#obviously they ended up fucking

[uhhlifeig]

Father Christmas - Dec. 2nd - word count: 415 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin sat by the fire. 

The older boy was sprawled lazily across a couch, legs hanging over the side, while the other boy perched on the edge, engrossed in a book.

Then James Potter burst in, decked out in a red robe that looked like it had been pilfered from Professor Slughorn’s wardrobe, a fake beard askew on his face, and a lumpy sack slung over his shoulder.

“Ho, ho, ho!” James bellowed, voice slightly muffled by the crooked beard.

Remus looked up from his book. “What on earth-?”

“I am Father Christmas!” James declared, waving a hand. “Come to spread holiday cheer and… uh… love!”

Sirius smirked. “Prongs, you look like a rejected garden gnome.”

“Silence, non-believer!” James barked. “I come bearing gifts for all those who are honest about their feelings!”

The werewolf pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is going to be painful, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no. This is going to be magical,” the glasses-wearing boy replied, dropping the sack and pulling out a large sprig of mistletoe, which, after being released, hovered ominously above Remus and Sirius.

The dog animagus squinted up at it. “Subtle.”

“It’s enchanted!” James announced proudly. “You’re trapped until you confess your undying love for each other!”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“You heard me!” The deer animagus said, hands on his hips. “I’m doing this for your own good. Everyone knows you two fancy each other except for you.”

“Prongs,” Sirius drawled, “you’re wearing a tablecloth and a fake beard. I’m supposed to take this intervention seriously?”

Remus stood, shaking his head. “This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.”

He tried to walk away, but the mistletoe pushed him back, depositing him on the couch with a loud thump.

“See?” James said, delighted. “It works.”

“You’re a menace to society,” the oldest boy muttered, though he didn’t try to move from his chair.

“Just say it!” The costumed boy cried, exasperated. “You love him, he loves you, we can all move on and be jolly!”

Remus buried his face in his hands. “I hate you.”

“Do you, though?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” the long-haired boy mused. “I dunno, Moony. Maybe he’s got a point.”

The dirty blonde blinked. “What?”

“Maybe I do fancy you,” Sirius said casually.

Remus turned toward his friend disbelievingly. “You’re joking.”

The noiret smirked. “No, I’m Sirius.”

“Fuck you.”

“Are you offering, Moons?”

“YES!!” James crowed, leaving the room. “Well, it appears my work is done here, gents. Remember to use protection!”

[corrodedparadox]

Handposting

[silasbirchtree]

ford's expression and the way he shakes as he erases stan's memory guts me to the core. just imagine. you've been apart from your brother for decades. he used to be your best friend. you spent years hating him and years missing him. you were going to spend the rest of your lives together. you don't get along anymore. you used to know each other like the back of your hands. but even after so long apart, he can still fake your voice and mannerisms like it's nothing. and then you have to erase everything. there are no more second chances. you don't get to fix this. he got you back, but if you do this, you'll never get your brother back.

[aardvaark]

the leverage team would have had a games night… once. everyone cheated so much and in such increasingly extreme ways that all mentions of monopoly are banned in their headquarters (this makes talking about marks who monopolize the market very confusing)

[basilpaste]

ive been trying very hard to formulate a way to say this that doesnt make me sound like an asshole but honestly ive like. given up.

youre gonna drive yourselves fucking nuts with all the doom posting. and all the "its gonna be okay, you have to live" posting isnt any less doom posting. its all the same song to a different tune.

its shitty and terrible and youre allowed to feel shitty and terrible. but its not like. gonna change because you feel shitty about it. and constantly thinking about how shitty you feel about it is just gonna make you feel worse.

go like. eat a snack or something. play a game you like. i dunno. its shitty! but dont spend your time catastrophizing. drink some fuckin water or whatever other cheesy bullshit keeps you occupied while you process.

[rbtlvr]

chat i think i might be cooking with this (hugemassive spoilers for both games :thumbsup:)

[clarkgriffon]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER 7x22 | “Chosen” 

[sincerelyrf]

me: *seeing people yell about how they did Glintshore & Percy's death in the show*

also me: ..................anyway

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 169

this is it, the dynamic

[funeralprocessor]

I really need to socialize with people more. Shame about the horrors though.

[tianhai03]

hello evil residence fans i had a dream today that in a new re movie (it looked like death island) leon and chris were fighting zombies at a swimming pool so have some silly doodles

[wyyvoren]

How does one even angst cumplane

well it’s simple. you put them in a situation.

[lambmotifz]

sam’s daddy issues are just as bad as dean’s btw, if not worse (probably much worse). he canonically had two controlling dads (john and dean). except he’s much better at hiding his vulnerability than dean

[sabotourist]

You see there's a crucial difference between Spartans and Freelancers. Between their fucking insanity.

Spartans were indoctrinated as children. They are finely curated artisan crazy.

Freelancers are the results of some people looking around for the most fucked up individuals they could find and cherry picking the most batshit headcases possible.

See, it's artisanal insanity versus fully organic insanity.

Both results in people willing to jump out of airplanes or whatever.

[littlebearnation]

petition for people to stop making those "motorsport men i would and wouldn't trust with my drink" videos/posts because every single time, there's someone on the wouldn't slide that makes NO SENSE. like... huh? y'all are just applying a predatory gaze to random ass men who don't deserve it.

[fbfh]

I want to fuck Daryl Dixon so fucking bad. y'all don't even understand the primal need I have to milk him dry, suck his soul out through his heavy uncut dick. and I KNOW the feeling is mutual because we all know Daryl's the typ to suppress and ignore his emotions, right???? which means OBVIOUSLY he'll be too focused on staying alive and keeping the group safe to even think about sex, too exhausted from fighting walkers and scavanging supplies, just making it through the day to even whack one out. and all of that sexual frustration just builds and builds and builds deep in his subconsious until one day he's out hunting and comes across you. he doesn't expect to see someone alone and without a group, especially not such a hot piece of ass like you. he's older, you know there's an age gap between you, but you are both adults, and only meeting for the first time now. you justify this to yourself, mentally trying to figure out if anything between you would be legally or ethically yucky. you decide that it's fine - especially given the state of the world - to indulge your feelings.

Daryl brushes it off for as long as he can. He ignores the way you look at him, and all the dreams of you sneaking into his tent and riding him until you squirt, he ignores the stray thoughts that leave him a little bricked up happening more and more. He ignores it until one night, you actually do sneak into his tent. He thinks he's dreaming at first, seeming as gruff and chilly as ever, but you don't care. You just crouch next to him and hug him, hiding your face in his bare chest.

"I... I had a bad dream." your words are simple, but they really speak volumes. He knows first hand how bad the nightmares can get, and your skin feels so nice on his. he's so touch starved that he doesn't even realize why he's pulling you into his lap, holding you close and rubbing your back, he just knows it feels... really good. like, really really good. so he tries to calm you down and help you settle back down for sleep, laying you down next to him. you cuddle up to him so painfully close that he doesn't know what to do. You wrap both your legs around one of his thighs, squirming a little as you settle down.

"'m sorry for keeping you up so late," you say, pouting up at him and he is SO close to folding. he has maybe one or two scraps of self control that are fully stripped away when you squirm some more, rocking your core against his thigh, and he feels it. He feels the slimy, slippery wet patch growing wetter and wetter as you "get comfortable".

"Do you think there's something that could... y'know... tire me out a little?"

and he folds. of COURSE he folds, anyone would with you being all cute and sweet to them, ESPECIALLY someone whose heavy, full balls are bluer than the lonliness and pain in his heart. he uses his last ounce of self control to say your name like a warning, but it only serves to make your pussy throb against his leg - something he definitely does not miss.

"You're playing a dangerous game here, kid..." he warns. You inch closer and closer to him, batting your eyes up with a cute little pout.

"'m not a kid," you protest. your eyes flick between his eyes and his lips, and you can't stop your hips from grinding down onto his thigh. "...you want me to prove it?"

but with how fast he flips you over and pins you down and folds you in half, you really don't have time to prove anything.