#that Harry gave his image

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

"I think that lots of things that I thought were possible before that was posted, don’t seem possible now." This is really interesting to me, because I've been following you a while and I never really felt that I knew what you think was possible re Harry and gender?

From what I have seen and read, Harry has never expressed a nuanced interest in this topic more than "everybody should be kind to everybody, and that includes women". Even worse, there have been terrible, terrible takes last year. For me, the whole Pleasing nonsense is way worse than the Pilates stuff - is he seriously selling anti aging crap to teenagers??? And the way he talked about queer films? That still makes me so angry, to the point that I'd prefer not to have Harry speaking on politics, gender and social issues at all.

To me, the missing "there, there" is really important in this context, because I also think that he is closeted. 25 years ago, when I was 18 years old, I was absolutely okay with everybody thinking that my parents might be abusive rather than people knowing that I was getting love bites from another girl. Mindboggling now. I've always had a good relationship with my parents, knew even then that they would be fine with me being a lesbian and I didn't live in a conservative environment at all. Still the fear of being forced out of the closet made me oblivious to everything else around me, it paralyzed me and I had no space for thinking about collective social issues.

Obviously Harry's situation is very different, but I see myself (and a lot of my queer friends) in him waffling nonsense and making bad choices (subjectively 'bad' to me at least) from a frightening closet. When he talked about his panic about being perceived as "somebody who has sex" or "people seeing how he kisses", it was really painful to me, like him playing Tom was painful to me, too. I hope therapy goes well for him if he wants that.

Being a 'new, meterosexual' man, who is sexy but also detached, might be a kind of compromise for Harry. Which it obviously isn't, and that is why people are missing the 'there, there' at a closer look. It is lacking authenticity, which I've seen mentioned in the media for the first time this year. My guess is that Harry and his team are aware of it and playing for time (3-5 more fat years?) but what do I know...

Of course nobody is forcing him to endorse the Pilates studio, but maybe it's something like "Harry, we'll give a short clip to the pilates study so you can have a three week holiday with your partner safely, is that alright?". 18 year old me would have said yes and not asked more questions, I'd just been happy to have three weeks without fearing to be dragged out of the closet. Might sound dramatic, but to me Harry's anxiety is palpable a lot of the time in the way he treats his body and, more lately, the things he says (which, again, might be wrong and 100% projection on my part).

Making his choices under circumstances he doesn't choose from when he was 16 years old is a lot. Maintaining a closet is a lot, even if you're not a popstar with millions of eyes on you, hundreds of peoples' livelyhood depending on you, and a partner who is in a similar but also very different position. It's a lot and I feel for Harry.

--

Sorry for this novel, I just love to read your thoughts and am checking obsessively if you reply to my anons. Lately I've saved them so that I might re-read my own thoughts later, like a diary. Strange but I guess there are stranger things on the internet ; )

Thanks for your thoughts anon - it's so awesome to hear that asking anons helps you process stuff. I'm going to respond to a couple of different things in here, but if there's something that you're super interested in that I miss.

That's a great starting point - what did I used to think was possible when it comes to Harry and gender. To focus a little bit on the politics of it - so his response to gender in society - not just as it relates to him - I think there are a wide variety of options. To give one example - he could have a visceral aversion to statements that 'men are like this and women are like this'. He could also have a political understanding that statements that men are one way and women are another are quite harmful. I think it's unlikely that he would go even further and feeling like it's important that he's part of changing that, but I wouldn't have said it's impossible. He also could not really have any thoughts about it all - when he sees a sentence like 'It's not just for girls, it separates the men from the boys' - he could just think 'that sounds reasonable'

Obviously now I think the possibilities cluster much more strongly around 'that sounds reasonable', but before the interview any of those could have been true.

*******

I'm so sorry to hear about your experiences and the way that they have shaped you. I'm so glad to hear that things are better from you and you have a good relationship with your parents. I hope you are kind to your younger self - her anxiety was a reasonable response to the world she

I totally agree that Harry's anxiety is palpable in a lot of what he does and how he interacts with the world. I think the 'people will know how I kiss' comment is an excellent example as are much of the other things you mention.

But in this case, I think understanding this through the lens of the closet doesn't bring any insight. In particular, in the way that you frame it - as if someone is giving this clip so that he can have time with his partner - there's absolutely no reason to believe that's true. Harry can have three week holidays with his partner without anyone knowing (wealth buys you that). The idea that this video would be seen to directly matter by Harry, or anyone working for him, doesn't make any sense with how we've seen him navigating the closet

That doesn't mean that there's not some connection. Anxiety works in mysterious ways and there could be all sorts of things going on for Harry. But I think imagining a straight forward 'he's doing this because he's anxious that otherwise he'll be outed' - is an over simplification that probably reveals more about your anxiety than Harry's.

********

I do agree that Harry's closet is central to the question of 'is there a there there'. I remember listening to the Harry episode of Popcast - and it felt like they were dancing around the possibility of him being closeted - but I don't think they were - I think they were just describing the gaps they saw.

But I think it's easy for fans to assume that the feeling that there's no there there is entirely caused by the closet. I think it's far more complicated than that - because I think it's also something about Harry that enables him to be such a successful blank space - and that wouldn't suddenly change when he was out.

In particular, I don't think the fact that we're both 'no Harry, speak less about politics' would necessarily change just because he was out (there are plenty of out queer musicians who have said cringe things now and in the past). I think he'd probably be a little more articulate if he wasn't so afraid, but only a little. I think the way that he's unwilling to be clear about whether he's talking about himself or the world is shaped by the closet, but that doesn't mean that he would disappear. I think he could build up a centre, if he came out, but I don't think it's inevitable that he would.

**********

I've been really frustrated by the silence in response to that statement and that's led to me responding with the boldest, brashest version of what I think.

So here's another way of expressing the same idea. What if Harry did support the message of that video? What if it did reflect part of his worldview?

There are other explanations - but the fact that he agreed with something that he put his image to is always going to be the most likely one. And I think it's worth Harry's fans, particularly those who argue about what he's really like or talk as if they know what he's like, sitting with that possibility. And either including that view in what Harry might be like, or accepting that what they're talking about is not what Harry is like, but who they want him to be.

[afairerplace]

My impression of how strongly Taylor felt about Harry Styles is VASTLY different after hearing the vault tracks

[atenderofsycamoretrees]

Matty Bovan Spring 2023 Ready-to-Wear

Photos by Daniele Oberrauch / Gorunway.com

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Alley Boyfriends Part 3

Tim has to say that the interior designers had outdone themselves. He knew he was paying good money for them, but he made it a bit difficult by only giving them three days to create a concept to decorate his new penthouse.

While the cleaning and moving crew was hard at work getting everything settled at their old apartments, Danny and Tim looked over designs for their penthouse.

Tim had never really paid much attention to his living space theme or style, having always lived by a minimalist mindset that his parents preferred. But Danny had been insistent that his home had to have life, and minimalistic spaces made him feel like he was staying in a hotel, no matter how fancy.

He vetoed everything that had "simple," "neutral," or "modern" in the description offers. The agent, the interior designer team, had sent to represent them had also brought three tablets filled with examples of their offered packages. They were to pick which one they wanted, and the team would create a concept so no two places were alike for their customers.

The team would do the colors, furniture, and textures, but they had a right to write in demands, such as Danny's not wanting anything painted white or Tim's desire for a soft carpet in all rooms but the bathrooms and kitchen.

Tim was given his tablet- Each one was synced to the agent's primary tablet, which would have the answers to the surveys or personal notes that the boys made- to click through the same list as Danny, but he didn't bother with his own. The themes all looked the same to him unless it was ridiculous- Harry Potter, Wonderland, and Atlantis, to name a few.

It is nothing he hasn't seen before.

On the other hand, Danny had never had someone decorate for him; as someone who grew up in the mid to low-level middle class, his household had always been mismatched furniture that balanced well together.

He looked like an excited puppy, eyes wide as he clicked through photo after photo, asking Tim's opinion every so often. The agent, Tyrone, was happy to answer any question he may have, seemingly pleased that someone appreciated his work as much as Danny did.

Tim had watched him struggle between Hollywood Glam and Regency, so he recommended Hollywood Regency Interior Design, knowing one of Wayne Enterprises Board members had mentioned it beforehand.

It wasn't so garish that Tim hated it, but it had just the right amount of elegancy and "someone lives here" vibe that Danny was searching for.

He watched in real-time as Danny's eyes lit up in joy as he showed him the image on the tablet.

Tim had never cared for how his living space was decorated. Still, after seeing his friend grow excited to flip through example photos and chatting with Tyrone over color palettes and furniture, he realized that Hollywood Regency was likely his new favorite style.

"The main color has to be green," Danny chirped, tapping his finger against different shades of the mentioned color.

"A dark emerald green would be perfect," Tyrone responded, switching his tablet to a series of dark-looking designs, but Danny shook his head without looking at them.

"No, something lighter and brighter."

"Why?" Tim asked, thinking the emerald green gave it a more elegant air. Absentmindedly, he sips the coffee Danny brought from his work. It settles in his gut with a warm, comforting feeling, happy that he was the first to try the new seasonal offerings.

Danny gave him an exclusive one week before they hit the menu, and Tim can die happy. This season, they are a Young Justice theme.

Impulse Lavender Expersso was heavenly. He can't wait to see Bart's reaction when they get announced.

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy. "Green is your favorite color. Of course, we need to have that for the wall painting."

Tim blinks, stunned by the response. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. How had Danny known green was his favorite color? He can only take a longer sip, and he feels even warmer. Tyrone coughs, trying very hard to hide a smile as he flips his tablet around. "How about this one, Mr. Fenton?"

"That's the one! fern green, it looks cool, right Tim?"

Tim considered the images. "It does, but it's a bit too plain."

"We can add golden trimming on the walls," Tyrone immediately suggested, showing them some images that Danny oohed and ahhed to. I know you said you didn't want white, Mr. Fenton, so golden would be the next best option."

"Hmm." Danny considered it before nodding, "Yeah, it looks lovely. Will the furniture also be golden?"

"A few pieces, yes, but to really balance the feeling of the room, I was thinking more of white like this."

Tim zoned out as Danny and Tyrone chatted, picking up the SuperBoy Crusher Coffee.

Eventually, Danny told Tyrone to make the final decision as long as it had some shades of green and was in that style. They handed over the address, gave Tyrone access to the apartment, and continued their lives.

Tim and Danny had not seen the penthouse pass some images on the for sale posting. Now standing in their new home, Tim found himself utterly impressed.

Tyrone was going to get a lot more business from him, that was for sure. He couldn't wait for Danny to see it.

Now that I think about it, where is Danny? Tim wondered, walking over to the large window overlooking the city. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Did he miss his train?

He reaches for his phone, wondering if the new route needs to be clarified for his friend. But before he can click on the call button, it starts to ring. Danny's grinning face flashes across his screen, and his very special ringtone blares from the speakers.

Danny programmed it to Poltergiest after hearing the song while making some Halloween-themed coffees to submit to the Heart Attack employee contest. If he won, he would get a big bonus, and his drink would be added to the October promotion.

Tim had been his happy test subject.

Tim answers the phone in a flash. "Danny? Where are you?"

There is a huff of irritation on the other line. The blaring of speeding cars and wind tells Tim his fake boyfriend is likely outside somewhere. " Tim! You won't believe this! The doorman of our new building won't let me in! He thinks I'm lying about living here. Apparently, I'm not dressed fancy enough. Can you believe it?!"

The CEO thinks about Danny's entire closet, which is made entirely of worn-down T-shirts and faded jeans. It's nothing too bad, but he can see why the doorman would think Danny wasn't among the rich highbrows of the people living in this building.

Knowing Danny's shockingly quick temper, the man probably fought with the doorman, too.

He sighs, heading toward the door and picking up his keys and wallet. "I'll be right down. Hold tight"

Neither bothers hanging up, primarily out of habit, whenever Tim is brave enough to call Danny for some secret coffee fix. He would go quiet if his siblings happened to wander close. Danny just liked having someone exist with him, so silence on the phone call was no issue to him.

Keeping the phone pressed to his ear, he can hear Danny walking back to the entrance, smug in every playable as he taunts, "Just wait until Tim gets here. His coffee is getting cold, and he will definitely blame you."

He walks a little faster, pressing hard on the elevator button, and taps his foot a bit as he zooms down. The doors barely slide open when Tim jogs out of them, rushing to the entrance, where he can see Danny and the doorman, Josh, having a standoff.

Faintly, Tim can pick up the sound of a deep, annoyed grunt. "You again? I told you to get out of here before I called the police-"

If Danny gets arrested, I've never heard Bruce's end of it. Tim panics, turning his jog into a sprint and bursting through the front door to shout, "Danny is my roommate!"

'Josh's jaw drops as Danny cackles, "See! I do, too, live here!"

It doesn't seem to compute in the employee's mind, eyes ranking up and down Danny's coffee-stain outfit. He looks even plainer than normal, which doesn't help his claims one bit. "You live here...with Mr. Drake...dressed like that?"

A frown forms on Danny's face, his eyes flashing with anger, but Tim is quick to step in. He pushes his roommate back while taking the travel mug with the Heart Attack logo out of his hand. It wouldn't be due if Danny flung it into Josh's face.

This was all Tim's fault. He should have realized that Danny would need to learn how things were done in these settings. "He does! I'm sorry about this, Danny. I'll make sure it never happens again."

Josh's face turned pasty white as more smugness dropped over Danny's expression. He leans sideways so he can look into the brown eyes of the doorman without Tim blocking him. "You hear that? Tim is going to talk to your boss-"

Tim tugs Danny's arm, glancing down at his wristwatch. "If we run, we can get to the stores before they close."

Josh and Danny froze, whipping their heads in Tim's direction with confusion. "What?"

Not knowing why they were reacting like that, Tim could only blink in bewilderment. Isn't it obvious? "I'm going to buy you an entire new wardrobe."

If anything, that only seemed to daze Danny as he slowly turned towards Tim with even wider eyes. "What?"

Why was he acting like this? A new wardrobe would make him look the part, and Danny would be able to get into their house without issue. Slowly, Tim explains, "If Josh here thought you weren't dressed the part, I can fix that. My favorite suit place closes in two hours, but we need to have your measurements done, so we may have thirty minutes if we want to come home with a suit today. We have to go!"

He finished his explanation while dragging Danny to the garage parking lot where his car was parked.

Danny stumbles after him, still in a rather large daze, yelps, "Wait, isn't this a bit much?"

Tim rolls his eyes, chugging the coffee with his other hand. He never lets go of Danny's wrist. "You give me the one thing keeping me going in these dark times. Nothing is too much for you."

Danny makes a strange noise in the back of his throat but eventually stops resisting, following Tim with a light chuckle. "It's not that big of a deal, Tim."

"It is."

( Neither is close enough to hear Josh muttering to himself as the terror of losing his well-paying job flashes before his eyes. "That was Mr.Drak's sugar baby. I better tell the rest of the staff before someone gets fired for insulting him." )

Various people document their shopping trips, and by the time they stumble home, Tim's phone is blowing up with messages from his family.

If anything, this does wonders for their fake dating plan.

Tim glances up from his screen, smiling at his friend's expression of wonder as he turns in slow circles.

He typed a quick response, only letting them know not to worry before throwing his phone over his shoulder, knowing it would land on the couch cushions. "How about a tour? I'll let you pick your favorite room."

Danny's eyes snap towards him, and the brightest, warmest smile Tim has ever seen grows across his face. For a moment, the vigilante is stunned by its glory. His heart races, and for a second, he wonders if maybe he had been drinking a little too much caffeine.

He shakes his head. There is no such thing as too much caffeine.

Tim updated their journals later that night after bidding Danny goodnight. He added "Unexpected beauty" to Danny's physical journal right under "A smile that makes the stars pale."

Feeling embarrassed, he drinks his Coco Crush—Danny made it for him at the coffee island that Tyrone had installed in the kitchen—and turns over in his bed to sleep.

He dreams of stardust, laughter and Danny's blue eyes.

[taylorswiftstyle]

MTV Video Music Awards | September 11, 2024

Dior Resort 2025 Lorraine Schwartz earrings Stuart Weitzman ‘Ultrastuart Maverick Leather Boots’ - $1,550.00

Dior’s latest cruise collection was an ode to Scotland and the house’s first runway show held there in 7 decades. Creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri said of her inspiration, “Scotland is an important reference in the fashion world and I wanted to interpret it in a different way. For my generation, it’s so associated with punk.” The result was an offering full of voluminous skirts, dramatically cinched dresses, and hourglass jackets rendered in historically accurate tartans and, indeed, set off with certain punk sensibilities thanks to studded leather accessories and clompy buckled boots. 

The VMA dress code typically leans towards the wacky and the outrageous. Hence why Taylor has felt comfortable appearing in alphagetti soup baby onesies (aka The Incident, circa 2014). I’ll put it on record again and again that I may pull a face at that look (and still do, a decade later) but I will always appreciate a risk (relative to the wearer). Fashion should be fun! 

The collection filters Scotland’s most historic women into its fabrics. Namely, Mary Queen of Scots: a fiery Sagittarius woman I’d like to think Taylor might feel kinship with. During her years of imprisonment in England by QEI, Mary would insert veiled - often political - symbols into her embroidery. At one point even the phrase, "In my end lies my beginning" was embroidered into her state's clothes. Doesn’t that feel, “In the death of her reputation, she felt truly alive”? 

In his review of this Dior runway, Mark Holgate for Vogue described the collection as one that “drew on the geopolitics of fabric[s …] and the way [Mary] gave political commentary through her embroideries.” He described the series as full of “defiant beauty and an equally defiant energy. It felt uncompromising. But then maybe women can’t afford to be anything but that, especially now.” If a possible connect, I admire this evocation in the wake of Taylor’s major political endorsement. Especially given Chiuri worked with the iconic Harris Tweeds for their artisan, loomed wool. This teed her up nicely for an onstage call to action to remind viewers to register to vote.

All-in, this felt like a cohesive night of looks to underpin TTPD’s aesthetic. The runway’s interplay of proportions and bustier-like top are very TTPD - sensual, emboldened, playing with what to reveal and what to hide. A look that’s dark academia adjacent. 

I do find the biker gloves (also by Dior) confusing and I’m searching for insight on their ‘why’. At the Grammys, I could buy into the ‘Albatross’ reference in her black elbow-length gloves. These? I’m still trying to make sense of. A straitjacket allusion, perhaps? Were I to make some styling tweaks, I would have removed the gloves, opted for the coordinating tartan shorts from the runway, and changed the boots out to an equally tall but caged style to tie into the patterned effect of the ensemble.

Photo by Dimitrios Kambouris via Getty Images

[billiewena]

THREE YEARS SINCE NOV 5TH, 2020 as summed up by Supernatural (sequel to this and this)

image ID & context below:

[image ID: screenshots of Supernatural paired with screenshots of various tweets, news headlines and Tumblr posts.

A screenshot of Ed and Harry in SPN 3x13 Ghostfacers saying "You gotta be gay for that poor dead intern" with a screenshot of Misha Collins at the SPNNJ 2023 convention saying "I got a call from Warner Bros and they were like hey uh...is there any world you just let it go?" This is in reference to an incident in 2022 where Misha accidentally made headlines after a comment that seemed to be referring to his sexuality. His comments at this year's panel imply that the studio in fact did not want him to retract the comment and make the apology that he posted, but to instead just roll with it.

A screenshot of Bobby saying "Time travel?" and Dean saying "Yeah" in SPN 6x18 with a headline that says "Jensen Ackles' Explains The Winchester's Multiverse Twist & Supernatural Connection." This is about the series finale of Jensen's Supernatural spinoff "The Winchesters", in which it is revealed Dean and the Impala somehow traveled the multiverse to the alternate timeline the show takes place in.

A screenshot of Dean in SPN 15x08 saying "He's back, and he's out of control" with a screenshot of Misha Collin's first Tumblr post in seven years, a video with him and his brother being a public nuisance on public transportation. Also included are screenshots of various Tumblr users reacting with tags from various tumblr users. becauseofthebowties: "mishacollinsofficial tumblr account back from the dead???" myboobsarentsentientbeings: "this is the first thing he posts? after nearly 7 years???" casismybestfriend: "RED FUCKING ALERT MISHA IS BACK ON TUMBLR" cannabiscasgate: "who the fuck gave you back your password"

A screenshot of two news anchors in SPN 14x20, with one (named Jack) telling his co-host "I love you" and her replying "Jack?" with screenshots of the Destiel/Supernatural Confession meme trending multiple times this year with other current events topics like Russia, Titanic, etc. There is also a screenshot of a post by saintedcastiel that says "I cannot believe that since we started using the destiel meme as a breaking news alert that there hasn't been ONE destiel news anchor AU fic where they're co-anchors on the morning news. cas confessed on accident while they're on air and dean doesn't know how to respond so he just reads the next thing on the teleprompter."

A screenshot of Dean in SPN 5x14 as Cupid says "I-I was just following orders" with a screenshot of an anonymous Tumblr ask to user luxshine. The ask says "Hey! I was wondering if you have any updates on the LATAM dub situation and if you were/will able to contact the dub director". luxshine says "Hi! Well I could get the translator (you know, our dear rogue translator) and he told me that while he doesn't remember it completely (because he translates a lot of series) if Dean said "And I you" it's because the script he got said "And" I you" and the video he saw said "And I you" because he doesn't add stuff." This is in reference to a change in Spanish LATAM dub of Castiel's confession SPN 15x18, which added a line where Dean reciprocates, which was previously suspected to be a change added by the LATAM dubbing director or translator

A screenshot of a detective from SPN 8x08 saying, "[Chuckles] Whatever you say Scully" with a screenshot of the tumble blr blog ao3topshipsbracket's poll "AO3 Top Relationships Bracket - Round 2 Side 1" with Fox Mulder/Dana Scully (The X-Files) vs. Castiel/Dean Winchester (Supernatural.) In the final results from 51,514 votes, Mulder/Scully won by 53% and Castiel/Dean won by 47%. In early 2023, Tumblr added a polls feature which has led to numerous content, debates, and bracket polls similar to this.

A screenshot from SPN 11x15 where Dean says "No money, no glory" with a headline that says "Supernatural creator Eric Kripke gets 'zero' residuals from Netflix"

A screenshot of Dean rising from his grave in SPN 4x01 with a screenshot of a post from the official CW Supernatural Instagram with a clip from the pilot episode and the caption "And the story continues..." and a comment from a user that says "THE STORY CONTINUES?? WTF ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL US?? I HAVE ANXIETY YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME." For context, no one is sure if the post was supposed to reference new content from Supernatural or not but it has led to speculation.

A screenshot of SPN 8x01, with the onscreen lyric "Another year has passed me by."

[storiesfromafan]

Guilty As Sin

A/N: I know its been a while. Forgive me. Had/still have writers block, but have managed to pull this out of the black hole of my mind. Though not 100% sure how I feel about this haha...

Pairing: slight Matthe Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: thoughts of our favorite Slytherin and longing.

Guilty As Sin

We’re all guilty of imaging a moment with someone we couldn’t have. We’re all guilty of those fantasies being sweet and innocent or more passionate and intense. And you were no exception. The innocent nerdy sixth year, whom had her face in a book but a mind that would even make Snape blush, couldn’t escape such thoughts. Chalk it up to teenage hormones, shall we.

And you might be asking yourself just whom was the star of your desires? Why the Slytherin bad boy himself; Mattheo Riddle. The first time you saw him back in second year, with his delightful looks, luscious brown locks, and molten brown eyes. It was love at first sight for you, as well as just about every other female around you in that moment.

Currently you were making your way to potions class. Silently you and a few of your friends were walking behind none other than Mattheo, Lorenzo, and Theodore. They were deep in conversation, hardly noticing the eyes that watched their every move. Every female they passed caste their eyes to them, while whispering and giggling about the boys before you. They were like celebrities.

You had imagined what it would have been liked to walk next to Mattheo down the halls of Hogwarts, holding hands or his arm around you, with a confident smile on his lips. All the while every female you’d pass would look miserable, for you’d have what they wanted. Then when you would reach your classroom, Mattheo would step forward and open the door for you, a sweet smile upon his face with eyes only looking at you.

Two third year boys running by you and your friends brought you back from your thoughts, reality sinking in and making you curl into yourself. Like Mattheo would ever be like that with me, you thought with a sigh.

Looking back up to the boys a head of you, you watched Mattheo open the potions room door, his two friends clapping him on the shoulder before entering the room. His brown orbs lifted in the direction of you and your friends, a soft smile on his lips. All three of you came to the door, expecting him to slip in with a laugh, door closing on you all. But you were pleasantly surprised when he remained where he was.

“After you ladies” Mattheo said gesturing to enter the room.

Wearily your friends thanked him before entering. You on the other hand couldn’t muster any words but gave him a nod. Then regretting it right after. Feeling stupid, you made your way to your potion brewing station and started to unpack for the class. Any thing to distract you from the embarrassment you were feeling.

Not long after what you believed to be the last few students entering the classroom did Professor Slughorn enter the room. Crossing the room, he called out for everyone to settle and to gather by the caldrons by his desk. You smiled at your best friend (name), who returned your smile before you moved to where Slughorn requested everyone. The older man placed the various parchments in his arms on his desk, before searching for something on said messy desk.

Eventually finding what he was after he turned back to you all, he cast his eyes around the room and smiled. Just as Slughorn began to speak, the classroom door opened and in came none other then Harry Potter and his best friend, Ron Weasley. Both looked a little frazzled, probably from the rushing to get to class. With the two new comers addressed and off to get textbooks, Slughorn went back to teaching.

“Now as I was saying” Slughorn began, “I prepared some concoctions this morning. Anyone have any idea what these may be?” He asked, eyes roaming over the class.

As usual, before you could raise your hand, Hermione had raised hers. And of course she was chosen. She stepped up to the different cauldrons, identifying all three potions Slughorn had brewed.

“Such a know it all” (name) said, making you chuckle.

Movement next to you drew your attention before hearing their voice. “She really is” said the one person you hadn’t expected to be so close.

Turning your face slightly you were met with Mattheo, he wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he had taken upon himself to join you and your best friends dislike of the Gryffindor. (Name) chuckled at Mattheo’s response, all the while you felt lightheaded from being so close to the bad boy of Slytherin.

You were brought back to the lesson on hand when Hermoine spoke of the last potion; Amortentia. A love potion. With every word she spoke you could see the females in the room hanging on to her every word. There were some soft laughs when Hermoine spoke of what she could smell, but she stopped with slight embarrassment before stepping back to her place in the crowd. All the while a group of girls slinked their way toward the potion. But then Slughorn covered it, making you giggle.

“Amortentia doesn’t create actual love, that would be impossible. But it does cause powerful infatuation or obsession” the professor preached looking over the class. “And for that reason, it is probably the most dangerous potion in this room”.

Theodore and Lorenzo, who stood on the other side of Matther snickered. “Better be careful Mattheo, one of the girls here might spike you with that potion” Theodore jested knocking shoulders with his friend.

Mattheo laughed shaking his head. “Guess I better not accept any gifts for a while”.

All the while the three friends talked did Slughorn go on, to which you didn’t pay much attention too. The proximity to the boy of your desires over rid your logical side. You could feel how close his hand was to yours, one slight movement would surely have your hands touch. So close to knowing what it would feel like to touch his skin, to know how warm he was.

Before you could really get lost, you were brought back to Slughorn assigning you all to make an acceptable draught of Living Death. Everyone – but the boys to your left – moved to turn to page ten in the textbook, while the stragglers were a few seconds behind you all.

Once returning to your station, you and (name) began to work on your potion. But not too long after you both started did you have two new comers to the station in front of you. Looking up your (colour) eyes met warm chocolate ones. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Mattheo before you.

“Sorry ladies” Lorenzo said moving some instruments around on the table. “Our cauldron wasn’t working to its full potential. Slughorn sent us over here”.

Your best friend looked both boys over with a serious look. “That’s fine. Just stay to your side”.

They both nodded and agreed. So now not only did you have a tricky potion to make, but it had to be done with your living and breathing distraction so close to your personal space. To say it was hard to focus was an understatement. Hearing him talk to Lorenzo was the best sound to hit your ears, hearing the teasing or the frustration was addicting. Not to mention steeling glances at the boy, watching how his hands worked on the potion’s ingredients. Or the concentration on his face. The thoughts that crossed your mind were never to be repeated to a soul.

While working on autopilot, you found yourself thinking about Mattheo’s hands and where you would like to feel them touching. Staring at your hands, his larger hands locking with your own as he drew you close. The soft words he would whisper in your ear. His lips grazing the shell of said ear as he showered you in compliments. Slowly his hands would leave your own, moving to your wrists, thumbs caressing your pulse. Slowly moving up your arms, drawing goose bumps to your skin, while a pleasant chill roll downs your spine.

His hands would grasp your upper arms, holding you firmly as he kissed your cheek tenderly. Those sinful lips peppering your jawline before descending to your neck. You would roll your head to the side, eyes closing slightly and an airy sigh slipping from your lips as he kisses that one spot on your neck. While his lips worked on your neck his hands would move to your waist, soon moving around to your back and pulling you into his body completely. Your chests meeting, leaving no space between you both.

“(Y/N/N), can you pass me another Sopophorus bean” (name)’s voice came cutting through your daydream. “The little bugger got away from me”.

Feeling your face flush and not trusting your words, you nodded your head a few times before passing your friend what she asked for. All the while cursing yourself for letting Mattheo distract you and send you off to la-la land. Looking from under your eyelashes, you peaked in on the boy before you. From what you could tell, he was focused on his potion and possibly didn’t see you not paying attention.

Thank God, you thought rolling your shoulders.

Putting all thoughts of the temptation before you aside, you focused on your potion. And by the time you were done it was just passable. You felt annoyed with yourself, letting your schoolwork slip because of daydreaming. But you would make sure the next potion was the best. At a frustrated growl, a sound that hit you and made you flush, Mattheo was struggling with his potion. Lorenzo not really helping either.

In a bit of a daze, you moved around the station to the boy’s side. You watched them – or rather Mattheo – closely. Noting what was being done and how it wasn’t exactly how it should have been done.

“You’re stirring it wrong” you said moving to stand between to the two, taking the stirrer from Mattheo’s hand. The brief contact of 2 seconds was enough to tell you he was indeed warm to touch.

“Excuse me” Lorenzo said slightly flabbergasted.

“Look, it has to be stirred like this” you stated mixing the potion the correct way. “If you kept stirring like you were, it would have produced smoke”.

Both boys watched how the liquid seemed to start to change, resembling what their textbook described. Offering Mattheo the stirrer, the both of you sharing a look, he took the stirrer and that brief contact again. Looking back to the caldron, you stood there watching Mattheo’s progress with the potion. Taking a step closer, you felt his leg brush against yours.

You stiffened at the contact, your mind shutting down for a moment. When it finally came back online you abruptly stepped back from the boy. Sputtering words, you think it was something like; there you go. You quickly moved back around to your side of the station and finding the textbook on the table most interesting.

All the while your mind processed how close you had been to Mattheo. As much as brushing legs was, knowing the briefest contact of his hands, you were trying to imagine what it would feel like to be sitting next to each other. His larger hand running up your calf muscle and to a resting spot on your thigh. What the warmth of that hand would feel like on your skin. Would he firmly hold your thigh in his hand, a declaration that you were his? Yes, you think he would. You believe Mattheo would be territorial. Not to mention the jealous type.

Soon Slughorn began to go around and test everyone potions. Yours just passed Slughorn’s test, both you and (name) sighed in relief. Even Mattheo and Lorenzo’s just made it, both boys sheepishly thanking you once Slughorn was gone. You blushed and waved them off. Looking up and over at Mattheo, you were surprised he was looking at you. And when he gave you a small, thankful smile, you knew he was grateful. Oh, the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach from such a small gesture was amazing.

Class was coming to an end; you were packing up your bag while (name) talked about your next class. You were only half listening to her, instead you were watching Mattheo from under your lashes. Silently hoping those beautiful brown orbs would focus on you once more. Only they didn’t. Your heart falling.

Grabbing your bag, you and your friends headed from the classroom and from the dungeons for the day. You softly smiled at your friends as they talked while crossing the room, before walking out the doors. If you had taken a moment to turn back to your station, you would have seen how Mattheo had watch you leave the classroom. An unreadable look upon his gorgeous face.

Theodore clapped Mattheo on the back, bringing the boy from his thoughts. “Come on mate, lets get to our next class” Theodore laughed, walking with Lorenzo.

Mattheo nodded his head, before getting up and following his friends. Only for them to stop by the Amortentia potion. Both Theodore and Lorenzo shared a look, before daring the other to smell the potion. Neither caved in, resorting it calling each other chicken.

Mattheo sighed. “Your both chicken”. He lifted the lid on the caldron and took a deep breath.

“Well?” Both his friends asked, hanging for their friends answer.

“I smell a sweet citrus…” he inhaled again. “Fresh washed linen…and musky books…”

Theodore and Lorenzo shared a look before having a laugh. But then they both stepped up and found out what the potion would smell for them. After both his friends had a laugh at their own scents, they put the lid back on the cauldron before leaving the room. The three scents played over in Mattheo’s mind, one person coming to forth. And she had been in front of him the whole time…

[gurugirl]

Don't Speak

*images are for aesthetic only

priest!harry x subby!reader | soft dom!harry x bratty/sub!reader

Summary: Y/n accidentally says something in front of everyone at prayer group that gets her in trouble with the priest.

A/N: I know it's been so long since I gave y'all any priestrry but I missed him and his pet so I was compelled to write this! Hope you enjoy! And if you're tagged it's bc you are either on my main general taglist or you asked to be tagged in anything for priestrry (even tho it's been so long) just let me know if you want to be removed and I will! xoxo

Word Count: 2,692

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, religious mentions, smut, sub/dom dynamic, spanking, punishment

Forgive Me, Father masterlist

She hadn’t meant to say it in front of everyone during prayer group. It didn’t have to mean anything if no one read too much into it. She was only responding to a simple question but she said we.

We plan to eat after the meeting.

We, as in the mention of herself and Harry. The two of them doing something together. She hoped they interpreted it as her saying -with someone other than Harry. But she also looked at Harry directly when she said it. Maybe no one saw that.

But Harry certainly did. And the look she received from him was scalding. She knew she was in for it once everyone had gone.

No one followed up to ask who was the other part of this we she spoke of. She wished they would. She could say anyone and make up a little lie. Her brother. Her roommate. Anyone. But no one asked.

And she wasn’t sure if the room felt tense or if it was just her. Because after she said it, she felt like everyone was suddenly looking at her differently. And of course, the way Harry was warning her with his eyes wasn’t helping matters.

So she kept her head down and her mouth closed until the end. And when everyone began to leave, like always, she walked out of the house and to the side to wait until everyone was gone.

And even when the coast was clear she hesitated for a moment. But ultimately going back inside with Harry to face whatever kind of reprimand he was going to give her was better than waiting and wondering about what he might do. Perhaps she could plead her case.

Stepping into the living room she found Harry folding up the metal chairs and placing them tidily in their little wooden cubby behind the couch. He walked across the room without even a glance in her direction and into the kitchen with a glass. Standing still in her spot she could hear the glass being placed in the sink and then his footfalls as he began to walk back to the living room.

“Father, I’m sorry. It just slipped out. I don’t think anyone noticed–“

“Go stand and face the corner. Don’t speak.”

She gulped and gave a quick nod as she scurried toward the corner of the living room and let her limbs fall loose as she waited for the priest to finish what he was doing. She wanted to protest. To tell him it was an accident and to go easy on her but she knew better than to resist.

Minutes stretched on as she listened to Harry cleaning up and moving back and forth from the living room to the kitchen before she heard him approaching behind her and then stopping.

She could feel him standing behind her but he kept silent for a beat or two before she felt his breath at the back of her neck, “Tell me what happens if someone finds out about us, Y/n.”

She inhaled a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes closed, “Well, you could face expulsion from the church. Everything you’ve worked so hard for that you love the most would be gone. Or they’d transfer you and after penance, you’d have to promise to permanently end our relationship.”

The floorboard creaked as Harry stepped in closer and she felt his warm hands at the tops of her arms, “I could lose what I love, yes. But if it came to choosing you or the church do you know what I would do, pet?”

“Father, I would like to believe you’d choose me. But I would understand if you chose the church.”

“Do you doubt how deep my love for you is?”

Y/n opened her eyes and took a deep breath, the plaster of the white wall in her view, “I don’t doubt how deeply you love me. I feel it every moment. But I also know how deep your love is for God and for your vocation.”

“I’m angry that you let it slip out like that so freely in front of everyone. But I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I want you to know that I’ll always choose you. Over everything else. Over my priesthood. Over God. You’re the most important thing I have.

A stray tear escaped her eye as he pressed his chest into her back and suddenly lifted his hands and she felt her red leather collar being placed on her neck as he adjusted the buckle, “Besides, I’ve slipped up too haven’t I? When I thought no one was watching. But you slipped up in front of many sets of eyes and ears. Let’s hope they didn’t notice the way you looked at me when you said it.”

She turned to look back at him to respond but one of his hands gripped the back of her neck, “Face the wall. I’m not done with you yet. As much as I understand it was a mistake, there are consequences for your actions, pet. Take off this dress.”

Biting her lip she silently pulled the fabric over her head and Harry noted she was not wearing panties. He imagined she did that on purpose. She often enjoyed leaving things uncovered in case they were in a situation where he could just take her. But she was cheeky too so maybe it was just to get a rise out of him.

“No panties while we were all sat here praying to our Lord. Fucks sake, Y/n.”

The first strike to her bottom had her wobbling forward, palms on the walls, and bending slightly at the waist. She was used to being spanked and when he did it with his hands it was a treat. She loved his hands on her. No matter how they were touching her.

Another open-palmed swat and then another had her dipping her head and closing her eyes as she braced herself.

She felt his hand smooth up her spine and press down between her shoulders, “Bend down further. Keep your hands on the wall, legs together. Think about what you can do to not make the kind of mistake you made today while I get your paddle.”

A big gulp was pulled down her throat as Harry stepped away. What could she have done differently? Maybe just be on top of her thoughts at all times? Never waver in front of people? She wasn’t sure. How was it possible to not accidentally slip up once in a great while? She had been so good all this time. Never doing anything that would really tip anyone off. The slip-up was bound to happen at some point.

When Harry returned she felt a kind hand rub over her bottom, “You get five on each side and no crying. Once I’ve given you five you’ll tell me what you could have done differently and if you haven’t come up with something you’ll get another five on each side. Understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Count for me.”

Every strike to her sensitive bottom had her keening and gasping. She counted each one, five on each side (so ten really and she would have complained but now wasn’t the time).

“Now, tell me. What can you do to make sure that never happens again? How can we avoid it?”

She took a deep breath, still reeling from her stinging bottom and knowing she was about to get five more (ten more) because she hadn’t come up with an idea quite yet.

“Uhh… I just need to think harder and not let myself really look at you… uh… I can keep my mind sharp so I don’t say things I shouldn’t on accident.”

“No. That’s not it. Count for me.”

The next round hurt more. The smooth leather landing against her sore ass had her arching her back away from him and hissing between numbers she pushed from her lungs. Every one biting a little more than before.

But when she got to her final five (ten) she thought of an answer that she felt would suffice and nearly hopped up with a grin, but knowing better she stayed in her position.

“Have you come up with an answer for me?”

“I can just not speak. I’ll say my throat hurts and keep my mouth closed the whole meeting.”

“That will only work once or twice. But every meeting, pet? You can do better than that. Count for me.”

She let her tears slip out of her eyes as she racked her brain for the answer he might want. Every number she counted got lost in her fuzzy brain and the ache from the paddle on her bum started to numb and the shift in how it made her feel manifested in arousal, which the priest did not miss as he could see her pussy with the way she was bent for him; That obvious glisten beginning to seep out from her labia.

“Tell me what you can do to avoid making comments like you did today.”

She inhaled and moaned softly, “I think that I should maybe not come to all the prayer meetings. I can stay in my cage if I’m feeling a little off maybe? Then I won’t have the opportunity to at all. And me not being at all the meetings would be good I think. Because no one is always at every meeting. Probably good for me to sit back for a while.”

The paddle fell to the floor and she felt Harry’s hands gently caressing her bottom, his fingers gliding over the raised skin left behind from the paddle, “You are so smart, pet. See? That’s perfect. Don’t move from your spot. Keep your thighs together.”

She heard the clank of his buckle and smiled to herself. She loved it when he had his way with her. She didn’t even care what he was about to do, she welcomed him wherever and however he wanted.

When his hands returned to her back and gently pressed over her bum she sighed as he leaned over and kissed her shoulder blade, “I love you. I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” she listened as he spoke and could tell he was stroking himself behind her the way his voice was wavering, breathy. “No matter what happens, you’re mine and I’m keeping you, okay?” His voice hitched up just a bit as he scraped his cockhead through her folds. She was tempted to spread her thighs but she resisted since he’d been very clear with her to keep them together.

“Yes, Father,” she breathed as she felt his smooth tip collecting her arousal, gliding up and down through her crease.

“And since you didn’t do it on purpose and I’ve given you 15 spanks as punishment,” 15 on each side, she corrected in her mind, “I’ll let you come but you may not move. I don’t want you spreading your legs to keep steady either. I’ll hold you up if you start to fall.”

The sudden slicing of his wide cock through her delicate pussy entrance had her groaning and dropping her mouth wide open. She was so wet and gushy already. She felt her arousal seep down to the back of her thigh as he began to thrust into her, juices leaking down from her opening.

Harry’s hand landed on the wall next to her head as his other clutched her hip tight, thick crown splitting her in half, and it all felt even tighter inside with her thighs pressed together. But her legs started to sway as he took heavy strokes, hips smacking against her ass. A deep moan vibrated from his chest and the way she was squeezing around him was like heaven. If he had to go to hell for his sins it would be worth it. She was worth everything to him.

When the priest noticed his pet having difficulty keeping steady he pushed into the brim, filling her completely, and gently nudged and nudged deeper into her, rutting in with hips pasted to her ass, “Being so good for me, pet. Keeping your legs together as I asked. Feels so good with you around me…”

She could hear the tightness in his voice. Her priest was enjoying her pussy. His pussy. Everything was his. All of her belonged to him. She kept her palms on the wall as he fucked into her, keeping his body tucked against her, spreading her open completely and fitting right up against her cervix like she needed.

“Want to be good for you, Father. Want to make you happy and give you everything I can. You own every single part of me.”

He groaned and rutted forward making her inhale sharply, “I do own you don’t I pet? That’s why I call you my pet. Because you’re mine and you always will be. Isn’t that right?”

No one would have ever guessed the pair stood together in the corner fucking in the small living room had the kind of secret they did. No one would have ever guessed the man was a priest and the girl on his cock with the red leather choker was his dirty secret. His divine secret. No one would know the kinds of sinful things they did together every day. If they glanced at the marks on her bare bottom they wouldn’t have assumed they were from the hands of a priest.

“Yes! Father, I’ll always be yours. I’m your possession, your property…”

They both panted as Harry’s cock worked its magic inside of her hot cunt. The wetness of her walls surrounding him and coating him was the perfect spot for him to snug into and spill his seed into.

Her lip curled up as she coughed out a loud moan and arched her back, eyes closed and in sheer bliss from her insides being rearranged. She was weak for him and her orgasm couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please! Can I come, Father? Oh my god…”

He could feel her shaking, thighs trembling so hard he had to hold her hips on both sides so she didn’t tip over.

“Aww poor thing. It aches, doesn’t it? Little pet needs to have her release, doesn’t she? Got all stressed out after misspeaking. You can come. Give me your orgasm, Y/n. Let me feel you… want to feel you milking my cock…”

Harry’s own strong thighs were beginning to quiver as his balls began to squeeze up against his body, his release just moments away.

She cried out and tensed as she spasmed and clenched around him, wave after delicious wave of wet orgasm gushing from her until she felt his grip tighten and then his chest brush into her back, his lips on her shoulder, “Come for me, pet. Holy fuck…”

He groaned at how her walls pulsed, beckoning him to come, sucking his cock deep into her tummy with every squeeze until he growled and bit down on her skin, cock pumping and throbbing inside of her.

The priest had considered not letting her come at first. But he was glad he changed his mind because there was nothing better than to have her siphoning his come from his cock as she fluttered around him and her pretty voice whined and begged…

His hot come began to leak out of her pulsing hole as he thrusted in and when he stood back to watch as he pulled out and plunged in again he saw her cream coating him.

Her legs were still wobbly as he pulled out and gently turned her in his arms and pushed his lips to hers. She felt his warm hands on her face and she knew she had nothing to worry about with her priest. He loved her and she knew it without question. Misspeak or not, he wasn’t going to just give up on her because of an accident.

Bumping his nose to hers he whispered against her lips, “I’ll always choose you. Over everything. Don’t ever doubt my love for you, pet.”

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[jenosbigtoe]

park jisung x bimbo!reader (M)

minors dni

summary: maybe the quiet boy isn’t as naive or innocent as you initially thought.

warnings: reader is kinda slutty but ji secretly loves it, dom!jisung, big dick jisung, fingering, size kink, creampie, fellatio, unprotected sex, college au!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: i’m a jeno girlie but ji has been hitting sooo different. ESP THE BAT JISUNG OOOH

SORRY TO WHOEVER WANTED THE JAEMIN FIC FIRST IM GETTING IMPATIENT HAVING THIS SIT IN THE DRAFTS. JAEMIN FIC THIS WEEKEND POSSIBLY!!

god you wanted him so bad. park jisung, the quiet compsci major that sat in the front of every lecture you’ve had together since freshman year. the park jisung that walked around with his clunky black headphones around his head at all times. the one who had his head down and eyes averted wherever he went. the one who rarely raised his hand in class but when he did, god he sounded so sexy explaining topics you could never begin to understand. the park jisung you’ve never spoken more than 10 words to in the 3 years you’ve known him at uni.

you just wanted to corrupt him so bad. with those baggy clothes he always wore and those harry potter circular lenses you thought looked so so cute on his face, you’ve never seen him interact with the opposite sex. like ever. and with your senior year in uni, you knew you had to make a move on him.

operation seduce park jisung is a go.

you had your first lecture of the day together. it was a 9 am, one you barely showed up to but you knew he had perfect attendance to. and today you were going to make his knees weak when he saw you.

popping your sparkly pink lip gloss, you gave yourself another look over in the reflection of the window before stepping into the lecture hall. today, you wore a light pink mini skirt, a white crop top and lacy hot pink push up bra that peaked through, and a cardigan with strappy gold sandals. you walked in 5 minutes late, smacking your bubblegum, and scanned the room for your target.

there he sat in the front row, in his oversized black hoodie and khaki cargo pants, his laptop open and signature black headphones around his neck. he was chewing on the end of a pen cap as he typed, eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. you smirked to yourself and sauntered over to the seat next to him, making sure to scoot behind him in order to accidentally rub your ass against his head.

“sorry, excuse me,” you whispered.

jisung scooted up to let you pass and gave you a tight lipped smile as you sat next to him.

you didn’t even bother taking anything out to write notes. as you pretended to focus on the lecture, your eyes drifted over to jisung periodically. the way his hands were so big and veiny. when his hoodie sleeve would lift up and tease you with the image of his slim muscular arms. the faint smell of his masculine scent—smoky cedarwood? you could feel your pussy throbbing.

after the lecture was over and jisung got up to leave, you stopped him. “hey, what’s your name again? my name is y/n i don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves before.”

“it’s park jisung,” he said curtly.

it was hard for you to decipher how he felt talking to you but you didn’t want to burn this bridge before it even took off. “okay, nice to meet you, jisung. see you around!” you gave him a bright grin and turned on your heels to saunter out of class, leaving him to stare at your turned back.

and the next few weeks it was rinse and repeat. you would show up wearing your cutest little outfits, showing the most amount of skin appropriate in an “academic setting”, and trying to strike up a conversation with the quiet sexy compsci boy you had a crush on. to be fair, it didn’t seem like your plan was working all that well though. you barely knew anymore about jisung than you did a month ago and you thought by now you would’ve had him melting in your palm. with all the curt responses he gave to your questions, you should’ve been discouraged by now. but no, you were more determined than ever to get this boy underneath you.

so today you decided to alter your plan a little bit. you found jisung in the same seat as always. you were wearing the cutest white sandals and a short mini sundress with a pink ribbon in your hair. you took extra care in your makeup today too, wearing just a little more blush, sparkly silver glitter eyeshadow, and frosty pink lipstick.

“hi ji,” you walked up to him and smiled, actually 10 minutes early this time.

he gave you a small smile and looked back down at his laptop. you puffed your cheeks and pouted a bit. you sat in your designated seat next to him in a huff and pulled at his hoodie sleeve.

“ji, you like me right?” you started to draw circles on his arm and leaned in closer so he could smell your cherry perfume.

jisung looked up at you and tensed up with hesistant look about his face. “what do you mean, y/n?”

you pouted your lip. “you know.”

jisung fidgeted in his seat a bit and looked every where but your tits that were spilling out your bra. “i don’t know what you mean.”

“well we’re friends, right?” you leaned ever so slightly over. god he looked so cute and delicious you could just eat him up.

“um,” jisung started.

you interrupted him. “well i like you ji. and you’re my friend. friends help each other, right?”

jisung stared blankly at you. “y/n we've barely talked except the past couple weeks.”

you ignored his last statement.“this is really embarrassing but,” you leaned over and whispered softly in his ear, “i’m failing this stupid econ class. it’s required for my major but i just don’t understand any of it.”

you leaned back and stared jisung directly in his eyes, close enough to count the eyelashes on his eyes. “help me, ji? please? i know you’re just so smart and i only need some tutoring.” you gave his arm a tight squeeze for reassurance.

poor jisung was so flustered and shifted around at the proximity. “w-well uh o-okay-“

you stood up gave him a tight hug, conveniently shoving his face into your juicy tits, and squealed excitedly. mission success. “thank you so much, ji! let me treat you out to lunch a few days a week to make up for your help!”

jisung’s face was so red and the hug left his glasses slightly askew on his face. adjusting his glasses, he fumbled out a “yeah no problem.”

after the lecture, you slid jisung a piece of paper with your number with a “text me :) <3” and practically skipped out of class.

later that evening you got a text from an unknown number.

unknown: This is y/n right?

unknown: It’s Park Jisung.

you squealed and kicked your feet around on your bed.

you: yup :)) this is y/n

jisungie <3: Okay. I’m free Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays after 2pm. Every other day I have work. Let me know when you want to meet up.

you: yayyyy!! perfect <3

you: let’s meet up at the library tomorrow at 2:30pm. my place is right by it

jisungie <3: Okay.

you: your so awesome ji 😎

jisungie <3: You’re*

jisungie <3: You’re welcome, y/n. And just so you know, I do like you. You are my friend.

you had to run laps around your room after that one.

the next day was a sunday. you told jisung to meet you at the library but you knew better. the library wasn’t open on sundays. so that meant your study date had to move somewhere. and with your place being so close, that somewhere would hopefully be your apartment.

so you arrived at the library 30 minutes early, knowing jisung’s little quirk of needing to be 15 minutes early to everywhere he goes. today you decided to wear black yoga pants that accentuated your ass and a cute crop with a teddy bear print on it. and you made sure your makeup was waterproof because you hoped jisung would make you cry it all off later.

when jisung arrived, you faked a pout and pretended to be upset. you ran up to him and grabbed his arm, big fake tears welling up in your eyes. “ji, the library is closed. i was so excited to hang out with you outside of class but we can’t even have our study date because the stupid library doesn’t open on sundays.”

jisung looked panicked at the sight of your tears. “uh, um, uh don’t cry.”

you let a few tears roll and rubbed them on the back of your hands. “sorry ji. i’m just so disappointed. sure i want my grade in econ to be better but i also just wanted to hang out with you.”

jisung grabbed a napkin out of his bag and handed it to you. he rubbed your hand in a reassuring way that secretly had your pussy throbbing from his big hand grabbing your small one. “uh it’s okay, y/n. i can probably make time tomorrow. i have work but uh-“

you suddenly interrupted him. “wait, i don’t want you to have to miss work for me. i have an idea. my place is just a 3 minute walk from here. how about we head over there instead?”

your tears suddenly dried up as you pouted up at him, puffed up cheeks and big doe eyes with a hopeful look on your face.

jisung seemed to look relieved that you stopped crying. “okay. if that’s what you want then i’m down.”

you squealed and jumped up and down, hugging his body close to yours. “yayy! thank you thank you thank you ji!!!” you grabbed his big hand in yours and practically dragged him all the way to your apartment.

your apartment looked exactly how jisung imagined it. so pink and girly, flowers and ribbons and stuffies everywhere. and it smelled so strongly of you, he was about to lose his mind. your fluffy white cat purred and rubbed herself affectionately on jisung’s leg as soon as he entered.

“sweet girl, he smells so good right?” you lifted her up and snuggled her into your arms, giving her kisses all over her fur. “ji, you can set your stuff down by the couch. let me change into some lounge clothes.”

jisung felt so awkward being in your apartment but when you came out, he knew he was really in trouble. you were wearing a lacy silk pink victoria’s secret pj set that looked so flimsy.

“ji, do you want anything to eat? drink?” you walked past him, underwear peaking from beneath your shorts as you walked to the small kitchen.

jisung stuttered. “n-no. i’m good”

you walked over with a glass of water and a pack of cookies. “okay just let me know if you need anything.”

after an hour of jisung trying to lecture topics of micro and macro economics into your head, you just about had enough. slamming the book shut, you felt your brain about to fry.

“ji, i know i’m a business admin major but this is so stupid,” you whined. “why can’t i be as smart as you? i just wanna marry rich and be a stay at home wife.”

“well y/n-“ jisung started but you cut him off.

“no. i’m sick of this.” suddenly you pushed him back on the couch and straddled his waisted, using your legs to lock him underneath you. suddenly you leaned close to his ear and whispered softly.

“baby, i think you are just so sexy when you explain this stuff to me. you are so smart and i want you so bad.” you nibbled on his ear.

and jisung snapped. he was tired of your teasing for the past few weeks. what, did you really think he was so naive and stupid to notice your seduction tactics? you’re quite literally the girl of his dreams and you’ve been the object of his fantasies since he first saw you freshman year. you were always so bubbly and sweet and outgoing, the exact opposite of him, how could he ever stand a chance with you? but now that you’ve finally made a move on him, that was it.

using his strength, he flipped you over and pinned you on your back, gripping your hands above your head. “fuck. you have no idea what you do to me. you think you can just tease me like this, dangling yourself in front of me like a piece of meat, and expect me to not snap? you have too much faith in me.”

your heart was racing and every word he said went straight to your pussy, growing wetter by the second. jisung started leaving wet kisses down your jaw, once hand still pinning your hands above your head and the other gripping your waist.

“jisung you are so sexy. you have no idea how much i have wanted this,” you looked him into his eyes and smashed your lips against his.

3 years of unresolved feelings went into that kiss. he was a much better kisser than you expected, which had you moaning into his mouth and grinding up into his thigh.

he ripped off your pj set, leaving you in just your lacy white bra and panties. “fucking slut. you planned this huh? wanted to bring me to your apartment so you could fuck me huh?”

you whined and started taking his clothes off too. and holy shit was he hiding a beautiful body underneath those baggy clothes. you could always kinda tell he was toned underneath those clothes but nothing compared to this. his body was so well built and chiseled, arms so veiny and thick, you were foaming at the mouth.

he went to take his glasses off but you stopped him. “the glasses stay on while we fuck,” you told him seriously.

he bit back a giggle and ripped your underwear off. your pussy was glistening with arousal. he wrapped his lips around one of your juicy tits and traveled his hands down your body until his fingers rested on your cunt. “does my baby want to be touched here? does her slutty pussy want to be touched?”

you whined and bucked your hips into his hand. “yes! yes please ji i need you to touch me.”

he smirked and started teasing your pussy with his fingers, rubbing them up and down your slit and ghosting over your clit.

“stop teasing me. need more ji,” you sniffled.

he shoved two fingers into your sopping cunt and started pumping them. you moaned loudly, wriggling your body around and clenching on his fingers. with his other hand, he continued to grope at your chest, leaving you needier than ever. god his hands were so hot and they felt so good. so long and big and veiny and the perfect size for touching your cunt.

suddenly, you shoved him off of you and pushed him back on his back. “your turn.”

jisung looked shocked at first but let you take control. you pulled down his boxers and let out a small gasp. “no fucking way.”

jisung smirked at you and tilted his head back, shutting his eyes with a knowing look on his face. his glasses were crooked and falling off his nose but he never looked sexier to you.

“ji, why did you never tell me you were hiding a horse in there?” you asked, completely serious.

jisung stifled a giggle. “never asked.”

“if i had known you were this fucking hung down here i would’ve jumped your bones so much sooner.” you were seriously concerned for your little pussy the next day but at this point you didn’t care.

you gave his massive cock a few pumps with your manicured nails, wondering just how you would be able to fit all of it inside. even his balls were massive and heavy.

you alternating between licking the base of his cock and lightly sucking on his balls. god it was so hot and heavy and smelled so good, so musky and masculine. jisung let out the sexiest groans as you did this, snaking his hands into your hair and gripping your head. “fuck baby that feels so good.”

you gave a small kiss to the tip of his cock and then started sucking, putting more and more of it down your throat as you went. tears pricked your eyes as it went further and further. jisung’s moans got even louder and he started to buck his hips slightly against your face.

you gave licks to the underside as his dick was deep in your throat. with one final push, you bottomed out on his cock and deepthroated him fully, leaving jisung’s mind hazy and body shaking. fat tears welled up in your eyes and fell down your face. good call on the waterproof mascara.

“fuck m gonna cum. you’re doing so good baby, so so so good,” he groaned as you kept going up and down on his cock, sucking and licking his shaft with every bob of your head.

without warning, he suddenly ripped his cock from your face and stood up, leaving you whining and tears staining your face.

“what a cock hungry slut. can’t even go a second without cock ruining her. well don’t worry baby, i’m about to fuck you so good. wanna cum inside your pussy for the first time.”

he reached into his bag for a condom but you stopped him. “no condom. want you in my pussy raw.”

jisung smirked. “naughty girl.” he pushed you on all fours on the couch and positioned himself behind you. “you’re already so wet baby, won’t even need to prep.”

he rubbed his massive cock on the outside of your pussy, teasing your hole and sticking the tip in before taking it out and rubbing it some more.

“ugh fuck me ji! stop teasing just fuck me right now!” you whined out, arching your back and shoving your cute ass in his face.

and without warning, he bottomed out inside you. you screamed at the sudden feeling, his balls pressing up against your clit. your arms gave out from beneath you, leaving his hands to gripping your hips for support.

“m gonna move now, m’kay sweetheart?” jisung groaned. your little pussy was just sucking him so tightly and it was driving him crazy.

his hips drove into your cunt, his big cock absolutely bullying your little pussy. you were a screaming and moaning and crying mess. “yes yes ji! oh my god feels so good yes!”

you felt your orgasm building up, leaving your pussy to clench and drip more around his cock.

“fuck baby. this pussy was made for me. you’re so perfect and gorgeous and i can’t believe i get to fuck this pussy,” jisung was going absolutely feral above you, thrusting hard and fast and deep into your pussy. he was bottoming out with each thrust, balls slapping against your clit.

“m close. where do you want me to cum baby?” ji groaned out.

“inside. cum inside my pussy. please ji, i need it, need it so much,” you cried.

your words sent jisung over the edge. he released his hot load into your cunt, giving a few last hard thrusts.

the feeling of hot cum inside you triggered your orgasm. you cried out in pleasure, feeling absolute bliss.

after you both got down from your highs, still panting heavily, jisung collapsed onto the couch with you on his lap. his head rested in the crook of your neck as you laid your head on his.

“this is a little late but be my boyfriend ji?”

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 say my name and everything just stops

pairing: harry potter x reader

warnings: ron & reader in an established relationship , pervy harry, male masterbation, smut, harry wanking it to a photo😸, that’s all i think idk

a/n: well well well…i’m back after what 3/4 weeks?😭 so here’s smut that was written in like 20 minutes

He felt… so fucking perverted about his thoughts of you, the way his entire body froze when your breasts squeezed over his chest, the way his hands lingered on your waist when all he wanted to do was lower them further, cupping your ass while you squealed, hitting his chest with those pretty giggles escaping your lips. “Can you help me out?” You asked with those doe-eyes. Harry was sure he would do anything you asked if you gave him that look. Any fucking thing. He nodded breathlessly, no words able to push past his lips as he watched you in awe.

Ron’s absence left Harry feeling uneasy, likely held up in some line to get what he wanted. Harry couldn’t shake off the guilt he felt as he looked at you, his mind painting vivid scenarios of you under him, craving more until he lost control. He struggled to contain his desires, a constant battle against his own urges. However, everything seemed manageable until you casually brushed past him, reaching for whatever it was you needed next to him.

It was a completely unintentional gesture on your part, most likely insignificant to you. However, the way your curves seamlessly fit against him, your proximity causing a stir in him, was uncharted territory for Harry. Mentally, he couldn’t help but envision you both as if you were naked. This realization hit him hard because all he could think about now was being intimate with you from behind, enjoying the captivating sight of your figure melding into his, your soft moans urging him on, his hips moving rhythmically, and his cock filling that perfect spot he often dreamed about.

He craved the thought of losing himself in a passionate frenzy with you, where your thoughts were consumed by him and the intense desire between you. He longed for you to be utterly captivated, pleading for release, desperate for more. The bulge in Harry’s pants was undeniable evidence of his arousal, with his cock straining against the fabric, pre-cum dampening the area. The urgency was clear; if he didn’t address this soon, he feared he might lose control entirely.

“I really need to use the bathroom, can’t hold it much longer,” he feigned, and you glanced up at him. “Oh! It’s fine, I’ll stay here; Ron doesn’t have many people ahead of him anyway,” you reassured with a smile. “Are you sure?” Harry asked, subtly concealing his erection with his hand. “Absolutely, I’ll give you a heads-up when Ron and Hermione return,” you replied cheerfully, waving him off.

He stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a sigh of relief as he locked the door behind him. Harry. He was convinced you were unwittingly tormenting him. Moving swiftly, Harry removed his trousers almost in a rush. He scolded himself internally, knowing he shouldn’t indulge in these thoughts. Yet, the vivid memories of you persisted, the way the short skirt highlighted your curves, how your lips moved as you focused on Ron.

Every memory of you transformed into a tantalizing fantasy, his mind conjuring images of your lips enveloping him, your tongue teasing him, and those innocent eyes gazing up at him. Harry couldn’t resist any longer as he crawled into bed, attempting to muffle his sounds of pleasure while freeing himself from his boxers. His cock responded eagerly, throbbing harder as he teased himself, spreading pre-cum along the tip with a hiss of arousal.

His throat emitted a deep groan as he shut his eyes, his trembling hands gliding slowly up his throbbing length. Harry’s mind was consumed by thoughts of you, aching with desire. His cock felt almost feverish in his grasp, pulsing with insatiable need. He craved you desperately, imagining you quivering beneath him, yearning for every part of you, begging for him. He longed to be inside you, expressing his love as he filled you completely.

The intensity of his desire surged as he envisioned filling you completely, not stopping until you were overflowing with his cum, coating your inner walls. His grip on himself tightened feverishly, his knuckles turning white with the force. But Harry disregarded the discomfort, driven by the vivid images of you that fueled his arousal. This overwhelming passion was unprecedented for him, feeling like he was losing control, utterly captivated by you. You were like an addictive substance, impossible for him to resist, and it tormented him knowing he couldn’t satisfy his craving.

Despite his efforts, Harry struggled to contain his moans, his mind inundated with explicit images of you. He envisioned you with your mouth agape, tongue eagerly awaiting his release, craving the sensation of his warm essence cascading down your throat. “Fuck—fucking slut,” he uttered involuntarily, intensifying his grip on himself. “Such—such a pretty baby for me, yea?” he praised in his mind, picturing you in vivid detail.

Without hesitation, Harry reached for his wallet tucked inside his trousers, retrieving a picture of you as he felt himself nearing climax. He studied the image intently, a string of curses escaping his lips. In the photograph, you stood beside him, and there was Ron. A surge of anger coursed through his veins at the sight of Ron, knowing that these feelings were utterly wrong. Yet, every fiber of his being resented Ron for having you. His thumb instinctively covered Ron’s face in the picture, his grip tightening as he fixated on you.

You looked incredibly beautiful in the photo. Your hands were delicately wrapped around his waist, leaning towards him with a radiant smile that made you look so genuinely happy. The dress you wore was stunningly small, emphasizing your curves, and your breasts were snug against the top, driving Harry wild with desire. His grip on himself tightened as he pictured you naked, imagining you squirming beneath him. “Please, Harry,” your voice echoed in his mind.

“Please, Harry. Cum inside of me,” he envisioned you whispering, your voice filled with longing. “Please, baby.. need your cum.” The image of you batting your lashes at him, tears glistening in your innocent eyes, intensified his desire. Harry relished in the fantasy of you begging for his release, fueling his need to fill you completely. The mental image of his essence spilling inside you consumed his thoughts.

Harry reveled in the fantasy of you begging for his release, his desire to fill you completely with his essence. The thought of you pleading for him flooded his mind, igniting every inch of his being. “Please, Harry, wanna be filled with your load,” he imagined you whimpering, the desperation in your voice driving him wild. “I’m gonna make you mine, honey,” he promised, his arousal heightening as he envisioned claiming you completely. “Shit—gonna fuck my load into you, yeah, baby?” he groaned, his strokes growing more fervent as he gripped the picture tightly. “Make you my fuckin’ cum dump,” he cursed, consumed by the desire to have you completely. “I’m yours, Harry,” he envisioned you mewling for him, and that final thought pushed him over the edge.

He released his warm essence over the picture, his loud groans of pleasure echoing in the room. He couldn’t stifle his satisfaction as he admired the image, his cum adorning your pretty face in the photograph. Just as he thought he was caught, you called out for him, and Harry froze in panic. He quickly covered himself as you yelled about Ron and Hermione being done waiting in line. Relief washed over him, knowing you hadn’t heard his explicit thoughts. You were indeed a tempting distraction, pushing him to the brink every time.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Harry Potter is Actually Really Clever

So often, I feel like Harry is underrated in his own series and I want to talk about how much I love Harry James Potter. Harry is my favorite character in the books and I want to showcase some moments of Harry proving the Sorting Hat knew what it was talking about when it comes to Harry possibly doing well in Slytherin and even Ravenclaw.

(I have more moments listed in my notes, and I'm in book 6 in my current reread, so I definitely am not covering everything)

Let's start then with the words of the Sorting Hat itself:

“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, A my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting….So where shall I put you?” Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. “Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that

(Philosopher's Stone, page 88)

The Hat says Harry is brave enough for Gryffindor, clever enough and talented enough for Ravenclaw and has the ambition and thirst to prove himself for Slytherin. And the hat isn't wrong about it's assessment of Harry. Harry is clever and talented and I so often find it underplayed in fics, or ones that do include it, acting like it's fanon characterization when it's really isn't.

Harry Potter is canonically a BAMF.

So, here I'm going to talk about his cleverness and give some moments of Harry being clever from the books.

(I'll have a different post for his magical prowess.)

Harry Has Brilliant Memory

So, Harry James Potter practically has close to an eidetic memory, and no one really seems to mention it.

An eidetic memory is described as an almost perfect recollection of images or events. And Harry actually shows himself as being very capable of it:

Angelina: “…Harry, didn’t you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?” “Hermione did it,” said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, “Impervius!”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 379)

In thus scene its raining during a Quidditch match and Angelina asks Harry about a spell he used a year before. Harry remembered that moment, remembered Hermione was actually the one who cast the spell, a spell he himself never cast before this moment, and he then casts it perfectly from memory.

Harry remembers the incantation and wand movement perfectly enough to succeed on his first try.

Actually, almost every time we see him cast spells he gets the wand movement and incantation right on the first try (even his first attempt at a patronus worked, the happy memory just wasn't strong enough)

In general, they moments we see Harry fail at casting spells on the first try is when he overthinks it and fails himself like that.

Harry stared at the letters in brackets. Nvbl . . . that had to mean “nonverbal.” Harry rather doubted he would be able to bring off this particular spell; he was still having difficulty with nonverbal spells, something Snape had been quick to comment on in every D.A.D.A. class. On the other hand, the Prince had proved a much more effective teacher than Snape so far. Pointing his wand at nothing in particular, he gave it an upward flick and said Levicorpus! inside his head. “Aaaaaaaargh!”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 239)

Harry tends to fail potions, and nonverbal spells when Snape is breathing down on him expecting him to fail, though, in this example, the moment Harry feels he can succeed the spell and isn't overthinking it, he casts it perfectly and nonverbally on the first attempt.

He is the same with potions:

Snape, meanwhile, seemed to have decided to act as though Harry were invisible. Harry was, of course, well used to this tactic, as it was one of Uncle Vernon’s favorites, and on the whole was grateful he had to suffer nothing worse. In fact, compared to what he usually had to endure from Snape in the way of taunts and snide remarks, he found the new approach something of an improvement and was pleased to find that when left well alone, he was able to concoct an Invigoration Draught quite easily. At the end of the lesson he scooped some of the potion into a flask, corked it, and took it up to Snape’s desk for marking, feeling that he might at last have scraped an E.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 660)

When Snape wasn't breathing down his neck and stressing him, even without the Half-Blood Prince's superior instructions, Harry is good at potions. He accomplishes the potion to a level of Exceeding Expectations easily. The problem is never his skill, memory, or talent; usually, it's stress, being stuck in his own head, or carelessness (did anyone diagnose him with ADHD?)

Another example of his eidetic memory in OOP:

“Well, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds,” said Hermione fairly. “I suppose something in that snake’s venom dissolves them or something. . . . I wonder where the tearoom is?” “Fifth floor,” said Harry, remembering the sign over the Welcome Witch’s desk.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 508)

When Harry describes St. Mongos for the first time (about a week before the above scene) he reads a sign that describes what is located in each floor of the hospital.

A week later, without reading that sign again, Harry can recall where the tea room is since he has that sign he read once a week ago, memorized.

Harry is Sneaky

Harry is a proper sneaky slythein and actually has more cunning moments than some slytherins in the books. Here are a few examples I have from my notes:

“Should call Filch, I should, if something’s a-creeping around unseen.” Harry had a sudden idea. “Peeves,” he said, in a hoarse whisper, “the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible.” Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock.

(Philosopher's Stone, page 197)

Harry is a good liar and scared of Peeves like this in his first year.

“…He likes to keep in touch with me, though . . . keep up with my news . . . check if I’m happy. . . .” And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon’s face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 435)

But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather — for Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that Sirius was innocent.

(Goblet of Fire, page 24)

Again, Harry lying and tricking the Dursleys so they won't hurt him. Leveling Sirius as a threat against them.

“Not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess — I let you pass. Answer wrongly — I attack. Remain silent — I will let you walk away from me unscathed.”

[the riddle and Harry thinking through it]

“Spy . . . er . . . spy . . . er . . .” said Harry, pacing up and down. “A creature I wouldn’t want to kiss . . . a spider!” The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass. “Thanks!” said Harry, and, amazed at his own brilliance, he dashed forward.

(Goblet of Fire, page 629)

I skipped the sphinx's riddle, now the riddle isn't a hard one, but still, Harry isn't stupid. But he thinks he is. He even tells himself during that scene:

Harry’s stomach slipped several notches. It was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not him. He weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard, he could keep silent, get away from the sphinx unharmed, and try and find an alternative route to the center.

(Goblet of Fire, 629)

But it's just Harry and his low self-esteem. He solves the riddle quickly thinking aloud near the Sphinx and he does solve it, and is amazed by it because he doesn't think of himself as smart, even though he is.

Most of the riddles to the Ravenclaw common room are probably along this line of difficulty too. It just goes to show he isn't stupid.

“There,” she said, handing it to him. “Drink it before it gets cold, won’t you? Well, now, Mr. Potter . . . I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.” He said nothing. She settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, she said gaily, “You’re not drinking up!” He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one, and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy. “What’s the matter?” said Umbridge, who was still watching him. “Do you want sugar?” “No,” said Harry. He raised the cup to his lips again and pretended to take a sip, though keeping his mouth tightly closed. Umbridge’s smile widened. “Good,” she whispered. “Very good. Now then . . .” She leaned forward a little. “Where is Albus Dumbledore?” “No idea,” said Harry promptly.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 630)

Harry is clever enough to recognize drinking anything Umbridge gives him is a bad idea, so he doesn't. And he does so without her realizing.

“even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?” “Umbridge’s office,” said Harry quietly. He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could think of no alternative; Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own. “Are — you — insane?” said Hermione in a hushed voice. Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the cultivated fungus trade and was watching the conversation warily. “I don’t think so,” said Harry, shrugging. “And how are you going to get in there in the first place?” Harry was ready for this question. “Sirius’s knife,” he said. “Excuse me?” “Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that’ll open any lock,” said Harry. “So even if she’s bewitched the door so Alohomora won’t work, which I bet she has —”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 658)

Harry can and does strategies. He planned how to get into Umbeidge's office. He employed his friends and actually led them. Being a leader and a strategist — rules we see him grow more into later.

Harry’s mind was racing. The Death Eaters wanted this dusty spun-glass sphere. He had no interest in it. He just wanted to get them all out of this alive, make sure that none of his friends paid a terrible price for his stupidity . . . The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Bellatrix Lestrange’s face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow. “You need more persuasion?” she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Very well — take the smallest one,” she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. “Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I’ll do it.” Harry felt the others close in around Ginny. He stepped sideways so that he was right in front of her, the prophecy held up to his chest. “You’ll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us,” he told Bellatrix. “I don’t think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?” She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth. “So,” said Harry, “what kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?” He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville’s arm was pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking. He could feel one of the other’s quickened breath on the back of his head. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 783)

This is a bit of a long quote, but I really like it. Harry gets the Death Eaters at an impasse because they can't destroy the prophecy. Then, when they threatened Ginny, he changed tactics and got them talking to buy time.

And even when he says his mind is blank:

“What?” whispered Hermione more urgently behind him. “Can this be?” said Malfoy, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again, and under cover of their laughter, Harry hissed to Hermione, moving his lips as little as possible, “Smash shelves —”

...

“NOW!” yelled Harry. Five different voices behind him bellowed “REDUCTO!” Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit. The towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart

(Order of the Phoenix, pages 785-786 and 787)

He's still the one coming up with plans and pulling them out of there.

And if we look at his grades:

(Half-Blood Prince, page 102)

He is very far from failing academically. Actually considering how little studying Harry actually does, he receives very high grades, even for Hogwarts' abysmal education standards. Harry is naturally smart enough and talented enough that with the bare minimum of effort, he can get almost exclusively Es (his failing being in History, an exam he didn't finish, and Divination, which Harry has only been thought bullshit in).

Makes me wish we saw him put in an active effort. I bet it all would've been Os with his memory.

Even Potions, which Harry is supposedly bad at, he got an E...

I just... Harry is just really smart and it kind of frustrates me how I don't see enough fics that treat Harry being clever and with a cunning streak as if it's canon, even though it very much is.

I don't know, maybe I'm just reading the wrong fics...

[avatar-anna]

Unknown Number

someone made a request about reader accidentally being given harry's number, but i accidentally deleted it, so if you requested it, here it is!

(the text chain will be from harry's point of view)

italics: y/n (unknown number)

bold: harry

Part Two

Part Three

Unknown Number (UN): heyy. i had a really good time the other night. maybe we could do it again sometime? xx (click to download image)

Harry Styles (HS): How did you get this number?

UN: you gave it to me?

UN: last night at the pub? marcus, right?

HS: No. You have the wrong number.

UN: is this a joke? are you fucking with me right now?

HS: No.

UN: oh my god

UN: i feel like such an idiot

UN: one of the first times a guy gives me his number at a bar and he gives me the wrong number

UN: probably on purpose too

UN: i should've known when he left his OWN APARTMENT the next morning but i was actually hopeful

UN: and now i've made an ass of myself here too. sorry to bother you i'll leave you alone. sorry again

(one hour later)

HS: It's okay. Sorry about that guy. Sounds like a jerk.

(twenty minutes later)

UN: it's fine, i guess

UN: i wasn't in love with him or anything but he could've had the decency of expressing his disinterest himself instead of hiding behind a fake number.

HS: That is quite a dick move.

HS: I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't expecting that text. I didn't open the picture either by the way.

UN: thank you. for a moment i was worried i was messaging a creep, but hopefully you're not a creep

UN: i mean you could be still and i'd have no idea

UN: maybe i should stop texting you

(ten minutes later)

HS: I'm not a creep.

UN: that's exactly what a creep would say

HS: I don't really know how to prove it to you. You're the one who sent me a photo of yourself half naked. You could be the creep.

UN: you said you didn't open it!

HS: I was trying to be polite!

UN: great now some 40 year old living in his parents basement has one of my nudes

HS: I'm not 40! And I don't live in my parents basement

UN: you text like an old man

HS: wuld u rather i txt like ths???

UN: no but i'm just saying i don't know many people my age who use proper punctuation in text messages

HS: Well I might not be your age, but I'm certainly not 40

UN: "certainly not." you're right. you sound like my grandpa

HS: I suddenly regret restarting a conversation with you

UN: you know despite the fact that you might be catfishing me, i've enjoyed this. i feel like i'm doing what all the other teen girls did in high school at sleepovers

HS: So you're out of high school.

UN: creep!

HS: You outed yourself, that's not on me.

UN: you...might be right

UN: can you tell me something about yourself to make it even? there's always a possibility that you could be lying and i have no reason to trust you, but...idk i feel like i can

HS: Well that's stupid.

HS: But I suppose since I've already seen you partially naked...

UN: i'm blocking your number

HS: My first name is H, and I'm 20 years old.

UN: h? just the letter h?

HS: You could be a creep too for all I know

UN: fair enough. i'm june

HS: Full name? Wow, you really are a dummy.

UN: don't get your 60 year old panties in a twist. it's a nickname

HS: June is a nickname?

HS: And I'm not 60.

UN: june. june bug. that's what the folks call me

HS: Folks? Now who sounds old?

UN: whatever

(thirty minutes later)

HS: Well, it was nice talking to you, June. June bug.

UN: you too h

(three days later)

June (J): you're a guy right?

HS: I'm sorry?

J: well when i first texted you i thought you were a guy, but you weren't THAT guy, so i have no idea

J: i just assumed but i thought i would ask

J: plus i need solicited guy advice and if you're not a creep i would really appreciate it

HS: We're back to me being a creep?

J: it's a risk every time i text you

J: so? are you a dude?

HS: Yes.

J: great! can i ask you something?

HS: Um...I guess...

J: ok. would you ever get offended if a woman covered their drink during a conversation with you?

HS: I'm not following...

J: like say we're at a bar and we're talking and i turn my head away for some reason but i put my hand over my drink until i look back at you to prevent it from being spiked. would you be offended by that?

HS: No. Why?

J: see? i don't think that's unreasonable. some loser got mad at me for doing that. well EXCUSE ME for not immediately trusting the guy i matched with on tinder

J: who was not as cute in real life i might add

HS: You don't have the best taste in guys.

J: that is not advice!

HS: Okay, here's my advice: don't swipe right on guys who have mirror selfies in their profile.

J: ...

J: ok fair enough but it's not like prince charmings are falling from the sky. it's hard out here

HS: I'm sure.

J: what you don't have the same problem?

HS: I don't really date.

J: in like a douchey way? are you one of those guys who say they just fuck?

HS: I just don't have time for dating, I guess.

J: so no special someone?

HS: No.

(four hours later)

HS: If you asked for advice, does that mean I can too?

(one hour later)

J: sorry i was at work

J: and i don't see why not

HS: What do you think about guys who wear skinny jeans?

J: hm...i think styled right it could be nice

J: YSL is kind of pushing the whole skinny jeans and chelsea boots thing which might eventually trickle down to the losers i match with on tinder so...why not? i say dress how you want

J: any guy who has a good sense of style is sexy to me

J: sorry if that wasn't the answer you were looking for

HS: Yes and no. I've been experimenting with different styles. Sometimes I get a little in my head about it.

J: doesn't everyone?

HS: I guess you're right.

HS: Do you follow fashion shows and things like that?

HS: That's not too personal, is it?

J: no, but it's kind of embarrassing

HS: Not as embarrassing as sending a complete stranger a picture of yourself in your bra

J: harsh...but fair

J: fashion is kind of my religion

J: i'm trying to become a stylist. keyword trying

HS: That's cool!

J: tell that to my family

HS: they don't support you?

J: nope! but i'm gonna do it anyway!

HS: Do you have a favorite designer?

J: it kinda depends on the year and who was creative director at the time, but the first time i got my hands on vintage vivienne westwood i was hooked

J: you?

HS: I'm just starting to explore the fashion world I guess you could say.

J: well lucky for you i happen to be a bit of an encyclopedia when it comes to house codes

HS: House codes?

J: oh boy. i hope you're comfortable. we might be here a while

(two days later)

HS: Have you ever had rumors spread about you?

J: i don't think so

J: oh wait! in eighth grade this girl in my class told everyone i made out with a boy at the school dance which was NOT true

J: it was just a peck

HS: Naughty.

J: it was harmless. why do you ask?

HS: There's a rumor going around about me. It's just frustrating when people actually believe it. sometimes it gets to the point where i start to believe it myself.

J: i'm sorry. i won't pry or anything, but i know what it feels like to not be understood

HS: I just hate the feeling of being under a microscope. It's exhausting. I feel like my life isn't my own sometimes.

J: that sucks

J: sorry that was in no way helpful, but i don't really know what to say. is there someone you can talk to about this?

HS: ...

J: oh! i actually feel kind of honored

J: well, obviously i don't know the whole situation, but maybe try and surround yourself with people who don't scrutinize you so much?

HS: Easier said than done.

J: true but i think if you have a solid group of people who know you and understand you and like you for who you are, it's easier to deal with things like rumors and being under the proverbial microscope, you know?

J: and don't be afraid to get rid of the toxic people in your life! it's not easy but you'll be better off in the long run

HS: sometimes it's hard to tell who's toxic and who's not

J: start with the people who would never believe a rumor about you, or the ones who would never START one about you

HS: Well said, June Bug.

J: thanks! maybe i should entertain a career in counseling

(one month later)

HS: Why June Bug?

J: i was born in the summer. it was a nickname my grandparents gave me. been called that ever since

HS: That's sweet.

J: there are worse nicknames i suppose. i have a cousin that got stuck with chip because he used to stuff his face like a chipmunk when he was little

HS: Yikes.

J: you're telling me

(three weeks later)

J: have you ever danced alone in your bedroom to stevie nicks?

HS: Have you?

J: i have, and can i just say she does NOT get enough credit as a songwriter?

HS: Edge of Seventeen?

J: edge of seventeen

J: i went on a date last week with a guy who had the AUDACITY to call her music mediocre

HS: You didn't see him again did you?

J: ...

HS: June!

J: just once! and only because he had really nice hands

HS: I don't get how that would make you stay with a stevie hater...

J: REALLY nice hands ;)

HS: You disappoint me sometimes.

J: ;))))

(fifteen minutes later)

J: hey you never answered my question about dancing in your room!

HS: ...No comment...

(one week later)

J: you ever been in love, h?

HS: I can't say that I have. Have you?

J: no ://

J: i think i want it too much. i've always just been in love with the idea of falling in love, you know?

J: but the reality isn't what i thought it would be

HS: I'm sorry.

HS: It probably won't help but I'm sure you'll find someone. You seem like a great person. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.

J: aw h you're making me blush!

HS: But perhaps you should stop looking for love on a hookup app

J: annnd good feeling gone

(two weeks later)

HS: Guess who has two thumbs and got invited to Paris Fashion Week!

J: no fair!

J: and that joke doesn't work if i can't see you point to yourself. it doesn't work period

HS: I will let that slide because I know you're just jealous.

J: are you kidding me? OF COURSE i'm jealous! i can't believe you get to see Alessandro Michele's work up close

HS: Who?

J: don't think because we only communicate through text that i can't strangle you

HS: Relax. I'm only joking.

HS: Alessandro is a friend ;))

(ten minutes later)

J: sorry i just had to scream into my pillow

J: what exactly do you do again?

HS: I told you. I work in the industry.

J: but that could mean anything! the cosmetics industry, the movie industry, the meat packing industry...

HS: Meat packing?

J: you know what i mean!

HS: I do a lot of PR.

J: see. that wasn't so hard now was it?

HS: Can I go back to gloating?

J: only if you promise to give me a full report afterwards you go to all the shows

HS: Deal.

(four days later)

HS: Favorite movie?

J: that's hard...

J: it's probably cliche but the devil wears prada

HS: Good choice.

J: what about you?

HS: The Notebook.

J: really?

HS: Yes. Why?

J: do you say that to impress girls or because it's actually your favorite?

HS: Would you rather I have said a film with lots of car chases?

J: no

J: but i went out with a guy who was a film major once

HS: Is that a bad thing?

J: let's just say it won't be happening again

J: he thought he was superior for disliking popular movies. i hate that

HS: Well, I love The Notebook and I love Ryan Gosling

J: now THAT is something we can agree on!

(six weeks later)

J: BIG NEWS

J: LIKE HUGE

J: GROUNDBREAKING

HS: And here I was thinking you forgot about me.

J: i texted you yesterday

HS: You asked me if my dick could move on its own.

J: a legitimate question! i nearly had a heart attack when i saw it in person

J: but i was also weirdly fascinated. my question was purely scientific!

HS: You said you had news?

J: right!

(twenty minutes later)

HS: Are you making me wait to create anticipation?

J: no sorry i got a phone call.

J: i got my first real gig as a stylist

HS: That's great! Congratulations!

J: thanks

HS: You don't sound excited anymore. What happened to all caps?

J: my mother happened

HS: Still not on board, then?

J: she told me it was a waste of time and that i should get a real job

HS: You're still gonna take it though right?

J: i don't know. maybe she's right. the pay is less than ideal. more like i'm being paid in experience, and it's not the clientele i was imagining...

HS: But it's a foot in the door, right? That's something.

J: i guess

HS: Make connections. Get good references. And who knows, you might actually enjoy yourself.

J: you're right.

J: it's for some up and coming band that's going on tour. pretty sure i was what they could afford

HS: Don't sell yourself short. You're gonna do great.

J: thanks. i hardly even know you and you're currently my biggest supporter

HS: What happened to Bill?

J: ancient history

HS: What was wrong with him? He seemed nice.

J: yeah

J: his girlfriend thought so too.

HS: On behalf of all men: Sorry. We truly are the worst.

J: agreed. what about you? still single?

HS: Yes, though people keep trying to set me up on dates.

J: the horror!

HS: Ha ha

HS: I just want to meet someone on my own terms.

J: i get that

J: i just want to meet someone who's actually a decent human being

HS: I'll be on the lookout.

(three weeks later)

J: i think i've decided that tour life is not for me

HS: oh?

J: yeah. sitting on a bus for hours and hours with only myself to keep me company? no thanks

HS: it can't just be you on the bus can it?

J: no but i have a hard time making friends right away. and a lot of the crew for this tour are older than me

HS: are your clients nice at least?

J: yeah. one of them tried to hit on me, which i guess i should take as a compliment, but i am on the clock. no flirting for me

HS: a professional then. or are you not into the musician type?

J: not sure. i haven't dated one before

J: i told you that the other day

HS: right. must've slipped my mind

HS: but back to taste in men. is it all about looks for you or do you like funny guys?

HS: are you the type to sleep with someone on the first date? because i feel like that's very telling about a girl

J: who is this?

HS: what do you mean? it's me

J: it's not. you're not texting like a middle aged woman and you're acting like a total ass

HS: Sorry. I thought I'd try something new. And I was just curious. Can't blame a guy for asking right? You did send some guy you barely knew a picture of yourself

HS: It was very wholesome by the way. Maybe try a little more skin next time and you'll get the response you want. You can practice here if you'd like.

J: oh my god

HS: What?

J: this was a mistake. i'm such an IDIOT

J: was this some kind of prank?

J: whoever you are, you're sick

J: don't text me again

HS: June, I'm so sorry. That was my friend he was just being stupid.

HS: Last time I leave my phone anywhere.

HS: June?

HS: June please.

HS: That wasn't me I swear!

HS: I'm sorry.

(three weeks later)

HS: Day 21 of trying to get you to respond.

HS You probably blocked me which is fine. I don't blame you.

HS: But if you DO happen to read these and are just ignoring me...

HS: I'm sorry. Again. For like the millionth time.

J is typing...

HS: June?

J: i should've blocked you

HS: Why didn't you?

J: because as insane as it sounds, you've become a close friend

HS: I feel the same. I'm really sorry about before. I swear it was one of my mates. I would never say something like that.

J: that's what makes this whole thing crazy! i don't actually know you, so how do i know if i can trust you?

HS: I mean you even noticed that he wasn't texting like me. I would never ask you questions like that, June. I never have.

HS: And I do NOT text like a middle aged woman by the way

J: i guess that's true

J: i think it just doubled down the fact that we don't actually know each other. this whole thing is ridiculous if you think about it too long. it gives me a headache sometimes.

J: i know we've joked about it but...this could be potentially dangerous

HS is typing...

HS: I could send you a voice note.

J: you would do that?

HS: You're right. This whole thing is ridiculous but...I don't know, I trust you, and I consider you a friend.

J: a friend you say?

HS: That's all I'm willing to admit for one day

J: and what about tomorrow?

HS is typing...

HS (voice recording): Maybe tomorrow I'll admit a little more.

(one day later)

Y/n hated how much her stomach flipped every time her phone pinged with a new message.

It was so reckless and dangerous and utterly ridiculous. She didn't know who H was, she didn't even know what time zone he lived in, and yet she felt like she knew him.

And after hearing his deep voice—deep British voice—on the voice recording, Y/n determined that he wasn't some creep in his forties like she'd originally thought.

Since sending that voice recording, they'd sent each other messages like that all night. And by all night she meant all night. They stayed up late sending voice recordings back and forth. It was the longest conversation they'd held to date, which was surprising considering that they often missed each other during certain hours. Just based on what hours of the day they texted the most, Y/n figured H lived somewhere in Europe, which gave her peace of mind considering he couldn't exactly kidnap her if he was a whole ocean away. But the last couple weeks their schedules seemed to be lining up, though Y/n chalked it up to all the traveling she'd been doing lately.

One thing she was certain of was that she adored H's voice. It was soft and deep, but got raspier the longer they spoke. And at times he would whisper in his messages, like he had to keep his voice down. The hushed tones made her shiver.

Y/n didn't call H, and he never offered. But she wanted to, boy did she want to. No matter how terrifying that thought was. A full-fledged phone call seemed more...real to Y/n. With the messages, she and H were still in their little bubble. It was stupid, but she needed that bit of separation. She was becoming attached to someone she'd never met.

Walking through the halls of a stadium in Canada, Y/n pulled up past conversations with H. It was too embarrassing to admit to anyone out loud, but she felt like she really knew him. He was endearing, had a silly sense of humor, had good taste in music, and was honest. Well, as honest as either of them could be. Outside of the one slip up with H's friend, Y/n believed what he said to her over text. Maybe that made her naive, but their conversations were legit. He felt like a friend, and she knew he felt similarly.

Maybe tomorrow I'll admit a little more.

Y/n had no idea what that could mean. She of course knew what she wanted it to mean, but what she wanted rarely ever lined up with reality.

Y/n looked up from her phone to make sure she didn't pass the right door. The one in front of her read, Harry Styles in big bold lettering. She quickly hurried past and continued down the hall to where the dressing room for Five Seconds of Summer was.

Harry Styles was a bit of an enigma. Even though she was on the same tour as him and One Direction, Y/n hardly ever saw him. And when she did, his nose was always in his phone, completely closed off to the world around him. He just had this vibe that said, "don't talk to me," and Y/n received that message loud and clear. The Five Seconds of Summer boys seemed to get on with all the members of One Direction, but Y/n usually made herself scarce whenever they came by the dressing room, for no other reason than too much testosterone in one room.

"You want to come out after the show, Harry?" Y/n heard one of the boys ask. Michael.

"Um...No. I think I'll have to pass tonight, boys. Sorry."

"What? Big date tonight?"

"Something like that."

Y/n felt frozen to the linoleum floor. She knew that voice. She'd spent all night listening to that voice.

"Holy shit."

[metalomagnetic]

After seeing about 50 'Dumbledore is evil' and 'everything is Dumbledore's fault' and 'but why didn't Dumbledore did this or the other' posts in a row, I find myself wishing Dumbledore just fucked off to somewhere nice and sunny in '81, early retirement (or is it early if he's already 100?) and washed his hands off magical Britain entirely.

Some of y'all sound like Fudge with your Dumbledore bashing. I wish, at least, Dumbledore would have left when Fudge and that corrupt as hell Ministry did their best to ruin his name and his image.

Pack up his ancient shit and move to a nice beach somewhere, with his pet bird and a huge bag of candy.

This way, my man Voldemort could have won in like five minutes, and Harry would be dead, Voldemort would rule supreme, Bella would keep being the queen she is, and my little Voldemort shaped heart would be happy.

But no, Dumbledore stayed, orchestrated Voldemort's downfall by giving Harry step by step instructions, gave up his own life in the process, made sure Harry would keep his, because apparently that's what 'evil men' do instead of retiring in comfort.

Not only Harry wouldn't have survived without Dumbledore, but he most likely wouldn't even exist without Dumbledore. Because, you know, this evil man is also the one that took down another dark lord back in the day; if Grindelwald would have won, there would be no Lily, most likely. Thus no Harry.

But yes, go get your 'Dumbledore is evil' badges- I hear Fudge and Umbridge are leaders of the hate club, I'm sure they'll receive new followers with open arms. Draco is probably the secretary, because he hates Dumbledore, too, and he likes making badges.

Also, can someone explain to me how Dumbledore, the only gay man in canon, became the fandom's resident homophobe? That's just weird, my friends. Very weird, to say the least. It gets even nastier when you say he 'groomed' students. That's an awful thing to throw around about a gay dude, you know?

There are so many reasons one can dislike Dumbledore for, but you do have the option to not like a flawed character without turning them into a ridiculous caricature of themselves.

P.S: I am not talking about fics. Write your fics and your characters however you want, whatever makes you happy. Your fic is your domain, and you do whatever you want in there, hopefully with no asshole to attack you in the comments. Same with reading- read what you want, bashing or no bashing. Have the best of fun!

I am talking about these 'meta' type posts on social media, tagged with "Albus Dumbledore", where they act as if canon Dumbledore was legit evil, incompetent or homophobic.

[moonpascal]

IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER TWO series masterlist

SUMMARY II WC: 2.1k

After the tense encounter with Theo, you’re unsettled and distracted.

WARNINGS

angst, migraines, anxiety, feelings of emptiness

AUTHORS NOTE

this is more of a filler chapter. this took many rewrites and i’m hoping this is good enough! (although this plays into deathly hollows it will not follow it. mostly used it for the room of requirement scene). thank you for all the love on the first chapter!

Thank you thank you @amiableness for reading this and listening to me stress over it all! i love you! 🤎

You sat at the Gryffindor table, staring blankly at your plate. The usual warmth of the Great Hall—its lively morning chatter and clinking dishes—felt distant, like a scene observed through a glass wall. Harry and Hermione were talking softly beside you, but their words barely registered. Your mind kept circling back to the hallway, replaying the way Theo had looked at you.

The cruel words you’d hurled at him still echoed in your mind. Theo’s eyes, filled with anger and hurt, kept flashing in your memory. You couldn’t shake the image, nor could you understand why it affected you so deeply. It was just Theodore Nott-a Slytherin you barely knew. So why did the thought of him in pain twist your insides with guilt?

“Harry, why was Nott so mad at you?” Your voice cut through their conversation, drawing startled looks from both Harry and Hermione. They exchanged a brief, tense glance.

Before Harry could respond, Ron interjected. “Doesn’t take much to set that lot off. Probably thought he looked at him funny.”

While Ron’s words had a grain of truth, they didn’t fully explain Theo’s reaction. Although Theo wasn’t innocent, you’d noticed he rarely got into fights unless provoked—though no one deserved to be hit regardless of their reasoning. Yet, with Harry involved, and given the Slytherins’ usual treatment of him, it was hard to dismiss Ron’s comment. Theo often stayed in the background, smirking as others were bullied, but he rarely got his hands dirty.

The way Theo treated the other years was something you despised, and you always stood up for the victims of Slytherin cruelty. The frustration bubbling inside you mixed with an unsettling feeling you couldn’t quite place. So you simply hummed in agreement.

Your head throbbed, a constant reminder of the earlier events of the past 24 hours. As you pushed your food around your plate, you kept glancing at the doors to the Great Hall, expecting someone or something to happen. Hermione must have noticed because she nudged you, pulling you back into the conversation.

But you didn’t catch Harry and Hermione’s silent exchange, too lost in your own thoughts. Everything felt off today, your emotions were raw, on edge. Whenever you tried to pinpoint the source of your unease, it slipped away, leaving you more confused.

It didn’t make sense. Nothing had happened to make you feel this way—at least, nothing you could recall. You’d woken up in the hospital wing with a headache and a vague sense of confusion, Theo strangely sitting nearby. But Madam Pomfrey had assured you it was nothing serious—a bump on the head, perhaps a little too much stress. As she gave you a sleeping draught to take later.

So why did it feel like something was missing? Like a piece of your heart had been taken, leaving behind a hollow space?

Harry was speaking again, his voice soft with concern, but you barely heard him. You nodded automatically, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. You just needed some fresh air, some time to clear your head. Maybe then the tightness in your chest would ease, and the world would stop closing in on you.

You excused yourself from the table, ignoring the worried glances from your friends as you slipped out of the Great Hall. The cool air in the corridor was a relief, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

But even as you walked aimlessly through the castle, the unease persisted. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch, a sense of dread that clung to you.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of a window, closing your eyes. You just needed to rest, to give your mind a break. Maybe you’d take that draught soon.

As you walked into class, a wave of whispers followed you, accompanied by fleeting glances. Normally, you were used to blending in—not exactly shy, but not someone who sought the spotlight either. Today, though, it felt like everyone had something to say about you, twisting your stomach with discomfort.

You kept your head down, heading for a seat in the back, hoping to escape the attention. You set your bag on the table, pulling out your parchment and quill with slightly trembling hands. The pounding in your head was getting worse, each throb making you consider skipping the rest of your classes.

You rubbed your temples, trying to soothe the ache, so focused on your discomfort that you didn’t notice Theo slipping into the seat beside you.

When you finally looked up, your body tensed. Theo’s jaw was tight, his expression hard. You knew why—your argument had been harsh, and the guilt that had been gnawing at you all morning flared up again.

You were surprised he sat beside you, thinking he wouldn’t want anything to do with you now, especially after this morning’s exchange. Let alone being this close to anyone outside of Slytherin. But you knew you had to apologize for saying those awful words in the heat of the moment. Just as you lifted your arm to nudge him, Lavender turned in her seat, her eyes landing on you with concern.

“Hey Trouble, how are you feeling?” she asked softly, nervously glancing at Theo. “I heard you were in an accident. I was worried, but was told no visitors.”

You blinked, confusion flickering in your mind before you forced a response. “I’m… okay, I think. It must’ve been a pretty bad fall since I’ve had this migraine all day,” you tried to joke, but the weak attempt didn’t erase the worry in her eyes.

Before Lavender could say more, Theo cleared his throat, shooting her a look that made her quickly turn back to the front just as the professor began the lesson.

You struggled to focus on the lecture, as the pounding in your head intensified. You sighed in frustration, squeezing your eyes shut to block out the lights and noise. The migraine was worse than any you’d had before, leaving you anxious, wondering if there was more to your accident than you remembered.

Just as you were about to spiral into worry, you felt a subtle pressure at your side. Theo had leaned closer, his arm brushing against yours as he reached for some ink.

Normally, you would’ve tensed at the invasion of your personal space, but instead, the warmth of his presence was oddly grounding. The anxiety and pain that had been building all day eased just a fraction, allowing you to take a breath that didn’t feel so tight in your chest.

Whether intentional or not, Theo stayed close, his side pressed against yours, a silent connection that gave you a fleeting sense of calm.

As the lesson dragged on, the professor’s words blurred together, becoming an indistinct hum in the background of your thoughts. Despite Theo’s comforting presence, the tension in your body refused to fully release. You could feel his gaze on you from time to time, a mix of concern and something you couldn’t quite identify.

When the class finally ended, students began gathering their things, eager to leave. You remained seated, reluctant to move, still grappling with the persistent ache in your head and the knot of emotions in your chest. Theo didn’t make a move to leave either. Instead, he waited, his presence steady beside you.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and concerned. “Are you okay?”

You hesitated, wondering why you felt so vulnerable around Theodore of all people. “I don’t know,” you replied quietly, your voice tinged with exhaustion. “I feel like something is wrong, but I can’t quite pinpoint it.”

Theo’s eyes softened, and he slowly turned to face you fully in his chair. His hand hesitantly moved to rest on top of yours, his touch soft and anchoring. It made you feel worse, knowing you’d said such harsh things to him, and yet here he was, comforting you—someone you never expected to show this kind of care, let alone toward you.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what had been weighing on you all day. “Theodore, I’m sorry,” you began, your voice soft but sincere. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I was scared and angry, but that doesn’t make it right. It wasn’t fair, and you didn’t deserve it.”

You could see him visibly deflate, as if your apology wasn’t what he was hoping for. But he quickly masked his emotions, sitting straighter with a blank expression.

“It’s fine,” he said your name, like it pained him to say it. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

His dejected tone caused an ache in your chest. You’d never had a one-on-one conversation with Nott until today, and it felt off.

You wanted to say something to comfort him in return, but a sharp pain in your right temple made you recoil, and Theo quickly caught you before you could fall from your chair. His touch sent another wave of warmth through you.

“Woah easier there, what’s happening?” Theo’s words cut through as you blinked, trying to focus.

“I’m fine. I think I just need some rest. I’ll see you around, Theodore. Thank you,” you murmured, gathering your things and half haphazardly shoving them into your bag. You walked out of the class, feeling his gaze on you the entire time.

The further you got to your dorm, the more uneasy you felt, your mind racing trying to grasp at something.

When you finally reached your room, you immediately collapsed onto your bed, your bag dropping with a thud as a vial rolled out.

You’d completely forgotten Madam Pomfrey had given you a sleeping draught and took it without hesitation and settled into bed, too tired to notice the faint vanilla and cigarette scent lingering.

The sleeping draught did its job, but only for a few hours. You woke up feeling empty, at least your headache had subsided. The dreams that had visited you were oddly vivid—filled with a gentle comfort and a loving presence—but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t place where they came from.

In your dream, a faceless figure held you close, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, placing delicate kisses on your shoulder. The love you felt in the dream was almost overwhelming, as if it was something you’d known for years. But every time you tried to focus on the details, a sharp jolt in the back of your head pulled you away, leaving you more confused.

You tried to fall back asleep after noticing it was well past midnight, meaning you’d missed the rest of your classes and dinner. Feeling restless, and knowing your dormmates slept like the dead—or with silencing charms—you decided to tidy up your side of the room. It was messier than you remembered.

As you gathered your clothes into a neat pile, you spotted some jumpers and hoodies you didn’t recognize. Frowning, you folded them and placed them next to your trunk, deciding to ask about them later. Then you noticed a green tie peeking out from under your bed. You sighed, assuming it was one of Grace’s latest conquests leaving their things behind, and tossed it onto her side of the room.

Once everything was in order, you turned your attention to the blank picture frames scattered across your desk. Which was odd not recalling when you bought so many. You’d just have to take some photos to fill those soon.

As you undressed for a shower, your fingers brushed against a cool metal object resting against your chest. You hadn’t noticed it before, and a sense of unease settled over you. Gently lifting it into view, you realized it was a locket—intricately detailed, with your favorite flowers etched in gold on the surface and your initials engraved on the back.

You tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Maybe it was just designed that way, you thought, but the fact that you couldn’t recall ever owning it puzzled you. Curiosity piqued, you took it off, intending to examine it later. But as soon as the chain slipped from your neck, a sudden wave of emptiness washed over you, leaving you breathless.

Without thinking, you clasped it back on, and the feeling slowly faded. You decided to leave it there, too tired to worry about it out now. You’d ask your friends about it in the morning.

After a long, hot shower, you finally climbed into bed, wishing for more dreams of the faceless figure who had brought you such a profound sense of comfort and safety.

If you enjoyed, please reblog or comment! Your words keep me motivated to write.

dividers from @saradika-graphics

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Mr. Walz

Featuring Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz

Back in the late ‘90s, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, and now Vice President Kamala Harris’ running mate, was a high school teacher and football coach in rural Minnesota. I attended Mankato West from 2000-2004, having Walz for 11th grade history. Being gay at the time, I initially expected to hate Walz, because he was a football coach and a hunter. But he was accepting and really friendly with me; with everyone really. He’s genuinely the goofy teacher that was in the hallway greeting every kid every morning, giving high fives and fist bumps. He and his wife, also a teacher at the school, provided vital support during my formative years. And to be honest, I thought he was cute.

He was in his late 30s and about 21 years my senior at that time, about my height, which is just shy of five foot-nine. He was chiselled like most middle-aged men with a gut. He dressed conservatively, usually a short sleeve solid colored shirt with a tee shirt under it and trousers which seemed to be a few sizes too small. I couldn’t help but find myself staring at his tightly held manhood, which showed a clear outline of his thick cock. That bulge had me daydreaming during our meets and school outings. I would jerk-off with this image in my mind every night.

After graduation, I didn’t see my ex-teacher again until I attended a campaign dinner in Falcon Heights, Minnesota. He instantly recognized me, smiling broadly and gave me a big hug. We’re talking 20-something years ago, and to have your 10th-grade geography teacher remember you after all of that time, it means something. I couldn’t call him Gov. Walz, because he will forever be Mr. Walz.

We talked a bit then, and a couple times throughout the evening. He asked me about what I was up to, if I was dating, the usual chit chat. I was so giddy to see Mr. Walz that I confessed that I had a crush on him in high school. I told him I thought about him every night when I jack off. How I use a big carrot up my ass, and pretend it was his dick. And I told him I knew he would never like me, that way, but I had to tell him.

Surprisingly, he suggested I should come over to his hotel, later, placing his hotel room card on the edge of the sink right next to me.

"Wait here, I'll have an agent escort you to my room in an hour." He said before leaving. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one had, so I quickly grabbed the key.

Sure enough, an hour later, a secret service agent escorted me to his hotel. The journey upstairs was unbearable. Reporters to dodge, people for the agent to nod away. By the time I got to Mr. Walz’s room, I was afraid he’d think I wasn’t’ interested, but when I entered the room, he was ready and waiting. The lights were dim, Mr. Walz was in a hotel bathrobe, and he’d ordered porn on the television.

"Is this what you really want?" I asked.

"More then anything." He replied.

I made the first move, leaning in to kiss him and as soon as our lips met, his arms went around me. Quickly, he started unbuttoning my shirt, unzipping my pants, and basically tearing my clothes off as he moved his tongue around inside my mouth. His hand was on my hard dick, feeling and testing the size.

"Oh, yeah." He moaned, as he ran his hand down my tender, sensitive cock before squatting.

With his mouth at my crotch, he ran his tongue up all seven inches, before gently pushing me towards the bed. On the bed, our bodies melded into one. His hard dick was teasing mine, as once again, our tongues found the other's mouth. Hands everywhere, as we hugged and rocked each other. Kissing my way down his chest, I left a trail of saliva all the way to his cock. Taking him in my mouth, I began to suck while I swirled my tongue around his boner before he started thrusting into my throat, making me gag. I guess he got pretty turned on by what I was doing to him as he turned me around and put us into 69 position.

As Mr. Walz took my dick in his mouth, I took his dick in mine. I worked on it with such skill that he began moaning deep inside his throat as he sucked my dick. And he could really suck; he knew how to please a man. I began to feel him starting to breathe rapidly and shake. I knew he was going to explode soon. I was getting close as well.

Wanting Mr. Walz to fuck me, I quickly seperated, and rolled off the bed leaving him laying there completely naked with a huge hard-on. Hurrying to my pants, I pulled a tube of lubrication out of his pocket before I bounded back to the bed. After telling him I wanted him to fuck me, I tensely watched as Mr. Walz applied the lubricate to his cock, knowing the pain I was about to feel. I couldn’t help but thinking back to my high school years when I first saw him. I had always wanted Mr. Walz to fuck me since then. Now was the time.

“You got a nice tight asshole.” Mr. Walz told me as he rubbed some of the KY onto my asshole.

He lifted my legs and stared me straight in the eyes as he guided the head of his cock to my ass. As soon as his dick made contact, he immediately thrust all 8 inches into me. I gasped loudly, so loudly in fact that I’m sure the people in the next room heard.

“I’m going to really open up your asshole.” Mr. Walz called out with a wicked smile on his face as he slowly started fucking me.

Noticing each time the fat head of his cock passed my hard prostate, pre-cum would squirt from the tip of my dick. He reached down and scooped it up with his finger, brought it to his mouth and licked it clean.

"Oh, man, that's good." He said, as he scooped up more, but I pulled his finger to his mouth, and sucked it in.

We smiled at each other before he leaned forward and kissed me deep, our tongues caressed each other, sharing my pre-cum. Then as we kissed he sent his cock plunging deeper into me. I arched my back as I was forced to take more cock deeper into my ass than ever before.

“Yes, fuck me, Mr. Walz.” I found myself saying when he broke our embrace, “Give it to me, Mr. Walz. Make me yours!”

And he did just that. Mr. Walz started fucking me hard and fast. I took each of the strokes of his his old manhood willingly. I wanted to give him total pleasure and I could tell from the far away look in his eye that the old man was as lost in me as I was in him. I knew he was getting close, and I didn’t want to stop him, so I didn’t say a word about pulling out. Having only had sex with his wife for all those years, he didn’t think of it either. Soon he was filling my ass with ropes of cum, and I felt it filling me up.

After we got off and caught our breath, he looked at me and we both started laughing and telling each other how glad we were that we'd just met up today.