#regarding;; avery

[heartscfvalor]

@minxchester

Hawke family

[chaossuta]

My DoL Butler Themed Merch PO is now open! 💖

The form is finally here! ✨

For GO/Group Order manager/host you can contact me for discussion 🌸

Please read carefully and feel free to ask if you have any questions!

Other than that, go get your babies! 💖

Order here!

[clarissaweasley-10]

seriously reblog if you don't hate Jameson Hawthorne..

[gaygxnslinger]

“Never refer to me as a ‘catboy’ ever again.”

[ofchaotics]

@redemptioninterlude / send a 📸 to see 3-5 pictures that my muse has taken of your muse.

[ofchaotics]

@redemptioninterlude

[puphoods]

ive only seen bits and pieces of what happened to predesterone, i know they got deleted (at least twice) and the ceo is making defamatory statements about them, but im genuinely confused as to where I could find this all going down. if u dont wanna gather links or whatever i get it its just that everything popped up on my dash suddenly and i want to know whats happening but i dont know how to find out

theres obviously a lot of people posting rn but ill try to get some links together to sum it up as best i can find- keep in mind i never followed her myself and only distantly knew of her so there are people closer to the situation that probably have more stuff they can tell you though, and searching her url(s) has a lot of info

avery has i think two blogs deleted yeah, unsure about any older ones but predstrogen and avewy/predesterone were both deleted very recently

predstrogen (the first blog) was allegedly deleted for "sexually explicit material" despite any posts that may have been labelled as such being marked with a community label and her blog recently being manually approved as NOT containing adult content. she also talks in this post, as well as here, about how she has had a support ticket open for several months for harassment she was receiving that has not been dealt with

this is an example of the threats and harassment she has been receiving. ive seen a few different people get this ask copy pasted

the CEO of tumblr made a post wherin he publicly aired information regarding her deletion and threatened legal action against her , showing examples of the alleged death threats where no actual threats were made and telling people in the replies to just leave if they were unhappy with the moderation of the site

avery made a post about this and her new blog was again deleted within five minutes of her making it

multiple people who have made posts about the situation have said matt has DMed them and confronted them

this is word im hearing secondhand, so if i get any details wrong please correct me, but posts of hers such as her transition timeline are apparently ones that were flagged. i cant find any screenshots but many of her posts, including one that was a silly edit of a snow leapord wearing shoes, have been completely wiped from the site. if anyone has a screenshot or link to both the original post and it being deleted i can add it to this

again there are a lot of posts going around but these are i think what you really need to know whats going on...

[hergrandplan]

Ryan an avery my very beloveds 💙🩷💙🩷💙🩷

Okay there's very little books that make me want to fling myself of a cliff like Two Boys Kissing does

""As we become the distant past, you become a future few of us would have imagined"

[felicity-worthington]

Why is “Doctor Odyssey” a television show that very cleverly shows the depth of the human condition?

So, I have seen some people say that Doctor Odyssey is fun (especially because of Ody3) but also just a superficial show with no plot and I have to politely disagree. I think this show is the opposite, it's just supposed to look silly and superficial at first glance, as you can see when they repeat the phrase "we constructed a paradise" in the weekly recaps.

It is supposed to look like that, it is the idea of a cruise itself, for a week you escape the real world, you enter a new constructed one, which is supposed to be paradise without problems. But here's the thing, here is why there's a doctor and two nurses on this ship: it's just an idea, it's not real.

We especially see this in the episodes "I Always Cry at Weddings" and "Quackers" and of course in the main storyline of Max, Tristan and Avery navigating their relationship and their constant struggle with what they really want in life.

Let's start with "I always cry at weddings" to deconstruct the idea of superficiality with the weekly funny themes and the show only being silly because it's quite obvious here I think. I mean, a man commits suicide in this episode because he's deeply conflicted about what he really wants out of life and how he thinks there is an incurable darkness within him. And we see him, his bride and his best man as an example of how this construction, this idea of heteronormative happiness is just that for a lot of people: just an idea that doesn't guarantee you happiness, but actually destroys lives (not everyone's, of course). And we start this episode superficially, with a couple about to get married on a cruise, the perfect wedding in perfect paradise. But as the episode progresses, we see the cracks and then it gets very real. The scenes with the groom breaking down in the infirmary, the bride talking to Avery and Max after the suicide and her mother's confession are all absolute tearjerkers in the best way. I mean, watch that scene and then tell me again that this show is just a silly Riverdale for adults:

This is actually one of my favorite scenes of the show because the delivery of the line "we need to help this boy" is just perfect, the actress did an amazing job. Also, the character herself says "she pretended her fears away", which underlines the show's idea that this is a paradise where people should just forget their worries, but actually real life catches up with you no matter where you are, you cannot hide from it.

The other example I was thinking of is the latest episode with the Quackers community, which is super silly in a lot of ways and I love that, don't get me wrong.

And then you have this older couple, the leaders (?) of this community, who seem extremely superficial and silly, I mean, going on cruises to go on a quack treasure hunt? So silly. BUT then the cracks start to show again as one of them, the husband (I don't know what his name was, so I'll just call him the husband and her the wife), shows a serious condition, the compulsive urge to swallow objects. When confronted, the wife literally denies it, unable to face the ugly truth. In her world everything is perfect, she and her husband are on a never-ending treasure hunt on paradise cruises, and when something real, something problematic threatens that, she can't accept it at first. And we see that again later in the episode when she refuses to leave the ship:

She wants to stay in paradise, in denial, on the surface. But that's not possible, you can't ignore real life:

But this is her and her husband's dream, an endless paradise in search of ducks, and it's hard to let go and take a deeper look at life and accept that floating through life is a nice idea and might work for a while, but it can't go on forever:

regarding her husbands condition:

Once again the theme of what we want (superficial) and what is really going on (what is behind the construction of paradise) is mentioned.

All of this, and all of the recurring themes I mentioned, are also at play with the three main characters and their constant struggle with what they really want out of life. In a way, their calling to help people is fulfilled by their professions, but then they keep asking themselves, "Is this enough? Is this what I really want out of life, taking one cruise after another?

The theme of constructed ideas versus what is actually going on is also seen in their throuple situation. Max and Tristan have probably always seen themselves as straight, and now they are getting a deeper look at who they are and what they really want out of life. And that is scary, and it often takes years to deconstruct habits and self-image.

But there is no unnecessary weird teenage drama in this show, it is very real. It is supposed to look superficial, you only have to look a little closer to see that it is not.

So once you deconstruct the idea that this is all superficial, you will see that yes, it is silly, so is life and we need those silly and funny moments in life and in this show, but it is also very, very deeply human in many tragic but also good ways.

[titanlord231]

Now that the threesome has made Doctor Odyssey more popular, I am letting you all know I will not tolerate any Avery Morgan slander on my feed. I will block you so fast you will wonder if you were ever even unblocked to begin with. I will find your emails and sign you up for so many mailing lists UPS will be jealous.

Avery Morgan is the reason we got that threesome to begin with because she knows what she wants. And what she wants is those two massive nerds who are obsessed with her. I refuse to let her character or her actress be treated like shit because you don’t like that Max and Tristan are obsessed with her.

With kind regards FUCK OFF!

Sincerely,

Titan

[railingsofsorrow]

death and all of its friends

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: you have an important witness admitted to Grey Sloan Hospital, but things get out of hand in the middle of your questioning. the unsub is on the loose and your team is still on their way. it's the worst that could happen, right? except that you end up stuck in an elevator with your ex. and that is worse. ( slight crossover between GA and CM ) 

pairing: s.reid x f!bau!reader; past!jackson avery x f!bau!reader 

w.c: 5.8K

warnings/content: heavy discussions about trauma regarding a mass shooting; PTSD; the word kill/murder is there a few times; kidnapping; break-ups; heartbreak; anxiety attack; hospitals; claustrophobia; mentions of surgery and blood and gunshot wound (not really graphic); minor character death (mentioned); there is so much drama in this you might call it unnecessary but I just had to unleash the devil in me; suggestive content (near the end); making out; long paragraphs in italics are flashbacks.

a/n: ok ok, like I promised (3000 years ago) here it is. enjoy it and please let me know if I forgot to tag anyone! 

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━ 

Five years ago you walked these same halls running from a mass shooter that entered Seattle Grace and caused havoc. Now, instead of Seattle Grace is Grey Sloan and apparently, not only the name of the hospital has changed. Amongst the Attendings, Residents and Interns there were all new faces, which only made sense since it's been five years and some of the people you knew had left and others died. 

Cristina Yang nicknamed the hospital Seattle Grace Mercy Death once and after all the stories you've been told by your ex-boyfriend's friends, it seemed fitting.  

You liked Cristina's dark humor. She was the funniest person you met in your time in Seattle. You were happy to hear she left to be a cardiothoracic surgeon in Switzerland, and she owned a hospital now, which was great.  

As you passed the cafeteria your head was flooded with memories of Lexi pulling you to have lunch with her after she finished a procedure, her excited rambles about every detail inside an OR �� she wasn't Lexopedia for nothing — and the juicy gossip she provided you about the relationships inside this hospital (and her relationship with Mark Sloan). 

You might not have worked with these people but they felt like family once, the missing will always be there.  

Nostalgia had to be left aside for your job though, you had to find an important witness in a case involving the kidnapping of a six-year-old boy. He had been missing for three days, you were running against the clock at this point.  

“Miss Howard's room.” The nurse pointed you towards the room and you thanked her with a polite smile. “She's been sedated, so she may not be totally aware of her surroundings yet. She just got out of surgery.”  

“Alright, thank you.” 

Stab wound to the chest. An argument turned ugly in prison. You recalled Penelope telling you and the team that that was the reason she had been hospitalised. You observed the handcuffs locking her wrist against the bed before approaching.  

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you grabbed it to see a text from JJ.  

Is she awake? 

Yes.  

You pressed send and looked up at wiped-out blue eyes staring back at you with annoyance. You could hear what she was about to say already.  

“I answered all of y'all's questions already, can you people never leave me alone?” 

“Miss Howard, I'm with the FBI,” you started, introducing your name and then, proceeding to the hard part.  

The crease between her brows told you she was unaware of why you were there. “You people locked me up three years ago what is there to do now? Checking up if I'm killing any more disgusting men who deserved it?” 

“Martha, it's about your son, Ben Howard.” The way she immediately froze made your heart clench. Why did it have to be you to give her the news? JJ is way better at doing this, you have no idea of comforting people so you'd rather just not do it. “He's been kidnapped by your husband, Thomas Howard.”  

“Ex-husband.” She tried sitting up with difficulty while being handcuffed to the bed. You helped her. “What— No. Ben visited me with my sister three days ago, he's fine. He wouldn't dare touch my boy.” 

Ten minutes later into your questioning, your back pocket started to vibrate and you pulled it out to see who it was. 

Spencer calling. . .  

“Everything you said is very helpful, Miss Howard, we're going to try everything we can to find Ben.” 

“Please do.” Her voice cracked and you saw the mask of indifference crumble a little. “He's— he's all I got.” 

You nodded, then excused yourself to answer the call outside of the room.  

“Hey, I was just about to update you guys—” 

“He's in Grey Sloan.” Spencer blurted out the first second you answered. “Thomas Howard is in Grey Sloan. Where are you?”  

“What— What about the kid? Did you find him?” You quickly informed the two police officers outside the room to not let anyone else in. “You don't mean he's inside Grey Sloan, right?” 

Hotch's voice rang through the line and you knew you were on speaker. “He's going after Martha. We found Ben, he was unarmed but Thomas's endgame is Martha. And yes, he's inside the hospital at this moment. Do you know where Martha is?” 

“I just talked to her,” you turned your neck to glimpse at her room again subconsciously. “There are two officers outside her room, I already told them. But Hotch—” 

“He's armed, wait for backup.” 

“We profiled him as a psychopath, Hotch. He's impulsive and has no remorse or guilt, you know what he's capable of, especially if he let the boy go.” 

“Kid, don't be reckless yourself. We're almost there—” Rossi tried to intervene. 

“We're almost there.” You heard Spencer's voice and that made you hesitate for a second before hanging up. “Please don't—” 

Your heart was thumping hard and rapidly against your ribcage, you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. As soon as you felt numbness in your fingers you clenched your hand into fists and let go, this was the way your body warned you you were about to have an anxiety attack. Thankfully, you were able to notice it before it got to the point where you passed out.  

Your name was called from afar and you halted, bumping into a nurse and mumbling a shaky sorry. The owner of the voice touched your elbow and you flinched, hand immediately searching for your gun. 

“Hey, whoa, it's me, Amelia. I didn't mean to scare you but when I saw it was you I just— it's been five years and you're here!” You withdrew your hand from the holster on your hip, inhaling and exhaling slowly to force your heart to calm the fuck down, you are not in imminent danger. 

“Amy,” you smiled and accepted the hug she was eager to give you. “Hi. How are you?” 

“I'm great, yeah. And you? For how long are you staying?” 

“I'm not. I, uh, I'm here on a case, with the FBI.” You cleared your throat. “Actually, I need your help with something.” 

Fifteen minutes later you had already warned most of the staff and Attendings in two floors to keep an eye out for Thomas Howard. You tried slowing your fast pulse by practicing the guided breathing you learned in therapy all those years ago. You did everything your therapist said, every single step from questioning your thoughts to counting everything blue you found in your way.  

You couldn't stop memories from revisiting your brain. 

━━━━━━━━━ 

You were waiting to have lunch with him.

It was almost one in the afternoon, Jackson was late because of a surgery that was taking longer than expected due to complications.  

It was your day off. One of the rare days you'd appear in Seattle Grace Mercy West before 6 p.m. when your classes at Washington University were over. You were a part of the Psychology department at WU, and a professor for the Undergraduate Program of B.S., Psychology.  

It wasn't usual for you to have a day off but given the amount of days you've been accumulating over the year, it was only fair.  

So you visited your boyfriend in the hospital, patiently waiting for his belated surgery to end so you could have your lunch date. That was until Lexi Gray pulled you into the hospital's cafeteria and you ended up having lunch with her.  

Lexi.  

You remember her terrified face when it happened. It had been a terrifying day, one that no one expected. It's funny how tragedies are never announced, isn't it? They just come barging in and you can't just ignore the door, tragedies do not need to knock.  

It was in that day, that you understood the gravity of that.  

Of course, it wasn't as nearly as bad for you as it was for those who worked at that place. They would have to come back every day and see the walls and that same floor which were smeared with their friends' blood.  

Jackson had lost two of his best friends. He spent two months having nightmares screaming their names during the night and getting mad at himself because you weren't able to sleep. That was the least of your concerns back then. You know something that would forever be etched into your brain was the barrel of a gun being pointed at you and the sound of the safety being taken off. You can't even recall the actual shot, only the pain that followed afterward and Jackson's horrified expression as he held your weak body on the floor.  

You thought you died. Jackson thought you died. Meredith, Lexi, Cristina and everyone else thought you died. In reality, you had just passed out from blood loss caused by a bullet wound to your chest area.  

That must have been terrifying to watch. You couldn't imagine being in his place, you probably would've been crying non-stop at the amount of blood, not saving his life, like he did to you.  

During the recovery process, you remember thinking about the absurdity of your dream of becoming an FBI Agent. If you weren't able to control your emotions on situations like that then what's even the point of anything? 

According to your therapist, what you suffered didn't determine the person you were, which, at first, you judged as complete bullshit. But you understood in later sessions what she meant by that.  

“Is it something you think you are not capable of doing?” 

You looked up from your hands, staring into the gray eyes of Isobel Houston. Jackson had made a compelling deal with you. He basically threw in your face that if he, who was threatened with a gun, was doing therapy, you, who had been shot and almost died in his arms, also had to talk about it.  

And here you were. 

“I'm not sure if I would know how.” You replied, brows twitching with your uncertainty. You were discussing about holding a gun and going out into the field, which was required in the training at the FBI Academy. You told her if you freaked out at the sight of blood then you shouldn't follow through with your decision to become an FBI Agent. 

“Well, that's what training is for, isn't it?” Isobel quirked a brow at you, earning a scoff. “You would learn certain abilities and improve the ones you already have in the academy. They wouldn't expect you to know everything.” 

“I'm not sure if I can.”  

Isobel nodded and wrote something down in the notepad you were planning to steal to see how she was making fun of you in there. 

“It is too soon still. But don't rule out your dream career quite yet. You are healing, it's a process that requires patience, both from you and from others around you. You don't have to think about that now. How about you take some time to yourself, focus on healing, getting better first?” 

A year later you would be forever thankful for those words. Because you didn't give up of your dream career, you made the decision to follow through with it and it worked.  

Partially, at least. 

“What do you mean you were accepted?” Jackson put his fork down as he chewed on his salad, tilting his head in confusion at you. “How can you be accepted somewhere if you didn't even apply to it?” The amusement in his tone instantly died as soon as he saw your serious face across from him. He connected the dots. “But you did apply... didn't you?” 

"Jack, I've always wanted this." 

He offers you a look of disbelief. 

"I know! But- You didn't even talk to me and-" 

"That's my decision." You cut him off.  

"Well, yes, but I'm your boyfriend. I think I deserved to know you were thinking about leaving for four months?" 

It caused a rift in your and Jackson's relationship. Back then, you didn't mind the fact that you were kind of doing things on your own, because your only goal was to leave and maybe, just maybe, forget what happened but the scar you had in your chest had to remind you of it. You never told him that, and you blamed him for not wanting you to leave for four months. Selfish; that was what you called him countless times after you broke up before you left. When, in reality, you had been the selfish one in the relationship.  

Truth be told, you wanted to forget that part of your life. Your completely foolish mistake and how wrong you were. Your healing had taken years and it still wasn't perfect, you weren't unflinching to the threat of an armed man. Right now, you wanted nothing more than to go back to Virginia and crawl into your blankets to feel some sort of safety.  

You had to bring safety to these people when you felt lost and cornered, how fun was that? You felt like such a failure. Years of experience and training going down the drain because of a stupid trauma.  

To add to that, you were currently stuck in an elevator. With a reckless man going after your witness. And your team was close to your location but not quite enough.  

Maybe they were already here since you had no reception and no way of knowing about their whereabouts.  

Maybe they already caught Thomas Howard and Hotch was thinking about his careful words as he fired you for your incompetency. 

“Why is it that when I find you you're always leaving?” 

Right. You got stuck in an elevator with your ex of all people. It was like everything you did not want to happen would materialize in front of you. 

“Jackson," you hissed, rubbing a hand across your face in pure frustration because of the useless phone in your hands. None of the messages were sent. Where were they? How was Martha? 

Hey, Spence. Where are you? 

I'm stuck in an elevator, fourth floor. I don't know what happened.  

You sent those fifteen minutes ago.

“It was just a comment,” Jackson said, shrugging in that infuriating way as if he knew he was right about something. You also knew Jackson Avery's way of deviating from his real problems was to seek anger. And usually, someone was the target. This time, it was you. "What are you doing here?" 

You looked down at your bulletproof vest and glanced up at him. Jackson's brows rose up to his hairline in understanding. God, he could be slow sometimes. 

"You're with the FBI." 

"I am the FBI." 

Jackson blinked, "right. Right. Uh, I- Sorry, I-" his apologetic wince made you relax your shoulders. "I'm sorry, I'm just... This is too familiar." Yeah, you could relate to that. 

"Jackson," your eyes softened but you tried to reassure him as much as you were able to. "This is not the same thing. His reasoning is completely different. What happened then- It won't happen again."  

His bright green eyes study you with a newfound curiosity but you could see some of the tension leave his body.  

"You sound sure." 

"I am," you said. "My team is close by and they're good. Besides, all of the local cops probably asked for backup already. And SWAT is right outside." 

He took a long minute staring you down to nod quietly. The silence that came afterward was uncomfortable. There was so much to say and nothing and the same time. This wasn't the time, but it was inevitable to not think about your last words to each other. You didn't hold a grudge against Jackson, you had no reason to, but he had plenty to do it and you wouldn't blame him. 

Fuck, why was this elevator so hot? Why were the walls so close to one another? 

"I saw you on TV once."  

You swallowed hard, feeling your throat closing up. Your attention drifted towards Jackson's whitecoat.  

"I didn't know being in the FBI made you famous." His attempt at joking had you scoffing despite your current state of mind. "I would've made a career exchange if I knew." 

"You were already rich, why do you need to be famous?" You mumbled with your eyes shut as you tried to calm your erratic breathing down. "Actually, you were already famous and rich, so anything you just said is..." your voice failed. "… complete bullshit." 

He said your name twice and you were obligated to open your eyes. He was much closer and concern tugged his lips downwards.  

"Put a hand on your chest and tell me what you can see." You stared at his lips moving slowly as your vision blurred slightly. He said your name more urgently this time. "Put a hand on your chest and tell me what you see." 

"Your stethoscope," you said as you stared at it, clearing your throat. "F-flyers," you croaked out, glancing briefly above his shoulders to the flyers splattered around. You couldn't see what they were about, but you knew they were there as they had been since the first time you stepped inside this elevator years ago. 

"What can you feel?" 

Your fingers drummed against your ribcage. Your breathing slowing down but not quite there yet. "My heartbeat. Mhm... The-my cold necklace." It was always two things. You thought about one and as you searched for another, you would calm down through the process.  

You could feel the warmth of his hands on your arms, helping grounding you back to earth.  

"Good. Two things you can hear." He was way relieved after your voice stopped shaking.  

"Your voice," you uttered, feeling your fingers moving and the sweat dripping down your back. The anxiety diminished little by little. When you were about to say the next thing you could hear, what you could only describe as two loud shots right outside the elevator doors made the both of you flinch and stare at the metal doors with widened eyes.  

You immediately got into action, thankfully prioritizing being numb over any other emotion at that moment, which was what you should have done from the start.  

"What are you doing?" Jackson asked you confusedly as you tried prying the doors open. "We might not be entirely on the floor-" 

"Help me open this, Jackson and I'll figure it out from there." 

Just then, your phone came back to life. Reception. At the same time, the doors opened without any human force. You didn't have time to see the caller ID before your gun was drawn in front of you and Jackson, ready to fire.  

"Hey, hey, it's me!" The voice you've been craving to hear for half an hour called out your name in front of you. Honey-brown, you thought, locking eyes with Spencer, I can see honey-brown eyes too. "I just got your text, I was looking for you- Hey." He breathed out in your ear as you threw your arms around his neck. His arms squeezed you in comfort. "Are you okay?" 

I am now. 

Your head bobbed up and down as you leaned back to get some distance. PDA wasn't your forte, but you had been triggered just a few minutes ago, and you needed some comfort from the only person who would effectively provide it to you.  

“They got him. He was hidden in one of the on-call rooms on the third floor.” Spencer filled you in before you could ask. He was assessing you thoroughly, looking for any strand of hair out of place, something that would tell him you had gotten hurt.  

You placed a hand on his chest, patting it gently. “I'm okay,” you tried reassuring him, eyes traveling through the room until you found some of your coworkers talking with the local police.  

“You should drink water.” Jackson's voice startled you a bit and Spencer looked behind you curiously. “And sit down.” 

And that comment immediately canceled out Spencer's certainty that you were okay. 

“Oh, I'm fine.”  

“Anxiety attack.” Jackson mouthed to Spencer out of your eyesight. He moved away to talk to some doctors while Spencer stared at his back, trying to pinpoint where exactly did he knew him from and why he was acting as if he knew you.  

But then it clicked.  

Jackson Avery. Harper Avery's grandson. Owner of a share of the Grey Sloan Memorial. Plastics surgeon. 

Right, of course. And your ex-boyfriend. 

“Is Martha okay?”  

Spencer looked down at you, blinking. “Uh-huh. Yeah, she's safe.”  

You gave him a look, “what?” 

“What?” His voice failed, which was a bit embarrassing, really.  

“Just spit it out, Spence.” 

So, he did. 

“Were you stuck in an elevator with Jackson Avery?”  

You almost choked up on your own saliva, earning a grimace from your boyfriend. Your concerned and caring boyfriend wasn't making that question because of pure jealousy, he genuinely wanted to know if you were okay after being stuck in an elevator with your ex-boyfriend in the same place you got shot by Gary Clark.  

“I'm sorry I wasn't here,” Spencer said with a sigh. “I should have come with you. I'm so sorry I wasn't here.” 

“Spencer, I'm fine,” you insisted, taking his hand on yours. Fuck it. “Hey, nothing happened in there.”  

He knows that but that's not what he meant. Not in that sense. 

“I'm not jealous.” He felt the need to clarify. He wasn't immune to jealousy but that was neither the right place nor moment for it. He just wanted to know if the reason for your anxiety attack was just being in a confined space or if the other person you were stuck with had something to do with it. “But you— Did he say something to you? To trigger it?” 

It took you a moment to get what he was saying, but once you did, you sighed and pulled him aside away from prying eyes.  

“No. I— It was the images. Memories. And the whole thing of being inside an elevator for more than one minute. He didn't do anything. He actually... helped me calm down.” 

Spencer brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, “okay. Good. And do you feel better now?” 

A tender smile twitched the corner of your lips.  

“Yes, I do.”  

“Are you ready to go?” Hotch approached you and Spencer and you watched Emily, JJ, Derek and Rossi exit the hospital.  

“Yes.” But your eyes drifted to the side and you told both of them you'd meet them in the car. “I'll be right there. It won't take long.” 

Spencer kissed your temple on his way out.  

━━━━━━━━━ 

"Are you okay?" 

"Are you?"  

Both of you have been on opposite ends of the room for the past five minutes and none had the courage to break the deafening silence. It should have been you, though. You were the one to ask Jackson for a quick word.  

"Why wouldn't I be?" His brows furrowed as he stared at his hands. He seemed deep in thought. You wondered if he was thinking the same as you. It was a long time ago. It was a long time ago but it is somehow very fresh when he's standing in front of me.  

Because we never got closure. I didn't let that happen. 

"We never talked about it." You sat down in one of the bunk beds, knowing this wouldn't be as fast as both of you liked it to be. Years of a relationship couldn't be fixed in five minutes. You texted Spencer to let him know you'd meet all of them in the motel since the jet would only be available tomorrow anyway, and you didn't want anybody waiting for you.  

"We did."  

"Talking to our therapists is not the same as communicating to each other." You interjected. 

Jackson's gaze flashed with hurt and he looked away.  

“I couldn't stay," you said, biting your cheek because it was so hard to admit that out loud. 

He finally looked up, tilting his head to look at you. “You couldn't or you wouldn't?”  

You clenched your jaw, annoyance seeping through your demeanor. “I wouldn't. It was my dream, it had always been my dream to get into the FBI—into the BAU. I wouldn't give that up. And it's not fair for you to judge me when you know exactly how that feels. Yes, I could have stayed, but I didn't want to.” 

Jackson rolled his eyes, standing up to pace around the room. "Yeah, it was pretty clear you didn't want to stay." 

"Jackson-" 

“Look, I'm not judging. And yes, I do understand. I just think—" He halted and looked at you, green eyes burning into yours. "God, did you have to pack your bags without even talking to me? You made a life-changing decision and you just up and left.” 

Your breath hitched, and something in your chest churned painfully. Guilt, probably. Five years and you hadn't uttered the words he deserved once. 

"I'm sorry." You swallowed with difficulty. "Jackson, I- What I did was unfair and I'm so incredibly sorry for hurting you. You deserved more than that." 

"I've forgiven you a long time ago," Jackson confessed, uncrossing his arms and angling his body towards you. "It's been five years. Those words have been bottled up in my throat since the moment you walked out... but I don't hate you."  

You winced, "but you did hate me." 

Amusement travels through his face. "For a bit, yes."  

"Fair." 

"I'm sorry too."  

You gave him a sad smile. "You didn't leave me, Jackson." 

"No, but I said some pretty hurtful things to you. So, I'm sorry." 

"Mhm, okay." You nodded, shifting on your feet. “You're forgiven too, I guess.”

Jackson offered his hand for a handshake...? You glanced down at it, holding back a laugh because of how awkward he was being. You shook his hand, grinning with a shake of your head.  

Yeah, that could be closure.  

“I saw you on TV,” Jackson repeated what he said before but you weren't exactly alright to actually hear it. “Are you giving out autographs?” 

“I'm giving out this, does it work for you?” You flipped him off. A nurse passed by you and gave you an ugly look while Jackson just smirked.  

━━━━━━━━━ 

As soon as you walked through the doors of Grey Sloan Memorial, exiting the hospital, your eyes caught the back of a familiar lanky figure whose light brown curls waved wildly with the harsh wind of Seattle. 

When you got close enough, you heard an indignant edge to your boyfriend's tone. He was speaking on the phone. Your amusement grew when you realized was on the other line, pissing him off. 

“Yeah, you know what, Derek?” Spencer started but cut himself off upon seeing you arrive at his side. “You're back.” His annoyed tone switched to something softer.  

“What's he pissing you off about now?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Tell him I'll slap his bald shiny head if he doesn't stop.” 

Spencer snorted, covering his mouth. You could hear Derek's telling you to fuck off through the phone before Spencer hung up the call.  

You accepted the urge to pull him close to you by wrapping both of your arms around his middle and lowering your head to his chest. His immediate response was to bury his face in the croak of your neck, the cold tip of his nose grazing your skin made you squirm a little.  

“I thought I told you not to wait for me.”  

Spencer rubbed your back, leaning back slightly to look down at you. 

“I wasn't gonna let you drive back on your own.” 

You chuckled, “are you telling me I'm a terrible driver? 

He hummed, lips quirking up when he kissed the tip of your nose. “You're not as terrible as me.” 

“I'm not sure if that can be classified as a compliment, angel. But you're right, nobody is a worse driver than you.” 

A pinch in your hip made you whine. He started laughing as you gave him a playful shove before getting in the car. Driver's seat. You had to prove a point.  

“How are you?” Spencer asked after a long minute of being silent and you knew he'd be dying to ask that. 

“I'm okay.” You told him, giving his thigh a soft squeeze as you concentrated on leaving the parking lot.  

“How did it feel?”  

You stopped at a red light. The motel was about fifteen minutes from the hospital by car, and you wouldn't go back home today, the jet was only going to be available tomorrow.  

“Suffocating.” You laughed after you admitted it out loud. That was how you felt. “Yeah, that's about it. The moment I stepped inside Grey Sloan I felt cornered.” 

“That's understandable.” Spencer caressed the back of your hand before you had to pull it back to move the car gear. “You haven't been there for five years. You may have seen, smelled, felt, or touched something that triggered you to go back to that very moment. Even though triggers are usually harmless, they cause your body to react as if you're in danger.” He explained, causing your mouth to quirk upwards in amusement. “Which was why I wanted to be there with you.” 

“Hey, that wasn't your fault. And I'm not a little girl anymore, I can get a grip on myself, Spence. We were doing our jobs.” 

From the corner of your eye, you were able to see him lean back on the seat with a roll of his eyes. 

“Well, yes, I know but I wanted to be there with you. You know just... be there.”  

You parked in the motel's parking lot, turning the car off. You inhaled heavily before turning to Spencer, leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. Your boyfriend hummed in satisfaction, pulling you closer by the back of your neck. 

“What was that for?” He blinked bleary, voice slightly dazed after your surprise kiss. Your insides turned to mush and fondness overtook your body.  

“I love you,” you said, thumb running across his cheek lovingly. “like... a lot.” 

His eyes sparkled at your statement and he started smiling like an idiot. An idiot head over heels for you. 

“Like a lot?” 

“Like a lot.” 

A harsh tap on your window made your body jerk and you hit your knee against the steering wheel, a loud curse slipping past your tongue. 

Spencer lowered the car window with a glare.  

“Alright, lovebirds. We're going out to the bar across the street to have a little fun. Are you coming or what?” Derek dipped his head as his eyes narrowed at the two of you. “Was I interrupting something?” 

“How are you so annoying—” 

“There is no scientific explanation for that, angel.” You pat Spencer's shoulder, who huffed while getting out of the car. He was immediately wrapped in a side hug by Derek as you locked your car and followed them both down the street, where the rest of your team waited.  

Emily snorted, nudging JJ with her arm. “Told you he was going to cockblock them.” 

“Emily,” Hotch said sternly, but his mouth betrayed him with a little smile.  

“C'mon, pretty boy.” Derek dragged Spencer to the bar as you followed them inside. “Let's drink the night away to make you forget about seeing your girl's ex, who has the greenest eyes I've ever seen—” 

Your lips parted in astonishment.  

“Hey!” JJ warned him. “Stop that. C'mon, leave him alone you've teased him enough with this.” 

Spencer looked at you, lips pulling into a smile at the scowl you were sending Derek as he walked away with JJ and Emily beside him.

“It's alright,” Spencer mumbled, nudging you to a corner as your team scattered around to find a table for eight. “He's just playing around and I'm not threatened by light-colored eyes, anyway. They're overrated.”  

You huffed out a laugh, surprised at his nonchalant claim.  

"Good." You were so close that your breaths mixed, his eyes falling to your lips and rising to your eyes again. You pulled him flush against your body by the belt loops of his pants, earning a shaky exhale from his parted soft lips. "Cause... You know," you pressed a kiss against his jaw. "There's nothing you should be threatened about. I'm pretty certain of that." 

"You are?" Spencer realized how pathetic he sounded and how needy he was starting to look.  

"I am, angel," you reaffirmed in his ear, leaning forward to kiss him. Before it got too heated, you smirked against his lips, pushing him away gently as he groaned in protest. "Okay, we can pick this up later tonight, now let's celebrate a bit with them, yeah?" 

Spencer sighed, burying his face into your neck for a second and drawing it back to glance at the table their friends chose. It was in a corner of the room, across from where they were currently... talking.  

"Okay."  

"Don't sound too excited." 

"Shut up," he grabbed one of your hands and pulled around his hip at the same time his arm lifted to wrap around your shoulders. "You know what I'm excited about-" he pretended to cough upon gaining a light slap on his back as a warning for him to shut up before any of your friends could hear the implication his words were carrying.  

As soon as you arrived at the table, Emily placed a shot before you, claiming you were late for the party. You smiled apologetically at the brunette, bringing the vodka shot to your lips and downing it in one go, gaze locked to your boyfriend's beside you. Oh, this was going to be a long night. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

taglist: @lvtilzs ; @inexplicableeee ; @fkapluto ; @nellxsies

[charcubed]

"GAY WEEK" ON DOCTOR ODYSSEY REVIEW: not the episode I expected, but the episode I fucking deserved

A lesser show would use Gay Week to introduce queer content and possibly have it for only one episode as a special. But on this show? It’s always queer and the function of Gay Week is showing and explicitly talking about polyamory the entire time, setting up a polyamory slow burn.

WHO is doing it like them, I ask of you?

I am locked the fuck in for the long haul, baby!!!!! (as if that's news)

YIPPPEEEE

----

okay here I'm (mostly) copying and pasting some of my live tweets to share my immediate thoughts on the ep

-TRISTAN ENJOYING ALL THE ATTENTION FROM GAY MEN…. 👁👁 I love this bisexual

-“Polyamory” / “Throuple” / “That deep human condition question… Can all of my needs be met by one person?” We are literally watching a show on network television that’s explicitly about slow burn polyamory and I am in complete and utter disbelief. This is the thesis statement. They just went out and said that shit

-No but seriously they managed to have the throuple do an explicit threeway and NOW they're turning it into a slow burn?? WONDERFUL FOR ME PERSONALLY. LET'S GET THIS ANGST

-Max: “I’m a one woman” kind of man Tristan: “Aves… I can’t share you" Avery, lowkey: why are you both so fucking stupid and making this only about me when we have potential here because ALL of us want each other equally, including you two????

-No but this is so realistic I'm foaming at the mouth. OF COURSE they're getting caught up in the M/M part of it!! Of course they are!!! Of course that potentiality has to be drawn out!!! DELIGHTFUL

-TRISTAN���S FINGER KISS OVER THE SHOT OF MAX. IF ANYONE NEEDS ME I’LL BE PASSING AWAY.

-Anyway. “I’m a one woman” type of man Max said...... well guess what Max, that’s still true because you’ll have one woman and one boyfriend. Problem solved, king <3

-Also, if I think about how Max "I need to chase more joy" Bankman and Tristan "I have too much affection in me" Silva both reacted to having SO much happiness in one evening that they got scared by it and felt it was too good to be true I will start screaming.

-Hey so we all agree that the function of the single “heterosexual” couple on the ship is so we could get the visuals of 2 queer men standing in the background watching while the woman gave birth right. Like as thematically connected to Max’s excuses. We collectively saw that, right? Just checking

-Regarding the preview for next week: LOL. NO WAY IS AVERY ACTUALLY PREGNANT. I don’t know how or why but I’m calling bullshit, respectfully…. there’s gonna be some niche medical explanation for this tomfoolery and it’s going to force emotional angst

I FEEL LIKE I HALLUCINATED THIS EPISODE

THIS IS THE SHOW AND TRIO I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO HAVE AND CAN'T BELIEVE EXISTS

Captain Massey you sweet, kind, and accepting old man I love yoouuuu... John Stamos in a throuple I love yooouuu.... writers and directors and creative team behind this queer polyamory show making very deliberate phrasing and framing choices I love yooouuu... <3333

[riddles-n-games]

I know most of y’all believe the “Don’t Stop” nickname is an innuendo but I legit have a theory for this. I don’t actually think it’s referring to that because I think we all know that at this point Alisa keeps wanting Jameson to stop doing such ridiculous things regarding the dares since it gives a bad look for the Hawthornes and the foundation. Meanwhile, Avery, on the other hand, loves her boyfriend’s shenanigans and knows that it’s a big part of who he is. She enables that. One of the best cases I can remember that I think ties to this is this part from TFG:

She knows that’s his best self and she never wants him to stop being hungry for more. But I definitely know she knew what the joke sounded like so she said it as deadpan as she did.

And I do think that the part where she’s talking about him spreading her hair is just him running his hand through her hair in a caring way. Given the start of the sentence, she’s talking about the caring side of Jameson. Also the post card thing? Be still my heart that was so cute.

[deepdreamnights]

Hey there, saw your post re: harassment around artists using gen ai and thought it was great esp with the debunking of data usage myths. Would you share your thoughts regarding concerns that models are being trained to copy specific art styles and thus pose a direct threat to the artists whose art styles are being used?

Well, there's several levels to that.

The main one is that on copyright grounds, styles are explicitly non-copyrightable. Moreover:

No one's style is unique

No one's style is unimitatable by analogue means.

The second point is important, because anyone can go on Fiverr right now and and find someone to replicate any given art style, and every competent draftsperson has to be able to do it to some degree or another. No major animation house, art studio, or comic company has ever hired someone because they couldn't find someone else that could imitate the surface-level aspects of their style.

The first point is just a matter of basic reality. Ex-nihlo creativity either doesn't exist or is so rare as to be a once-in-an-epoch thing. Everyone builds on the influences that they learn from, and if you think someone has a unique style what they really have is a different media diet than you.

For example, Don Bluth. Born 1937, aged 15 in 1952.

Same year Time released this this picture of Burlesque Performer Dale Strong.

Someone made an impression.

Marilyn Monroe was also a national sex symbol when Bluth was a teen, putting some context to most of his other ladies, but especially Goldie Pheasant (or maybe she's more Jayne Mansfield, hard to tell through the bird-ness). His art style has obvious roots with Tex Avery and I would guess he read Mad Magazine a lot as a kid.

And Not to hang the guy out to dry alone, I was a teenager in the 1990s, and most of my sexy fictional ladies are 9/10 some combination of Dana Scully, Peg Bundy, and Rhonda Shear.

The point being that style isn't something you create intentionally so much as an accumulation of influences, drawn from the commons. Attempting to claim ownership of such a thing is by itself an act of theft in my view, and allowing them to be protected under the law would mean a judge being shown exactly how many pieces of prior art the Walt Disney Corporation owns that your work superficially resembles. Why, they'll even run it through a style recognizing AI to make sure they catch them all.

But let's talk about style matching.

It just takes one image now, and doesn't require training.

Which I'm sure sounds frightening, but this has been the situation since February for Midjourney, and it was available in the Stable Diffusion ecosystem long before that. If the threat were as pronounced as feared, we'd have seen the impact by now. And we haven't, and we're unlikely to, for several reasons, several of them listed above.

The largest is that style isn't even close to the be all/end all of what an artist brings to a given project. And the kinds of execs who are making a 'replace 'em with a robot' kinda decision aren't the kinds of people who care about art style beyond how much it looks like the most recent successful thing. And nobody's ever needed a robot to ride coattails.

But the next largest part is that AI style imitations aren't really accurate because the robot doesn't see style in the same way we do. It's all just math to the robot, and it prioritizes what it notices, not what we do.

I'll demonstrate.

Jack Kirby will be my example, for several reasons.

He has a bold and identifiable style, he's arguably the most famous artist in western comics history, and he has many analogue imitators and homagers.

Using Midjourney and prompting "an illustration of dana scully by jack kirby, 1968, in the style of 1960s marvel comics --ar 3:4 --s 15"

Using the base model, on the first roll we get three complete style mismatches and one that's kinda close, though I'd say that's way more Sal Buscema or John Byrne.

Kirby's women had a certain, difficult to describe oddness about their faces that the robot doesn't seem to grok, and it doesn't touch on the kinds of wild patterns and bold black/white swatches that make Jack's work feel 'jack'.

Tom Scioli's take on Kirby is a sort of lovingly flanderized parody, but it captures the spirit of Jack's art much more directly even if a lot of individual details aren't period-accurate. He draws Kirby the way you remember Kirby from your childhood, but I don't question whether the page above is trying to be a Jack Kirby homage or one to Sal Buscema.

But Midjourney has style reference, so we can inject the Kirby right in. Using the picture of Sersei dancing from above with the same prompt, we get:

Well, the work is more convincingly period, but again, we're not terribly close to being on-point. In fact, they're not very consistent between each other. Top left is any 80s marvel fill-in artist. Top right is maybe Kirby-esq. Bottom Left is flat out Jim Lee, bottom right is very Byrne-y.

Using three reference images to give the best shot, I'm also moving to using images of a similar color style, and all with a woman as the central focus. I have included the infamous Crystal pin-up shot because as I said, Kirby women have a certain oddness to them (fondly).

Results (MJ 6.1 on the left, Niji 6 on the right):

It all says 60s-70s Marvel, but I don't think Kirby would be the first guess for any of them. Maaaaaaybe the lower-left Dana in image #2 if you squint.

And that's Jack Kirby. Massively popular and prolific with a career spanning decades. If anyone in the comics space should be impersonatable by this thing, its him.

I'm sure you could train a LORA to get closer, and sure, the tech is only going to get better from here, but by the nature of how the system works no generation pulls just from what is referenced. Every generation is both blended with other concepts and emphasizes only what the machine catalogs as relevant, not what we might.

There's not much to stop someone from imitating your style with a machine, but there was nothing stopping them from doing the same with an underpaid freelancer. The results are likely to miss the mark regardless.

If the client wants you, they'll try and get you. If they just want something kinda like you, they've always had an avenue to that.

Fortunately, you're more than your style, and whatever anyone can do with the machine, you can do better because you've got access to both.

[yallthemwitches]

Not a Bang, But a Whimper

During their sixth year, Severus goes out after curfew to give information to Lily that he thinks will bring them back together. Unfortunately, he finds her already with someone else.

A companion piece to my other oneshot "Slipping Away" for Jily Week 2024, Day 7: Continuation Station (hosted by @kay-elle-cee and @sunshinemarauder) Ao3 Link Here

Curfew be damned. Severus ran down the corridor not caring how many portraits awoke from the wand’s light and his heaving breaths. He knew she would be there tonight and it was perhaps his only chance to get her alone to talk some sense into her. 

He was given the news from Avery just after dinner.  “The Dark Lord is recruiting.” Avery kept his eyes down and spoke in a quiet hiss. Even among a table of friends they couldn’t risk the information being leaked. 

Severus’ heartbeat caught. It was the first time in a long time he felt like he had a real sense of power. The Dark Lord could change the whole trajectory of his life—for once, he wouldn’t be counted out. 

“Who is he looking for?” Severus posed. “Can anyone join?” His mind flashed to Lily. For over a year now she had completely abandoned him but there wasn’t a moment that passed where he didn’t think of her. She too was someone who had been given a bad chance at life. Getting an opportunity to join alongside him would secure her in the wizarding world forever. 

“They will take anyone who is willing to give their loyalty,” Avery responded. “I’ve even heard he will take those of less pure blood…if they have something worthy to offer.”

It was all Severus could hope for. No one was more worthy than Lily despite her blood status. He could barely wait until that night when he knew she would be down in the potions room working on one of her little projects. She always did that on Saturday nights when she knew no one would be around to catch her. He went to his bedside table and took out a small crumpled photo he had carried with him since childhood. A small, meek version of himself stared up out of the photograph. Beside him, Lily held onto his hand, beaming. It was a version of them he wished he could go back to—perhaps seeing it she would feel the same. 

Now, he slowed his pace down to a walk and stopped at the statue of Ingrid the Horrid to catch his breath. Grasping onto the marble, he felt his heartbeat slow and started to make himself a little bit more presentable. 

A noise came from the end of the hall and Severus jolted behind the statue. The last thing he wanted was to be caught by Filch at a time like this–especially when he was so close to talking to her. After tonight, there would not be many more chances. She would never entertain him during the day, and the times to catch her alone at night were diminishing quickly.

Lily stepped out into the corridor with her wand lit. Her eyes shone bright in the shadows as she looked back and forth up the corridor.

“Hello?” She called out. She took some hesitant steps down the hall before swerving to look back behind her again. A small noise caught Severus’ attention just on the other end of the corridor, but he ignored it. 

Perhaps it was the nerves that made him not immediately show himself, but he kept watching her for a couple of minutes. She didn’t drop her defenses, clearly still sensing that someone was there. Like a well trained prefect she took small, deliberate steps regarding each side of the corridor, never dropping her wand in case she was about to be attacked.  After a moment she gave a frustrated sigh. He heard the noise again, this time closer.

“Alright, come out–I know it's you.” Snape’s stomach sank. He righted himself, trying to get even the smallest semblance of confidence before stepping out beyond the statue. Something else shifted in the darkness on the other side of the corridor. As though apparating, James Potter suddenly appeared out of the shadows. 

“Oh hello, Evans,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Nice evening isn’t it?”

Severus would have scoffed if he could have. Of course Potter would be cocky and self assured even when he was breaking school rules. 

Lily pursed her lips and he felt a burst of excitement. He knew that look from anywhere. There were very few things Severus enjoyed more in this world than seeing Lily tell off that arsehole. 

“Forget what time it is again, Potter?” She sounded cool, but there was something brewing underneath her tone.

Potter feigned a thoughtful look before clicking his tongue. 

“Hm must have—but then again, I should be asking you the same thing. Don’t you only patrol Tuesday nights?”

Lily froze up. Her wand trembled a little bit in her hand, creating a spattering of new shadows on the walls. 

“You memorized my prefect schedule,” she hissed.

Snape waited for the proverbial hammer to drop. It was one thing for Potter to be out breaking rules, but entirely another to be essentially stalking her. 

“I needed to see you again.”

There was a change in his voice that Severus had never heard before. It was softer. Certainly quieter than his usual boasting during the daytime. It seemed impossible to think, but James Potter seemed to be pleading.

“I’m just gonna say it,” he sighed, “I can’t stop thinking about you—about last night. I’m going mad.” 

This was hardly the first time Severus heard Potter make some sort of sweeping attempt at wooing her. That seemed like a complete waste of time on his part to come all the way out here to try again, but what happened last night? Were they seeing each other more often than he realized?

Lily didn’t draw back, nor did she make her usual face of disgust dedicated to Potter’s antics. Instead, her lips twitched into a small smile. “So what? You came here to try your luck again?”

“Well,” he hesitated, “ I guess…yes?” 

They shared a silence. Severus tried his best to push himself against the statue enough to get a better view of Lily’s face. Her brow furrowed in deep contemplation, but for what reason Severus couldn't understand. The scenario seemed so simple to him—Potter was essentially giving himself over to get detention or even better, hexed because of how brazen he was acting. Instead, Lily bit her bottom lip for a second then let out an exasperated sigh. 

James stepped towards her. “Lily—at least, tell me why you did it.”

It felt like a slap. Severus had never heard Potter use her first name before. He could feel his blood levels begin to rise. He knew he wasn’t exactly close to Lily anymore, but even from an outsider's perspective, it didn’t seem like the two were in any capacity to be on a first name basis and even if they were, he had no right to be soiling her name with his breath.

Lily fiddled with the ends of her hair. Her eyes blinked in rapid succession as she searched for some sort of response. 

After a beat, she whispered, “I don’t know.”

Potter took another step closer. He ran his hand again through his hair, but this time it was more out of exasperation than vanity. 

“How could you not know?” If Severus was confused about James’ tone before it was very clear now. Potter was unabashedly begging. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Lily sighed out. Her eyes were closed now in pain. 

Severus was not following. It was like they were speaking in riddles that only the two of them knew the solution. Clearly, there was a huge oversight on his part about Lily’s relationship with Potter because the Lily he knew would never entertain him for this long, nor would she let her first name come out of his arrogant mouth. 

James took another step closer to her. Now they weren’t more than a foot or two apart. Lily kept her eyes closed, looking as though she wished James would disappear entirely from the scene. Severus had the split thought of coming to help her. All it would take was one flick of his wand….

“But you did like it—” James’ voice sounded so small. Like a meek child asking for permission. “I mean, you were the one…I would never—”

Lily opened her eyes. A fire burned in her gaze, but it was different from the anger he saw pointed at Potter countless times. Something was smoldering within her. 

“Of course I liked it,” she scoffed, “and you don’t need to remind me that I was the one who initiated it.”

Potter looked like someone blew air right into his chest and his cheeks swelled with pink. He took the smallest step closer. 

“Lily—can I…touch you?”

The next few moments were a blur. It wasn’t Potter that closed the distance between them but Lily. All she had to do was lurch forward slightly for Potter’s arms to open. She grabbed onto the parts of his shirt that were bunched up around his waistline while he cradled her cheek and neck. Their faces hovered together with eyes hooded and unfocused. Severus felt a twinge of pain from his hand and realized he was grasping at the stone with all of his grip. 

“Are you still unsure,” James asked. His mouth was slightly open and dangerously close to hers now. As a response, she only pulled him closer, their chests now completely glued together. 

Severus held his breath. He wanted to close his eyes and make it all go away. How had he been so stupid? It was all making sense now. How Lily had stopped rowing with Potter on the grounds, how their friend groups had slowly started to intermingle, how when they partnered together right in front of him in Transfiguration Lily would even laugh at something idiotic that Potter said. He wished he had a time turner to take it all back. Find the moment where the kernel of Lily’s interest in Potter began and remove it from her entirely. Instead, he did nothing but continue to stare as his living nightmare unfolded in front of him. 

“I’m sure I want you to kiss me.�� 

It was the death nail. Of course Potter didn’t need to be asked twice. Their lips molded together easily—it was clear they had done this before because there was no awkward hesitation, no issues with synchronicity. Their bodies were already well versed in each other and they profited from it. Lily’s hands moved to his neck, folding themselves into his messy hair which she had denounced more than a thousand times to him in the past. James' in turn were everywhere: sliding up and down her back, on her hips, caressing their way to commit every inch of her to memory. 

Severus leaned his forehead on the statue for support, fearing he might faint or worse vomit from the sight. He watched the couple snog for a few minutes, hardly breaking apart long enough to breath before reconnecting again. He wanted to run, but even if he did, he would know he left Lily there to do whatever ungodly thing Potter could cook up in his arrogant mind. 

They finally broke apart for a moment and Lily leaned her forehead against his to catch her breath. Their arms were still wrapped around the other and their chests beat like one. 

“Go out with me,” Potter gasped out, still trying to get his breath. He stared at her intently but Lily closed her eyes and sighed. 

“James—” The way she said his first name pierced Severus in the heart. How much more of this could he take before he was completely dead. At least then he would be taken out of his misery. 

“I can’t,” Lily finished. She opened her eyes and both her and Severus could see that Potter was pained by her response. 

“I don’t get it–” Potter started, he began to pull back but Lily grabbed hold of him tighter.

“I’m just—I’m not ready…for that,” she stammered out. “---but I don’t want this to stop either. I’m sorry, I know that’s so fucked….”

James blinked at her for a second, but then started to pepper soft kisses on her cheekbones and jaw. Lily tilted her head upwards and looked to be savoring the sensation. 

“Yeah, ok. Whatever you want,” James said, “Like I told you. I’m mad about you Lily. You know that.”

Lily smiled and James went back to roaming around her neck with his lips, finding a particular sensitive spot behind her ear. 

“Yea—I know,” Lily breathed out. She pulled James away from her neck so they could look at each other again. 

“You're dangerous for me too you know,” she laughed lightly at her own comment, “You have no idea what you do to me—christ that sounds so stupid.”James groaned with content.

“Merlin, Lily. That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.  He closed the gap between their mouths again. 

Severus finally let his legs give out underneath him. He didn’t even care if they heard him collapse to the ground. It all seemed pointless to him now. He thought about the future and how it wasn’t even an hour ago that the possibility of Lily and him being together again existed. With him, she could be safe, completely protected by the Dark Lord’s graces. Instead, here she was not only choosing to live as a target, but to do so with him. 

He didn’t dare turn back to look at them again, despite hearing their soft moans and the shifting of hands moving over clothing. It felt like ages before they finally separated again.

“I think it's past our bedtimes.” He could hear the desire in Lily’s voice. His stomach sank lower. 

“Hmm. Seems so,” James sounded completely chuffed.

 “If you promise to be good, you can walk with me back to the common room,” Lily teased.

He could hear their feet start moving and he turned around to witness them walking almost shoulder to shoulder. Potter’s hand snaked its way around her hip and he wiggled his fingers, causing her to give a little shriek and swat at his chest. 

“Evans,” Potter teased, “When am I not good?” He watched as they turned the corner together, leaving Severus in a now dark and silent corridor. He didn’t move to get up, opting to lean back against the statue for a couple more moments. The life Snape wanted had been so possible— what had he done to deserve this outcome. He took out the ruddy photo he had in his pocket again and dragged a finger over Lily’s small, childlike smile. Her eyes gleamed up from the page. It couldn’t be over—not yet, he told himself. Not until her eyes were gone from his life, would it be over. 

[youremarvelous]

NC voters:

if you live in one of the following counties, you are in a federally declared major disaster area and DO NOT need to supply a copy of a photo ID with your absentee ballot:

Alexander, Alleghany, Ashe, Avery, Buncombe, Burke, Caldwell, Catawba, Clay, Cleveland, Gaston, Haywood, Henderson, Jackson, Lincoln, Macon, Madison, McDowell, Mitchell, Polk, Rutherford, Transylvania, Watauga, Wilkes, and Yancey Counties and the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians. All you need to do is complete this form provided with your ballot and check "exception 3: Victim of a Natural Disaster"

you can request an absentee ballot here you can track your absentee ballot here additional resources regarding what to do if your absentee ballot was sent to a location you had to evacuate, if your polling place was destroyed, or if your voter registration was lost, etc. can be found here from your friend in Asheville, we won't let this storm beat us into submission. get out there and let your voice be heard!