#most of them linked to evans and his fidgets
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jessieren · 5 days ago
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Following @librawritesstuff lead on throwback fidgets - and linked to my HNW fully naked hands post from earlier in the week -
I present to you the ever moving fidgety hands version of HNW
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yallthemwitches · 6 months ago
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Look Who's Coming to Dinner
Vernon thought a dinner at the Evans' house would be perfectly normal like all the other times--unfortunately for him, Petunia's sister is home and she has company.
AO3 Link here!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57451264
It was half past six and Vernon was making good time. He had left the firm a few minutes early–not enough to be suspected as a loaf, but the proper amount that seemed reasonable for a man who had plans for the evening. At the light, he looked down and regarded his outfit. Despite being what he wore to work, it seemed to be perfectly acceptable if not an attractive look. White button up, thick gray tie, and black trousers; classic. 
It was not his first time visiting the Evans’ residence—not even a little. He had become quite accustomed to the small house in residential Cokeworth; the garden which Petunia fussed over, the cozy sitting room with a bit elaborate but tasteful crown moldings—he even started to get used to the cat that prowled around the halls and seemed to have a personal vendetta against his black loafers. 
He pulled up the drive. Above the garage, a yellowish, red light shown through the bay windows of the house. He had never seen those lights on, nor was he able to think if he had seen those same windows during one of the house tours Petunia had given him on his first visit. The light projected a red fog around the driveway, which was reminiscent of when his neighbors decorated for Halloween.
Vernon straightened his tie one last time, then trudged to the door. He rang the doorbell and waited. Within the house he could hear the sound of footsteps, a bang, and two muffled female voices that seemed to be at odds with each other. The door swung open. 
“Vernon!” Petunia took a step out into the garden and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Both of them agreed that any public displays of affection, even if there wasn’t anyone there to witness them, were base and lowly. 
Petunia wrung her hands on her cooking apron and glanced over her shoulder. 
“Well, we going in then?” Vernon huffed. He was getting hungry. He hadn’t left work 3 minutes early to stand on the stoop. 
“Of course darling. But—I need to tell you.” Petunia looked behind her shoulder again. “It’s just that—my love—my sister is home.”
Her sister. Vernon had not heard much of the elusive younger sister. On the few times he took tea with the Evans’ they would mention her in passing and she sounded perfectly normal, but Petunia absolutely hated to speak of her. On a date once he tried to politely inquire what her sister did (seeing as she was not home most of the time) and Petunia looked about ready to burst into tears at the mere mention of the subject. From that point on, he wrote it off as something too emotional to speak of. He hated things that were emotional. 
“Very well then. I’m sure the dinner will be just fine in any event.” He was getting impatient, but Petunia continued to wring her hands on the stoop. After a defeated sigh, she let him follow her into the house. 
Everything at first seemed perfectly normal since the last time he had visited. Mr. Evans sat on the sofa reading his paper with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Mrs. Evans was busy setting the table. Both stopped their respective activities to give a hello and Vernon found them just as practical and agreeable as ever. “No frills, no nonsense. Just normal good working people,” Vernon thought to himself. It was the reason he fell in love with Petunia. She came from good breeding. 
But something in the air was different. It took him a second to realize, but there was music playing off in the other room, and not just any music, but that bloody rock and roll music. 
Mrs. Evans finished at the table and approached Vernon and a still nervous Petunia, who since his arrival had not stopped fidgeting at his side. 
“Would you like a beer or something else to drink, Vernon?” Mrs. Evans offered. 
Vernon kindly accepted and Petunia stared wide-eyed at the kitchen door. She opened her mouth to say something to her mother, but Mrs. Evans cut her off with a shout. 
“Lily dear! Vernon is here. Could you grab him and your father a lager from the fridge?” 
The music from the other room cut and there was a muffled response from within the kitchen. Petunia widened her eyes with terror as the door swung open and a young girl bounded out, holding two bottles of beer by their necks with one hand.
She looked nothing like Petunia. Her dark red hair cascaded down her back in light casual waves and a pair of bright green eyes peeked out from behind a fringe that layered around her face. A small knot of pulled back hair was held in place on the back of her head with what looked like a very carefully treated piece of wood. 
She was attractive, Vernon could not deny it, but she was attractive in the sense that any of those young ruffian new age-y types would like. The way she was dressed, Vernon couldn’t help but think of all the movie commercials he saw play between news anchors. Women with long hair, short skirts, and nylon boots up to their thighs—no doubt promoting something scandalous, or worse, illegal for the youth of today. 
“Here you are,” Lily handed a beer to her father before extending the other to him. “I’m Lily, Tuney’s younger sister.”
She kept her arm extended out to him as though waiting for a handshake. Her eyes shone out from under the fringe and a little smile pulled at her lips. Vernon regarded her extended hand without reciprocation.
“Pleasure.” He grunted. Getting the hint, she dropped her hand.
Petunia stood stock still at his side. In all honesty, he found her behavior to be quite rude. Usually when he visited she would be bustling around making sure everything was perfect for the evening. Tonight, she acted as though lightning came down and struck her from the sky. 
After a long pause, Lily’s eyes shifted between everyone else in the room and her eyebrows raised.
“Right. Well, dinner is about ready. Tuney, will you help me serve the table?” With her name, Petunia seemed to snap out of her daze. She quickly grabbed the corner of Lily’s elbow and pulled her towards the open kitchen door. 
“Ow,” Lily murmured. As they walked away, he could see Peturnia talking quickly into her sister’s ear. 
“I swear to GOD Lily, if you do anything I will– I will…” 
Lily yanked her arm away. And hissed back as quietly as possible. “I’m not thick. What would I even do anyways?”
The door shut behind them. 
It was odd but Vernon drank his beer and struck up a conversation about car replacement parts with Mr. Evans. He quickly forgot about the scene between the two sisters. Girls are just like that. Alone they are fine but when you put too many of them in a room, it's too much trouble.
They sat for dinner. 
The whole table remained silent besides the sound of scratching utensils. Petunia kept eyeing her sister disdainfully, who for whatever reason, kept an amused smile plastered on her face despite a lack of conversation. 
“So, Lily,” Vernon started in. Petunia stabbed at her food loudly, clenching her knife in a full fist. “Your parents say you are in a boarding school.”
Lily blinked a few times. The amused smile wiped from her face and she seemed to be having an intense staring battle with her sibling. After a beat she spoke. 
“Er, yes. Yes, I do.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Scotland—the countryside.”
Vernon’s mother worked in education. He knew of all the finest academies in the British Isles but had never heard of a boarding school in the Scottish wilderness. He chewed at his steak and looked her over again. Her halter top was not doing the best work at hiding that she wasn’t wearing a bra and a ring around her middle finger had a strange symbol carved into it. No proper school would admit someone who looks like this on a normal day. 
“Haven’t quite heard of a school in those parts,” he retorted. “And what is their focus in study?”
Petunia nearly choked. A blush raised to Lily’s cheeks and she suppressed a laugh with a cough. Vernon frowned. 
“It’s an alternative school, darling. You know…. for those people,” Petunia cooed at him. There was a hint of caution in her tone, like she wasn’t completely sure of her own statement. Lily scoffed loudly and speared her stewed carrots with a vendetta.
Oh.Oh. She was one of those hippie types. He should’ve known as much with how she dressed and how much Petunia seemed disgusted by her. He would have the same sort of sentiment if Marge came home believing in some bosh liberal, free love crock. 
“It's quite a good school, actually,” Lily retorted. “Despite my sister’s reservations, it's the best school of its nature. I am actually head girl this year.”
“The best school,” Vernon reflected. “And what would it be best in?”
There was a whoosh of wind from under the table. He couldn’t be sure but it seemed like one sister had kicked the other. Lily scrunched her face. 
“Vernon, I’m so sorry—Tuney, can I speak to you in the kitchen for a moment.” Both girls got up from the table. Despite being so visually different, they both held tension in the same way—fists balled and shoulders pushed back. 
The kitchen door slammed shut and a flurry of whispered voices argued behind the door. 
“Don’t mind them. They have a bit of trouble seeing eye to eye sometimes. But we really are truly quite proud of them both,” Mr. Evans offered. 
The sound of the doorbell cut through the room. 
Mrs. Evans walked to the door to open it. A young, slim boy stood on the stoop. His hair was windswept and his eyes twinkled beyond a set of glasses. 
“Oh James!” Mrs. Evans exclaimed and she pulled the boy in for a quick hug. “Lily didn’t tell us you were coming! Should we have expected you?” 
James ran a hand through his hair, making it more untidy. “No, Mrs. Evans. I was actually just in the neighborhood and thought I would give my regards.” 
Lily walked out of the kitchen door and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the stranger.  Behind her, Petunia looked pale and started pushing at her sister who waved her off with one hand. A blush grew on Lily’s cheeks as she bounded towards the open door. 
“Lily, I’m hoooome!” The boy called in a sing-song voice. “Hm. a bit cocky isn’t he,”Vernon remarked, but Mrs. Evans let out a laugh, clearly charmed, and let her daughter talk to the intruder. 
Despite frowning with her arms crossed, a creep of a smile curled at Lily’s lips. 
“You seem to be lost, Potter.” Despite speaking low, Vernon could make out most of their conversation.
“On a last name basis again, Evans? Thought we crossed that bridge—” He smirked.
“Ok, but seriously James—no, don't make a “serious” joke— what are you doing here?”
“I can’t miss my girlfriend on this unbearably long, lonely and cold winter holiday?”
She snorted. “You are unbearable.”
She pretended to fight him off for a second before allowing his hands to cradle either side of her face and lean in for a not-so chaste kiss. 
“Ugh, how disgusting. I bet they are some kind of “Free Love” advocates. Why would they think we want to see that? It's so tacky,” Vernon thought as he looked away.  
After what felt like an enormous amount of time to be kissing in front of family. The couple broke apart. 
“So—can I come in? I promise I’ll be good…” She made a scoffing noise as he pouted and batted his eyes. 
“Normally, I’d say yes…but we have company.” James looked over her shoulder directly at him. Vernon looked down at his plate and tried not to seem like he was eavesdropping. 
“Charming.” James said before raising his voice so the room would hear. 
“Well, I wouldn’t want to be impolite, so I guess I’ll be off then!” At that, Mrs. Evans spoke up from her place at the table. 
“No, no, it's no trouble at all, James! We would love to have you stay for at least a spot of dessert and some tea! Please come, we will make you a spot.” Mrs. Evans started to scoot things over while nagging Mr. Evans to find a suitable chair. 
James smirked at Lily and walked past her. “Well in that case…” Underneath her breath Lily murmured git. 
James took off his jean jacket and wrapped an arm around Lily as they walked towards the table. Petunia’s eyes were reduced to slits as she zeroed in on her sister. Catching her gaze, Lily mouthed a small “sorry” in her direction. Petunia gave out a scoff and wiped at her mouth. 
The couple reached the table and James offered his hand out to Vernon. 
“James Potter.” Vernon didn’t take the time to stand but shook hands. James burst into a wide grin and Vernon wondered if he had some food on his face.
“Vernon Dursley.”
“That’s Tuney’s fiancée,” Lily added. Petunia stared at James coldly, not offering him a hello or any such welcome. 
“Fiancée? Congratulations! I’m hoping to marry an Evans myself, so we have one thing in common!” Lily looked up at her boyfriend with squinted eyes but if he noticed, he seemed to be quite used to it. 
“What is this boy about? Is he mental?”
James sat back in his seat, leaving one hand resting carelessly on Lily’s thigh. I mean honestly. 
“Right. Well James, do you go to school with Lily?” Petunia made a choking cough. Lily’s eyes widened and stared intently at James who once again did not acknowledge his girlfriend’s glare. 
“I do, actually. It’s where we met!” Vernon looked him up and down. Besides messy hair and a hideous jean jacket, the boy looked over all pretty straight. If he had met him on the street he wouldn't have guessed he attended some hippie school out in the wilderness. 
“Lily was telling me you study all sorts of rubbi—interesting subjects. 
James stared blankly at him. 
Lily grabbed James’ arm and gave it a squeeze. “You know James, like… herbalism.”
James blinked. “Right–yeah, Herbalism. Err, love that class.”
Lily pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. 
“Do you do any extracurriculars? Lily told me she is the head girl.”
“Well, I’m the head boy actually so we are a matching set.” James placed a kiss on Lily’s cheek.
Ugh. 
“But I also play sports—a sport.”
“Which?” At that James’ eyes darted around the room. He turned his head to Lily who also stared blankly and furrowed her brow. She bit her lip and squeezed his thigh hard. 
“Uh, actually—just remembered I don’t play sports at all. Hate them.” Lily closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. 
Something was fishy about this whole thing. School in the middle of nowhere. Classes about freak hippie subjects that were a bunch of bunk. Now this boy does not even know how to act in public, much less recount his life to make polite conversation. 
This must be a cult. Oh God. Petunia’s sister is in some Manson style cult. 
It all made sense now. Why Petunia looked so terrified and never wanted to talk about her sister. Why even her parents were so tight lipped about her. Why she and this boy were being so bloody weird. The poor family must be beside themselves every time they have to take her back in—probably has no money either.
A loud rumble came from outside the house, along with a squealing of wheels. Both Lily and James turned their heads to the door. Lily snapped her head back to look at her boyfriend with eyes raised. 
“So sorry to interrupt again, but I need to talk to James outside for a moment,” Lily cut in. “Please start dessert without us.” 
The two got up from their seats and stepped out the back door into the garden. Petunia made a long exasperated sigh and Mrs. Evans’ fussed over whether or not she should go ahead and pour a bit of tea for when they got back. 
Feeling a bit perplexed, and unsure how to properly proceed giving his newfound revelation, Vernon excused himself to the loo to sort it out. 
I bet there is some sort of loony bin the two can go to to get sorted. God knows I wouldn’t want my family around some cult following crackpots either. I’m sure they even have drugs on them! No wonder poor Petunia has such a hard time. He washed his hands and left the toilet. As he passed through the hallway, he could see the back garden lights on. He stopped and peered out of the window. 
Lily and James stood side by side looking out into the garden. He could see their mouths moving, but they didn’t seem to be talking to each other. Out of the darkness a large black dog padded its way up to them. Lily bent down, not to pet it, but rather continued talking to it as though it was capable of understanding her. James leaned down and said a few words to it as well. 
Well that sorts it, they are on drugs. 
The dog bounded back into the darkness, but a few moments later, a boy with long, shaggy black hair sloped his way out from where the dog disappeared. If this stranger had just appeared, the couple did not seem to acknowledge it. They continued talking as though the new boy had been there all along. 
They continued talking and the new boy threw back his head and let out a barking laugh at something that was said. 
James and Lily walked back towards the door which was within earshot of the window.
“Sorry to leave so soon Lils’---I hope I at least made it interesting. Tell your mum that I’d fancy a tea date with her whenever she likes—” Lily made a to give a playful smack, but James caught her hand expertly out of the air and swooped in for a kiss. They wrapped around each other and snogged for a few moments against the back wall of the house before pulling back and resting on each others’ foreheads.
“See you soon? I can’t wait until school comes back in, I’m just lost without you,” Lily snorted but smiled at him. 
“Maybe come around another time when I’m not trying to look normal.” She chided.
“Bad luck Evans. You’re the least normal witch I know.” The sound of a motor turning over rumbled in the distance. James pushed Lily back into the wall for one final kiss, before walking into the darkness where the other boy had disappeared. Lily stood with her arms wrapped around herself for a moment before entering back into the house. 
From beyond the treeline, a motor roared. A beam of a headlight ascended into the sky and Vernon could swear he could make out two silhouettes just behind the blinding light. 
What in the bloody hell?
Back at the table, the meal continued without incident. Vernon could have almost convinced himself he had dreamt it. At his goodbyes, he gave Petunia a quick chaste kiss ( nothing resembling the ostentatious affection her sister had shown) and bounded for the door. 
It almost seemed like a dream. The weird sister, the cocky boisterous boyfriend, the mysterious man with the weird unsettling light. Perhaps he had drunk too much Sherry. Satisfied with that excuse, he went to open the door. A jean jacket hung from the wall. 
He eyed it, realizing its testament to the evening's events. He looked at Petunia who had tears creeping into her eyes. He turned to her and gave her a hug. A real hug. 
He made an unspoken pact to her at that moment. Nothing, nothing as odd as tonight would ever happen in their happy life together once she left this house. Not if he had anything to do with it. 
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abbyilr1967 · 4 years ago
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Drabble - Chris Evans x Reader
Prompt: Comfort for Body Image Issues
A/n: I haven’t written one of these in a while, so I’m sorry if it kinda sucks. If you are new to my work, here is a link to my Masterlist.
Warnings: slight body dismorphia
Word Count: 753
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You hadn’t expected Chris to ask you to attend the Avengers Endgame premiere with him, sure you’d been together for some time now, but he was really reluctant to bring you into the spotlight for fear of what the media might do or say. You’d talked to him about how you used to struggle with your poor self-image and low self-esteem, as well as many other things. And ever since he’s been very protective over you. He just doesn’t want you to fall back into that dark space again, which you appreciated him a lot for. But now as you stand in front of the various gorgeous gowns Chris’ stylists had left for you, it’s hard trying to keep those thoughts at bay. 
“Here we go,” you say to yourself as you take the first dress off the hanger and begin to change into it. 
After minutes of struggling to get the dress zipped up on your own, you take a step in front of the mirror to take a look. You’re eyes immediately scan over all your “trouble areas” that you used to be extremely self-conscious about. Your stomach, hip dips, your arms. Your hand comes up to rub under your chin and neck, looking for the double chin you no-longer had. You continue to try on dress after dress, continuously finding problem-after-problem with the way you looked in them. 
“Your stomachs not flat enough.”
“Your arms look fat in that one.” 
“Look at your back rolls.” 
After you had finally forced the last dress off, you crumple to the floor in defeat. You can feel the heat of embarrassment coming off of you as you cry silently in the walk-in closet. Lost in your head you were unaware of the sound of the knocking at your bedroom door. 
“Y/n? Are you in there Honey?” Before you had a chance to answer, he’s opened the door and walked in. Chris rounds the corner that leads to the walk-in and sees you slumped in a heap on the floor. Too emotionally overwhelmed to do anything about the state you currently found yourself in, you allowed yourself to continue to cry. 
“Oh my god, are you ok baby?” Chris is by your side in an instant, down on the floor, pulling you into his lap to cradle you. 
“What happened?” he whispers into your hair. He looks around to notice all the dresses strewn across the floor. You sniffle in response and bury your head into his shoulder. Chris’ arms wrap around you a little tighter, placing tender little kisses to your temple. 
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but if you do I’ll listen,” he reassures. 
You lay in his arms for a moment, allowing yourself to catch your breath and calm your nerves. You lift your head from his shoulder to look up at him.
“Why me?” 
“What?” a confused look is plastered across his face at this point. 
“Why me?” your eyes look down towards your hands, which had begun nervously fidgeting with each other. “You could be with anyone, supermodels, movie stars, anyone.” you pause. 
“And you chose me. Why?” you try to hide the sob that threatened to leave your lips, but were unsuccessful. 
“Because I love absolutely everything about you,” he stated. “You are beautiful, and funny, and intelligent.” 
Both his hands find purchase on your cheeks as he lifts your head to look back at him. “You are the love of my life, and you are perfect just the way you are. And I’m not going to let the thoughts in your head allow you to think otherwise,” he says punctuating his sentence by poking your forehead. You’ve stopped crying for the most part, but stray tears keep seeming to find a way to roll down your red cheeks. 
“C’mon,” Chris has both arms cradling you bridal style as he moves to stand. “Let’s go lay down.” 
He effortlessly carries you towards the bed and gently sets you both down in it. Pulling the covers tightly over both of you. He’s laying on his back, while he has you basically pinned to his chest with his arms again. “I love you so much,” he says while he rubs your back. 
The rest of the night was spent with Chris whispering to you about all the things he loved about you until you were lulled off to sleep, eventually the soothing sounds of your soft breathing lulls him to sleep as well. 
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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 5 years ago
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Finger Painting
One shot
This is for one of my most favourite writer's challenge! My one-shot entry for @jtargaryen18 writing challenge for her and Chris Evans' birthday month 😄
Description - It's been a month since the reader (Y/N) and Chris Evans have started dating. As the reader is plump around the stomach and the hips, she feels awkward having sex with Chris and so, has been putting it off. But what happens when Chris walks in on her "finger painting"?
Warning - Female masturbation, mentions of porn
Only 18+ proceed!
I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.
Moodboard is by the wonderful @donutloverxo ! Show her some love people 🥰
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1 month, 4 days, 2 hours and 26 minutes ago, your dreams had come true. You had started dating Chris Evans! The two of you had met at an axe-throwing club, where you worked. Chris had failed to hit the axe on the wooden board, multiple times. After his first few futile attempts, his group of friends had started teasing him relentlessly, which had further made him anxious.
You had seen him fidgeting with his hands, his breaths shallow as he kept running his hands through his hair. You recognised the signs of anxiety when you saw them, being a victim of anxiety bouts yourself. That's enough, you had decided and taken it upon yourself to share some tips. Chris had followed your instructions and hit his mark, successfully silencing his friends.
After then, he had visited the club almost every week for 5 months. He often offered to buy you a cup of coffee "in exchange for sharing your wise axe-throwing wisdom" he had put it. Putting your anxiety at bay, you had finally given in.
You smiled remembering the coffee-date. It was a simple under $20 date but it had been full of priceless, magical moments. The warm coffee in your hands, soft and crunchy chocolate chip cookies, slow walk under the gorgeous yellow and orange autumn trees, and a lifetime worth of conversations to keep you both company.
After a few more of such simple dates, Chris had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. Still high from the magical date, you had agreed without a second thought.
What you didn't realise was that while dating Chris was a dream come true, it was also as if one of your worst nightmares had come alive.
You found yourself constantly wondering how can someone like him date someone like you?! While you were sure Chris was sculpted by Michelangelo himself, on the other hand, you knew that you were the inspiration for the Michelin tire mascot. And so, even after dating him for 1 month, 4 days, 2 hours and 45 minutes, you still couldn't muster the strength to get physical with him.
While Chris hadn't made any moves to get intimate with you, you knew time would come wherein you would have to either talk to him about it, or get naked in front of him. You didn't like either of those prospects.
Sighing, you laid down on your bed, feeling down after a long day at work. You needed to make yourself feel good. You needed a release.
As you prepared for your bath, you heard your mobile ring. "Hey baby," Chris' voice sounded cheerful on the other end of the call, "wanna watch a movie tonight?"
"Hey Chris, I am too tired. I think I will just go to bed."
"Awww. Are you going to sleep already? Did you eat?" he inquired.
"I was actually about to take a bath, then eat," you replied.
"You sound so stressed baby. Why don't you do some finger painting? I am sure that will make you feel better," Chris suggested.
You have no idea, you thought. "Yeah that's a good suggestion. I will do that."
"You should. I bet they are masterpieces," he said, subtly expressing his desire to view her finger paintings, again.
"Hehe yeah," you laughed awkwardly, "I got to go now. Will take to you tomorrow, 'kay?" you said, eager to cut the call.
"Mmm okay. Take care of yourself baby," said Chris.
Chris found it weird that you had never shown him any of your paintings. Plus, you also avoided the question or were quick to change the topic. With curiosity getting better of him, he decided to head for your place, picking up wine, flowers and chocolates along the way.
After the long bath, you laid on the bed. Legs parted, your left hand immediately went to your bare sex, foregoing all the formality with your breasts. Your right hand browsed through Chris' video interviews on your mobile phone. While porn had worked well for you earlier, it just wasn't good enough anymore. You didn't find those naked, muscular men attractive now.
Selecting your favourite video interview of Chris, you played it on your speaker. His deep and strong voice blared on the loudest volume, while his bearded face, and a tight tshirt hugging his muscles filled your smartphone screen. You were already getting wet, your fingers easily diving through your folds. Time to do some finger painting.
When Chris reached your apartment, he heard a muffled male voice through the door. He tried the broken doorbell and when you didn't answer his knocks, he used the spare key hidden under the welcome mat to enter.
At first, he was surprised to hear a male voice talking on the speaker. He thought maybe you were listening to a podcast. But there was something familiar about the voice...
After a moment, realisation struck! You were watching his interview! Aaawww which meant you were missing him. Good thing he came down to pamper you.
Wishing to surprise you, he sneaked around the living room and entered the kitchen, only to find it empty. Then he heard a small moan from your bedroom. He carefully entered through the ajar door and found one of the most sexiest sights in front of him.
You were sprawled on the bed, your back arched just the tiniest bit as you rapidly thrusted 2 fingers inside of you, with your other hand fondling your bundle of nerves. He raised his eyebrows and smirked, finally understanding the meaning behind finger painting.
He slowly started rubbing his growing erection as you neared your release. You ended your ministrations with an exclamation, your body hitting the mattress as relaxation flooded through you. A peaceful smile crept up on your face, as you felt your release seeping between your thighs.
You screamed with shock as 200 pounds of drop-dead-gorgeous landed on top of you. 2 twinkling eyes, filled with lust and a cocky smirk flashed above you. "Honey, if this is what you call finger painting, then I would love to dip my brush in your paints," Chris said right before he captured your lips with his.
That was it. All it took was a hungry, sexual and passionate kiss to drive away all of your doubts, your anxiety.
You almost laughed at the speed with which Chris disposed off his clothes, his hard and unyielding body merging together with your soft, plump frame, eliminating all the distance between you two.
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midnightelite · 5 years ago
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not-so secret boyfriend
Me and @solstilla wrote another one shot! 
We wrote this for the love of our life @infiniteinmyownlittleworld world. Sending love and hopes of a speedy recovery your way! <333
Description: After a confusing encounter on the train home from hogwarts, Lily decides to try to clear up any questions that may still exist.  
Read it on AO3 or on FFN
Dear James,
I’m really sorry to bother you, but I can’t stop thinking about (Here there was a big blob of ink) 
Sorry about that! I must’ve knocked over my ink canister.
Anyways I can’t stop thinking about Quidditch! You’ve got me very interested in the difference between Puddlemere United and the Chudley Cannons and I need more fuel to tease Marly about so please respond asap. 
Shame we couldn’t talk more about it on the train, but I guess we were both busy.
Again, sorry to bother you.
Lots of Love, 
Your friend, 
From Lily
Dear Lily, 
When have you ever bothered me? Please write to me as much as you want! Sorry about the train...if you wanted to talk about Quidditch that totally could have been arranged!
As for Puddlemere versus the Cannons, what is there to explain Evans? Puddlemere has the strongest team and has for ages. They are top of the league. What else do you need when picking a team to support? Also, they have Jocelind Wadcock!! She is a force to be reckoned with! She has the most goals scored in both the British and Irish leagues! That's amazing!
Sorry, I’ll stop my quidditch rant before it gets out of hand. It’s nice hearing from you Evans. Please never think you are annoying me by writing to me. Don’t be a stranger.
Hope to see you soon,
James Potter
Dear James Potter,
What’s with all the formalities? 
Please don’t apologize for the train. I did exactly what I wanted to in that moment. I hope you did too? I do enjoy keeping busy. 
But Quidditch! No, it’s really interesting hearing you talk about Quidditch. Jocelind Wadcock seems really cool. Marly was saying though that there’s an all female team? Are they Puddlemere? Isn’t the Cannons mostly guys? I’m horribly lost. Maybe you should come over and explain it to me? 
Hope to see you soon too. Like maybe tonight? Mum’s making steak for dinner, if you wanted to come? 
Cordially, 
Evans 
Dear Evans,
OF COURSE I ENJOYED KEEPING BUSY WITH YOU. I just wasn't 100% sure you didn’t regret it. Merlin you have no clue how long I wanted to do that, but I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. If you don’t want to pursue anything that's totally fine! I get it! We do not need to talk about it again. It can be like nothing happened. If you want. 
I would love to see you! We can talk about anything you want, quidditch, potions, your sister and how done with her you are at this point (sorry if that's rude to say i just figured from the stories I’ve heard you may want to vent). I’d be honored to spend any time with you no matter what we do. I can definitely come by for dinner tonight!
Your friend,
James
P.S. The all women team is the Holyhead Harpies! I’ll explain more at your house!
P.P.S. What time should I come over? 
Dear James, 
But something did happen and I wanted it to happen for a really long time too. My biggest fear in all of this is that it’s just going to have happened and we pretend that it never did. 
I think maybe I might possibly like you a little bit. Or maybe a lot. 
Dinner’s at 6 but if you wanted to come over early, we could take a walk around town and talk about stuff. My sister (you’re right, she’s a pill), Quidditch, potions, train rides… 
Anything you like. 
See you soon, 
Lils 
The next thing she knew, Lily heard the doorbell ringing incessantly. That could only be one person. She scrambled up from her desk chair where she had been anxiously waiting for another letter, barreled down the stairs past her confused parents, and flung open the door. Her cheeks were red and he looked breathless, and nothing mattered but James Potter standing on her doorstep, still holding her letter in his hand. Lily squealed with laughter, throwing her arms around his neck and jumping into his arms. 
He nearly toppled over, but luckily Quidditch gave him great reflexes and he managed to steady both of them and pulled Lily close. 
Marie and Thomas Evans shared a look with each other, watching their youngest daughter tackle a man they’d never met. “Should I set another place for dinner, then Lily?” 
Lily nodded, not even glancing back at her parents. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s staying for dinner.” Her heart thudded in her chest, staring into his eyes. James was here. He was here and he wanted to talk about what happened on the train. Maybe keep busy again? Lily grinned at the thought, slipping down and holding the door handles. James busied himself by tucking the letter into his pocket, much too nervous to stand around doing nothing. “Going for a walk! Be back later!” The door closed, and Lily’s eyes met his again. She couldn’t stop the little giggles bubbling up from her chest.
Their hands found each other, who initiated it was unclear. 
“There’s this spot,” she breathed, swinging their hands between them. Her nerves insisted on doing some kind of erratic dance, much like her heart, and she was trying her best to keep her fidgeting to a minimum. “By the lake, it’s-”
“Let’s go,” James nodded, seemingly unable to stop himself from fidgeting either as he ran his hand through his hair. Lily pulled him along towards the lake, squeezing the hand still linked in hers. He kept messing up his hair, and he looked like he was grappling with trying to find the words to say something, anything. Lily wasn’t much better off. Besides being tongue-tied, she was a little more than distracted by the boy in front of her. She couldn’t stop staring, watching as his hand tousled his hair, but she tried to hide it as best as possible. When their eyes met for what felt like the hundredth time, he stopped walking. 
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing. It’s just…” She trailed off before removing her hand from his grasp. He shot her a confused look before she stepped closer, got on the tips of her toes, and mussed his hair up so it was sticking out at all angles. “Better.” She smiled goofily at him, her hands still in his hair. Their eyes locked for a beat, James looked like he was thinking something through before his eyes settled on one emotion. His eyes flicked down toward her lips, and he was leaning in. Lily’s eyes closed on their own accord and she felt the barest hint of pressure from his lips. Before she had the chance to respond, James pulled back and grabbed her hand. James winked down at her dazed expression, before continuing in the direction they were originally headed in.  
Lily stood rooted to the spot, and when her arm held him back, he turned toward her with a small smirk on his face and gave a little tug on their joined hands. Lily responded with a tug of her own, pulling him closer. 
“I wasn’t done with you yet.” Lily barely registered the shock shining on James’s face before she closed the distance between them. When their lips met all Lily could think was holy shit. This was different from the kiss on the train. The kiss on the train was sweet and quick. Filled with questions. This was definite. This answered all those questions and more. 
Lily’s hands found their way back into his unruly hair, settling on giving gentle tugs to the tufts found at the nape of his neck. The pleasant slip of their lips spelling out the emotions neither were able to put to words. James traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, asking for permission. Granting him access, Lily stepped closer so there was barely any space between them. Her heart’s erratic beat became even more irregular. James’s hands were resting at the small of her back and he pulled Lily closer, causing their noses to bump together, pulling her back to the present moment.
 Lily couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out against his lips. Once it started she couldn't stop.  James laughed too, his head dropping into her shoulder. After a moment of recovery, he pressed little kisses into her shoulder, stopped to drag his nose along her neck, trailing kisses up along her jaw til he landed on her cheeks. After a few kisses there he landed back squarely on her smiling lips, a lot more chaste than the one previously.
“We can’t tell the guys,” he murmured in between kisses. “They have a bet going and Padfoot’s not gonna win again.” He emphasized this with a kiss on her nose, to which Lily burst into another fit of laughter. 
“So how long do we need to keep it secret?” Now it was her turn to pepper him in kisses, starting by cupping his cheeks and pulling his head down to plant one on his forehead, temple, nose, cheeks, down his jaw. His sharp inhale when she reached his neck made her pull away, but he was grinning at her as if to cheer her on. She stopped, nevertheless, instead tugging him to sit with her underneath the big tree overlooking the lake.
“Only until the first Hogsmeade weekend?” He looked sheepish, but Lily couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face. 
“Think we can make it that long?” The devilish look that was plastered on her face filled him with an equal amount of thrill and terror. He was not sure what she was suggesting, but was very sure that her end goal was to kill him. “Wanna bet on that?” He couldn’t find words, and Lily couldn’t help but think of a deer in headlights. He nodded mutely and the smirk on her face grew. He was rubbing off on her, wasn’t he? “First to spill that we are dating owes the other something.” 
“Something.” James repeated, wrapping her up in his arms. “That’s quite open-ended isn’t it?” 
“Well I have a few ideas….If you’re up to hearing about them...” She winked at him. Lily watched his Adam’s apple bob and quickly avoided his eye, knowing the blush was spreading down her neck. 
“Oh,” He cleared his throat when his voice came out far too squeaky for his liking. “Wha-what, erm, did you have in mind Lils? Remember I am just a young, innocent fawn. What are you suggesting?” He feigned a scandalized look. 
“Get your head out of the gutter, Potter! I was gonna suggest the other pays for a Honeydukes trip. Who do you think I am?” Not able to contain the laughter filling her chest, she doubled over, the sound pouring out of her. James’s grin grew and he pulled her closer, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. Once the laughter subsided, Lily dropped her head onto James’s shoulder. They sat cuddled up, looking out at the lake, talking about sweet nothings until Lily noticed the sun starting to set. She turned and hid her face where James’s shoulder met his neck.
“We’re going to be late to dinner,” She mumbled into his skin, placing a kiss there at the end of her observation. Her tone clearly showed she was not concerned about dinner. James let loose a low laugh, turning slightly to wrap his other arm around her and setting her firmly against his chest. 
“C’mon Lils. We don’t want to upset your parents.” He rubbed up and down her back before pulling away to stand. She tried to keep the pout off her face, but the ringing of his laugh let her know she failed. He reached his hand out to help her up. She grabbed it gingerly and let him help her stand when she was quickly enveloped back in his arms. James shot her a wide smile, placing a gentle kiss on her nose. They held eye contact for a bit before he pulled away and started heading back towards her house. 
Lily whined as James tugged her along, but let him do so anyways. “Hey,” she said, realizing James had never met her parents. “Are Mum and Dad in on our secret or are we keeping them in the dark too?” 
“They can know if they promise not to tell any of the boys if they meet them.” He had a very serious expression on, his eyebrows drawn together. It looked wrong on his face. She couldn’t help but laugh.  
“So serious,” she teased, cupping his cheeks and rubbing her thumbs along them. “You want to meet and tell my parents we just started dating tonight, and also that they have to keep it secret because our friends placed bets on us? Is that right?” Lily went on her toes to bump her nose against his just like earlier. “For some reason, I feel like that may not set the best tone for how my parents will feel about this relationship.” James had the decency to look apologetic.
“I know. I know, But do you want to deal with Sirius if he wins this? He will be unbearable. Plus, I feel bad that we’d have to ask your parents to keep it a secret, but-”
 “But you’re more worried about...the boys finding out?” Lily snorted indelicately, pulling out of his arms and turning away from him to gather her thoughts. “Aren’t my parents gonna be suspicious if we are hanging out all the time? Or are we not gonna do that either?” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her tone.
Lily wanted to tell her parents, she wanted to tell them how wonderful he was, but she wanted them to believe her. If she told them James wanted to keep her a secret, she doubted they would ever be able to get over that. Why wouldn’t he want the world to know their precious daughter was his girlfriend? Besides, Lily realized she wanted to be openly falling more and more for James Potter and the more she thought about this stupid plan she’d come up with, the more she hated it. Sensing her mood change, James nudged her to turn back around, and she did, but her eyes refused to meet his. 
“Lil.” Her eyes remained firmly on the ground, not sure she could meet his without getting all emotional. He tilted her chin up slightly, that stupid signature smirk playing along his face. He was about to say something adorable again, wasn’t he? “You can always lose the bet. I prefer blue sugar quills, by the way.”
Lily wrinkled her nose. Yes, definitely adorable. And cocky. 
“Oh no, bud, you’re just going to have to be the one to tell my parents to keep it secret and deal with the fallout of that. I can just imagine how well they will take that.” Lily glanced over her shoulder at him, already starting to walk towards the house. “Oh are you embarrassed to be dating my daughter? She is our pride and joy, and you won't even admit you’re dating her in public?” 
She could feel James’s eyes boring into the back of her head and when she turned around to see if he was even keeping up; he was rooted to the ground. 
“Okay, what color sugar quill did you want?” Lily giggled, gesturing for him to come over to her before holding onto his hand. 
“How about this? We split the sugar quills, I’ll help you break it to the boys. You know Sirius is hesitant to make fun of me ever since I told him his hair looked dull and lacked volume back in March. That way it won’t be too bad.” While she proposed her idea, she had started heading towards her house. Lily assumed he would eventually follow her, and with those long legs of his, he would catch up in no time. 
“Fine. You know, you’re lucky you’re cute Lils.”  She felt his arm snake around her shoulders. Tucking her right into his side, he moved to place a kiss to the top of her head again, but Lily tilted her head up just in time for it to land on her lips. 
“You keep missing, silly.” The goofiest grin split James’s face in half. 
“Where would I ever be without you?” 
“You’d definitely be bored somewhere. Since you wouldn’t have me to keep yourself busy with...I think the boredom would drive you a little bonkers, really. Maybe you’d buy a boat?” 
“Ooh! I can buy a boat and be a pirate. Ya know Evans, I take back what I said previously and I think this may have been a big mistake. My true calling was to drop out of Hogwarts and to become the captain of a pirate ship with the lads. I actually think I shoul-” He was pulling away from Lily, and to prevent it she went up on her tiptoes to shut him up. Before he could continue on his tangent, Lily dragged him the last block to her doorstep. 
“You better watch what you say, James Potter, because I am definitely better than some bloody pirate ship.”  Despite her words, her voice was dripping with laughter, and her smile went on for miles. He couldn’t help but match her enthusiasm. James bent down to possibly keep busy some more, but Lily spun out of his grasp, walked to the front door and leaned against it. She turned and shot him a look that asked are you planning on coming? As if to taunt him more, the way the setting sun hit her face, it made her green eyes shine luminously and her hair looked as if it were ablaze. Who would want to keep her a secret anyway?  Besides, she was so brilliant, it wasn’t like he could hide his amazement of her for very long; the lads would see through his act immediately. 
He took the stairs two at a time to catch up with her, their hands finding each other once more. When they shut the door, they were greeted with a pair of green eyes staring at them. Now he saw where Lily got them from. 
“Lily,” Mr. Evans cleared his throat. “Won’t you introduce us to our dinner guest?” Lily looked sheepish, hugging James’s arm. “Marie, dear? Come meet Lily’s new friend!”
“Dad,” she said, giving James a reassuring smile that he hadn’t even realized he needed until then. “This is James, my...boyfriend?”
Boyfriend. The word rang in James’s ears. If he was her boyfriend, that meant Lily Evans was his girlfriend. If her father weren’t standing right there, James could have swooped her up and kissed her right there. As it was, he merely squeezed her hand tighter before smiling his most charming smile at Mr. Evans. 
“James Potter,” he said, holding out the hand not linked with Lily’s. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Lily talks about you and your wife a lot. She really admires you both.” 
Thomas shook his hand, smiling faintly. “Strong handshake, son. Glad you can join us.”
A wide grin broke out across Lily’s face, which she would later explain to him meant that Dad likes you. Mrs. Evans, a short blond woman, joined them outside of the kitchen.
“Good evening, Mrs Evans.” James was trying so hard to impress her. Lily thought it was the most adorable thing watching James put on this professional front for her parents. For her. 
 Mrs. Evans  quickly swept James up in a hug, foregoing the handshake.  “Call me Marie,” she whispered. The four convened in the kitchen for steak dinner and apple tart for dessert.
“Lily tells us you’re a school athlete?” James glanced over to Lily, wiggling his eyebrows. 
“You talk about me?” She nudged his foot under the table, crinkling her nose. 
“Like your mum doesn’t know every little detail about me?” Everyone at the table burst into laughter at their banter.
 The whole night long, jokes and conversation filled the air. James could see where Lily got her wits from. Both her parents were sharp, quick to joke with James, and overwhelmingly kind. He’d learned Mrs. Evans took great pride in her little garden out back, much like his mother took pride in the large gardens outside their estate. Thomas had invited James on their next camping trip, much to Lily’s surprise and excitement. James had even swapped a recipe with her mother. If there ever was a more perfect parent-boyfriend meeting, Lily would be shocked. James had managed to charm his way into their hearts with ease-not that her father wasn’t still watching him like a hawk. 
 When the time came after they’d all had dessert and Marie Evans had ensured James would not be leaving without a doggie bag for his brother and parents, Lily found she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. Suddenly she wished they were at Hogwarts and she knew she’d see him again at breakfast the next morning. Lily walked out onto the front deck with James and closed the door behind them. 
“Your parents are great, Lil. I’m happy I got to meet them tonight. As he said this, he was slowly closing the distance between them. “Though I have to say I’m a bit sad the night is over.” 
A rush of  relief flooded her at his words. “Me too. I wish you didn’t have to go.” Lily found herself pulled to him like he was some sort of magnetic force. “There’s plenty of night left, how will I ever stay occupied?” 
“Ugh Lils, you are going to kill me. I am going to leave right now, and stay in your parents' good graces. Are you sure you're not part veela?” 
James’s breath tickled her ear, he was so close. Lily’s eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. James leaned down, and she went on her toes to meet him in the middle when- 
Knock knock knock. 
They both turned, breaking apart quickly at the sight of her father peering through the window. James’s face now matched Lily’s hair. She was less embarrassed and more frustrated; there was no chance for any goodnight kisses now. 
“Ah, yes. I believe that was my fairy godfather giving me the five minute warning. Better hurry up before the magic runs out,” Lily winked up at him, holding back giggles. She felt light, airy, like she could take on the world. 
“That’s from Rapunzel right?” The laughter couldn’t be held back any longer and she dropped her head into his shoulder. 
“You’re cute,” she said. “When I see you next I’ll teach you about Cinderella, okay?” James grinned, poking her nose. 
“You’re cute. Cinderella it is.” He pecked her cheek before pulling away. “Until next time?” Lily nodded softly, her cheeks burning pink. James gave her a little smirk before apparating home.
When she returned to her room that night after some family time,  an owl was waiting outside her window. Ora!
Dear Lily,
If  it wasn’t apparent before I am head over heels for you. I got home and realized I never responded. I definitely like you and it’s more than a little bit. Sorry about that. 
Are you available tomorrow? The lads are coming over, and I distinctly remember someone promising to help me break the news. I’d say we should prepare for a dramatic display from both Sirius and my mum. Any ideas to help cope? 
Hope you can come tomorrow!
Love, 
Your Not-So Secret Boyfriend
James  
Ps. Mum says she wants to have you for tea on Friday too.
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halothenthehorns · 4 years ago
Text
All in the Family
Chapter 1: The Accident...
It is recommended, though by no means a must if you know the Marauders history enough to be reading fanfiction about them, you read We Were first. The first five chapters are slightly AU to the continuity of this fic, but the grand point and especially the final chapter are key to the beginning of this fic as you get plopped in the middle. Link is below or you can find it in my profile.
Before you get started; Warnings include- Explicit Wolfstar (Remus/Sirius), and on the whole a rather flimsy premise that I honestly created to indulge myself because I didn't let myself do it the first time. A lot less logically based and a lot more I just felt like having fun with this one. It's not to say I'll let this degenerate into tropes and one note things, but there's going to be even less reading of the books involved, as in literally they're just interacting around the story with only passing mentions of what's going on in there. If you want a much more grounded basis and more 'realistic' approach to a reading series, I put my heart and every cell of my mind into The Life that Never Lived, PDF's upon request. I'm pretty sure this one grew from my funny bone that I broke when I was seven.
HPHPHPHP
The dungeons where Potions were held had always felt like the most oblique part of the castle, and Sirius had been in every corner of it to claim as such. It wasn't entirely the fault of the dark stone walls, sweltering hot air from the many flames, or the often unexplained fumes. The feeling seemed to seep up straight from the cold stone floor no matter how many fires were lit, as if the wooden stool itself were trying to pin them all with the unknown.
Sirius had never been more grateful for a Potions class to be over, and that was really saying something. It was the last one of this bleeding school semester, and if he had to spend one more day glaring at a cauldron and somehow inexplicably turning it the wrong color one more time without the usual helpful hint from Peter telling him why, he was going to chuck every last drop of it in Slughorn's face for constantly telling him he'd figure it out!
He'd never packed up his bag faster, even managing to multitask by muttering under his breath how stupid all this was. He was the first person to make it to the door, but collided with someone even less pleasant to see than the three people he'd most been avoiding lately. He cursed loudly, earning several dirty looks as the rest of the class was now passing. His bag had ripped upon stumbling into his little brother and smashed to the ground, sending his things flying and managing to spray him with ink.
Regulus hesitated in the doorway, muttering a quick, "sorry Sirius."
"Oh, it knows my name," Sirius growled under his breath, though his tone was far less hateful than usual, considering this was the first time he'd had a proper conversation with someone in nearly three weeks. His little brother was hardly his first choice, given his proud Slytherin status and being two years younger didn't remotely have them coming near each other most days, a fact he was usually grateful for.
"Yes, he does," Regulus' scowl looked remarkably close to Sirius', the two put side by side at once was rather eerie. His tone though was even more friendly than Sirius', which wasn't all that hard as he tried to explain his abrupt appearance. "I ah, I came sprinting down here to see if I could catch Slughorn, ask him if I could pick up an extra credit assignment."
Sirius straightened with his stuff still half strewn around, but again that pull for someone to talk to seemed greater, especially as he glanced back and saw who hadn't left yet, so he responded no matter how unenthusiastically. "Yeah, what you struggling with?" While tapping his bag and mending the tear, slowly bending down to pick each item back up while he absently listened. Regulus even began to help him while he explained in short, precise sentences like he was practicing for the teacher.
Frank Longbottom and Alice Smith slipped in past the two Black brothers at the doorway and found the room mostly empty, and they shared an exasperated look as they wondered if they'd just walked in on Slughorn telling this group off again. They were early for their next class after all, but the teacher was nowhere in sight. They did get a full view of what started quite an interesting journey.
James was hanging by Evans' cauldron, trying to chat happily with her, but mostly waiting for Sirius to leave first. He could hardly stand to look at him these days, let alone pass by him in such a restricted place, yet the wanker had struck up a conversation with Regulus of all people, someone he'd hardly spoken a whole sentence to in the past five years, but no, he'd chosen now! Probably just waiting for them to walk past first, like this was all still some game to him.
Remus and Peter were hovering on edge right beside him, Remus fidgeting with what was left of his cauldron on the desk while Evans was trying to pack hers up and being hampered by James staying in her way. "Won't you at least consider coming? It's our last game of the season! What if you're my good luck charm, you've always been the best at those! Do you really want to be the reason Gryffindor loses?"
"They've gotten on just fine without me there the past years," Lily snipped. She never knew why she even bothered responding to him half the time, but considering it no more discouraged him than ignoring him, at least this way she got to vent.
She tried to sidestep past him, James once again stepped into her way, and the two collided with each other, their hands accidentally slipping into her cauldron Remus had just mistakenly dumped his own potion into.
Whatever the concoction the two mixed together created upended the entire world.
At first though, nothing really changed. There was no marvelous flash of light, no force of nature that showed everyone outside of this room had vanished. Lily simply made a gagging noise as she pulled her hand out of the vat and glared furiously at the oddly pale teen, pulling her wand out at once with her less dominant hand she hadn't tried to catch herself with and banish the gunk off while hissing at him, "You are so lucky I turned that in already Lupin! What the hell did you even create? I've never seen this before," she finished with a critical eye at the now steaming mess, that vanished before their eyes.
"Wow Remus, you should do that more often, really makes cleanup easier," Peter chuckled while Remus looked rather concerned.
"I, err, I'll admit, I really screwed up my potion worse than usual. I think I added three things I actually wasn't supposed to, so you've got me."
James just flung the mess from his hand, which also vanished before it had even landed on anyone, and glanced back hopefully like he'd thought his source for this mess had left already.
He hadn't.
His face was turned in their general direction, like he'd been trying to subtly glance over and hope for the same, but now he was looking right through James. That wasn't uncommon lately, but the stunned look of confusion on his face was enough James grudgingly turned his head the other way to see what.
Back on the lip of the cauldron, was a slim red book with a golden one on the spine. It was just sitting there, like Evans had left it on purpose, but it certainly hadn't been a second ago.
Lily took his distraction as a chance to bolt from the room, Regulus gave his brother an awkward wave goodbye and went back out towards Slughorn's office since he'd clearly missed him, and Alice and Frank tried to casually step back out as well. Even being a year above those four had not left them oblivious to their fight. The whole school was aware of the fact the four Marauders had not been seen together in quite some time, and neither of them particularly felt like putting their nose into why.
James was still frowning in confusion at the odd title stamped across, which simply read Harry Potter Year One.
"Err, did either of you-" James looked at the two as if in some kind of explanation, but both gave a mystified shake to their head. James couldn't help it, he still looked automatically towards his best mate, and then he caught himself and realized they were the only four left. Sirius' eyes had still been locked in on the odd object, really ridiculous his mind supplied as James had no relatives named Harry, and wondered if this was some odd attempt at a prank?
Sirius didn't stick around to care, completely forgetting the rest of his things, he turned on his heel and finally exited as well, when they all heard a shriek.
As one, the four bolted up to the Entrance Hall, Alice and Frank right behind them as they hadn't wandered off far, to see Lily standing in the middle and stamping her foot in frustration upon seeing them. "Damn, I thought someone would have reacted to that."
"Err, Evans," James began in concern as if for her health.
"Where is everybody!" She demanded while gesturing to the Great Hall where there should have been a packed lunch crowd. Nobody was in there, and now that they were listening for it, the din of a castle filled with people, was deadly silent all around them.
As if given a signal, everyone began shouting all at once, sure the ruckus would cause someone to appear, but the only other arrival was Regulus coming up from the stairs as well, looking at all of them with great concern. "Geez, you lots shouting usually has a much greater audience."
"Thank you Regulus for that helpful insert!" Sirius snapped.
Regulus ignored that and seemed to look around himself and really acknowledge his own words, before realization slammed into him as well as he whispered, "What's going on?"
"We'd all like to know that," Frank put his hands up in frustration, this was what he and his girlfriend got for getting to class early.
"This is ridiculous," Lily seethed, stomping up towards the stairs. She was intending to barge into every crevice of this place and find someone other than these idiots to deal with. She didn't know what the school was playing at, but it wasn't funny.
Alice and Frank followed her as they still considered her the least craziest compared to the others.
Sirius still couldn't bring himself to look at the other three and bolted out onto the grounds for an exit, and Regulus couldn't think of anything better to do but follow him.
James waited until they were back alone before nodding to Peter, who pulled the Marauder's Map back out and cast the charm to activate it. On cue, the magical ink appeared, spreading through the tattered paper, but only revealing eight names instead of the several hundreds it normally housed.
"What the bloody hell?" Remus demanded, snatching it away as if sure somehow Peter had cast it wrong. He deactivated it and retried five times before looking up in exasperation, to see James flipping through the book. "Of all times, you chose now to pursue one of those!" Remus demanded.
"Remus, what the bloody hell was in that potion," James whispered to him.
Remus looked at him askance. "I told you I don't know, I was, well I-" it was hard to admit how thoroughly distracted he'd been, even more than usual in his potions classes. His past two attempts had been utter messes as well. Somehow without Sirius by his side and being a constant distraction, he'd found a way to blow up his more recent attempts, so he'd been rather proud this one had only changed the wrong color seven times. "What's your point?"
"This," James waved it around, his face still looking somehow detached as if he had no clue what he was really saying, "it's-" he broke off, and Remus huffed in exasperation as he snatched it away.
"Yes James, it has words, glory look at that they're even strung together with sentences! What's the big-" he stopped abruptly at what he saw quite clearly had Prongs so thrown off. Remus could feel it now, this book was giving off as if the most powerful magic to exist, certainly that he'd ever been around.
"This isn't, there's no way-" he tried to protest what his eyes weren't changing.
"What?" Peter demanded in exasperation of the two.
"That's from the future." James stated coolly.
Peter laughed, realized neither was pulling his leg, and then yanked the book to him as well.
"It, it's a joke or-" he tried to say, but it was the exact same to his eyes as well.
"Remus, what the bloody hell did you mix with Lily's Profligare potion?" James asked again like he'd have another answer!
"I, I told you, I have no clue!" Remus insisted, his heart restricting painfully in his chest.
"Why aren't their words in the rest of this book?" Peter asked curiously. There were an easy three hundred pages to this thing, but only the first sentence was visible. The rest was blank.
"Put that down," Remus suddenly yelped, slapping it away from him. It thudded to the ground and even skidded a few feet while Wormtail looked offended.
"Merlin Remus, James was holding it for a whole five minutes and he didn't explode."
"Let's prioritize for a minute," James insisted. "Ignore that thing and figure out where everyone is, maybe show that to Dumbledore-"
"That might be a problem, as there's no one else here!" Remus snarled.
"Well I'll say one thing, Evans sure can make one good banishing potion," Regulus commented as he stepped back into the Entrance Hall minus Sirius.
The question burst out of James before he could consider doing otherwise, "where's your better half?"
Regulus scowled hatefully, hesitated, but still answered, "still wandering the damn grounds, think he said something about checking the bottom of the lake. I don't know what you lot are fighting about, but for him to be saying that even as a joke really is something."
James flinched with the first spot of guilt he'd felt, and Remus looked away as if he hadn't even heard. Peter took the opportunity to shove the map back out of sight before he twisted his fingers together and just deciding to ignore that as well and said, "We might as well go find the other three and show at least them. Something Dark is going on around here, perhaps we shouldn't go wandering off."
"Oh that's nice, just leave him out on the grounds by himself then if that's what you're thinking," Regulus muttered as his two friends seemed to agree and took off up the stairs, Peter having to jog to keep up.
They found them already up to the second floor, and with every empty room they'd opened, they'd become increasingly more panicked. This just wasn't natural! Even during the holidays you were likely to run across someone by now! A ghost even! What was left of the Marauders caught up to them, and Lily's near hysterics weren't helped with their answer to this.
"Just come back downstairs!" James was trying to put his hands up in a comforting, surrendering gesture to the vivid redhead who hadn't stopped shouting for a solid minute, so her face was as bright as her hair. "We found something you lot really should see!"
It took a bit more persuading and Frank and Alice agreeing first before Lily conceded searching every room wasn't helping.
They went back downstairs and saw Sirius had rejoined his little brother, and the two were frozen in place over what had already been discovered with the book still open on the ground for all to see.
"You wanted to show me a book!" Lily demanded as she looked murderously at Potter. "How is that helping to find out what happened!"
"Just look at it," Potter insisted.
Without touching it, she went to where it had fallen on the floor, and then she too along with Frank and Alice saw.
Scrawled across the top was the title The Boy Who Lived, which meant nothing to anyone so their eyes skipped down to below that, which was just under the date 1981. Six years from now.
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jeawrites · 5 years ago
Text
RD AU Draft: 2
(Same as last time but now featuring some edited parts-- Considering this a draft because its mostly unedited and I haven’t added everything in yet- but feel free to read it! The finished part will most likely be uploaded on ao3 but I’ll be sure to post a link to it on here.) Anthony had, had a similar reaction to Evan’s when he saw Tyler’s outfit. He wheezed and laughed too hard for his own good, but he got over it quickly in place of his own excitement.
The entire trip to the skate park was about how much they were going to enjoy the bout, how much fun they were going to have. Even after they had gotten inside and seated it was still just him blabbering on.
“They’re so-so cool! I promise you’ll both enjoy this and-”
Tyler put his hand on Anthony’s mouth. “Okay, we get it. Calm down, dude,” he mumbled. After getting a nod, he removed his hand. Then, he jumped in his seat after hearing a voice. “Tyler?” he turned his head, fear raising in hm. More people he knew meant more people not letting him live down the fact that he wore this outfit, meaning more jokes, meaning- wait.
��Luke?” he asked, snickering.
The man in front of him grinned and crossed his arms. “The one and only,” he chuckled. “What’re you doin’ here? I didn’t know you liked derby,” he asked, curious. Tyler shrugged. “I don’t know if I do. My friend dragged me out here to watch. What are you doing here and-” he giggled, “With bunny ears?” Luke blinked and then chuckled. “These?” he gestured up, “Aren’t mine. I stole them from Ryan. He came with me this time, but I usually regular the bouts,” he explained. And, aren’t you one to talk, cat boy?”
Tyler decided to ignore the comment, not wanting to linger on the topic of his clothes. “No way is Ryan here,” he spoke, genuinely surprised. “Oh, yeah. It's his first time at one of these too,” he replied, “I wanted to get him introduced to a new sport.” Tyler nodded, and glanced over to his friends, who were both sort of looking at him in confusion. Which, that made him confused until he let out an ‘oh’.
“Right. Luke,” he looked at him again, smiling some, “This is Evan and Anthony, my friends. You and Ryan should come sit with us.” Luke smiled at the other two, getting polite smiles in turn. “Sounds great!” he agreed. “I’ll go find, Ry and tell him we’re over here,” he added and turned to walk away.
They all grew more excited for the bout.
--
The bout had started off good, the teams getting introduced and the first few rotations going well.
Tyler was really getting into it, yelling at the skaters, encouraging the team he was rooting for, the Derby Dolls, and getting just overly excited.
“Keep going!” Tyler shouted, watching as the girl quickly moved her way out of the group and onto the turn. The crowd cheered excitedly as well. “Yeah! You kick their asses, AnnihilateHer!” he shouted, gripping the edge of his seat. He was having a better time than he thought he would.
Evan watched the girl quickly move her way around one that tried to stop her, his eyes wide in amazement and his smile wide. “Good job!” he shouted, hoping his encouragement would reach her as she sped a corner.
Tyler watched her with careful eyes and then he glared at the ref who called her, managing to hear it was a backblock- like the eighth one called to night (not on just her). “She wasn’t anywhere near her back! Open your fucking eyes!” he yelled at the ref and he kicked the wall in front of him. He’s done it several times already.
Anthony laughed gently. He was glad his friends were enjoying themselves. “I told you both you’d like it,” he teased as the jam ended, the next one setting up to be a power jam. Tyler looked at him, his eyes sparkling and his grin crazily wide. “Dude this is sick! It’s so fucking cool- I can’t believe they’d allow a sport like this,” he laughed. “It’s wild,” he chuckled. “You’re wild,” Evan snickered, “You’ve kicked that wall a billion times now, and I think you’re voice is loud enough the refs hear you the last few times. Control yourself,” he teased and got a punch to the arm in turn. “Shut up and let me have this,” he stated, but there wasn’t any spite or sarcasm, he was still smiling and having a good time. This was fun!
He looked to Ryan and Luke, who were in a similar state, though Luke was calmer due to having seen this all live so many times.
“And she just slammed into her-” Ryan exclaimed, hands flailing as he tried to explain. “Yeah, I know, Ry. I saw it,” Luke laughed softly and he looked at him with wide eyes full of awe. “They didn’t flinch, Luke! That’s amazing! This is really cool-” he looked to the track as a new pack formed. “Can you imagine if I did that?”
Luke tilted his head a bit. “Ryan, if I could imagine you doing it, I’d already be doing it,” he answered and Ryan huffed a little. “Really, Luke! Think about it! It’d be so much fun to play together- to learn how to do this cool stuff and-”
“You know, you can play it,” Anthony answered him. Ryan paused and looked back, curiosity in his eyes. “What?” he asked. “You can totally play it. In fact, I’m making a mens team- if you want to play,” he offered and Ryan stared before grinning wide. “No way.”
“I’ll do it,” Luke followed, gaining eyes. “I’ll totally play. Sounds fun.” Ryan pursed his lips. “It does sound really fun,” he agreed.
Tyler looked at Ryan, nodding. “I was the first to join, can confirm it's very fun-” “You didn’t want to join- plus, you haven’t even played yet,” Anthony cut in and Tyler looked at him with a glare. “I was the first you asked which makes me first to join,” he stuck his tongue out at him, and Anthony stuck his out in turn before they both chuckled. “I was second to join then!” Evan declared, snickering.
Luke looked at Ryan as he spoke. “I was third. You wanna be fourth Ry? Come on, you wanna do what those awesome girls are doin?” he asked, encouraging him to join. Ryan bit his lip lightly, thinking it over before he nodded. “Yeah… Yeah! I do! I wanna do that shit too! Consider me on the team! Whenever it's actually made anyways,” he grinned.
Anthony couldn’t believe his team was actually beginning to form.
--
The bout ended on a good note, the team they were rooting for winning and Anthony treated his friends to dinner (he even took out Ryan and Luke- they were going to be on his team after all so he figured he’d get to know them).
But, when he got home and sat down to start putting preparations for the team together, he finally got hit with a realization;
Making a team was harder than Anthony initially thought.
He had to advertise out to get more people. Four weren’t enough to cut it- it wasn’t even enough to start practicing (five being a good place to start). He also had the issue of needing to register his team, get jerseys, budgeting, getting forms and waivers.
He needed some help.
He ran his hands over his face, and sighed. This wasn’t too good. Who could he get to help? He didn’t know anybody else who seemed to show an interest in coaching the sport, and it didn’t seem like the type of thing he could drop a flyer for.
He thought over people, thinking of names he hadn’t thought of for a good while until one hit him with a good familiarity and made the lightbulb in his head go off as he grabbed his phone.
Anthony stared at his phone, eyeing the profile he had quickly pulled up on Facebook- thankfully they were friends already. He was hesitant, of course. He hadn’t talked to Brock in years. Was this weird? He fidgeted a bit with the device before he sucked up his worries and quickly typed a message. When he finished it, he patiently waited, running his hand through his hair.
--
A yawn left Brock’s lips as he sat his bag down on his bed. His clothes were stained with a drink some lady spilled on him, and he couldn’t wait to get them off.
God he hated his job. He was the nicest person he could be, yet someone was always ready to complain. The fast food industry could die. But, that thought made him laugh a little. Like this country would let fast food die.
He shook his head and got changed quickly before he finally got into bed and looked at his phone, only to see he got a message from… Anthony?
He stared at his screen, eyeing the message a few times over in surprise. Why would Anthony of all people be messaging him this late? Or now? He hadn’t even talked to him for the last few years. Regardless of that thought, he opened the message curiously and read through it quickly, a smile crossing his face momentarily before confusion hit.
‘Wanna help coach a bunch of dumbasses with my dumbass?’
The idea of himself coaching didn’t sound right, but the phrasing of the request was funny and it did keep Brock’s attention, especially as three dots appeared at the bottom.
‘Roller derby, I mean. You wanna help coach it? Adult league.’
A sudden feeling hit at the mention of the sport. He had loved playing it as a child, really. It was dangerous- despite the gear they wore, but the team experience is something he always held onto, even after he aged out at 18. But, the idea of coaching it? It had never crossed his mind. Until now, and it was till laughable. However, an opportunity to meet new people is always nice, and he did need a change in setting from where he was now.
He especially needed the latter. Quickly, he responded back.
‘More details would be nice, like where you’re living these days. But, I’m in.’
--
Anthony didn’t actually live too far from him, so it wasn’t hard to start planning on moving closer to the area if he were to actually take up the coaching position.
“What’cha thinkin’ about?” he jumped a little and looked up from the counter before sighing. “Don’t scare me like that, Lui,” he mumbled before standing up straight. “Sorry, just thought I’d kick you from you daze before someone else did,” he spoke, a bit genuine and a smile went with it that Brock could resist. “It’s fine,” he passed it off, “Thanks for snapping me out of it, actually.”
The shorter nodded and kicked his feet lightly before speaking; “So, you gonna answer me?” Brock took a minute before nodding a little. “I was offered a coaching position,” he answered, “I’ve been considering taking it up. I’m supposed to go meet the… team they have so far and the actual coach.” Lui beamed. “You should do it!” he nearly squealed. “It’ll be good for you, Brock! Get you out of your comfort zone,” he added, “Plus- I can totally go with you to the meeting, right?” The brunette grew confused at that request. “Why… why would you want to go to the meeting?” he asked and Lui chuckled. “As your back up incase stuff goes wrong, of course!” he chuckled. “I’m a tough cookie!” he squeaked out and Brock chuckled. “Yeah, Okay. You can come. Just don’t be too mean to anybody.” “No promises!”
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wintrcaptn · 6 years ago
Text
Unforgettable Ch. 2
Chris Evans x Reader x Sebastian Stan
Chapter One
Summary : Since forever, you have been in love with Chris. But once he and Jenny reunited, you were heart broken. It was suppose to be a celebratory party for your birthday, but seeing them together, hurt. So you asked your other best friend, Sebastian to distract you.
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It’s been a week since your party and though you were thrilled to watch Beauty and the Beast live on broadway, you were nervous to see Chris.
You were keeping your distance from him. After that kiss, you were scared to face him again.
But though you were avoiding Chris, you grew closer to Sebastian. And your feelings grew as well. Something you had no knowledge of until that night on the lake when he gave you your present.
Ever since, something had ignited in you.
That morning, Sebastian came over with coffee and donuts. Two of your favorite things.
He was nervous this time though. His palms grew clammy as he entered your apartment. This was the day he had planned for, for days.
“Good morning.” You said with a smile, closing the door behind you.
“Good morning.” He said.
You looked at him with furrowed brows. Watching how tense he grew, was unusual for you. Since he was always comfortable around you.
“You okay?” You asked a bit worried.
He swallowed hard, and placed the food and drinks down onto your coffee table.
Taking in a deep breath, he turned to you and flashed a soft smile. His stomach churning with nerves.
“You and I have been hanging out almost everyday this past week and—“ he glanced down, fidgeting with his thumbs. “See, I—I—“
“Spit it out, Seb.” You chuckled.
“I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out.” He blurted. “L—Like on a date. A real date, where we both get dressed up and go out to a fancy restaurant or something cliche like that. I want to take you out, and show you how I feel about you.”
Your heart felt as if it had skipped a beat or two as you listened to every single word fall from his lips.
“I would love that.” You whispered.
Sebastian flashed a cheeky grin and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Good.” He said. “Don’t make plans tomorrow night. I want to take you somewhere amazing.”
——
As the sun went down and the stars began to shine, you knew you couldn’t avoid Chris any longer. Especially since he was taking you to the show.
Three knocks at the door and suddenly, your heart began to pound erratically.
Letting out a long breath, you opened the door.
As your eyes met, Chris felt a sudden shiver run down his spine.
“Wow—you look—“
“Is it too much?” You asked, nervously crossing your arms over your chest.
He shook his head. “Not at all. You look beautiful.”
Those words created your stomach to flutter, reminding you of those feelings you had for him once again.
“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.” You smiled. “Anyways, we should head out before we’re late. Don’t want to miss any second of it.”
Chris let out a soft chuckle and stepped aside, motioning for you to lead the way.
The ride to the show took a little while. Mostly because of all the traffic. Something New York was infamously known for.
But it gave you and Chris some time to catch up. To talk about everything and anything.
You had to admit, you missed him.
Once the car came to a stop and you both made your way inside the building, you were filled with such excitement, you couldn’t contain it.
You linked your arm with his and squeezed, squealing just loud enough for him to hear.
He let out a chuckle, holding you close beside him.
“I can’t believe we’re here!” You exclaimed, glancing around then back at him. “I can’t thank you enough! This is the best gift in the world.”
Chris shrugged, his lips curving down. “I know, I’m pretty amazing.”
You playfully rolled your eyes and chuckled. “Alright, lets not get too cocky.”
“Come on, lets go to our seats.”
The show was everything you’d imagined. It made the love you had for Disney grow in that very moment.
You were in awe with the performances from the actors. And mesmerized by the detail of all the costumes and props.
Every scene captivated you, making you lose yourself into the story.
Chris glanced down at you from time to time, seeing the admiration in your features, had him fall for you all over again.
The smile your lips curved into was by far his favorite thing. He was hooked.
He took your hand into his and suddenly, you felt your breath hitch to the back of your throat. Your eyes glanced down, as your stomach fluttered.
The way he made you feel was amazing and excruciating at the same time. No matter how hard you tried to push your feelings, you couldn’t. And it killed you.
You sat still in your seat, nervous to even breathe. You were scared that if you moved even just an inch, he’d let go.
Once the show came to an end, both you and Chris let out a breath.
“That was beautiful.” You said smiling up at the actors as they took a bow.
You both met the actors and gawked over their performance. You were like a little kid, gushing over the lead female actress and expressing how much you loved her character.
It lasted for about half an hour, until you and Chris decided to leave them be and make your way out.
Immediately as you stepped out of the building, the cold air hit you like a wave crashing into the sand.
“I can’t thank you enough for tonight.” You said, with a grin. “Tonight was perfect.”
Chris shrugged, “I’d do anything for you.” He muttered. “You’re my best friend.”
Those words ; ‘best friend’
It hurt you. Making you feel as though your heart had dropped into the pit of your stomach.
“Right.” You sighed.
He noticed the way your lips dropped. And though he wanted to tell you how he really felt, how all he could think about was you and nothing else. He couldn’t. He didn’t know how to.
“Come on, I saw this little place while we were driving here.” He said. “I thought we should go check it out.”
You furrowed your brows, “what about our ride?”
“The night is still early. I’m not ready to take you home yet.”
Your lip twitched into a soft smile, and caved in. Something you always did when it came to Chris.
“I think you would’ve been an amazing Belle.” He said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
You let out a chuckle and shook your head. “You’re crazy. I look nothing like her.”
Chris shrugged his shoulders. “So what? You don’t have to look like her to play her in a show. You can play any character you want.”
“Well maybe I’ll audition next time.” You said, sarcastically.
“You should! And I’ll audition for the Beast.” He winked.
You stopped in your steps, and realized enough was enough. You had to talk about the elephant in the room or else it was going to drive you crazy.
“I want to apologize for that kiss at my party.” You sighed. “It was wrong of me to do that, especially to—“
“Don’t be sorry.” He cut you off, growing serious now. “You have no reason to be sorry.”
“Yes I do. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Y/N, I kissed you back.”
You were taken aback by his comment, and furrowed your brows, reminiscing that night.
“So when I say you don’t have a reason to be sorry, I mean it.” He muttered. “Now come on, lets go—“
“Why?”
“What?”
“I said why? Why did you kiss me back?” You asked, scared of what he would say.
Chris swallowed hard, “I don’t know. Because, I—I might have feelings for you.”
Your eyes grew wide as his words fell from his lips.
“I think I might have always had feelings for you, but I was—I don’t know—I guess I was too scared to tell you.” He went on. “You’re the most important person in my life Y/N, and when I couldn’t talk to you this past week, it killed me. I need you, I don’t think I could live without you in my life.”
You felt your stomach churn as a sharp pain shot across your chest.
“Chris, y-you have Jenny and—and” in that moment, you remembered Sebastian, feeling guilty even though you weren’t sure as to why. “And I’m kind of dating Sebastian.”
Those words made chris slightly wince. Hurting him in a way he hadn’t felt before.
“Oh.” He muttered, though deep down it killed him. “That’s great! I’m happy for you two.”
“T-Thanks.” You said, wishing things were different.
“Alright, lets go get some ice cream. I’m dying for some.” He forced a chuckle.
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a-secondhand-sorrow · 6 years ago
Text
take my hand and let it spin
So this is... quite different from what I usually write.
This will be a series of around 10 (ish? we’ll see) kind of standalone pieces, although they make much more sense when read in order.
title from “temporary love” by Ben platt
prompt found here
***
Tally marks were a blessing and a curse.
From the earliest ages, you learned about the tally marks. As a child, you’d gaze at the wrists of your teachers or parents, wondering what the stories were behind each red line, trying to figure out if the black tallies were anyone you’d known, or staring with a kind of quiet apprehension at the thin, white scars few carried.
So it starts like this; Evan’s father gets a new tally mark.
For Evan, tally marks were... complicated. He’d used to love tracing the marks on his parents’ wrists; Heidi had two red tally marks that had linked themselves in his mind, almost like twins, standing before the deeper, black tally that she shared with his father. And his father’s tallies were more complicated; there were more of them, a few red and a few black, one white scar standing out starkly amongst them, before the final black tally mark he shared with Heidi. Falls in love quickly, Evan could swear he remembered Heidi saying with a smile or a laugh, but this time it’s lasted.
It didn’t, really. It lasted for longer than his other loves, sure, but when Evan was six years old he saw the edge of a new red tally mark peeking out from his father’s sleeve, and after his seventh birthday, he could tell it had turned black. Shortly afterwards, Heidi saw it, and a few weeks later—mid-February, most likely—the U-HAUL truck pulled into his driveway, and then out, taking his father and his new black tally mark with him.
Tally marks never held the same meaning for him after that.
Through most of middle and high school, things stayed the same. Tally marks were rare, that young. Of course, a few started cropping up around fourteen or fifteen, but they were almost taboo; love at such a young age was almost laughable. Unlike a lot of adults, who wore their hearts on their sleeves-literally-and let their marks show, many of them would cover up their tally wrists as much as possible.
(Around freshman year, Jared started to wear more long sleeves. Evan couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Jared’s wrist. He’d wanted to ask him about it, but even though they’d been friends for forever, really, asking about someone’s tallies was touchy, and Evan didn’t want to disturb their familiar peace.)
(Heidi, too, covered up her tallies: it had started right after Evan’s father left, and he suspected that it was too painful for her to be reminded of her past loves.)
Evan didn’t care much for tallies. His wrist was clear, just like most fifteen year olds, and he’d soured to the idea after his father’s new tally.
But at the end of sophomore year, indigo-streaked-hair freshman Zoe Murphy took stage with the jazz band at their end-of-school concert. Evan had never really noticed jazz band, but Zoe-the confident set of her shoulders, her slightly more nervous grip on her guitar, and the small, sweet smile that took hold of her features when she relaxed into the song-drew his attention and sent his heart racing. He started noticing her more after that—dancing her heart out at a school dance, head bent over a table in the library while studying, a flash of her hair in the hallway as she ran to get to her friends. And nothing else came of it, since he was too afraid to talk to her; he was left with a fluttering heart and her smile filling his dreams, and nothing more.
Summer came and went. Jared found out about his crush and teased him accordingly. The school year rolled back around, and Evan resigned himself to a stressful, empty junior year.
Until Zoe came up to him, barely a week into school.
“Hey-it’s Evan, right?”
Startled-partially by anyone speaking to him, partially because he was becoming very flustered because holy shit she’s even prettier up close-Evan only said “Evan?” which came out more as a question than anything else.
Her brows furrowed, and he could practically feel the apology radiating off of her. “That’s...your name? Shit, I’m sorry if I’m wrong-”
“No, no-Evan. Hansen. Evan Hansen, that’s me, God I’m sorry, that’s so annoying.”
“What is?” The indigo had faded from her hair over the summer; all that was left was a few vaguely purple strands.
“Oh, well, sorry, I just repeated my name when you asked me if that was my name and that’s so annoying when people do that, so I’m sorry-”
“You say sorry a lot,” she noted, a twinkle of humor in her eyes.
He’d never noticed how pretty her eyes were before, different flecks of gold in their warm brown depths.
“Uh-sorry.”
At that she actually laughed. Evan didn’t think he’d ever heard anything as beautiful as her laugh-it was warm and genuine, filling the slightly-awkward air around them with a sweeter feeling.
He was a little taken aback when he realized he’d do anything to hear that laugh again.
“I’m Zoe. Murphy,” she added, almost as an afterthought, sticking her hand out for him to shake.
He never learned the exact reason Zoe had come up to him that day, but when she’d departed with a “you’re not too bad, Evan Hansen,” he was left with a stupid grin on his face and a rapidly beating heart.
That hadn’t been the end of it. The next Monday, he’d been waiting for Jared to arrive at their normal lunch spot when a familiar person slid across from him at the table.
“Hey, Evan Hansen.”
His heart skipped a beat, and he returned her eye contact with a too-broad smile. “Hey, Zoe Murphy.”
“So, what’re you up to waiting here? Plotting world domination?” She cracked open a water bottle as she said this, fixing him with a look that she may have actually given him if she thought he was considering world domination
“Waiting for Jared, mostly.”
“I see. Keep your secrets, then,” she joked, a small smile on her face.
It was easier to talk with Zoe than he expected.
“Ugh,” she started, stabbing at a noodle from a tupperware, “my English teacher-did you have Howard last year?” After securing a nod from Evan, along with a sympathetic groan, she continued, “yeah, he’s already assigned an essay. Eight hundred words on the diction and possible motifs appearing in The Great Gatsby, even though we’re only like, ten pages in.”
“Howard is... a tough teacher. His creative writing unit is better, though, even though it’s at the end of the year. He expects less from it.”
“I don’t even want to know what the rest of the year is gonna be like.”
“I wish I could tell you it was gonna get better, but...”
Zoe merely grimaced, stabbing at another noodle. “Yikes. You said the creative writing was better, though, right? Do you like writing?”
Evan shrugged, ignoring how his cheeks began to color. “I like it better than most of English.”
“Are you good? I’ve tried my hand at writing, but it always turns out like a first grader’s journal.”
Evan laughed a little at this and shrugged, fidgeting hands returning to the table. “Not really. I’m okay.”
“Tree Boy’s being modest,” a new voice said, and as Evan turned he could see Jared approaching the table. Slapping his tray down on the table, Jared added, “Charles Dickens’ ghost would probably weep with joy if he could see Evan’s writing.”
Zoe smiled at this new development, even as Evan started with “oh, no, I’m really not that good-”
“Hey, trust your slightly-assholic-friend.” Zoe interjected.
“I reject the notion,” Jared retorted, “that I am at all an asshole.”
“You were in jazz band in middle school, right? Sat behind the guitars?” Zoe’s smile had dropped, and she was staring Jared down.
He seemed taken aback. “Uh...yes?”
“So you’d remember the incident with Cindy Rivera and the jar of tomato sauce?”
Jared stared at her blankly for a moment. “How the fuck did you remember that?”
Evan was truly lost. “What-”
“Oh, I remember everything,” Zoe said brightly once again, turning back to Evan. She bumped her hand lightly against his, still holding the fork. “Maybe I could see your writing sometime?”
Evan’s heart felt like it could burst.
That became their new normal, over the coming days and weeks. Lunches were spent together, jokes were formed, the occasional car ride was shared. And if Evan’s feelings grew to the point where he could barely think of anything but Zoe? He did his best to hide it.
So no, it actually started like this: Evan gets a red tally mark and never dreams it could turn black.
That is, until it does.
He awoke one morning, still junior year, and caught sight, on his formerly bare wrist, of one lone, red tally mark, staring up at him.
He started freaking out almost immediately. He was only sixteen; how could he be in love? What if Zoe hated him for it? What if she didn’t feel remotely the same way?
And his father’s tally marks stood out in his mind. They were an image that scared him more than anything. Would Evan turn out to be just like him-falling in love too easily, never knowing who he could hurt?
So it’s long sleeves and dodging one-on-one time with Zoe for the rest of the year.
No matter how much he tries to hide it, or suppress it, Evan can’t stop the somersaults his stomach does when Zoe smiles at him (which she does a lot) or how his heart flutters when he makes her laugh (which only happens slightly less) or how sometimes, he can barely breathe when he’s kept up at night thinking about her (which he does more than he would care to admit.)
He still can’t help but feel bad for pulling back so much, when he can tell it hurts her, sometimes.
(Is everything okay? she asks, and Evan can’t help the sharp intake of breath he takes when she turns to him, genuine concern written on her features.
Instead he says Oh yeah, I’m fine, why?
She bites her bottom lip, a habit he’s noticed her doing when she’s nervous or upset. Nothing, it’s just-you’ve seemed more withdrawn lately, and I wasn’t sure if it was something I did.
And it takes everything in him, right then and there, to not blurt out the whole story. Anything to stop her from looking so sad. But he takes a deep breath, and starts over. What? No, no, it’s not-look, I promise you, there’s nothing you could do that would-it’s not your fault. It’s never your fault. It’s just me, he wants to say. It’s all my fault, for falling in love with you when I know you’ll never fall in love with me.
She looks up at him, still chewing on her bottom lip. He can’t quite read the expression on her face. Okay, she says. Okay.)
One day, Jared’s parents force him on a last-minute Family Bonding trip, so it’s just him and Zoe are hanging out in her basement, both in beanbags in the floor. Parks and Rec is on, even though they’ve both seen it a million times, and Connor had even hung out with them for a little while before retreating back into his room.
Suddenly Zoe said, “oh my God, you need to see this,” and leaned over onto Evan’s beanbag, holding her phone up to his face. On it was the world’s tiniest hedgehog wearing an even tinier sweater with a tree embroidered on it and damn, if that wasn’t the cutest thing he’d ever seen. (It’s not, though; as he snuck a glance at Zoe’s face when he was sure she’s focused on the hedgehog, he thought that expression of pure joy on her was even cuter.)
She broke her gaze away to look at him, still grinning dopily in a way that only a post-hedgehog endorphin rush can cause (even though that smile wasn’t meant for him, his lungs still constricted and he had to fight to keep an identical one from spreading to his face), she said “he’s your brother, Ev’. He loves trees too.”
And then Evan did smile, trying to think up some reply other than do you know how pretty your smile is or something similar because dammit, Evan, she’ll never like you like that, don’t ruin what you have.
(The tally mark on his wrist seemed to burn through his sleeve, and he suddenly felt self conscious.)
They were still looking at each other, but something felt different, then. The air was charged with a kind of unfelt electricity, a tangible feeling that was just playing at the top of his tongue.
And he noticed, once again, the gold flakes in Zoe’s eyes, the deep layers of brown and lighter gray in them, just how striking they were staring into his own, almost like she can see every thought he has. He hopes he wasn’t mistaken, because he could swear he saw those eyes darting down every few seconds towards his lips, and he knew he was doing he same thing, no matter how he tried to stop.
The world was frozen, but they leaned almost imperceptibly closer to each other, and the moment was suspended in time as a what if-
Until Leslie and Ann’s fight cut through the air suddenly, their drunken shouting draining whatever charge there had been to the air, and even though there was still distance between them they spring back onto their beanbags, desperate to pretend that whatever the hell that was hadn’t happened.
And that’s the end of it, until it isn’t.
It (re)starts like this; Evan wakes up at the beginning of senior year, and the tally mark was black instead of red (did it just turn or had it been like that for a long time?), and he thinks he might actually burst.
Instead, he took a sip of water and attempted to clear his head, which might have worked if not for the text that lit up his phone shortly after he got his bearings.
It was from Zoe.
so-we should probably talk, right?
And so it really starts like-no, that’s not the start.
It’s one step on a road for them, but it’s far from the start.
It continues where Evan meets Zoe in Ellison Park, and there’s a kind of nervousness hanging around them both, but then Zoe caught his eye and smiled and everything inside of him stilled, because if Zoe’s there to smile at him then everything will be okay.
She always made him quiet, in the best way.
Zoe stood, and Evan noticed that she was biting her lip again, something so quintessentially Zoe that he could barely repress a shout that builds its way through his throat that says I love her and she loves me! But luckily he managed it, since that’s effectively what they’re there to talk about.
Evan barely walked up to her and managed a breathless hey before Zoe grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down slightly to kiss him.
He actually thought he had died and gone to heaven for that first second, before he regained his memory and could actually process holy shit Zoe Murphy is kissing me I’m kissing Zoe Murphy we’re kissing holy shit.
Far too soon, Zoe pulled back and lets go of his shirt, stepping away a little. Her cheeks were colored red and she quickly ran a hand over her face, across the freckles he came to love so much. She smiled that unbelievable smile, but she paused for a moment, starting to-apologize? “I’m really sorry, I know we came her to talk, but I’ve wanted to do that for so long and I-”
Evan cut her off by closing the distance between them, cupping her cheek, and pressing his lips to hers again.
She wraps her arms around his neck almost immediately, melting into the kiss, and Evan wrapped his other arm around her lower back. He pulled away for another moment, but this time only to whisper “I love you”-which, in a world where love wasn’t visible, may seem too soon, but here became the most natural progression-and smile so hard he wondered if he’d ever stop smiling when she whispered back “I love you too.”
Tracing a thumb over her cheek, mapping the freckles like stars, Evan took a moment just to appreciate where he was right then, finally with the girl he loved above all else, before swooping in for another kiss.
It started like this; Evan believed in love again.
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owlways-and-forever · 6 years ago
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Summary: The Marauders are getting older, and that means so many things. Mischief, heartbreak, and trying to figure out who they really are. They’ll face problems within their group, prove their loyalty to each other, and discover the ugliness that is brewing in the wizarding world at large. Welcome to Years 2-4 of the Marauders time at Hogwarts. **This piece is a sequel to Behind the Mango Tree, however, you do not have to have read the first installment to pick this up. It does stand alone, but there is some carry over from the last book, especially with inter-character relationships. Basically, you don’t have to have read BtMT, but it certainly helps. Word Count: (2,802) 20,225 Links: FFnet | ao3 | tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5
A/N: Okay, well only a day late, which I think is not bad for a chapter I hadn't even started a week ago! This is a bit of a lighter chapter, no angst thats too heavy here. Reminder: we are now in the third year of Hogwarts!
Looking forward, there's some good news and bad. On the plus side, the next chapter is about halfway written already, so I feel fairly optimistic about finishing it soon. On the down side, however, I'm moving next week, so I'll be spending Wednesday in a car, which means I most likely won't get to update until Thursday. So bear with me, and hopefully this chapter is enough to tide you over!
Chapter 6: A New Look
James felt self-conscious as he walked into the Great Hall. His parents had gotten special permission for him to join the rest of the school at Hogsmeade instead of taking the train, since they were getting back from their vacation in Mustique that morning, and he’d had to go to the doctor before he could depart. He could imagine that Professor Dumbledore hadn’t been very keen on the idea, but his mother typically had a way of getting what she wanted from people. But then she had kept delaying and delaying all afternoon, saying that they had ages before the train got to Hogsmeade, and of course they had time for one last family dinner. The end result was that James arrived in Hogsmeade with his father just as the last students were piling into carriages, all his friends already on their way up to the castle.
James clambered into the last carriage alone, trying not to fidget too much with the frames around his eyes. It was only a few minutes up to the castle, but it felt like an eternity without people there to laugh with. His carriage finally pulled up to the doors and he followed the other students through the Entrance Hall, scanning the crowd for his friends, to no avail. He paused in front of the door to the Great Hall, his heart pounding in his chest, and he quickly snatched the glasses from his face and tucked them into the pocket of his robes. He didn’t want to walk in last and look like a freak.
The world grew hazy around him, like he was looking at everything through a thin sheet of frosted glass, but James knew where he was going by force of habit. He squinted as he walked along Gryffindor table, trying to find his friends. Eventually he saw the fuzz of Sirius’ curls, and the very blurry faces of Remus and Peter across from him. He plopped down into the space next to Sirius, and began looking around the room (or at least pretending to).
“Where’ve you been?” Sirius asked, his head swiveling to face James.
“With my parents, we got back from vacation late so they brought me to Hogsmeade,” he explained, trying to find Sirius’ eyes.
The Sorting started, and the Great Hall became a yo-yo of hushed silences and exploding cheers as new first-years joined their houses.
“Dude, what is going on with you?” Sirius laughed, and James assumed that something he was doing was not quite right.
“What do you mean?” he asked, colour rising in his cheeks slightly.
“Your eyes, they’re all squinty and you keep looking at my eyebrows,” Sirius said, and James couldn’t see the expression on his face but if he would guess it probably be some kind of mirthful confusion.
“I got glasses,” he whispered, pulling them out of his pocket and laying them carefully on the table.
“Well then why aren’t you wearing them?” Sirius asked.
“I just don’t want to,” James said, trying to shove his glasses back into his pocket.
“Oh come on, mate, don’t be silly,” Sirius scoffed, grabbing James’ hand and yanking his glasses away from him. He unfolded them and unceremoniously rammed them onto James’ face. “There, much better.”
James shook his head slightly, looking down into his lap. He didn’t want the others to see how watery his eyes had become, and not just from the roughness of Sirius’ technique.
“Why don’t you want to wear them?” Remus asked quietly, leaning across the table.
“I don’t want to be made fun of,” James admitted, feeling at least comfortable enough among his best friends to tell them the truth.
“Come off it,” Sirius laughed, and Remus flashed him a very critical look.
James looked unsure, remembering being a young child in the pureblood community and feeling very much the outsider.
“It’s alright James, all of us have been made fun of at some point,” Remus said, and Peter nodded along beside him. “No one can be liked by everyone.”
“I guess,” James agreed, thinking, not for the first time, that Remus was uncommonly wise for a third-year.
“Just don’t listen to them,” Peter advised. “Anyone who makes fun of you for having glasses doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, “plus we can always cast the horn tongue hex on them, and then they won’t be saying much of anything.”
All four boys giggled lightly at the idea, and James felt much better about his new glasses. They turned their attention to the Sorting in time to see Idella Sexton join Gryffindor. They clapped and cheered along with the rest of their house as she sat amongst them, and then paid very little attention to the rest of the ceremony and the feast that lay ahead.
* * * * *
On the morning of the first day of classes, the third-year boys stepped into the Transfiguration classroom to find names hovering in shimmering letters above each seat. Assigned places. Groans echoed through the students as they all realized what was happening. In their first two years, they’d been allowed to pick their own seats in every class, but now for some reason that had changed. This year, the Gryffindors were sharing their Transfiguration class time with the Ravenclaws, and they could see that they were all going to be sitting mixed in with each other.
James was surprised to find that he, Sirius, Remus and Peter were sitting next to each other. James took his seat – the second seat in the second row – and as he did his name blinked out of the air. Mirabelle Faulkner plopped into the seat to his right, tapping her long fingernails on the glossy oak desk impatiently.
“I’m surprised McGonagall let us all sit together,” James whispered, leaning across Sirius so that Remus and Peter could hear him.
“She probably knew you’d be even more disruptive if you were separated,” Lily hissed from in front of them. “Now please, be quiet.”
Sirius snickered, thinking about how much fun it would be to annoy Lily all year long, but his musings were brought short as Professor McGonagall swept into the classroom, coming to a stop in front of her desk.
“You will have noticed,” she began, her voice dominating the room, “that I have assigned seating for this year, and you may be wondering why that is. This year’s material will be more difficult than anything you have come across before, and you will all be pushed to your limits. For this reason, I have tried to pair my students according to ability, and those whom I feel could help others to reach their full potential.”
James understood what she meant – the stronger students were being paired with weaker students. His first instinct was that it was unfair that he should have to suffer because his partner struggled, and from the surprised expressions around the room, he was sure he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. But as he thought about it more, it occurred to him that it might not be the worst thing. At least, if it were a class he struggled in, he certainly wouldn’t mind the help either. He looked over at Mirabelle, his new partner for the year, and thought he could have done much worse. She might not be the best at transfiguration, but she was pretty competent overall, and they got along decently well. And who knows, maybe she would teach him some of her badass defensive jinxes.
“Today,” Professor McGonagall continued, cueing the students to settle down, “we will go over the curriculum for the year, and then begin the first of our lessons.”
In a flurry of movement, students began pulling rolls of parchment and quills out of their bags, ready to take notes on anything that seemed important. In Professor McGonagall’s class, that usually meant everything.
“We’ll start the year by transforming the state of an object, before progressing to animal-to-object transformations,” she said, waving her wand so that words appeared on the chalkboard behind her. “Finally, we will end the year by discussing human transfigurations, namely, Animagi. We will not be learning the process of becoming an Animagus this year. Are there any questions so far?”
No one spoke up, which Professor McGonagall took as her cue to continue with the lecture.
“Now then, today we will begin by learning duro. Can anyone tell me what this spell does?”
Lily raised her hand, and acting on instinct, Sirius leaned over his desk and slapped her hand in a high five. She turned to face him, her mouth gaping in shock, confusion, and anger. Sirius laughed, and James chuckled beside him – it was difficult not to fin Lily’s expression amusing.
“Miss Evans?” Professor McGonagall asked, and Lily whipped her head around to face the front, her braid swinging broadly.
“Um, duro turns things to stone, Professor,” Lily answered, her brows furrowing as she tried to refocus on the lesson.
“Not the most eloquently put, but yes,” Professor McGonagall said, and Lily blushed slightly at the criticism. “Duro does indeed turn objects, living and inanimate alike, to stone, or rather it transfigures them to have a stone-like nature. All objects are created of particles that vibrate at a natural frequency – the faster the vibration, the more impenetrable and inflexible the object. Duro essentially increases the particle vibration the maximum possible, so that the object has the appearance and texture of stone.”
Quills scratched against parchment, everyone trying to write down as much information as possible. Transfiguration homework was notoriously difficult to do without adequate notes.
“I must warn you,” she continued, giving them all her most stern look, “that while using this spell on living beings is possible, it is not advisable, as doing so would be fatal. If any of you attempt to use this spell in such a manner, you will be met with the most severe repercussions.”
The room felt noticeably cooler, the gravity of her words sinking in. Professor McGonagall was not one for exaggeration or idle warnings.
“Now, as you become more proficient in casting duro, you will be able to control the degree to which your object hardens, and the appearance it takes on,” she said. “You can transfigure objects to marble, sandstone, limestone, and a variety of other materials. Exceptionally skilled wizards may even be able to transfigure their objects to glass, steel, or rare and valuable substances such as diamond. It is important to note that per section 142 of the International Trade and Foreign Exchange Agreement set forth by the International Confederation of Wizards, the use of duro to increase the value of an object for sale is forbidden.”
As Professor McGonagall kept talking, the sound of quills scratching on parchment filled the air. They covered a great deal about the theory behind the spell, as well as a few more details about the history (particularly of how it could go wrong) and legal aspects. Eventually, Professor McGonagall dismissed them – about five minutes before they were due to finish class – and shared that they would begin attempting the transfiguration during their next lesson.
* * * * *
James plopped down heavily on the wooden bench at the Gryffindor table, his friends joining him on either side. He felt exhausted, his mind worn down by the day’s lessons, and it was only the first day of school. Why was it so much harder this year? He felt like he would spend every second of his time studying, which was a real bummer, because he’d been hoping to try out for the quidditch team this year. But he had no idea how he could manage it. He groaned and dropped his head into his hands, letting the fatigue wash over him in waves.
“You okay, mate?” Remus asked, eyeing James carefully.
He shrugged and took his glasses off, massaging his closed eyelids gently with his fingertips.
“I’m fine,” he answered, trying to shake off the lethargy. “I just didn’t expect this year to be so much harder.”
“It’ll get easier in time,” Remus assured him, patting his hand. “They’re just throwing a lot at us because they think we’ve gotten lazy over the summer holidays.”
“Maybe...” James said, biting his lip – he wasn’t entirely convinced.
Sirius joined them, having stopped to talk to Marlene for a bit on the way, and he flopped into the seat next to James. He snatched up a chicken wing and began tearing into it, running a hand through his errant curls. James quickly replaced his glasses, trying to clear his mind.
“So,” Sirius began through a mouthful of chicken, complete unaware of the conversation that had been taking place, “what do you think would happen if you put a werewolf on the moon?”
Remus stared at Sirius, his mouth open in a little ‘o’ of surprise as the colour drained from his cheeks.
“He’d explode, Siri, there’s no atmosphere on the moon,” Peter sighed, reciting the information that he had learned while he was at muggle schools.
“Oh Petey-Pie, I never said we would send him up there without a bubblehead charm,” Sirius trilled, reaching for another wing. “I’m not cruel.”
“Right, forcing a werewolf to endure unending agony by putting him on the moon,” James snapped, surprising everyone, including himself.
“Who says it’d be agony?” Sirius retorted, never one to back down from a challenge.
“It’s just logical, isn’t it?” James replied, turning to face Sirius. “If the full moon is what causes him to change, he’d be forced to constantly be in his werewolf form. And since the proximity to the moon is much closer, the effects would probably be amplified. It’d be worse than transforming on earth, and it would never stop.”
“Bloody hell, those glasses really have turned you into a know-it-all,” Sirius teased, whistling long and low.
“Shut up,” James muttered, adjusting his glasses.
“See, maybe it’s the sight of the full moon that makes them change though,” Sirius pressed on, ignoring the look on Remus’ face. “And if he was on the moon, then he wouldn’t be able to see the whole thing. So he wouldn’t transform. Remus what do you think?”
Sirius looked at Remus, and its like his eyes were steel, glistening, glinting, hard. There was an edge in them, like he was daring Remus to refuse him. Whatever it was, whatever mania gripped Sirius, it scared Remus a little bit.
“It’s not the sight,” Remus finally said, closing his eyes on Sirius’ victorious expression. “Werewolves will transform if they’re inside or outside, regardless of weather. Blindfolding them wouldn’t make a bit of difference. But it’d be nice if it were that easy.”
“Fine, but its still possible that somehow whatever it is that makes them transform would be negated by being on the moon,” Sirius insisted, not willing to back down.
“I guess,” Remus conceded with a shrug. “No one really knows what the mechanism is.”
“That’s rubbish, innit?” Sirius said, but he still looked victorious.
“You have no idea,” Remus sighed, looking at James and Peter, who had very apprehensive looks on their faces. \
“C’mon, let’s just eat dinner, I want to get an early start on homework,” Peter suggested, bringing all their attention round to the rather gloomy task of the essays they’d been set.
P.S. A friendly reminder that feedback is ALWAYS appreciated, and if you really like story, feel free to recommend it to a friend. (And if you really really like the story, hit me up on Ko-Fi).
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sincerely-meme · 8 years ago
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I wrote another kleinsen fic because muffin’s name on the discord chat was very funny to me 
Ao3 link
Fuck Evan Hansen
Jared stared down the hall at Evan’s retreating form, wondering how the hell he’d let himself get to this point again. He swore that after they finally made up he wouldn’t let them be torn apart again. He was back where he started, watching Evan as he fled from Jared, his eyes filled with tears just about ready to spill out. Jared turned quickly and punched the locker to his right, “Fuck!”
***
He stared blankly at the wall, watching the clock slowly tick to the end of the period. His leg shook like a jackhammer under the table, urging the teacher to hurry up. He could feel Evan practically vibrating next to him. Their legs touched under the table and Jared could feel his face practically burning from the contact. Jared sighed internally, turning his head to the side to watch Evan. Evan was staring ahead, he appeared to be actually listening to the teacher’s rambling about who knows what. His beautiful stormy blue eyes were alight and his hands were fidgeting with the fidget cube that Jared had got him last week - even though he had pretended it wasn’t for Evan. Evan’s lip was drawn between his teeth in a way that looked painful, Jared wished that he could occupy Evan’s lips with his own instead. After a moment, Jared’s thoughts caught up with him and his face turned bright red. Unfortunately for him, that was the moment that Evan choose to look back at him. He quickly put his head between his arms in the hopes that Evan wouldn’t see his blush. “Jared-” Evan was quickly cut off as the bell rang and Jared sprung from his seat and out of the room before Evan could finish. Jared was all the way at his locker by the time he'd stopped running. When he stopped, he was gasping for breath and his face was still bright red, replaying his mind’s torturous daydream over in his head. His shoulders drooped and he opened his locker - number 1340 - slowly starting to unload and reload his books. He takes out the blue biology binder, and tries not to think about how much it’s colors look like the stripes on Evan’s shirts. The same striped shirts that he wears every day, they are burned into Jared’s memory. When he looks around he see’s them everyday, even more of a constant in his life than anything else, and in his dreams too. They follow him everywhere. No, he can’t allow himself to think about how similar those colors are. Next, he takes out the english notebook. He tries not to allow his mind to dwell on how the doodles on the cover were a group effort. He doesn’t think about how those doodles will stay there forever and how close Evan’s face was to his while they worked. He doesn’t allow himself to feel sad when he thinks about how they’ll probably never be that close again, how he’ll never see the flecks in Evan’s eyes again. He slowly pulled the history binder out of his locker, trying to push his memories out of his mind. He tried not to think about the one time when he dropped the binder and when they reached for it at the same time, he could feel the sparks as their hands touched. And how, when he pulled back like he was burned causing him to fall back on his ass, he looked up to see the look of hurt that fell over Evan’s face. All he wanted to do when he saw that was to reach up and kiss him until it fell away, until Evan couldn’t think of anything else but his lips. But he didn’t, instead he laughed and when he got home that night, his thoughts played on repeat and he was drowning in his love for Evan. Jared pulled himself to a standing position, his eyes half shut, replaying the fantasies that he only allows himself to hope for in his dreams. His eyes shut fully as he allowed himself to get pulled into the dream, and mumbled to himself, “I would give anything to fuck Evan Hansen.” He heard a muffled noise to his right and his eyes snapped open. His head turned so fast he got whiplash. Standing right next to him, staring wide eyed, with hands over his mouth, was Evan Hansen. Fuck. There were a few moments where the two just stared at each other. Evan’s eyes began to well up as they stared at each other and the moment one fell the spell broke. The noise from the others in the hallway fell back around them and Evan rushed past him before he could talk. All he could do was stare helplessly at his best friends retreating form and think back on how he told himself he wouldn’t let it get to this point again.
***
Jared continued on with his day, he went through all his classes. However all he wanted to do was to leave and find Evan. He spent every class watching out the window as the thunderstorm rolled in and the rain began to pour down. He didn’t dwell on how he didn’t have umbrella, only how Evan had mentioned that he didn’t have one earlier. Evan was all he thought about all the time but that day especially, everything else was background noise. At one point, Alana and Zoe had tried to include him in their conversation but he couldn’t hear them. He just kept staring out the window blankly. The moment the final bell rang he sprang out of his seat and bolted out of the front doors and into the rain. There was only one place that Evan would be and he had to get there. He ran as fast as he could, feeling the rain pelt against his body and soaking him through to his bones. However, he could barely feel the water, all he was focused on was Evan. Nothing else mattered. He stopped at the entrance to the park, looking around. After a moment, he forced himself to keep going. He saw the leaves begin to peek out from the edge of the horizon and he knew he was almost there. The tallest tree in the park, Evan’s favorite place. Evan had told him about it once, his eyes alight and his body jumpy and jittery as he practically glowed. Jared hadn’t been particularly interested in what he was saying about the tree - something about the age and its importance to the ecosystem - but he loved watching Evan’s excitement. Jared was almost to the base of the tree now, he could feel his lungs burning in protest but he could see a small form hunched over at the base of the tree. He couldn’t stop now. He forced himself to keep going till he reached the base. “Evan!” he called out and Evan looked up towards the source of the noise. “J-Jared,” he rubbed uselessly at his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. He was soaked through to the bone, even more so than Jared was, Jared really wanted to give him a hug. “What are you d-doing here Jared?” “I was worried,” it wasn’t entirely a lie but it wan’t really the truth either, “Its raining really hard, I wanted to be sure you were okay.” Evan turned away from him and he mumbled out a response, “You can see that I’m fine now. You don’t have to stay here.” Jared reached out, letting his hand hang there, halfway between the two of them. He could see Evan pulled into himself and Jared sighed, allowing his hand to fall completely to his side. He took a step forward, “Evan I-” “Just leave Jared!” Evan’s voice rang around the park, the rain the only other sound that answered. “Ev-” Just leave,” his voice was soft, broken. He let out a few shaky breaths before continuing in a tone almost completely drowned out by the rain, “I heard what you said… Fuck Evan Hansen right… Well you don't have to pretend to like me anymore, I know how you feel,” Jared opened his mouth to interject but Evan cut him off again, rising to his feet and turning to shout at him, “Why do you always have to fuck with me like this?! I don’t understand, I finally moved on from you and you dragged me back and then you never liked me… Why?! What did I do to deserve this?” “Evan,” Jared stopped himself, admitting to what he had said would be admitting to his crush. Could he really take that? He took in the sight of Evan, fists balled up and eyes clenched shut, and made his decision. Evan released the tension in his body, allowing his eyes to fall open, although they stayed glued to the ground, “Jared, please, I need to know…” “I-” Jared took a shaky breath and prepared himself to admit what had happened, “I didn't say that.” Evan’s eyes snapped up to Jared’s face, “What- but, but I heard-” “Look I, thats not exactly what I said, you… didn’t hear the whole thing,” Jared’s fists balled up on his sides, “I said I want to fuck Evan Hansen.” Evan’s face turned bright red, “Y-you, Jared why would you say that?!” Jared let his eyes fall to the ground, he stared at the ground next to him, “Because I have a huge crush on you, and,” he in took breath quickly, “andIthinkaboutdoingthingslikethatalotwithyou.” Evan blinked, processing Jared’s words, “You, you like me?”Jared nodded wordlessly. Evan’s mouth tilted up into a smile and he stepped closer to Jared, hooking a hand under Jared’s chin and forcing him to meet Evan’s eyes, “Hey Jared?” “E-Evan,” Jared could see all the little flecks in Evan’s eyes and he could count the freckles that dotted his face. Evan closed his eyes and leaned in. Jared felt Evan’s breath on his lips when he exhaled and the movement and he spoke into Jared’s mouth, “I think about doing things like that with you too.” Jared’s eyes widened as Evan closed the distance and connected their lips. He let them fall shut as he felt the sparks that he’d felt when their hands first touched on that binder. It was perfect, albeit a bit wet. The rain still poured down around them, but they stood silently in the rain, kissing like their lives depended on it. When he finally had to pull back, he allowed his eyes to raise slowly. He was greeted with the most beautiful sight. Evan was staring back at him, his eyes half lidded. He looked completely taken with Jared. Jared felt is heart skip a beat. “Jared,” Evan’s voice was soft and all Jared could think was how much he wanted to wake up next to him every day. “Yeah Evan?” “I love you.” Jared hummed in response, leaning in to rest his head on Evan’s neck. “Will you go out with me?” Jared smiled into Evan’s neck, raising his arms to pull Evan into a tight hug, “Of course you dork.” Evan just turned his head towards the sky and smiled to himself, “We should probably get out of the rain.” “Fuck you’re right!” Evan burst out laughing and Jared took his hand and they took off running towards Evan’s house, both knowing they’d probably be home with a cold tomorrow. But neither of them really minded.
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callanpurcell-blog · 8 years ago
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work in progress post/person
A LOT CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR
From June last year... “Hey Olivia, I just wanted to send you a massive message of encouragement and respect for the things you're doing for yourself. I'm in the midst of where you were a little while ago; trying to find funding ($40,000) for my college tuition. Ive finished my first year of studies and have two more to come. It sucks so much that there are people like us who live and breathe this art, and want to make ourselves better people and this world a better place through theatre, but money gets in the way of achieving those goals. It's clear though that you're unstoppable, and your path is one less trodden, going to workshops and intensives etc. Obviously there's more than one way to smash out a life in the theatre, and it's of great importance to remind people that acting school isn't necessarily the only way, and it's not the end of the world if it doesn't work out that way. Best wishes heading your way! Callan”
Saying bye to mum and dad was hard. A hug or four and before it hit me, I was beside a gentleman from Amsterdam who believed this generation can’t live without social media. We spoke a while and laughed a lot; swimming through topics of Australian foods, occupations, the red light district, the time he was deemed a pedophile when he took a photo of a man in a reindeer costume although the mother thought he was taking a photo of her child, the time I went to Uluru and found an overwhelming sense of belonging when the sun woke up behind it, Brexit, where the young people were during the vote for Brexit, the confusion of the air hostess when I asked for pepper but she came back with pepsi, the hilarity of Ad, the Amsterdam gentleman reclining his chair- causing the knees of the sleeping woman behind to wrap around her ears as her feet were on her fold out table, and the marvel of the amount of languages Ad could speak. I just flicked back to facebook and read that being grateful, or speaking of things that you’re grateful about is one of the most effective ways to combat heavier times. I’ll write my happenings very quickly from my first day, just for the archives, but then I’ll dive into the delicious selection of things that make me smile or have made me smile this last month. -Flying over London: that’s a big cloud -Flying into London: still, in a big cloud -Getting out in London: still in the big cloud -Tube strikes--travelled from terminal 3 to 1, 1 to Picadilly line, Picadilly line to Hammersmith, Hammersmith to Monument, Monument to City Thames Link, City Tames Link to West Hampstead, West Hampstead to Kilburn, Kilburn to St John’s Wood, walked from St John’s Wood to Belsize Park. -Inbetween: Damp ground, damp clothes, drizzle. -People pushing and stabbing with the umbrellas and huffing and cursing and yeah, a lot of pushing in- what the fuck?
Ok, that done and dusted. I just can’t let it harden my heart. I’ll learn to find the sunshine inside me.
I stand by the fact that it’s vital to ride through negative emotions just like the positive ones. If I push them down or go all zen and try and ride above them, I won’t a) ever let them out so they’ll just fester like the 16 capsicums I found in the fridge last year at my old sharehouse and b) i wouldn’t have the experience of negotiating myself and my ability through them to get to the other side. I thought that’s what I was training to do, again and again, night after night. Australia was easy for me. Every day is like a day at the baths. Glorious, yes, but easy. Keep it coming, London. But maybe give me a break on Sundays. Sundays are day of rest, remember?
AUSTRALIA.
A. warm welcome from the sun where I fell asleep at the baths and woke up with really serious sunburn. It was a familiar feeling- not being able to lay on your back for longer than 2 minutes, and applying Aloe Vera every other 2.
B.elvoir St seeing Girl Asleep; a play I’ve been wanting to see for about 5 years now. I also left a letter for a hero of mine, Matthew Whittet, asking him if I could work with him.
C.
D.ear Evan Hansen screaming out of the speakers while salty summer air flooded in from the windows. Tyran, how I missed you, brother.
E.pic
F.ish and chips from Stockton. The scollops were practically just batter. I also bought a BBQ chicken. We got out of the 39 degree heat, chucked the air conditioner on and dug into the best Australian meal: chicken and chips with chicken salt.
G.lenrock Lagoon reminded me of what it was like to see with senses other than the eyes. The journey from the carpark to Merewether Baths and back was glorious and worth every step. I’d made a ham and pickle sandwich to eat halfway.
H.earing wild dingoes in Central Australia as I laid in my swag looking up at the stars. Ok, well staring at the stars; making sure I didn’t draw attention to myself as they were drinking water about 5 metres away from me. I didn’t want mum to be the next one in line to say “A dingo ate my baby!” because, let’s face it, I’ll always be her baby.
I.nitiating the walk up Heart attack Hill. The first part to the path across King’s Canyon. Looking up it, you saw people in the distance, like ants. I’ve only had that feeling once before...when I was looking at California Scream in Disneyland.
J.ust spending time with family. Enough said. Especially with Harper though. Her look so intent. She’s a very good listener..and very cheeky. Seeing Uncle Gerry and Aunty Deb too were highlights
K.eeping true to the impulse of the letter. Another letter. A spontaneous yet respectful letter to a girl who had the most gorgeous smile at the baths. I guess that’s the only downside to not having a mobile. But I wrote my name and drew a wave, so we talked still.
L.ying with mum in bed like I was 10 again.
M.ilkshakes with dad at Warners Bay, and him letting ME pay for them...
N.ew years the way I like it. Quite, and symbolic. Spending the first few seconds underwater and being ‘rebirthed’ by gasping for air when I came to the surface. I love symbolic stuff like that. 
O.ld friends and family popping up out of nowhere.
P.opcorn and jersey caramels at the old lake cinema. This was the first time in a long time I didn’t care about rustling wrappers or sniffing or fidgeting, because it was just fun. It was another reminder that actually I AM able to just go watch a film or play and enjoy it because it’s an activity I get to do with the people I love. Rustle away!
Q.uiet conversations on verandahs with friends and really good chicken salad and fruit and new dogs and forgotten gifts.
R.olling around in Maitland with drama kids. Doing workshops back with Annie’s kids from Upstage reminded me that theatre is for everyone, and so is acting. You do lose perspective being at drama school, and think that it’s all a perfect little bubble...but in reality, some of the best comedy or drama I’ve seen play out is from a 4 year old trying to do his laces.
S.unrise at Uluru. Sitting in the red dirt, seeing exactly when the core of the sun rose from the earth with the rays around it.
T.he Universe had some gems up her sleeve. Tarni Kate Beau Renee Erin Daniel Hayley Dom Max Peter Kathryn Bridget
U.nderestimating the beauty of 106.1 classic FM. It gives a nice, lyrical quality to a Newcastle summer.
V.isiting Newcastle Art Gallery and the Newcastle Museum
W.hen Yong, a South Korean kindergarten teacher told me that when she first met me on the Uluru trip, she thought I’d be a “naughty boy”. I was both aroused and confused, but I think she meant ‘bad boy’ because my cap was on back to front at the start. I said I loved my mum and dad though, so there’s no way I was. 
X.tra special memory:
Y.oga and finding freedom in active meditation. Thanks Bridget xx
Z.inc and sunscreen. The smell will always take me back to summer. The colours will always take me back to the 80s.
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10:54 Newcastle Baths 31.12.2016
‘Be the Sunshine Kid the World Needs.’
new music - INSTEAD OF - the ‘go to’ genres new books - INSTEAD OF - the kids books more veggies - INSTEAD OF - just chocolate more water - INSTEAD OF - pepsi swimming - INSTEAD OF - sleeping in yoga - INSTEAD OF - ‘just nothing’ active meditation - INSTEAD OF - ‘just stillness’ kisses and cuddles - INSTEAD OF - playing cool romance - INSTEAD OF - reality checks listening - INSTEAD OF - waiting to speak water - INSTEAD OF - bed risks - INSTEAD OF - regrets honesty - INSTEAD OF - political correctness focus - INSTEAD OF - indecisive heroes - INSTEAD OF - enemies anticipation - INSTEAD OF - anxiety healthy challenges - INSTEAD OF - obstacles encouraging - INSTEAD OF - forcing understanding - INSTEAD OF - replying commitment - INSTEAD OF - pussy-footing boiling hot - INSTEAD OF - luke warm passion - INSTEAD OF - playing it cool naked - INSTEAD OF - out of touch drawing - INSTEAD OF - nothing at all checking in - INSTEAD OF - checking out seeking knowledge - INSTEAD OF - desiring it doing - INSTEAD OF - saying invincible - INSTEAD OF - invisible warrior - INSTEAD OF - worrier star-gazing - INSTEAD OF - stone-kicking people person - INSTEAD OF - hermit singing - INSTEAD OF - silence just because - INSTEAD OF - this is the meaning of life discoveries - INSTEAD OF - decisions howling at the moon - INSTEAD OF - howling in your room honesty - INSTEAD OF - “INTERESTING...” questions - INSTEAD OF - answers using weight - INSTEAD OF - pushing against surrendering - INSTEAD OF - locking clarity and cleansing - INSTEAD OF - chaos change - INSTEAD OF - talking about change touching - INSTEAD OF - seeing sensing - INSTEAD OF - analysing planning - INSTEAD OF - procrastinating your journey - INSTEAD OF - theirs your drum - INSTEAD OF - theirs your love - INSTEAD OF - theirs saving - INSTEAD OF - spending BREATH. JUST MORE BREATH. AND MORE IMAGINATION AND COLOUR. London is my bitch - INSTEAD OF - I am London’s bitch sharing - INSTEAD OF - shame cleansing - INSTEAD OF - clutter negotiation - INSTEAD OF - right way / wrong way soul - INSTEAD OF - sight MORE SOLAR PLEXUS experimentation - INSTEAD OF - expectation making time - INSTEAD OF - finding time sweaty body - INSTEAD OF - not...sweaty intuition - INSTEAD OF - institution conversation - INSTEAD OF - confrontation beautiful thoughts - INSTEAD OF - bashing ones
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newstfionline · 8 years ago
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Prozac Nation Is Now the United States of Xanax
By Alex Williams, NY Times, June 10, 2017
This past winter, Sarah Fader, a 37-year-old social media consultant in Brooklyn who has generalized anxiety disorder, texted a friend in Oregon about an impending visit, and when a quick response failed to materialize, she posted on Twitter to her 16,000-plus followers. “I don’t hear from my friend for a day--my thought, they don’t want to be my friend anymore,” she wrote, appending the hashtag #ThisIsWhatAnxietyFeelsLike.
Thousands of people were soon offering up their own examples under the hashtag; some were retweeted more than 1,000 times. You might say Ms. Fader struck a nerve. “If you’re a human being living in 2017 and you’re not anxious,” she said on the telephone, “there’s something wrong with you.”
It was 70 years ago that the poet W.H. Auden published “The Age of Anxiety,” a six-part verse framing modern humankind’s condition over the course of more than 100 pages, and now it seems we are too rattled to even sit down and read something that long.
Anxiety has become our everyday argot, our thrumming lifeblood: not just on Twitter (the ur-anxious medium, with its constant updates), but also in blogger diaries, celebrity confessionals, a hit Broadway show (“Dear Evan Hansen”), a magazine start-up (Anxy, a mental-health publication based in Berkeley, Calif.), buzzed-about television series (like “Maniac,” a coming Netflix series by Cary Fukunaga, the lauded “True Detective” director) and, defying our abbreviated attention spans, on bookshelves.
While to epidemiologists both disorders are medical conditions, anxiety is starting to seem like a sociological condition, too: a shared cultural experience that feeds on alarmist CNN graphics and metastasizes through social media. As depression was to the 1990s--summoned forth by Kurt Cobain, “Listening to Prozac,” Seattle fog and Temple of the Dog dirges on MTV, viewed from under a flannel blanket--so it seems we have entered a new Age of Anxiety. Monitoring our heart rates. Swiping ceaselessly at our iPhones. Filling meditation studios in an effort to calm our racing thoughts.
Consider the fidget spinner: endlessly whirring between the fingertips of “Generation Alpha,” annoying teachers, baffling parents. Originally marketed as a therapeutic device to chill out children with anxiety, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder or autism, these colorful daisy-shaped gizmos have suddenly found an unlikely off-label use as perhaps the an explosively popular toy, this generation’s Rubik’s Cube.
But the Cube was fundamentally a cerebral, calm pursuit, perfect for the latchkey children of the 1980s to while away their lonely, Xbox-free hours. The fidget spinner is nothing but nervous energy rendered in plastic and steel, a perfect metaphor for the overscheduled, overstimulated children of today as they search for a way to unplug between jujitsu lessons, clarinet practice and Advanced Placement tutoring.
According to data from the National Institute of Mental Health, some 38 percent of girls ages 13 through 17, and 26 percent of boys, have an anxiety disorder. On college campuses, anxiety is running well ahead of depression as the most common mental health concern, according to a 2016 national study of more than 150,000 students by the Center for Collegiate Mental Health at Pennsylvania State University. Meanwhile, the number of web searches involving the term has nearly doubled over the last five years, according to Google Trends. (The trendline for “depression” was relatively flat.)
To Kai Wright, the host of the politically themed podcast “The United States of Anxiety” from WNYC, which debuted this past fall, such numbers are all too explicable. “We’ve been at war since 2003, we’ve seen two recessions,” Mr. Wright said. “Just digital life alone has been a massive change. Work life has changed. Everything we consider to be normal has changed. And nobody seems to trust the people in charge to tell them where they fit into the future.”
For “On Edge,” Ms. Petersen, a longtime reporter for The Wall Street Journal, traveled back to her alma mater, the University of Michigan, to talk to students about stress. One student, who has A.D.H.D., anxiety and depression, said the pressure began building in middle school when she realized she had to be at the top of her class to get into high school honors classes, which she needed to get into Advanced Placement classes, which she needed to get into college.
“In sixth grade,” she said, “kids were freaking out.”
This was not the stereotypical experience of Generation X.
Urban Dictionary defines a slacker as “someone who while being intelligent, doesn’t really feel like doing anything,” and that certainly captures the ripped-jean torpor of 1990s Xers.
For these youths of the 1990s, Nirvana’s “Lithium” was an anthem; coffee was a constant and Ms. Wurtzel’s “Prozac Nation: Young and Depressed in America,” about an anhedonic Harvard graduate from a broken home, dressed as if she could have played bass in Hole, was a bible.
The millennial equivalent of Ms. Wurtzel is, of course, Lena Dunham, who recently told an audience at the 92nd Street Y in Manhattan, “I don’t remember a time not being anxious.” Having suffered debilitating anxiety since age 4, the creator, writer and star of the anxiety-ridden “Girls” recalled how she “missed 74 days of 10th grade” because she was afraid to leave her house. This was around the time that the largest act of terrorism in United States history unfolded near the TriBeCa loft where she grew up.
But monitored by helicopter parents, showered with participation awards and then smacked with the Great Recession, Generation Y has also suffered from the low-level anxiety that comes from failing to meet expectations. Thus the invention of terms like “quarter-life crisis” and “FOMO” (“fear of missing out,” as it is fueled by social media apps like Instagram). Thus cannabis, the quintessential chill-out drug, is turned into a $6.7 billion industry.
Sexual hedonism no longer offers escape; it’s now filtered through the stress of Tinder. “If someone rejects you, there’s no, ‘Well, maybe there just wasn’t chemistry …,’” Jacob Geers, a 22-year-old in New York who works in digital sales, said. “It’s like you’re afraid that through the app you’ll finally look into the mirror and realize that you’re butt ugly,” he added.
If anxiety is the melody of the moment, President Trump is a fitting maestro. Unlike his predecessor, Barack Obama, a low-key ironist from the mellow shores of Oahu, the incumbent is a fast-talking agitator from New York, a city of 8.5 million people and, seemingly, three million shrinks.
In its more benign form, only a few beats from ambition, anxiety is, in part, what made Mr. Trump as a businessman. In his real estate career, enough was never enough. “Controlled neurosis” is the common characteristic of most “highly successful entrepreneurs,” according to Mr. Trump (or Tony Schwartz, his ghostwriter) in the 1987 book, “The Art of the Deal.” “I don’t say that this trait leads to a happier life, or a better life,” he adds, “but it’s great when it comes to getting what you want.”
Everything had to be bigger, bolder, gold-er. And it made him as a politician, spinning nightmare tales on the stump about an America under siege from Mexican immigrants and Muslim terrorists.
But if Mr. Trump became president because voters were anxious, as a recent Atlantic article would have readers believe, other voters have become more anxious because he became president. Even those not distressed by the content of his messages might find the manner in which they are dispensed jarring.
“In addition to the normal chaos of being a human being, there is what almost feels like weaponized uncertainty thrown at us on a daily basis,” said Kat Kinsman, the “Hi, Anxiety” author. “It’s coming so quickly and messily, some of it straight from the president’s own fingers.”
Indeed, Mr. Trump is the first politician in world history whose preferred mode of communication is the 3 a.m. tweet--evidence of a sleepless body, a restless mind, a worrier.
“We live in a country where we can’t even agree on a basic set of facts,” said Dan Harris, an ABC news correspondent and “Nightline” anchor who found a side career as an anti-anxiety guru with the publication of his 2014 best-seller, “10% Happier.” Mr. Harris now also offers a meditation app, a weekly email newsletter and a podcast that has been downloaded some 3.5 million times in the past year.
The political mess has been “a topic of conversation and a source of anxiety in nearly every clinical case that I have worked with since the presidential election,” said Robert Duff, a psychologist in California. He wrote a 2014 book, “Hardcore Self-Help,” whose subtitle proposes to conquer anxiety in the coarse language that has also defined a generation.
The Cold War, starring China, North Korea and Russia, is back, inspiring headline-induced visions of mushroom clouds not seen in our collective nightmares since that Sunday evening in 1983 when everyone watched “The Day After” on ABC.
And television was, as Marshall McLuhan famously wrote, a cool medium. Our devices are literally hot, warming our laps and our palms.
“In our always-on culture, checking your phone is the last thing you do before you go to sleep, and the first thing you do if you wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom,” Mr. Harris said. “Just today, I got an alert on my phone about the collapsing Arctic ice shelf. That’s scary as hell.”
Push notifications. Apocalyptic headlines. Rancorous tweets. Countless studies have found links between online culture and anxiety. But if social media can lead to anxiety, it also might help relieve it.
The “we have no secrets here” ethos of online discourse has helped bring anxiety into the open, and allowed its clinical sufferers to band together in a virtual group-therapy setting. Hence the success of campaigns like #ThisIsWhatAnxietyFeelsLike, which helped turn anxiety--a disorder that afflicts some 40 million American adults--into a kind of rights movement. “People with anxiety were previously labeled dramatic,” said Sarah Fader, the Brooklyn social media consultant who also runs a mental-health advocacy organization called Stigma Fighters. “Now we are seen as human beings with a legitimate mental health challenge.”
And let’s remember that we survived previous heydays of anxiety without a 24-hour digital support system. Weren’t the Woody Allen ‘70s the height of neurosis, with their five-days-a-week analysis sessions and encounter groups? What about the 1950s, with their duck-and-cover songs and backyard bomb shelters?
That era “was the high-water mark of Freudian psychoanalysis, and any symptom or personality trait was attributed to an anxiety neurosis,” said Peter D. Kramer, the Brown University psychiatrist who wrote the landmark 1990s best-seller, “Listening to Prozac.” “And then there were substantial social spurs to anxiety: the World Wars, the atom bomb. If you weren’t anxious, you were scarcely normal.”
Scott Stossel, editor of The Atlantic, whose “My Age of Anxiety” helped kick off the anxiety memoir boom three years ago, urged people to pause, not for deep cleansing breaths, but for historical perspective.
“Every generation, going back to Periclean Greece, to second century Rome, to the Enlightenment, to the Georgians and to the Victorians, believes itself to be the most anxious age ever,” Mr. Stossel said.
That said, the Americans of 2017 can make a pretty strong case that they are gold medalists in the Anxiety Olympics.
“There is widespread inequality of wealth and status, general confusion over gender roles and identities, and of course the fear, dormant for several decades, that ICBMs will rain nuclear fire on American cities,” Mr. Stossel said. “The silver lining for those with nervous disorders is that we can welcome our previously non-neurotic fellow citizens into the anxious fold.”
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