matt POV!

This sucks. I should be on my way to pick her up. Not stuck in some useless surprise meeting.

I thought about going to the bathroom and just leaving, but then how would Chris and Nick get home?

I sigh and look at the clock, 5:53.

Only 7 more minutes.

Chris’s phone goes off, because he always has to have his ringer on.

“Sorry.” He mumbles as he picks it up and turns off his ringer, but he’s texting someone, that much I can tell.

Chris looks up at me from across the table. Seeming to have known what I was thinking, he mouths her name and it clicks.

I nod and turn my attention back to Laura as she’s wrapping up the meeting, cleaning up, all that fun stuff.

---

!Reader POV!

My phone buzzes in my hand and I’m quick to check it.

Chris: we’ll be out of here by 6, we’ll scoop you up on the way back to ours. Me: that works with me :)

I cross my arms over my chest, this sweatshirt was doing nothing for the cold biting at my skin.

Now, I wait.

--

After about 10-ish more minutes of waiting, I hear the music before I hear the car. 

I roll my eyes and chuckle to myself at Chris’s choice of song before I see the car pull up in front of me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come get you sooner, we got stuck in a surprise meeting.” Matt apologizes when he rolls down the window.

I just shrug and walk towards the car, going to the passenger side and getting in the backseat.

“It’s fine. I understand.” I smile at Matt through the rearview mirror as Chris turns the music back up and I hear Nick groan.

--

I sigh gratefully when I step inside the boys’ home, the familiar scent and warmth feeling like home.

We all walk into the living room and Nick splits to his room to edit and to shower while Chris goes to his room and Matt walks into the kitchen. I move to sit in my normal spot on the couch, covering myself in one of the blankets next to me.

“Better?” I look up to Matt and take the water bottle from his hands.

“Warmer.”

“Good.” He smiles and sits down next to me, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on, finding something to watch.

I rest my head on his shoulder as he puts on The Sandlot.

--

I faintly hear mumbling, and feel my body shaking softly.

“Hey, hey, wake up.” I lift my head and open my eyes, blinking them a few times before I can see again.

“Huh?” I must’ve fallen asleep, because what?

As if he could read my thoughts, Matt chuckles.

“Yes. You fell asleep.”

“Oh.” I rub my eyes and flip the blanket off of me, my body being warm from the mini, or not so mini, nap.

I hear Matt chuckle.

I re-open my eyes and look at Matt.

“You hungry?” As if on cue, my stomach growls quietly.

“Well now that you mention it.” I chuckle as he stands up from the couch and extends his hands to me. I take them and stand up, stretching as he goes and grabs the car keys.

I slip my shoes back on and we walk to the garage and get in the car.

--

After a bit of driving around, we found a lake like the one we had back home in Boston.

We get our food and we go sit at the picnic table near the water.

“We haven’t really had a lot of time together lately.”

I swallow the bite I was chewing and nod.

“Yeah, but it’s understandable, you know? You guys just got back from tour, a lot of tiredness, jet-lag, catching up on work.” I shrug.

“I know, but I feel like we just aren’t hanging out as much as we used to. And it feels weird.” I furrow my brows and take a sip of my drink.

“What d’you mean?”

“Well… I don’t know. It just feels off not having you around as much.” Then, something in my brain goes off that makes what he’s saying make sense.

“Are you trying to say you miss me?” I chuckle, even though this is a pretty serious thing.

“Well… I-” He sighs and thinks about it.

“I mean, I guess so. Although, I’m not sure how I miss someone who I see practically all the time.” We both laugh at that.

We go silent and just enjoy both our food and each other’s company. 

I will admit, I haven’t really been around, but they did just get back from tour, a tour I couldn’t go on because of college.

“Well, I guess I have been a bit caught up in school work lately.”

“Yeah but that’s not your fault.”

We fall into silence as we finish our food. 

I get up from the picnic table and sit in the grass, pretty close to the water with my knees up. 

I feel his arm around my shoulders as he sits next to me, pulling me closer to him.

“You remember that one time at the lake in Boston when we were dancing and you pushed me in?” I chuckle at the vivid memory of Matt pushing me into the cold water. I did drag him in with me though so I got my vengeance.

“Yeah I do. You made us both sick for like a week.” I rest my head on his shoulder and I feel his head on top of mine.

I wince at the memory of his mom scolding us as she drove our shivering bodies to the hospital.

It’s moments like these that make life happy.

Just sitting in each other’s arms in the cold air.

“I never got to ask, how was tour?” 

“It was good. I may not have won, but I had fun. That’s all that really matters to me.” 

God, this man makes me fall in love with him more and more. 

“That’s all that should matter. Winner or not, at the end of the day it all matters if you had fun. I’m glad you had fun, and I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you guys.”

“That’s understandable though. You had school, I understand that.” He kisses my head, and I can feel the smile on his lips.

“I love you Matt..” It slips out without warning, but I don’t try to correct myself or take it back. Not when I mean it.

---

!Matt’s POV!

My mind blanks when she speaks. I never thought this would happen.

Am I dreaming?

No, I’m not.

“I-” I can’t seem to form words. The words I’ve wanted to hear from her for so damn long finally here, and I don’t know what to say or do.

I love her too. So, so damn much. But my mind can’t make the words to say it.

“I'm sorry. Just pretend I didn't say that.” She shakes her head and pulls away from me as she starts to stand up.

I shake my head and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back down to the ground.

“No. No, don't be. I love you. So much more than you can imagine. I just didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. I froze up.”

---

!Readers POV!

“What?”

“I love you. So fucking much. Ever since we were kids.”

My heart flutters. 

I have no other thoughts than him. Everything about him I’ve loved flashing in my mind all at once.

His smile. His hair. His tattoos. His style. His personality. Just, him.

I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him to me as I plant my lips on his.

I feel his arms tighten around my waist as he deepens the kiss.

The air no longer feels cold, but warm. 

Warm and filled with love.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, smiling.

“I love you.”

Tags ! ♡

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If you want to be added to the list, all you have to do is ask ! ♡

I love you all !

And I hope you all have a good day and / or night ♡

[gabessquishytum]

I saw another prompt on here about Dream cheating, and honestly? Yeah!! Give that morally questionable man a morally questionable situation.

So old money families tend to marry new money families mostly bc the money has run dry for them, and new money wants the prestige of the older more established families have. Burgess is one of these odious new money men. Stupid and cruel, he wants the prestige of the old aristocracy. Not that marrying Dream will lead to any real power, but the respect behind the Endless name is well endless even if their wallet isn't. A perfect situation for him to waltz right in and buy a bride for his son.

Who should have been Death, but Mother Endless was insistent that the heir and spare chose their own spouses. So poor Dream was the one chosen to be miserable.

He hates Alex with a burning passion, and Alex isn't too keen to keep his mouth shut about his new husband's attitude either. They fuck occasionally when Dream deigns to waste his precious time with Alex's modest three inches, but it's not enough.

He meets Hob at one of Roderick's parties. The one where he publicly pushed his husband away and told him to go chase some other skirt. The one where Alex was found in the arms of Roderick's gardener. Not that Dream cares if it keeps Alex from touching him, but he has to keep appearances up and has a row with him in front of everyone.

Hob sees all of this go down and cuddles up to Dream. He gives Dream drinks and they talk the night away about various topics from history to art to what the fuck Dream is doing here with Alex. He plys Dream with drinks and sweet words. None of which he really needs to convince him to follow the other man home and get his back blown out. They fuck all night and he sends Dream home full of his cum and minus his underwear. His outfit torn in several places and missing some of the bedazzled embellishments.

Alex wants to say he doesn't care. That Dream can have as many affairs as he wants bc that means he can do the same. And maybe at first, he believes that. But watching his husband come home cum drunk and completely in love with someone who isn't himself? It would make any man crazy. Maybe crazy enough to lock Dream in a room and brick it off, just so he's never made into a cuck again.

- 🤜 Anon

Ooo yeah. Maybe that first night Hob is just having some fun - he likes humiliating these aristocratic types who think they’re better than him. He likes the idea of seducing Dream and spoiling his honour. But after that one night, Hob is genuinely addicted. He wants to be Dream’s regular lover, wants to treat him so good and then send him back to his ridiculous little husband. He marks Dream all over and makes sure that he stinks of sex. He even gets a tattoo on his forearm to show how deep he’s had his hand inside Dream’s pretty little body. He moves in the same circles as Alex and Dream regularly, so the rumours swirl and Alex gets more and more frustrated as Dream flaunts his affair with Hob everywhere. He won’t even let Alex touch him, these days. And ok, maybe Alex is doing exactly the same thing with Paul, but he doesn’t flaunt it to the whole world!

So, he makes sure that Dream can’t humiliate him any more.

When Hob comes around looking for Dream after only 36 hours, Alex feigns ignorance: “he left, I thought he was with you”. Hob doesn’t believe a word of it, he can sniff out a lie from a mile off. Alex threatens to call the police if Hob doesn’t leave, so he goes. He calls Dream’s family and small circle of friends. Eventually he calls the police and reports Dream missing. But after a week, he still hasn’t turned up. Alex gives the same old story, and Dream’s infidelity was well known enough that it’s believable that he would just run off without telling anyone.

Hob isn’t taking the bullshit any longer. He shows up at the house again and shoulders his way in, punches Alex out with one right hook. He finds Paul, who won’t look Hob in the eye and keeps looking like he wants to run. Eventually he murmurs that Hob should check upstairs.

There are a bunch of bedrooms in the mansion, and it’s pretty clear that only one of the doors has been recently plastered over. Hob kicks and finds bricks underneath, and he’s fucking horrified. Surely Alex hasn’t left Dream in there to starve?

He hasn’t, but it’s almost that bad. There’s a small grating in the room next door, through which Alex and Paul have been passing food and water. They’ve left Dream inside with no clothes, no bed, no stimulation. By the time Hob gets to him he’s literally blue, shaking in the corner, unable to speak. Hob carries him out and refuses to let go until the paramedics turn up and get him hooked up.

The haunted look doesn’t leave Dream’s eyes until his divorce comes through. When Alex gets 15 years in prison, Hob promises Dream that he’ll kill him the second he steps out of the jail. That’s the first time that Dream manages a wobbly smile.

Hob and Dream have their wedding dance on Alex’s grave. Maybe it’s a bit over the top but it feels appropriate to prove that he always was, and always will be, a loser.

[sungbeam]

𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗! — eight

viii. is that my shirt ?!

2.1k written (omg im sorry)

in which sungchan's so-called plan includes a dash of jealousy, a pinch of friendship, and ... jisung's shirt??

park jisung x f!mc ; humor, mentions of alcohol, swearing, uhm ur wearing jisung's shirt at some point so if u think that's uncomfy...

« prev · m.list · next »

a/n: surprise 😭? ik u all probably don't even remember what's going on cuz it's almost been TWO YEARS since the last update,, im sorry btw 😭 anyways, it's only this long bc i was stupid when i outlined this and i had to write more to make my stupid idea not sound as stupid

You could already tell that Mark was given speaker privileges when you pulled up outside the house and you felt the bass pulsing through your car. Your brother Mark had a few different aux cord modes: bass boost, lo-fi hoe, Celine Dion, and just plain stripper. You didn't particularly enjoy the latter because that was your brother (gross), but all of the others were quite enjoyable.

Chaeryeong told you earlier she would be coming with her dance club friends, so you had coerced Sungchan to carpool with you. Well, you actually hadn't needed to do any persuading. He somehow just… asked you. Huh. Weird.

"I didn't even realize I stole this shirt," you told him as the two of you hiked up the front lawn of the house, narrowly dodging a couple giggly boys stumbling down the street. You wrinkled your nose at the distinct "Beatbox" logo written in charmingly messy bubble letters on the front, signifying that one charity event the boys hosted a year ago. The back had been decorated in more pen inked doodles and a scrawl you guessed was close to Mark's. Or maybe it was Jeno's… either way, Sungchan had found it tucked among the rest of your t-shirts and you threw it on with no further complaints.

Sungchan shrugged, holding the door open for you as you both entered into the throes of the party. "You didn't realize you stole my pen that one time."

"A pen is different than a whole damn shirt though."

You glanced over at him to see if you had lost him to the crowd, but you should have known better since he towered almost everyone here. He seemed to have gotten a text from someone, but he was quick to tuck his phone away and search the crowd. "Who're you looking—"

He slung an arm over your shoulders and steered you toward the living room. "No one. C'mon, Mark hyung just asked me to bring you over to the DJ booth. Something about cashing in a song suggestion."

That immediately drew your attention. "I can't believe he remembered."

(And Sungchan couldn't believe he just got away with that. He looked over his shoulder toward the hallway where he saw Jisung's face appear in the crowd, then caught his eyes. Sungchan grinned to himself. It was time to get started.)

When you and Sungchan finally reached the DJ booth, Mark greeted you by handing you his phone. Mark and Sungchan exchanged looks over your head—everything was going perfectly.

"Hey, I'm gonna get us some drinks," Sungchan told you with a reassuring pat on your shoulder. You nodded to him as you scrolled through your song choices, but Sungchan was practically gone.

Not even a few steps away, Jisung appeared before him, his dark bangs hanging in his eyes. "Oh, hey."

Sungchan chirped back at him, "'Sup, man."

Jisung narrowed his eyes just slightly, head cocking to the side. "Is Yn here?"

Sungchan almost laughed at how well this was going. "Yeah, she's back with Mark. I was actually just gonna get her a drink—"

"I can get it," he said, and his eyes widened as if even he was surprised he just said that. He cleared his throat, cupping the back of his neck. "Uh—I mean, I can get all of us drinks. I was actually gonna ask if Mark hyung wanted anything."

Suuuure, Sungchan wanted to say. But he could respect this guy's quick thinking. "Oh, cool. Thanks, dude. I think Mark hyung says he's okay, so it's just Yn."

"Cool." And then he was gone.

As Sungchan turned back to the DJ table, he realized Jisung hadn't even asked Sungchan what you wanted or liked to drink.

When he returned to the DJ table, you threw Sungchan a confused look. "I thought you were getting drinks?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Jisung said he'd get them."

"Jisung?" Now, why in the world…

As if your brain had magically manifested him, you spied Jisung carefully maneuvering through the crowd. In one veiny hand, he clutched the necks of two bottles of some mystery liquor, most likely beer, while he raised a little can of ginger ale into the air over his head as if scared the bodies around him would spill it (yes, spill a sealed can of ginger ale).

You couldn't help but eye his attire—the white tank top beneath a dark bomber jacket, paired with a pair of black jeans. There was a silver chain link choker around his neck, and Sungchan even raised his eyebrows at the way your eyes made a generous sweep of the newcomer's form.

You hated him, huh?

Jisung set the beer bottles on the cleared off space on Mark's table, his eyes meeting yours first. He passed you the ginger ale, "Hey, for you."

You accepted it with a hasty nod. He must have asked Sungchan what you wanted.

"Oh, thanks." You took the bottom hem of the Beatbox T-shirt you wore and swiftly swiped it over the rim of the can, before cracking it open with a satisfying click and hiss.

Jisung clasped the back of his neck instinctually, but when he saw the shirt you wore, he thought offhandedly that you and he could've matched. Not that he wanted to match with you. Definitely not. Why would he want that?

You were probably wearing one of your brothers', but he could've sworn the little doodle on the corner of your shoulder looked… familiar.

Wait.

Wait a goddamn second.

Jisung's eyes widened in alarm.

Sungchan held back a snicker. "Uh, you good, Jisung?"

Jisung coughed, glancing over at Mark in case he had caught him staring, too, but the older Lee brother had already turned the opposite way to speak to Vernon from the SVT fraternity. Jisung popped open his beer bottle, then passed the other to Sungchan. "Yeah, ahem, I'm great. Hey, Yn, is that Mark's shirt?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you ducked your head to look at the shirt. "Actually, I'm not really sure."

"Oh really? 'Cause… I… I think it's mine."

You sputtered a laugh. "Good joke."

He grimaced. "Can you… turn around?"

"Turn around? Why?"

If Sungchan's eyes weren't deceiving him, he was certain Park Jisung was blushing.

Jisung sighed, a stressed sound. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead as he inspected the shirt you wore closer. “Because I would've written my name somewhere on the back,” he mumbled with a wince.

You could feel your face and neck warm after he stated his reason, and in an effort to get this matter solved so he could stop staring at you, you turned around. After a moment of silence, you twisted your head over your shoulder to peer back at Sungchan and Jisung. “See? Not your shirt.”

“Except, it definitely is his shirt, Yn,” Sungchan said, lifting his free hand up to cover his grin.

“What?”

Jisung had gone quiet, eyes widened like twin saucers. Not a thought passed behind those eyes as you attempted to look at your back to confirm exactly what both Sungchan and Jisung were telling you. It was impossible—how in the world could Jisung's shirt appear in your closet?

“Sungchan, is it really his shirt?” You asked your friend, pleading for him to tell you this was all a huge misunderstanding.

Sungchan had the decency to look sheepish. He reached over and gently grabbed your shoulder, pulling a part of the T-shirt edge so you could see. This brought you and him closer together as he pointed out Jisung's name to you.

The movement did not go unnoticed by Jisung, who watched this interaction with a wariness he didn't know what to make of. You were wearing his shirt, and somehow looked… good in it…? His eye twitched—why weren't you as friendly with him as you were with Sungchan? He could totally be a good friend—

Acceptance, swiftly followed by immense embarrassment, swept over you. It seemed it wasn't just Jisung who had gone quiet; neither of you could look the other in the eye.

After stepping away from you, Sungchan's eyebrows arched high as he sipped his beer and his gaze flickered between the two of you. “Well, this is awkward,” he mused unhelpfully.

That was enough to snap Jisung out of his daze. He clasped a hand on the back of his neck. “Would you be more comfortable in one of your brothers’ shirts? I can go grab one for you to change into—”

“Oh, uhm, yeah. I can just go upstairs and raid Mark's closet or something. I'm sure you'd like your shirt back.”

“No—I mean,” he sputtered, “yeah. It's no worries, really, if you don't wanna go through the trouble.”

Sungchan suppressed a screech akin to a pterodactyl. He hadn't thought you two would be this awkward around each other. It all played out a lot differently in his head, but… wait. Where the fuck did you go?

He realized quickly that you and Jisung were no longer right in front of him. Sungchan's head swiveled around nearby to search the crowd for you and Jisung, but it seemed that both of you were nowhere in the vicinity. Maybe you were headed up to swap shirts after all; that made his life easier.

As soon as you'd changed out of Jisung's Beatbox T-shirt and into one of Mark's Justin Bieber tour T-shirts, you prepared to step back out into the party. When you opened the door to Mark's bedroom, you found Jisung right where you'd left him, stationed outside while nursing his beer and holding your can of ginger ale.

“Here's your shirt,” you said to him, drawing his attention to you.

“Ah, thanks.” He traded you his T-shirt for your drink, but still, neither of you could hold eye contact.

For a moment, you racked your brain for something to say to loosen all this tension. “Uhm, you did great at the showcase, by the way. Your performance, I mean.”

Jisung's head perked up. “Oh, you stayed for it?” There was an intonation in his voice just now—you’d actually stayed and you also complimented him? He didn't understand why his heart was rattling around in his ribcage like a stampede of galloping horses, but he guessed it had something to do with the fact that he was pleasantly surprised. Something like pride filled his chest.

You gave a small nod, and if he wasn't mistaken, it almost looked shy. “I did end up staying. The thing I thought I had planned…” you trailed off and you filled the silence with a nonchalant shrug.

“Well, thanks for watching and I'm glad you thought I did well,” he said with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Was he finally getting through to you? Were you warming up to him at last?

He couldn't help but search your face then in the dim hallway light. Were your eyes always so pretty? There was a small smudge of silver glitter on the side of your cheek that glistened like diamonds, and he recognized it from somewhere on his shirt. It must have gotten into your face while you were changing.

He raised a hand, then froze. “Uh, you've got a little—a little something—” He pointed to his own cheek to tell you where it was.

“Oh!” You used the back of your hand to rub at it, but because glitter never listened the first time, it stayed put. “Is it gone?”

He winced. “No, it's, uhm—right… right there…”

You tried again, and he awkwardly tried to point it out without actually touching your face.

On your fourth attempt, he huffed. “Here,” he muttered, lifting his hand and gently brushing the glitter off.

When he was done, his hand fell back to his side like a dead weight as reality came crashing back. He coughed. “It's gone now.”

You averted your eyes. “Oh, cool, thanks.”

“Anyways, I should probably go put this away,” he said, gesturing down the hall toward his room with the shirt in his hand.

You gave an eager nod. “Right, yeah. I'll just—I’ll see you back down at the party then?”

Jisung bobbed his head in agreement. “Yeah, for sure! See you down there.”

Like two rats, the pair of you scurried away from each other in opposite directions. Even as you were descending the stairs, you threw a look back at Jisung, who was opening his bedroom door at the end of the hallway. Unbeknownst to you, Jisung had tossed you a glance just milliseconds before.

You swore you could still feel the brush of his fingers against your cheek, but it wasn't like it meant anything, right?

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[charmac]

Hey! I wanna thank you for your videos and wanted to tell u I watch them to boost my energy hehe.

2 genuine questions:

1-Do you, based on the show and Dennis' character, believe that he hates Mac or he actually Loves him? How do u see Dennis in general bc I see him as a person who doesn't see himself as a person bc he's scared and also doesn't think he'll be loved.

2- when did u start loving macdennis as a romantic pair and noticed the little things between them??

Thanks! I'm trying to dig up old stuff from the old official accounts that's no longer viewable/watchable in my free time so we can keep it alive circulating.

1. I believe Dennis hates that he loves Mac. He's always loved Mac, for some reason he just has, and slowly over time that's caused him to hate him more and more:

I see MADBU as the catalyst for Dennis' disdain toward Mac, when Dee pointed out their codependency and broke their glass closet. It wasn't that he hated Mac for who he was, not right then, but Dennis hated what their relationship meant for who he was. S6-12 is this constant battle of Dennis trying to 'find himself' in so many ways, maybe he should be married; no, he just needs a higher position in the bar, reins on everyone; yeah, it's the gang who have issues: he's perfect, he's the Golden God, a 5-star man, the Master of manipulation. Dennis built his front on being a manipulator, on wearing different faces, on controlling Mac, convincing everyone his cold, hard shell matches his interior, and Mac fell for it. Mac, who's supposed to know Dennis better than he knows himself, no longer knows who Dennis is.

Dennis' front was born out of his insecurities, his trauma, his rejection of labels and his fear of being known, his constant internal battle with himself for control. (DTAMHD kind of illustrates that beautifully, look inside his mind, see what he's going through, all internally, he's trying to reason with the world being against him inside, so on the outside he can present flawlessly (ha).) His front wasn't meant for Mac, Mac was the guy who he could talk to, but Mac is a little stupid and he fell for it, an unfortunate by-product, and Dennis hates that. He hates that Mac sees who he's projecting and not who he is inside.

The sad thing is, Mac is trying. But he's always doing it wrong, proving himself in the wrong ways, trying to get through Dennis' shell not because he wants to know him, but because he wants him. Dennis left, Dennis came back, and Mac had replaced him with a sex doll. An object, Dennis is an object of his affection. An object.

Mac doesn't understand the difference, between lust and love. Mac doesn't understand love outside of neglect and manipulation. Dennis has built his front on manipulation. Would Mac still love him if he knew who Dennis was outside of that? Does Mac even want to know who Dennis is? Or does he just want sex? Does he love him or is it all manipulation at this point? If that was gone, where would they be?

Mac doesn't know that Dennis is Johnny, Mac can't wrap his head around the fact that Dennis is Johnny, he can't be. (Why can't he be?) Dennis is Johnny, he's dropping hints that he is: Johnny likes the same things that Dennis does, but Mac doesn't know that, because Johnny isn't the Dennis that Mac knows. Mac doesn't know Dennis. If Mac doesn't know who Dennis really is, he doesn't love him, he just wants him and Dennis doesn't want sex from Mac, because he loves him, and he hates him for that. (But Mac is in love with Johnny, Johnny who never showed up for sex, Johnny who liked the same things Dennis does...What does that tell Dennis?)

2. This one is really hard for me to pinpoint. Macdennis grew on me gradually, and then hit really hard. Definitely due to the Dennis Front factor. I admit constantly I was very much a dudebro on the subreddit about this show for about 2 years... Oops, lol. (I always liked this ship, um, non-romantically..) When TASP started the conversations there convinced me I wasn't insane to read deeper into this show and I began seeing Dennis meta, that's when I started seeing it romantically, I suppose. The first rewatch you do after cracking through Dennis is absolutely mindblowing, lmfao.

[weepylucifer]

may i respectfully ask why we are beefing with tolkien. genuinely curious

short answer: racist

long answer: you might say, but mayhem (<- me), tolkien lived a hundred years ago in the british fucking empire, of course he was a racist, most english (i'll do it like him and not say "british") authors from that time were. to which i'd say, yes, but what really gets my goat about him specifically is that his vast fandom and almost everyone doing academia about him REFUSES to acknowledge the absolute rancid trad/cath takes coming out of that man on the regular. you'll notice i'm not on a crusade of hateration against, say, bram stoker, and that's because bram's readers know and accept that he fucked up sometimes. but no, we can't sully the literary idol that is tolkien by admitting that his opinions weren't always 100% progressive, correct and all-loving by today's standards.

and trust me, i know what i'm talking about. i have read the whole book of his letters front to back and can, at any moment, pull up evidence of tolkien:

vocally supporting fascist dictator francisco franco

frothing at the mouth about how evil divorce is

being staunchly anti-communist and attributing multiple opinions he just didn't like to "red propaganda"

the "mongol types" thing

saying he, as a catholic, is more oppressed than any jewish person (he said this in a world in which the holocaust had already happened and was known to the public)

saying his made-up elves are superior to and more true than actual dactual welsh and irish folklore, which he considered primitive

basically no-true-scotsmanning adolf fucking hitler ("doesn't he know that anglo-saxons are the real master race?"), as if there were no other problems to be had with hitler. he called him a "ruddy little ignoramus" which is on par, in my opinion, with roald dahl calling him a "stinker" like he was a cartoon villain. john ronald, the man attempted genocide

saying that it would have been alright for the men of the west to invade rhun and harad and kill everyone there, and obliterate mordor, even if those countries had been beautiful, peaceful and egalitarian, because they worshipped the wrong god. essentially "crusades are okay (and even obligatory!)"

saying that yes, all elves and edain were most definitely meant to "look european" because that's obviously what looks the most beautiful. i'm sorry guys :(

whether you want to file this stuff away under "product of his time, understandable" or want to say that he should have known better, doesn't even matter at this point. bc no one wants to talk about it at all, ever, neither in fan spaces nor in academia, and everyone trying to talk about it gets ignored or dogpiled. the scholars are like "okay he said all that but he didn't MEAN anything by it!" and the fans are like "well i drew a brown elf. the issue is now fixed!" i am 5 months and 50 pages into an MA thesis about this and i have frankly had enough right about now. but it IS actually super funny that i've been beefing with tolkien for over 2 years now and made it a good chunk of my identity (<- seems healthy!) and this little comment today gets me 3 asks in my box 😄

[lestappenwdc]

Hello! Saw your tags and may I ask you-why you think Lestappen and Larry situations are different?

Disclaimer: when I say relationship in the following text I mean platonic

Hi!

Well for starters I think that people are looking at it from 1 angle only. And that is Max and Charles stopping communication with each other altogether. In that aspect sure, there is a small possibility that Lestappen could become Larry if they start (on their own accord) being guarded towards each other. But as we can see, they're both fully aware of the ship name and their interactions are being perceived and yet we have not seen a singe ounce of guardiness (is that a word?) In either of them. And what I do in situations like this is I think "Are these situations completely the same and should I expect these 2 people to act the same way? Why do I expect them to act the same way?)

Under the cut because it got long

So I took a look at both situations and realized how different they are. Hear me out.

1. Their ages. When all this started happening to Louis and Harry they were 16 years old. Their popularity skyrocketed in months if not weeks. They had no time to adjust, no time to think about their situations and their relationship outside of fame. They had 2 3 DAYS interactions with each other before they were put in front of a camera and told to entertain. They were 16 and 18. They were kids who did not expect to be a part of a world like this. They were not aware what they were and how their interactions would affect them and their relationship in the future. Lestappen Have known their entire life that their life would revolve around racing, around cameras, always known to the public. Max was going to races when he was 3 years old. It's safe to say he always knew what he was getting into when it comes to fame. Similarly Charles was always aware of this world. They both grew up in it. Charles had better pr training at 17 than most celebrities have in their 30s or 40s. So by the time they started being "close" in public (2022) they were already aware of what it would mean. They are already aware of the consequences. They have a history of interactions with each other. And now with what we are getting I think they are perfectly aware of what they are doing and they are perfectly aware of what their relationship is and what it means to them. Not to mention they probably have had time to nurture this relationship outside of the public eye (something Harry and louis were never able to do) and it allows them to have a bond beyond what we see on camera. Also we see a lot less of them than we did Larry at that time since 1d were.... literally filmed 24/7 which max and Charles are not.

2. Their professional environment. And I cant stress this enough. The people around Max and Charles encourage their interactions. Guys. This is very important. I big big HUGE part of Larry and the whole lore around it is THEY. WERE. NOT. ALLOWED. TO. TALK. TO. EACH. OTHER. Under ANY circumstances. Not bc they were disgusted by being perceived as gay. But because they were not allowed to. Everyone around 1d at the time was pretending this was not a thing. It was on every blacklist. They did not have segments when the guys were doing joint interviews and stuff. Even I'm videos of the band they were never alone in a frame together. When 1d started they were really young and marketed to a young audience. But also audience whose parents need to give permission/money In order for said audience to exist. To have rumors like that in that environment was unacceptable. Their teams thought these interaction were not working in their favour. And they told this to 16 and 18 yo kids who probably took that to heart and continued to live by it for years to come. They were told these rumors were the worst thing that could happen to their career and they believed it. Because they didn't know any better. In lestappen case? Their teams obviously don't mind it. They USE IT. It's a huge huge difference. If the team minded charles even mentioning maxs name and told professional pr trained Charles no talking to Max it doesn't benefit us you think he wouldn't listen? He absolutely would. But the teams are using this lestappen Situation to their advantage so Max and Charles have no reason to be guarded. They do not feel threatened by it.

Tl;dr there are 2 main reason I think Lestappen and Larry are different: One is their age and stage of their relationship at the time the rumors started and second is their their teams behavior and interaction with the ship. These 2 things together are causing Max and Charles to not be threatened by the public response to their relationship as opposed to Larry at that time

[sorcerous-caress]

Another human kink idea that pop up in my head

Imagine how elves wizard who study magic for hundreds of years to realize that they are on the same level of 20ish yo human wizard

I hope you are doing well btw

— RED anon

Yes! That fact never made sense to me either. For example, if Gale, a human who's clearly in his 30s, managed to become an Arch-Wizard, then what's stopping elves with lifespans ten times his own.

Theory A

Humans are born with an invisible xp multipler. Since at the end of the day, the dnd universe functions by game rules, and characters do, in fact, "level up," but they're not aware of it themselves.

To make up for their short life spans, all short lived races either are born with an xp multipler that lets them achieve more faster, or elves are born with a xp multipler that has a negative penalty.

So if a human by themselves has a multipler of 100% per year of magic study, then elves would have a 10% multipler. While dragonborns would have 110%. Kenku and Goblins get a 140% etc.

What about immortal creatures? Simple, they start with 100% or whatever their base race multipler is and suffer a decay penalty the more years they live past their age. But i feel like there should be a cap, maybe it can never get less than 1%.

Theory B

All races have the same xp multipler, but elves tend to fuck around doing nothing all day more. Maybe study one page for week and call it a day. It's not on purpose but their perception of time is really altered, what feels like hours to us might be seconds for them.

So if an elf really wants to, they can study all their life and actually become one of the most powerful arch-wizards. But they just...don't for some reason. Maybe it's the way Corellon made them, maybe being a wizard is scoffed at amogst their ranks because they are all born with inherited magic and the idea of learning and borrowing magic from the weave is insulting. Like how in drow society, most wizards are male, because if a women can study or do magic then it's considered much better to become a priestess of Lolth. Being a wizard is an insult.

Theory C

Because humans are speical and I said so :"((((

Because what if they really are? What if elves have been genuinely trying their best to become wizards and study all their life but for some reason, it's just not enough, yk. Maybe the weave prefers the short-lived, maybe Mystra prefers the humankind. Who knows.

Magic is Not like math, at least not like non-quantum math bc god knows that shit is the closest we will ever get to actual magic. People have been trying to marry it with actual physics and our normal math for years to no avail.

That's why kids are so much better at magic, you see. Magic is limited by your own brain, your own creativity and how you bend the rules.

What are humans known for? Their endless potential and creativity. What are they best at? Breaking the rules.

Maybe the human brain just clicks with magic. Our entire evolution of becoming really good problem solvers. Maybe solving puzzles for fun is a unique experience for humans which is why most of them end up falling in love with magic.

Anyway, that's all for the theory, kinky smut below about wizard elves and humans.

Okay so hear me out. You're a child prodigy in magic, far beyond your years and your understanding of the weave is so personalised and intimate that by a young age you started writing books to teach others your own ways.

As the years went by and the more wizard study certificates you've collected, you decided to teach at a magic university. You were so far known but the one thing everyone glosses over was the fact you were human. It was never mentioned in any of your books or writing.

So you're this cute young human professor at this prestigious high elf magic academy for wizards. Standing in front of rows of people much older than 4 or 5 of your generations combined. Having to teach them and be stern.

But they're being so stubborn and petty about the fact that a meek human is trying to act like their superior. Especially being high elves and all. They're tried to not take you seriously and skip your class but found out later that you're one of the mandatory classes for them to graduate so they begrudgingly attended.

Maybe they start thinking of you as eyecandy. Shamelessly glancing at you when you bend over to help look at someone's paper, maybe they start dropping the prof honorific and address you by a name or a nickname in elvish you're not aware of. Maybe even that elvish word has a perverted meaning that flies over your head when you happily answer to it and think they're warming up to you.

They try to become really close, inviting you to their hangouts, inappropriate parties, and everything that a professor shouldn't be attending. They hand you drinks and watch you swallow them down, coaxing you into showing them your cute human games, truth or dare it was called right?

One student dares you to sit on their lap, they coo and run their fingers on your body. Another skips turns to dare you to take your blazer off, why are you wearing formal clothes here?

[scoonsalicious]

you’re making me cry these last updates😂😭🔥 the cry of joy mixing up with anger mixing up with WHATTTS WITH THE CLIFFHANGERRRR!!!! YOU R THE BESTTTTTTYT

so the whole Buckaroo fucking Joseph is expected (i want to deny it happened but IT HAPPENED AND I AM SO FRUSTRATED)

Shame on you Buckbutt.

But I do think one of the fucking is an actual accident ‘accident’ if you know what i mean?😂 Maybe Jessica guilt trip him, or him doing it unconsciously as in manipulated (i saw someone said abt they just remembered Bucket getting ‘excited’ from fighting) and one thing leads to another. Who knowwssss??

But GOD😭 I don’t want a dick that had been inside a BITCH😭😂 Especially that bitch… (screams)

Buckarina is so so so soso so so stooppidddd🙄 like damn, how stupid can you be? the audacity to cry ? and then asking Pocket what should he do again to ‘fix’ it when the answer fucking obvious. I understand the pressure he was in, but he should’ve known better. LIKE… MAN WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID😭 107 with a mentality of a teenager (BUT okay fine, you have problems whatevs, I forgive you but absolutely not Pocket)

The moment he decides to hide it rather than to face it was game over.

AND GOSH STEVE. I have faith in Pocket but not Steve (sorry). There’s a lot of options I could think of.

1. Just sex (You get what you deserve right? You fuck someone I hate, I fuck someone you not hate but dislike bcs he used to or still likes me)

2. Magically, Pocket comes to her senses (from the drugs) and just does mild stuff with Steve… MILD

3. Steve uses it as his advantages (I mean…. who wouldn’t when you have the opportunity)

4. Steve stops it (IS THAT POSSIBLE???? MAYBE IF HE CARES FOR HIS STUPID BESTFRIEND)

This chapter is called Uninhibited for a reason so I think… as much we have the ick for Steve, it mightttt happened?😂 And it makes a lot of sense if the next chapter is Unhinged. RIP Buckdoodle. Ya ears gunna cry.

I think Pocket needs it. Might be crass but Pocket HAVE to be fucked properly and thoroughly to get it out of her system (let Tin Man hears it)… but by Steve? (😂😭 gosh man idk what to think)

One thing for sure I do hope there’s a scene where Pocket giving the team a fucking strip show and lap dance to anyone (make it hurt and ick more — STEVE) in front of — i run out of names — Buckyball. (or she gave everyone one but not him, like you can see but not touch cause ya don deserve it)

I NEED STRIPPER POCKET FOR REALLLL!!!! (to the point even fucking cunt Jade is jealous and insecure)

oh and as always, I love you Pookie, thank you for feeding me with your majestic words. I trust everything you had plan bcs i know it’s ameowzing.

😗❤️

PS// Can we appreciate our lovely Bucky Barnes here (I can’t believe this is the stupid boy we’re mad with… but I can see that😂)

This is everything. You are everything. Pookie loves you so much. <3

[pjsk-writin]

hihi !! I hope ur having a good day and if not, i hope it gets better soon :]] This is my first time requesting but i wanted to request like pjsekai characters with a crush they plan on confessing to and they tell a friend of theirs about it and the friend gives them advice on how they should confess and character actually takes it but ends up making a complete fool of themselves bc the advice given was like as if it was out of a cheesy romance novel 😭😭 if possible, I would like to request with akito, nene, and toya ! im sorry if it doesnt make any sense, but thanks for everything ! ur writing makes me explode /pos

hihi !! I hope you're having a good day too !! and weheh tyyy, explosion hours <3 but this was super fun to write !!! I hope you like this !! <3

♡ CHEESY CONFESSIONS - Akito Shinonome, Nene Kusanagi and Toya Aoyagi x Reader

Akito:

Akito had a big crush on you. This was something well known to everyone in VBS, yet something you somehow didn't know yet-

He wanted to confess to you, he really did, but he had no idea how to go about it. Looking back on it, it probably wasn't the best idea to ask An and Toya about it-

An gave some advice she heard from a dating game, but of course Akito didn't know that. Toya didn't know that either, which is why he agreed with her

As much as she knew he would get mad at her for it later, An thought it would be way too funny to let the opportunity pass. So, she gave him the cheesiest advice possible, and he actually took it-

He asks you to meet him behind the school, and when you find him, he has a bouquet of flowers in hand. He clears his throat before looking to you

"You are the most lovely person I have ever laid my eyes upon." Huh? Despite your confusion, he continues, face red, "Would you...Would you give me the chance to court you properly?"

Despite how heartfelt he looked, you couldn't help but burst into laughter. He stares at you in confusion, and you just continue to laugh before nodding your head. That was so cheesy-

He realizes later on why you were laughing, and ends up fighting An about it-

Nene:

Nene tried to hide it, but it wasn't hard to tell that she had a crush on you from how often she would shoot glances your way

Of course, the last people she wanted to ask for advice from were her troupemates, but they were who she was closest to

They all gave her advice, but it all seemed to be taken from the play that they had put on only a week before. She tried not to sigh in exasperation at the lines they told her to say

However, it wasn't like she had any other source of advice, and she started to believe that maybe, just maybe, their advice would work

She asks to meet you in front of Phoenix Wonderland, and finds that it's harder to execute the confession than she thought. Still, she steels herself and looks at you

"You...You make my heart flutter whenever our paths cross." Oh? Your eyes widen, but she continues, looking passionate, "I have loved you for eternity, and I shall continue to do so. So..."

She pauses due to the fact that you started laughing. Her face goes red, and she wonders if she did something wrong...You quickly end her doubts by smiling and accepting her confession

You tell her how cheesy it is later on, and she swears to herself to never accept advice from WxS ever again-

Toya:

Toya is incredibly clueless on what to do with his crush on you. He had to confess soon, but he was never really the best with romance...

Going to Akito may not have been the best idea, especially considering how he was with romance anyway, but he was his best friend! Surely he'd have good advice

It was a shame that Akito was almost just as clueless as Toya was. He had overheard something from a novel Mizuki was talking about, maybe that could work?

He gives Toya the advice he heard, and Toya latches onto it immediately. He really had nothing to check it against, and it seemed like it could work well anyway!

He asks to talk to you after class, and when you go to meet him, he has a box of your favorite snacks in hand. What was going on?

"Your soul and mine have been intertwined ever since we met." What? He glances off to the side before looking at you with determination, "It is as if fate itself took our strings and tied us together-"

He pauses when you start cracking up, eyes wide. Why were you laughing? Did he say too little? He goes to say more, but you cut him off by accepting his cheesy confession

He tells Akito about your reaction later on, and Akito just puts his head in his hands. Oh, Mizuki was going to be teasing them both about the entire event for sure-

[transenbyconfessions]

Tw // Queer infighting, slur mention, suicide bait

I’m so sick and tired of how people treat trans guys. Just guys in general.

I have a classmate who, when I first met them, was still closeted so a gay “guy” (they’re nonbinary). I was out as transmasc, still nervous about it. They hadn’t known very many trans people, but they did really well about it. We chatted occasionally, they apologized and corrected whenever they misgendered me, they put effort into not calling me ‘girl’ bc it was a filler word for them like how I use dude, gushed over my top surgery. Early on it was a lot of “ohymgosh I’m soo sorry I don’t want to offend you!!” And me going “nbd, it takes a bit to get used to! Thanks for putting effort into it :)”

And then they came out as non-binary. I was really happy for them at first, but the way they act towards me (and honestly also everyone else) has just.... gotten so much worse since then. They call people - people they’ve been friends with!! Other trans people!! - transphobic for accidentally misgendering them even when the person immediately apologizes and corrects themselves. Like I totally get being sensitive about it, but when you’ve been out for less than a month.... there’s an adjustment period. It sucks, I know, but they’re not doing it on purpose. One time I disagreed with them, I don’t even remember what it was over, it didn’t even have anything to do with gender, and they got huffy and said “I’ll post on Twitter that you’re nonbinaryphobic!” Like???? My good person I am Also Non-binary. And they always pass these things off as jokes when people call them out but like. It’s really obvious that they’re not.

Even worse, they’ve completely fallen down the “kam” hole. They talk about how “all men are shit/need to die” just.... in front of everybody!! They’ll say it straight to the faces of the guys in the department, especially the ones they know won’t say shit back. They’ve been particularly targeting one of the freshmen (a cishet guy) they’re constantly saying shit about him being “stupid worthless man” and even called him a faggot???? Like Hello what the Actual Fuck do you think you’re doing????? They’ve said shit like that to him and one of my best friends, both cishet guys, both some of the most respectful people about me being trans that I’ve ever met. It makes me so furious that I start physically shaking.

And on top of all that, whenever I try to steer the conversation or defend the guys, they start talking shit to me too. It got to the point they looked me dead in the eye and said “all men should die, and you’re a shitty man too.” Which is especially fucked because I’m not!!! Even a man!!!! And they know that!!! But transmasc is close enough to tell me to die with the rest of the men, I guess. It was such a slap in the face that I couldn’t even respond, I stare. But they went on later, chatting and acting friendly as if they hadn’t told me straight to my face they think I should be dead.

We’re going on a school trip soon, and I got roomed with them, presumably because we’re the only two trans people going. Just thinking about it makes me so nauseous, I’ve already had a panic attack over being alone with them for that much time. But I don’t feel like I can intrude on asking to switch with anybody, because I’m trans and I could make them uncomfortable. and I just can’t make myself prioritize my comfort over others. Anybody else who rooms with them will get shit too, and as another trans person, I can defend myself against the bullshit they say better because it’s all amateur radfem-lite rhetoric. And I‘m probably the only other student who knows enough about queer theory and infighting to fire back. So i guess I’m just.... the sturdiest punching bag. After everything they said about being excited to talk to me about being trans!!! After all the effort I’ve put into being the first to come out in the department and help my professors and peers not be uncomfortable and tip-toe around me being trans!!!! I feel angry and betrayed and sad and scared and it’s so, so fucked up. I can tell they’re doing this because they’re scared and angry but it’s making things so much worse. And now I’m stuck playing both damage control and emotional meatshield. I hate this, but I can’t stand by and just watch either. I’m so tired.

Submitted July 13, 2023

[murdrdocs]

just bc i’m sick i think that steve would be an incredibly doting boyfie when you’re sick <33

he calls you and it takes entirely too long for you to reach the phone. it’s on its last ring when you pick it up from the receiver.

“what took you so long? i was worried,” he’s saying before you’re pre-prompted “hello” comes out.

when it does, he instantly hears the stuffiness in your voice.

“oh no. baby…” he trails off and you hear his sigh through the phone. “it’s got you too?” and the thing he’s so ominously referring to is whatever it is that’s making it’s way through hawkins right now.

almost everyone around both of you had fallen sick, of course starting with robin, who steve claims has ‘the worse immune system known to man’. you and steve were bragging about how this mysterious illness hasn’t made it to you two only a few days ago, and it seems you jinxed yourself.

“yeah. it did.” your pout is audible even through the static of the phone.

“oh sweetheart, are you okay? how ya holding up?”

you tell steve, through a few sneezes and sniffles and thick congestion, that you’ve felt worse, but you’ve also felt better. the sickness is only in the first few stages, you both know that, but you don’t bring it up. you tell steve that you’ll be better in no time and you should see him at work in the next two days.

wrong.

two days go by, two days of holding steve off from visiting you, and you only get worse.

you thought you’d be able to battle this illness with a few over the counter medicines, but that obviously doesn’t work.

so steve is showing up at your door, holding his arms out, and telling you to get in the car. you have half a mind to grab a blanket and your slippers before steve is trying to scoop you into his arms and take you to his car himself.

you almost let him, but you shuffle your way to the car instead.

you go to the doctor, get tested (negative for everything, just like everyone else), and leave with a prescription in hand.

on the way to pick it up, steve listens to your nagging about how you took life before sickness for granted. how you never knew how much of a privilege it was to be able to breathe out of both nostrils. and how you’ll never take it for granted ever again.

(that’ll last for a few months)

somewhere along the line, you knock out. you come to a few times — once at the gas station, another at the pharmacy — but you don’t fully awake until you’re back home.

this time, steve does swoop you up into his arms and takes you back into the comfort of your home. he sets you in your bed, helps you strip when you complain about being too hot, slides a pair of fuzzy socks onto your feet when you complain about being too cold, and eagerly rushes to the kitchen when you complain about your dry throat.

he delicately rubs vicks vapor rub into your shirt, and aquaphor onto your lips (which he kisses once they’re moisturized), and under your dry nose.

you try to tell him to leave so that he doesn’t get sick, but steve refuses. he slips his shoes off, and sits on the floor in front of your bed.

“steve,” you groan, your hand reaching out from below the covers to shove itself into his hair.

“uh-uh,” he moves away from your hand, but then moves right back to it. “i’m not leaving you alone, baby. get used to it.”

you do, quicker than either of you anticipated. but you were running out of energy to speak.

“your shows about to come on. how bout i put that on, you take a nap, and when you wake up i’ll have something to eat. okay?”

he turns to face you and his eyes watch you nod.

you mouth a simple ‘okay’ and your eyes flutter shut once steve kisses your forehead, and the soft chatter of a sitcom fills your ears.