#that last post just made us think cause like

[drafty-castle]

The comments section of this post is, well, very Tumblr. However: @slothorperhapscrow and others who are ‘wait, so he’s a Nazi but not a Nazi but is a Nazi?’ or perhaps just ‘water is wet’ about this, I’d like to give another interpretation.

I don’t think this post was made for those who already hate Elon Musk, who despise him, who have followed the money and the social media fails over years and are already aware of the kind of person he is.

I think this post was for those who still follow him, who still believe in the mask he has created, who have fallen for all the propaganda. I think the point is to hammer home to these people that he isn't who he presents himself to be, he doesn’t believe in what they believe in, no matter what signals - like the salute - he sends out because all he really believes in is his own power. Philip Low is telling the tech bros that Musk is not one of them. Low is telling the republicans who have accepted the propaganda how Musk has historically lied and manipulated his image to get him - personally -the most money, with no thought of those around him, including his friends. Low is telling the bigots and racists and even the actual Nazis in America that they're supporting someone that does not hold to their ideals and is using them to prop up his own personal power base.

I think its possible that post is even for those who are fence-sitters. People who don't like Musk - or don't have enough of an opinion on him - as a person but are willing to continue using his corporate products - using twitter/x, buying Tesla cars, etc. - all actions that continue to funnel money into Musk's pocket.

Functionally, I think this letter to the editor post was trying to break up some of Musk's middle and working class power base - his cult of personality, if you will - by bringing to light the ideological differences between him and many of his followers through symbolic actions such as the Sieg Heil. To highlight Musk's loyalty to no cause other than his own personal power and ego and dispel the idea - through the deliberate use of the Hitler salute - to all Nazi, fascists, and sympathizers that he is "one of them". As well as cut through as much of the "autism" smokescreen that has been thrown up in front of it as possible among those who have been trying to dismiss his actions as "awkward" rather than acknowledge them for the dog-whistle it was.

I don't know Philip Low, never heard of him before and don't plan on looking him up. Personally, I don't think billionaires should exist and that "self-made billionaire" is an oxymoron. That said, the 1% - hells, the 0.01% - live completely different lives than the rest of us. I am completely willing to believe that he has insight into Elon Musk's past dealings and personal interactions amongst fellow billionaires that the general public would have no way of having access to. I am also willing to accept that such a billionaire can look at what has been going on in the last few weeks - or few years - and lay out an analysis of Musk's actions and motivations that strip away all the flash and glamor to show the pathetic, if incredibly dangerous, man Elon Musk actually is.

[covenofagatha]

just realised that on Saturday supposedly the FFF (finger free february) started so now I'll make it my own personal goal to not touch myself for the whole month (ignoring the fact that I already lost the challenge lmao) and its gonna be so hard because you'll be writing and posting so many delicious filth and its gonna ruin me

ALSO, would you THINK reader would make it until the end of the month with g!p Agatha teasing them and making them squirm... 'innocently' brushing he cock against reader's ass, pressing gently against her and making her hiss almost in pain

Or also just being horny and dirty talking all day, for example during breakfast as they both take their coffee and maybe Agatha says "do you like how I made your coffee dear" and reader's like "of course, did you add cream today? It tastes a little.bit different?" And Agatha is smirking and shes smug and her eyes scream i need to bend you over the kitchen island while she says "yeah added MY cream" and you see her palming her cock though her pants and you just gulp and whine as you rub your legs together to get some friction but Agatha puts her hands firmly on your thighs and tuts "oh no darling, you're not supposed to touch yourself, in any way. First of all, it's because we both know that is only mommy's place to touch; second, it's February and it was you who told me you wanted to do this challenge"

She says all that as she gets up from her seat and nears you and whisper in the ear "You told me, no begged me to let you go through this, but never said anything about me teasing you to make you break. And I will break you. Like I always do, cause your role is just to be a whiny little puppy for mommy to use, isnt it?"

And then she just kind of lean and sucks a mark on your neck

btw this is not a request ask, I'd love to know if you had any headcanons about how this ^^^^ could work, because I personally think it would be so hot and frustrating and would be a clear example of how edging worksss and why it is so used

- ✒

I didn't know FFF was a thing (have we all failed?) but I absolutely love this idea and I would be MORE than happy to add some thoughts

It's January 31st, and you're scrolling on your phone in bed after Agatha just thoroughly fucked you, and you see a post about Finger Free February. Before you can think about it, you show Agatha and ask, "Think I could do it?" Agatha smirks and says there is no way you could last an entire month without her touch, so of course you have to commit

However, just the next day you come to regret it when you wake up and find Agatha jerking off next to you, staring at you. You can't resist trying to slide a hand into your pants to relieve some of the heat because watching her touch herself is just too hot, when she tuts and reminds you of the challenge. It's fucking torture when she has you take your shirt off and cums all over your tits and licks herself off while you're squirming underneath her and wondering if it counts if you cum without being touched

It seems like Agatha is just being mean on purpose now, grinding her cock into your ass each time she steps behind you (even when there is MORE than enough space where she doesn't have to touch you at all), pinching your nipples, sucking on your neck and whispering how much mommy misses your cunt in your ear

It's about eight days in when you start purposefully moving away from her whenever she comes near you because you physically can't take it anymore, and of course Agatha is by no means okay with this, so she bends you over her knee and spanks you until you're a sobbing, wet mess and apologizing profusely

"That's my good girl. I'm sorry that mommy is trying to get you to break - I just need you too bad. Come on, honey, let mommy touch you," she purrs and you almost give in right there, but you're ultimately too proud and too stubborn to give in

Not having your cunt available whenever she wants it is making Agatha really struggle too, so she ramps up her efforts to get you to break because at this point, she is also too horny that she can't think straight

She begs you while stroking her cock in front of you, telling you "Look how hard mommy is for you, mommy's cock needs you so bad, baby, please" and fuck, you've never been more wet and needy in your life but you're determined because it's been over half a month and you can't give in now

So you suck her off and she cums down your throat with a loud grunt and you should just throw out your pair of underwear because there's no coming back from how badly you just ruined them

The closest you come to breaking is when you're in the shower with three days to go (even just the thought of Agatha now has you soaked and aching to be filled) and she gets in too. You gasp, already dizzy with need at the proximity of her naked body and hard cock, and she pins you against the wall and kisses down your body and slides her cock in between your pussy lips to just grind her length against you and you think you might just be able to cum from how it feels to have her sliding against your clit and opening

Just before you give in and let your orgasm wash over you, she pulls back and you actually cry out. "You're so close to the end, honey. You can't quit now," Agatha says with a wink and frustrated tears sting your eyes.

On the 28th (thank god it's not a leap year), you start a countdown with a minute until midnight and the moment the clock strikes 12 on March 1st, you practically pounce on Agatha, who has also been eagerly waiting. She shoves two fingers inside you and strokes your clit and you instantly cum, having been on edge for an entire month

She makes you cum until you have to beg her to stop, and then just one more time for good measure because it's been too long and she wants to make sure that you're completely satiated

"Think you'll do it again next year?" she asks teasingly and you shake your head immediately because you know there's no way you could survive that long without her touching you again

But you absolutely cannot wait for No Nut November to turn the tables on her

[amnmesias]

𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

word count: 12.4k

summary: After the war is successfully won, Remus is left with one last battle to face: The Ministry’s order to all werewolves and survivors to attend a support group in order to effectively be accepted into regular workplaces. You face a similar dilemma, being forced to attend the group in order to not lose your precious spot in the Quidditch league. You find each other somewhere in between. 

tags: scars mention but with no detailed description. some violence. hurt/comfort themes all around, along with some fluff. fem!reader, reader has hair long enough to be played with. smoking and cigarettes are big plot points. found family. background jilypad, harry is a menace. minimal y/n use. nobody dies, post-war fic. 

a/n: hi helloo!! well, here is my next work… i’m really excited about this one. terribly sorry for the 11k words, i got a bit carried away the more i proofread. again, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. enjoy! xx

...

“Fuck.” 

Remus stepped out to face the humid day, the consequence of his harsh movements immediately made itself known in the pain of his joints. His hand trembled as he placed the cigarette between his lips, somewhere behind him steps interrupted his silence.

“You alright, Moons?” Asked James, taking a tentative step towards his friend. Remus nodded, taking his time to savour the smoke in his lungs. “‘M sorry about what happened—”

“It’s hardly your fault.” He shook his head, and James sighed. “I just… I just don’t think it’s very fair.”

“I know,” He passed the cigarette to James, who accepted it readily, his own anxiety barely contained. “Don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking.”

“I don’t think this is directly his doing, either.” Said Remus, eyes lingering a beat too long on the scars peeking through the sleeve of his jacket. James passed him the cigarette. “If anything, the support group is probably the best solution he could come up with.” 

“Surely you’re not thinking of attending, Remus?”

“And what am I supposed to do, James? Be a stay at home nobody taking care of your son while you go on about your day? ‘Cause no one will give me a job because of this–” He closed his eyes, horrified at the edge of his own voice and mortified at the tears threatening to leave his eyes. He threw the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, eyes now lost in nothing. “‘Sides… You heard the man, it’s non-negotiable.”

“Well, I could pull in a few–”

“It’s fine, Prongs.” James frowned, but let it go. Remus sighed and pushed his hands inside his pockets, fingers itching to pull another cigarette out of the box. “I’m not too miffed about it, really. It’s just… The idea of airing my… my lycanthropy to people I don’t know has me feeling a little uncomfortable. But I’ll survive. What’s the worst that could happen?”

What he almost did not survive, however, was the electric shock he felt coursing through his veins when he spotted you outside Janus Thickey Ward, fingers anxiously picking at the skin of your lips and pacing around the corridor. 

Now it’s important to point out that Remus, in all his half-blood upbringing, never once he considered himself religious, but in that moment he prayed to every saint he could remember that it was all a coincidence, or at least a misunderstanding. How could you, a well-known and incredible witch, stand before him– a nervous wreck, minutes before the so-called Werewolves and Survivors Support Group meeting he had been dreading all week, when not so long ago you were on the cover of Witch Weekly?

“Ah, Mr. Lupin,” Said the healer as she stepped out the door, you looked up, fear deeply rooted in the frown of your eyebrows. “How kind of you to join us, come, come! We’re about to begin our session.” She ushered him in, and Remus found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you as he stepped into the room. 

Remus immediately moved to take the closest seat to the door, but he was horrified to find all the chairs neatly arranged with signs with different names. He sighed, reached inside his jacket’s inner pocket for a cigarette and sat on the tiny chair labeled as Remus J. Lupin. His amber eyes scanned the room and the people quietly chatting around, each of them with visible scars to match his very own, people he recognized from packs he visited during his own missions. But you remained a mystery to him as you walked to your chair, next to his, and plucked the cigarette out of his lips.

“We’re in a hospital,” You said, your tone bored and a complete opposite to the state he found you in minutes before. “Have some respect.”

“Yeah, well,” He shrugged but pocketed the cigarette for later. “None of these people mind, I assure you, they already go through hell and back, every month, mind you.” 

You eyed him curiously and opened your mouth, but whatever words you were about to speak were interrupted as the healer walked towards the center of the room. He inhaled deeply and laid back in his chair, ready to get through the session with the most patience he could muster. 

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Healer Figg and I will be in charge of moderating this support group, therefore you must report to me upon arrival in order to keep track of the attendees. The names provided will not be published nor shared without your permission unless you are in a position where you could endanger yourself or your fellow companions.” She said, making a point of looking at everyone in the room. Remus swallowed hard. “Now, who wants to begin?” 

And well, Remus desperately wanted to say he genuinely enjoyed the session, but that would’ve been a complete lie, especially when he spent most of it wishing it was over. Every now and then, he dared to look over at you, your expression blank but your fingers a clear sign of your anxiety as you toyed with your hair. Sometimes you would feel his lingering eyes on you and meet his gaze, your own eyes desperately trying to hide the mixture of emotions inside your chest.

“And what about you? What’s your name, love?” Asked the healer, and you looked up to find her addressing the question to you. You mumbled your name, a slight edge to your voice as murmurs echoed around the room. “What brings you here, y/n?”

“Do I have to?” You asked, trying to get impossibly smaller in your chair. The healer smiled, as if she was accustomed to those responses. 

“If you want to be signed off, yes, you have to.” 

You closed your eyes, as if her answer physically pained you. Remus supposed it did, him being familiar with the after moon aches that came with his own condition, you probably weren’t so far off. 

“Um, well, I was uh… my family was attacked by a,” You paused, scanning the room. “By a werewolf.” The room remained silent as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I’m the only survivor.” 

“Oh, sorry to hear that, love.” Healer Figg said, and scribbled something in her pad before looking back up at you. You, for your part, seemed grateful for the pause to collect yourself. “Is this why you’re here? To find some sense of community?” 

You frowned, “Um, no…? Not, really. I, uh, I play for the Holyhead Harpies, the league said I must attend these meetings or they’ll remove me from the primary team.” A shaky breath left your lips, but you recovered quickly, visibly more relaxed as you added, “See, otherwise Partridge would fill my spot and that wouldn’t do anyone any good, crazy woman, that one.” At that, Remus couldn’t help himself from snorting at your statement. 

Healer Figg turned to him, eyes curious. “Is something the matter, Mr. Lupin?”

“What? No, no.” He shook his head immediately, hoping his disruption wouldn’t encourage the healer to ask him any questions. “Terribly sorry.” He mumbled, properly chastised.

You smirked, and turned to the healer, who looked down at her pocket watch and clapped loudly. “Oh, it seems we overstayed our welcome here, a retired globins meeting will take place shortly in this room, so we must wrap this up. Thank you for coming.” Remus blinked, suddenly aware of everyone around him standing up, you included. “Refreshments are free for everyone to take. I’ll see you next week.” 

He made to turn to you, an apology frizzling in his tongue but he frowned as he watched you walk out the room without looking back. Remus frowned and tried to follow you, however, his fellow werewolves circled him with numerous questions about his work on the Order of the Phoenix, all grateful for his help towards the werewolves rights movement. His eyes lingered a beat longer on the door and surprised himself when he realized he looked forward to the next meeting.

—

You stared hard at the flame at the end of your cigarette, your fingers shaking slightly a result of the cold weather and your tiresome tendency of forgetting your gloves. A habit you unconsciously picked up since the attack, still used to how your own mother would meet you at the door to properly help you bundle up for the low temperatures, walking away with a faint kiss mark on your cheek, before you lost her to– You shook your head, willing your head to think about something else, something less disturbing. 

Few members you recognized from the previous session walked past you, waving and giving you courteous nods as they themselves mentally prepared for the meeting. You gave yourself a couple of more minutes before entering. 

When the captain of your team walked to you with the news, sadness in her own eyes barely contained, you had half the mind to quit the team for good. The trauma of the attack still lingering in your body as she explained the reasons behind the league’s decision, and she begged you to consider it. You weren’t stupid, you knew the possibility of losing you was as much of a tragedy to the team than it was to you, but the idea of speaking out about what happened in front of unknown people who had managed to survive their very own attacks with much worse consequences, made you queasy in your stomach. You supposed you had it better than them, therefore you had less reasons to make a fuss about the whole ordeal, when they had full moons to dread and transformations to suffer; suddenly your new acquired taste for medium rare, almost raw meat being the only consequence of your own attack seemed a pointless thing to cry about. 

“Hey,” You turned, only to find Remus Lupin’s tall figure walking to you. He seemed far more relaxed than last week, very much like you. Both filled with acceptance towards the situation. “Can I have one?”

You wordlessly passed him your carton, he nodded as he opened it and grabbed your lighter from inside as well. A bemused smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the green and gold embellishments in the lighter, the Holyhead Harpies logo front and center, you bit your lip and looked away trying to hide your smile. 

“Sorry about the other day,” He said between an exhale of smoke. You turned to him again. “Didn’t mean to laugh at your… your situation.”

“It’s quite alright, I knew you weren’t.” You smiled. Remus nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “You play Quidditch, Mr. Lupin?”

Remus supposed he had that one coming. “Call me Remus, please.” He stretched his free hand out and you shook it, your soft palm against his own scarred skin. You said your name quietly and he had no qualms in hiding his own smile. “Oh, I know. But not because I’m a Quidditch fan myself.”

“Well, isn’t that a shame.” You stepped on your cigarette, your boot making a faint sound against the concrete. “Thought Potter had brain washed you by now.” 

“Ah, yes. Well, he thinks I’m a lost case when it comes to Quidditch so,” You chuckled quietly, remembering James Potter and his intensity whenever you encountered him at the pitch. “Lily won’t believe me I’m talking to you, though. She’s a big fan.” 

He enjoyed the way you blushed at his compliment, “Oh, that’s nice. Tell her I said hi?” You said as you walked to the entrance, he stared at your back as you disappeared into the building. 

Remus smiled to himself, blowing the smoke out one last time before putting out his own cigarette. An optimistic feeling lingering inside his chest as he walked inside, maybe this support group idea wasn’t so bad, the more he thought about your tiny smile and faint blush, the more he was looking forward to the next session.

—

“Harry, please,” Remus begged, the tiny wooden  spoon in his hand mid air as the baby shook his head mutely. “You had this just the other day, and you loved it!”

“No.” He said, apparently loving that word when it wasn’t used against him. “Bad Moony!”

“Bad Moony?!” He asked, aghast. James laughed from his spot on the couch. “James, what have you done to your child? Just yesterday he couldn’t leave me alone!” 

“James.” Chided Lily as she walked into the kitchen, assessing her own son and the tall man miserably trying to feed him. She placed her hands on her hips, “Could you stop terrorizing Remus, for once in your life? Here, love,” She made to them and Remus stood up readily, passing her the spoon.

“Terrorizing?!” James echoed, entering the kitchen with faux offense. “It’s hardly my fault Harry decided to antagonize everyone today. If anything it’s Remus' fault for not learning to pick his battles.”

“Prongs, be nice, I met your hero last night.” 

“Oh?” Lily turned, her attention divided between the conversation and feeding her son, who, for his part, knew better than to disobey his mother and happily ate her offerings. “Who might this hero be?” 

Remus frowned at Harry before turning to his friends. “Remember y/n, from school?” 

“What?” James exclaimed, suddenly in front of Remus. The bespectacled boy grabbed him by the shoulders, hazel eyes big with surprise. “From the Holyhead Harpies? Where? Why have you held this information from me? Moony, what the f–”

“James.” Lily chided again, now busying herself cleaning baby Harry’s face. Remus sent her a pleading look. “Besides, if Remus wants to keep his late night rendezvous with this pretty girl to himself, it’s his own decision.”

“Thank you.” Remus nodded, meeting James’ eyes with a satisfactory smirk. Then turned back to the redhead. “Hold on, rendezvous is not the word I’d use. It was just a coincidence.”

“Was it?” Lily asked, irking an eyebrow. “My mistake, then. Your face is saying a completely different thing, though.” 

James seemed to catch his wife’s meaning immediately and smirked salaciously at his friend. Remus groaned and dropped his head to his hands. There was shuffling around and little Harry’s babbling making background noise as Lily walked to change his now food-stained clothes. 

“Wait, where did you meet her last night?” James asked after a long silence. “I thought you had– Oh.”

Remus suddenly felt like this was a conversation none of them had any right in participating. He looked away, eyes lost in the way Lily cooed quietly at Harry as she changed his clothes. A heavy feeling in his chest he suspected was merely guilt, surely he wouldn’t want anyone to go on about his business with other people. Especially when the topic was still raw from the war that had just ended. 

James reached over and patted his shoulder consolingly. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” 

“Say anything about what?” Asked Sirius, having just walked in time to listen to their hushed conversation. “What are you two babbling about? Remus, what happened to best friends?” 

“Your own fault for going only God knows where.” Remus retorted with a shake of his head, grateful for the change of topic. 

“I’ll have you know I was away buying healing potions for you, dearest Moons.” He said, presenting him with a heavy, brown bag. Remus sighed. “And before you say anything, I absolutely do guarantee you that I don’t mind buying these at all. You’re not the only one with battle scars, alright?”

“Hardly.” James snorted, “Love, getting into a row with a random dog does not count as battle. That’s you being a complete plonker.” 

Sirius gasped, “We’ll see if this plonker is free tomorrow morning to watch over Harry when you and my gorgeous Lilyflower leave for work.”

“Watch over your own son, you mean?” Remus asked, but James beat him to it. 

“Remus can watch Harry, don’t ya, Moons?” 

He laughed loudly and stood up, “No can do, Jamie. I have important matters to attend to.”

“Are said matters a new code for a certain lovely Quidditch player, perhaps?” Asked Lily as she walked in with Harry on her hip, who stretched his arms out as soon as he spotted his father. 

“Scandalous!” Gasped Sirius as he held Harry to his side. Remus groaned, not at all planning to participate again in the same conversation. “And who this lovely Quidditch player might be?”

“Alright, I’m leaving.” He nodded shortly, and turned around. Harry shrieked happily as the man kissed his head lovingly. “Bye, Harry.” 

“No kiss for us, Moony?” Lily asked jokingly, wiggling her eyebrows at him. Remus groaned, betrayed that his own best friend would join in on the banter against him. “Or are you reserving those for—”

“A menace. The three of you.” He said, and walked to the door. “Keep this up and I’ll take Harry from you, this is your first warning!”

—

“What else was I supposed to do?!” Remus asked, his own smile barely contained as he heard you laughing next to him. “I was going crazy, it seemed appropriate at the time!”

“Alright, I’ll give you that,” You allowed, straightening your posture where you laid next to him against a wall. Remus blushed faintly when your arms brushed his when you brought the cigarette to your lips. “But surely you could’ve picked a better song… Changes? Really?”

“Oh, I’ll have you know it would be the best song to die to. Anything from Bowie really,” He considered it, then added, “Or Pink Floyd.” 

“Okay, Pink Floyd I can accept.” You nodded, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. Remus suddenly thought that you looked very lovely under the low street lights. “Didn’t realize you were such a music snob... Well, I suppose it makes sense, keeping to yourself all the time at school.”

And well, Remus couldn’t really blame himself for the way his heart almost leaped out of his chest at your comment, the insinuation that you had noticed him back then. He hoped you wouldn’t notice his blush, or the loud way his heart was beating against his ribcage. You blew out the smoke from the corner of your lips, you had painted them a pretty shade of red he admitted to love, but there was something about your eyes, lost in nothing during the session and now next to him, you seemed… sad. 

“And that’s enough about me.” He cleared his throat, moving to lay over his shoulder against the wall so he could fully face you. You looked over at him with surprise. “Tell me about you.”

“About me?” You asked incredulously, as if Remus wanting to know about you never crossed your mind. He nodded, eyes soft as he studied you. “Um, well… I don’t know, what do you want to know?” 

“Anything.” He shrugged, smiling at you as you frowned, your eyebrows scrunching adorably. “Or at least tell me something I wouldn’t find in that bloody magazine.” 

You smiled, visibly relaxed at the olive branch he offered you. “Read much about me?” Now it was Remus’ turn to smile sheepishly at you. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Okay…” You looked up and brought your free hand to pick at the skin of your lips, a deep rooted habit of yours, he noticed. “Oh, I know. When I was little, the first time I showed signs of magic,” You began, meeting his gaze with a tentative look, something in his eyes motivated you to grow momentum as you continued, “I was outside playing with Sylvie, our family cat, and I don’t remember correctly but my mam said something about her not listening to me that made me so angry that I sent her flying… quite literally.” You laughed, a melancholic glint in your eyes as you placed the cigarette in your lips. 

Remus watched in awe at the red lipstick stains on the filter, but he recovered quickly when you looked at him, “Hold on… You sent your cat…? Flying?” He barked a laugh, surprising both of you. 

You laughed, nodding. “Pretty much, yes. She was alright, in case you’re worried. We found her a couple of hours later, she was stuck on a tree.”

Remus smiled, “And did Sylvie ever forgive you for that? I’m sure you scared the wits out of her.” 

“Nah, that bloody thing wasn’t scared of anything.” You shook your head, your chuckles taking a sad note. Remus frowned. “She quite literally threw herself at Greyback and his pack when he came pounding at our door, fearless creature, that one.” 

Remus felt the air getting sucked out of his lungs at your words. You exhaled deeply and chanced a glance at him, your eyes wide and fearful. 

“I… I’m sorry.” You whispered, harshly throwing your cigarette down to put it out. Remus followed your movements in silence. “Don’t know why I–”

“It’s okay. No need to be sorry, certainly not on behalf of that… that,” He sighed deeply, not courageous enough to finish his sentence, instead, he cleared his throat. “Back there, when you said you said you reckoned Voldemort targeted you…”

You studied him quickly, a slight purse to your lips as you considered your words. “I’m muggleborn, so...” You shrugged, as if that simple fact would make the tragedy obvious, or remotely acceptable.

“Oh.” You sent him a sideways smile, a small trembling thing. Remus wanted to reach out and… What? Do what? He wasn’t sure, but you seemed desperate to change the topic, or leave. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright, hardly your fault.” You straightened your posture, fingers anxiously fixating on a patch of skin in your lips. Remus bit his own lips as he considered you, and desperately thought on another topic, anything to stop you from leaving. “See you soon, then?” You offered. 

“Yeah,” He breathed out, nodding quickly. A candle of hope lighting up inside his chest. You smiled at him, a similar hopeful look in your eyes. “Yes, of course.”

“Bye, Remus.” 

Remus watched you go, a frown in his face. He sighed and laid back on the wall, feeling rather good about the exchange despite the sour turn of events. He had hoped to ask for your number at some point after the session, heart aching to get to know you better, but he supposed it could’ve ended much worse. Eventually you both had to address the elephant in the room, but he could wait, he was willing to wait an eternity if it meant to keep you a bit longer in his life. 

He sighed deeply, reaching out for another cigarette before parting to his own flat. The lighter you brought him heavy on his pocket. You had handed it to him with a mischievous smile, so you stop taking mine, you said while handing it to him when you both noticed yours had ran out of fluid. Remus smiled around the cigarette and brought the lighter to his lips, but his eyes stopped on the messily handwriting on it. Your number. 

—

As the days passed, you weren’t ashamed to admit the giddiness that possessed you when you returned to your flat from practice, fingers itching for the telephone to talk to Remus. Both of you made a routine to end your days with long conversations that easily lasted all night, asking questions that you both usually would hold back from but were feeling confident enough with the help of the distance and the telephone.  

“Harry, stop,” Hissed Remus through the other line, you smiled. Muffled sounds came from his side, no doubt wrestling with his godson for the telephone. “Sorry. He’s in a mood.” 

“It’s okay. He seems like a firecracker, that one.” You pointed, fingers toying with the telephone cord. “Again, can’t really blame him when he has James Potter and Sirius Black genes. Next time you see Lily please offer her my most sincere condolences.” Remus laughed, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. 

“I will do that, definitely. Add mine as well, while I’m at it.” He mumbled, and laid back and away from Harry’s hand trying to grab the phone from him, he balanced the baby on his lap and used a hand to raise it away from him. “Harry, no. Moony is on a call with a very pretty girl, do you want to play with your toys? A nap maybe?” He whispered, and you smiled against your own phone. Surely not meant to hear the last bit. 

You turned to the clock in your kitchen, reading the time and inhaled deeply, mustering all the courage you could manage. 

“Need help with him?” You offered quietly, hoping to not be heard over Harry’s shrieking. 

There was no response from the other side and you felt both relieved and disappointed, you scolded yourself for thinking that way. 

Then, “You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all, I’m not very well versed in babysitting but I’m sure two is better than one.” You said, your grip on the phone tightened as you stared at your socked feet. “I don’t mean to impose, I just…”

“It’s alright.” Remus breathed out, sounding equally nervous to how you felt. You let your hopefulness linger a bit longer. “Ever been to Godric’s Hollow?” 

You smiled, and just like that, as soon as he provided you instructions for apparition and gave you a very heartfelt goodbye, you rushed to your room and changed your clothes. Fingers tingling with excitement as you locked your own apartment and made to apparate right to Godric’s Hollow. The Potter cottage sat at the very heart of the village, a pretty looking house decorated with well-tended flowers and warmth radiating from every angle you looked at it. A home that drowned in love despite it almost being a cause of tragedy in the wizarding community. 

Remus smiled at you as he opened the door, tiny Harry clinging to his side as both studied you. His light brown hair was tousled, standing on all sides in a clear show of his distress, but his amber eyes looked at you so, so softly you almost melted right there despite the snow surrounding you. You waved shyly, and he seemed to snap out of his trance.

“Hi,” He breathed out. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Hi,” You echoed with a chuckle. Harry blinked at you, his green eyes, a carbon copy of Lily’s, scanning you curiously. “I brought biscuits.” And just like that, you proved yourself worthy to Harry. “Can I come in?” 

“Yes, of course.” He nodded, stepping aside to let you in. You were immediately welcomed by the faint smell of hazelwood and baby powder. “Here, let me take that.” He tried to help you, but his arms were full. 

“It’s okay,” You laughed, feeling rather comforted that Remus himself didn’t know what to do. 

You took out your coat, arms raising to untangle the scarf from your neck. Remus’ eyes involuntarily roved over your form, stopping on the scars peeking through your abdomen, he immediately scolded himself when you looked up to meet his gaze, blind to his reaction. Harry took your lack of layers as an opportunity to reach his arms out, his eyes now fixated on the biscuits you held in your hand. 

“Oh,” You said as the baby basically launched himself into your arms. Remus chuckled and took the bag from your hand and you properly fixed your hold around Harry. “Hello, little one. I’m y/n.” His response came in a happy shriek followed by incoherent babbling, you smiled. “Well, it’s very much my pleasure to help you take care of Moony. Is he giving you a hard time?” You said and Remus let out a startled chuckle. 

His heart did a funny little dance when his family nickname came out of your lips. “Oi, stop talking about me like I’m not here.” He said, words taking a sweet quality. 

“Sorry, sorry,” You smiled up at him and he guided you towards the sitting room. “Well, isn’t this a cozy home?” Harry babbled excitedly, fisting your jumper. “Oh, you did this? You got good taste, Harry.”

Remus felt his heart bursting inside his chest, so he walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on, desperately trying to distract himself before he could lose all his strength to not walk up to you and kiss you silly. He smiled to himself as he listened to you whispering here and there to Harry. 

“Tea, dove?” He called out.

“Oh, sure.” You said, voice muffled as the toddler placed his hands on your cheeks. Remus felt like he was very much on the same wavelength. You laughed. “Is he always this touchy, or just his mood like you said?”

Remus walked in with two cups in his hands, “It’s usually the pretty girls that have him acting like this.” He laughed at you wrestling with baby Harry, who tried to bring your hair to his mouth. “I can hardly blame him–Harry, stop that.” He chided, placing them on the coffee table to reach over and take the baby from your lap. 

“It’s really okay, Remus.” You said, smiling up at him as you studied him with the baby in his arms. You very much wanted to kiss him, your heart still reeling from being called pretty. Twice. “He’s probably going to tire himself off soon, didn’t you say it’s past his bedtime?” You reached over for your cup, trying very hard to hide your blush.

“Yes, indeed it is.” Remus leveled Harry in front of him, the baby simply giggled and grabbed his face, very much like he did to you before. You laughed over the rim of your cup. “He just enjoys antagonizing me, don’t you, Harry? He’s very much like Sirius on that front.” 

“I’m sure he’ll crash out soon,” And as the words slipped past your lips, Harry paused his ministrations to Remus’ face to let out a big yawn. Both you and Remus smiled triumphantly. “See?” You whispered.  

“I’ll go put him down quickly.” Said Remus very quietly, lowering Harry to his chest, you nodded mutely, eyes in a daze as you admired them both. The domesticity of it all. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a second,” He looked down at Harry, then added, “Hopefully.”

You watched him climb up the stairs no doubt to Harry’s nursery and sighed deeply, eyes scanning the room with something akin to longing. The walls were filled with photographs in every space, all the way to the ceiling; most of them were solo shots of Harry, him laughing, crawling and one even bawling his eyes out, the image shaky as if the person taking it was debating between consoling the baby or capturing the moment. The rest you recognized from school, Lily and James and their first kiss after a match, you remembered that moment, then James and Sirius kissing mid-air, each on their broom, a scarlet crowd behind them, or them celebrating graduation day. The biggest one, though, was the one from their wedding, the one you vaguely remembered seeing one morning on the Daily Prophet. Lily looked beyond beautiful, her crimson, long hair in contrast with the white dress. James and Sirius both sported almost matching tuxedos, a lily of the valley arrangement for their boutonnières. The three with wide smiles that could be seen from earth, you were sure.

The photograph that caught your eye, though, was the one of Remus and Lily on the dance floor from her wedding day, a candid shot of them lost in the moment, laughing away despite the growing tensions. He looked very handsome as he twirled Lily around, you immediately noticed, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes rovered over the photo. You moved your head to look over to the next one, but a large hand covered it from you.

Remus laughed at your startled face. “Oh, don’t,” You blinked again, but recovered quickly and frowned at him. “What?”

“You think I was admiring you?” You asked, a surprised chuckle left his lips and you stopped fighting against your own smile. “I’ll have you know Lily immediately caught my eye, I see where ickle Harry got his looks from.” 

He walked over to stand next to you, both of you admiring the photographs in silence. “I’ll tell Sirius you said that, enjoy your time here cause I just know he won’t let you come in the future.” A giggle escaped you, startling him as he turned to you. He desperately wished to drown in the sound of your quiet, girly giggling. “Thank you for coming.” 

“No problem,” You smiled up at him, his eyes unconsciously fixating on a spot on the corner of your lips. “You’re so good with him, really patient, too.”

“Yeah, well,” He brought a hand to his nape, shy in his movements. “I had plenty of practice with James and Sirius.” His eyes softened as he looked back at you, the corner of his lips tugging slightly. “But again, all I needed to calm those down was to threaten them to burn their shared T. Rex autographed record, so…”

“I assume Harry doesn’t own a T. Rex autographed record for you to threaten, then?” 

“Well, no,” He conceded, following you back to sit on the couch. Really close, you noticed immediately with a smile on your face. “But he does have a Quidditch star as a babysitter so he might have some advantage there.”

You snorted. “Please tell me you did not just compare me to Marc Bolan.” 

Remus found himself scooting a bit closer to you under the pretense of grabbing his own cup, if you noticed, you didn’t show, but your smile was blinding. Your sudden closeness brought out a nervous, happy giggle out of you. You slid your finger around the rim of your cup, Remus’ eyes followed your movements in a daze. 

He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the silence between you, “If James is to be believed, you might as well be the league’s very own Bolan,” You blinked, clearly not expecting that response from him. “And uh, well, I remember some matches from school too, you’re really good, dove.” 

“Remus…”

“What? It’s not like I’m lying, I’ve got people to back me up.” You shook your head, very much like you didn’t believe him. Remus suddenly had the desperate urge to knock some sense into you. “Oi, I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” You smiled at him, a tiny forced thing, like you were trying to convince yourself as well. “It’s just… Sometimes I feel like everyone makes me sound like this incredible player, when in reality I’m just…” You sighed, like finishing the sentence physically hurt you, you raised your hand to your lips. 

Remus decided to take a risk, and he reached over to take your hand from your lips before you could pick at your skin. Then, “Is it because of… of you being…”

“I’m not a werewolf, Remus.” You frowned, but you didn’t move your hand from his hold. However, Remus did flinch like your touch suddenly burnt him. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re… not? Then why…?”

You sighed, like this was a conversation you had been dreading. Remus supposed you did, he did too. Then, “The league, they… they said I had to attend the meetings or they would be forced to release a statement. And I don’t–”

“You don’t want people to assume you’re a werewolf?” Asked Remus, a slight edge to his voice that made you frown. “Are you ashamed?”

“What? No, I– Remus. I just don’t want people to know, okay? It’s not because I’m ashamed, or have some negative feelings towards werewolves or… or– Why do I have to explain myself to you, anyway?” You exhaled abruptly, then met his gaze. “Would you want people to know about your lycanthropy, Remus?”

“Absolutely not.” He said quickly, without thinking, too. 

People being aware of his condition had always been one of his deepest fears, one he carried throughout his school years and even after graduating Hogwarts; when tensions and rumors of a war started to surface, many people turning their backs on each other and ‘lesser’ creatures that didn’t fit the pureblood ideologies. He supposed it was a very valid fear, but having you asking him that question felt like a slap across his face. A wake up call of what he had been dreading since that meeting with the Order and Dumbledore laid down the conditions for him. 

“Then why would I want people to know about what happened with my family? So everyone in the Ministry can have their own ‘I knew it’ moment? I think werewolves already have enough on their plate for me to add more fuel to the fire.” You said between nervous sips of your tea, Remus’ own tea already being a sad, cold thing. “Especially when it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not a big– You almost died, y/n.” He said, desperate to make you see his point, a point Remus himself wasn’t sure what was. “How could you say it’s not a big deal?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m not about to turn my family into a sob story for the Daily Prophet just because I didn’t attend the bloody support group.” You sighed, and this time you reached over to take his hand. “Remus, I like you, okay? I truly do, but you need to stop seeing yourself like this lesser, undeserving person–”

“How could I not?” He snapped, making you frown deeper at his tone. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just— How can you think that way about werewolves, so.. so benevolent, when we killed your family? Attacked you without reason?”

“Us? Without reason? They were sent to do it, none of the werewolves in Voldemort’s barracks had a say on anything. Yes, they might have had some reason or they probably were conditioned to think like the rest of them… But I don’t go around using my… my case to tell people all werewolves are the cruel monsters they’re painted to be. Not all of them anyway.” You searched for his eyes, hoping he would understand your point. When it was clear he wouldn’t meet your gaze, you dropped his hand in favor of holding his face. Remus’ lips parted in surprise. “You need to stop putting yourself under the same category as them. You’re not them, Remus. Neither are the people in our group. Greyback and their people… They’re the ones in the wrong, the ones that want to harm their fellows by feeding into the harmful stereotypes.”

Remus let out a breath, like he had been holding it for a long time, his eyes never once leaving yours as you both stared at each other, a promise in your gazes. Your eyebrows pinched slightly, and he had the sudden thought that maybe you weren’t done, or worse, had changed your mind mid rant. He shyly reached over to place his hand on the side of your head, long finger gently combing the baby hairs of your temple behind your ear. 

“I’m sorry…” He whispered, afraid that speaking up would scare you away from cradling his face in your hands. Remus thought he could get lost in your touch. “I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions, or get so… defensive.”

“I think… I think some defensiveness is alright.” You allowed, your features relaxing as you whispered back. “But it’s really alright, Remus. We must’ve had to have this conversation at some point, though now and with a baby quite literally sleeping above us wasn’t the scenario I had in mind.”

Remus took your attempt at a lighthearted joke as a sign to change the topic, “Have many scenarios with me, then, dove?” He asked with a tiny smirk, you dropped your hands from his face.

“You’re truly insufferable, Moon— Wait, is that why your friends call you Moony?”

His hand moved from your cheek to the nape of your neck, his thumb sweeping your baby hairs up and down in a way that brought goosebumps to your skin. Remus smiled like that had been his plan all along.

“Don’t call me Moony,” He said suddenly, and you blinked in surprise. He was quick to fix your train of thought, “Every time you call me Moony I really, really want to kiss you. If you do it again, I fear I won’t be able to hold back.”

This brought a shy smile to your face, but as quickly as it came, it turned into a smirk. “Terribly sorry, then, Moony.” 

He let out a startled laugh, and brought his other hand to your cheek, a silent permission to proceed with his intention. You, for your part, seemed in a daze as you breathlessly roved your eyes over his face, hands around the crook of his elbows as you scooted closer. Remus watched in awe as your eyes fixated on his lips with something akin to yearning, and self-restraint be damned, he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his lips over yours. 

Now it’s important to say he desperately made a plan of kissing you silly all night as soon as he tasted your lips and the faint notes of bergamot from your tea, he decided to never let go of you, to kiss you until the skin of your lips were the least of your concerns, had it not been by the door being opened wide open in a swift, loud motion. Sirius gasped dramatically at the sight before him, James and Lily in toe with similar reactions, you and Remus sprung away almost immediately at the commotion. 

“Oh– Moony!” He said, a hand to his chest as if he had been the one caught. “In my own home? In my own couch that I bought? How fucking dare you! I’m kicking you out, you ingrate.” 

“Hi.” You said shyly.

“I don’t even live here.” Remus said simultaneously. 

“Well, aren’t you the loveliest sight?” Said Lily as she walked to you, ignoring her husband’s antics. You stood up almost on reflex to accept her hug, your movements awkward. “How are you, honey?”

“I’m doing alright.” You said, your hand instantly finding a patch of skin to pick in your lips. Remus’ eyes followed the movement. 

“She ought to be alright, based on what we just walked into.” James pointed, walking to you both, Remus nudged him rather loudly. “Hi, James Potter, big fan.”

You smiled bemusedly and searched for Remus’ eyes. “I thought that was Lily?”

“Yeah, right, as if Lils could even differentiate a quaffle from a bludger.” Sirius joked, then stretched his hand out to you, as if you both hadn’t shared the majority of your classes at school. “Sirius.” 

You chuckled, grateful for the distraction to compose yourself. “I know.” You said, but shook his hand nonetheless. “But it’s nice seeing you lot again.” 

“And what brings you here this beautiful evening, y/n?” Lily asked, making herself comfortable on a wingback chair next to the couch. The blue color of the chair a high contrast to her green dress. 

Both James and Sirius seemed in a daze as they ogled Lily, you cleared your throat awkwardly, “Well, I…” You turned to Remus with wide eyes.

“She came here to help me with the menace that is your son.” Completed Remus, “Not that you wouldn’t know, seeing you made him that way.”

“Well, good for Harry,” Said Sirius as he draped himself over Lily, she accommodated herself to hug his middle. “Someone has to keep you on your toes.” 

“It really was no problem,” You interrupted, knowing well they could banter the entire night had none of you butted in. “He basically fell asleep after I got here.” 

“Oh?” James said, turning to Remus, who groaned and threw his head back. The bespectacled boy reached over Remus to address you, “You mean Remus or Harry?”

“So this git has been kissing you all night? Using my son as bait?” Sirius asked in faux indignation, though his fingers calmly toyed with Lily’s hair. “Remus you cheeky bastard.”

“Can everyone please stop attacking me?” 

“No can do, Moony. It’s hardly an attack when we’re telling the truth, you’re a real git and a pretty cheeky one too sometimes.” 

Remus looked at you imploringly, “Dove, need me to walk you home?”

“Add educated to the list, too.” Said Lily in between giggles. You smiled. “Maybe you’re not so bad, Remus, isn’t he, y/n?”

“He’s quite alright.” You said breezily, desperately trying to hide away the blush in your cheeks. You turned to Remus, “You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all.” He shook his head and walked to the door. Pointedly flipping his friends off. “Here,” 

You grabbed your coat from his hand. “Oh, thank you.”

“‘Not at all’ he says! When just the other day he properly groaned at me for asking if he could peel me an apple!” James said with a smile as he watched Remus help you bundle up for the cold. “You know, Pads, maybe he is an ingrate.” 

“I told you, but you never listen.” Supplied Sirius, both men offering you and Remus an out. 

Lily loosened her hold around Sirius to send you a tiny wave which you returned enthusiastically before stepping out the door. Had it not been that it was still reeling from your kiss, Remus’ heart would’ve probably combursted right then and there at your silly interactions with his own friends. He felt a really warm, sweet feeling settling in his chest when he realized you fit perfectly in their little family, eagerly following along in their banter against him. Remus hoped the sight would be something to last him for the rest of his life. 

—

The stress and uncertainty from the other night, a full moon, where you waited for Remus to let you know it had been alright and managed to return home without problem seemed difficult to wear off, the lingering anxiety settling in your body like it planned to stay there for a while. You tried to ignore the heavy feeling in the middle of your chest as you walked towards the pitch, hands distractedly fixing your gloves and gear as the coach threw pointers no doubt to the players already in the field. Calista, the team captain, immediately flew down to meet you on the floor as soon as she spotted you, her face pale and an alarmed look on her eyes. 

“Morning,” You said, watching her walk towards you with tentative steps, she seemed in a state of restlessness as her gaze traveled over your surroundings. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“I don’t know who talked to them,” She replied instead, and you frowned. When she realized you genuinely had no idea, she presented you with a rumpled page from the Daily Prophet. “I’m so sorry, I know you didn’t want people to know.” 

Your eyes skimmed hurriedly over the page, the knot in your stomach you had previously deemed a stomach ache turned into a full blown hollow feeling that consumed you whole. Calista reached to pat your shoulder consolingly, and it seemed that’s all you needed to shake you off your shock. 

“How could they—” 

“Well, isn’t this our lovely star,” Came a voice you recognized well, you turned to find Partridge herself walking over to you with a smirk on her face. “Is your furry little fella alright? Heard last night was quite the moon.”

“He’s not– What the fuck, Partridge?” You managed to say, your blood slowly boiled to the point of seeing red. It seemed that was the reaction your problematic teammate had been aiming for. “You did this?” You lifted the page to her eyes, by the look of her eyes you immediately knew she recognized it before you could present it to her. 

“I owed Skeeter a favor,” She shrugged, taking her gloves off nonchalantly. You did the same, but with completely different intentions. “What? Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“You knew damn well,” You spat, angrily throwing your gloves and the page away. Partridge’s facade changed as she studied your stance, but she recovered quickly. 

“Well, I thought you had stopped worrying about it, seeing that you so thoroughly enjoy associating yourself with the likes of your people and half-breed monsters in broad daylight.” 

You reeled back, as if she had actually punched you in the face but you schooled your face almost immediately. “Well, of course, I see you nearly everyday, don’t I?”

She marched to you in anger, but you stayed still in your place. “You little bitch, don’t think for a second you will keep your spot in the league after this. Why, you stupid mudblood.”

You laughed bitterly, “You think I’m scared of you, Partridge? Or losing my spot? Unlike you, I’m a bloody good player, any team will scout me as soon as I drop the Harpies.” With a sudden feeling of satisfaction, you noticed her clenching her fists. You added, “Also… Mudblood? Really? Wait– Is this why you’re so miffed with me? Because a muggleborn is a better Quidditch player than you? Well, you got another thing coming–”

You felt the sting before your eyes could even follow the movement of her hand, slapping you across the face with a strong hand. Calista gasped loud enough to catch the coach’s attention, she stepped forward to push Partridge away from you but you raised a hand. 

“You show me every day how pathetic you truly are. That’s all you got? Cause I’d really like to give you a real demonstration.” You smiled, a wicked thing that had your teammate leaning back with surprise and Calista swallowing anxiously. 

“Now let’s not–”

Well, you truly would’ve loved to say that had been the end of it, that the coach had reached you both in time to end the upcoming brawl. But none of that had happened, all thanks to your quick seeker reflexes and pent-up anger, you had Partridge on the floor in a quick second. She screamed but managed to throw punches as you, despite your ire-charged reaction, decided to only give her a scare. You had to give it to her, she had a rather appropriate right hook that you had the misfortune of intercepting while you were pulled away. Calista and the rest of the team paused as they studied you, you brought your hand to your left eye, feeling suddenly rather dizzy and a little nauseous. 

“What the devil is happening here?!” Yelled the coach as he inspected the outcome, grateful that you weren’t visibly injured, or well– “Partridge, did you just hit your teammate square in the bloody eye?! What’s the matter with you?” 

“She–She jumped at me! She’s mad!” Partridge pointed at you, you looked up to find her properly rumpled but not hurt at all. “She said she would give me a demonstration, then– then attacked me!” 

“Attacked you?! You hit me first!”

“That’s enough out of you,” The coach spat, turning to you to inspect your eye, he clicked his tongue pensively. “Need you to go to the healer to get this checked.”

“But–” 

“I’ll handle your teammate. Surely there’s an explanation to this circus.” He turned to Calista, who straightened her posture in very captain fashion. She nodded at you, a silent promise that she would make sure Partridge wouldn’t get out of it unscathed. “Go.”

You exhaled abruptly and grabbed your gloves from the floor, making way to the healer’s tiny cubicle to get your eye checked. As you walked out the pitch, you caught a glimpse of the page you sent flying mid brawl, a candid photo of you and Remus kissing one late night after the meeting, a few days ago. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach but now for completely different reasons. 

—

“And I still hear it, minutes before the transformation, sometimes I can feel him lingering close, even though he’s locked away!” Exclaimed McDougall, a thin man that had been a victim of the Imperius curse by Riddle himself. You frowned as you listened to his heart-felt rant, your eyes very pointedly trying to look everywhere but at Remus. “It’s driving me mad!” 

You watched in curiosity as Remus raised his hand. 

“Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Lupin?” Asked the healer kindly, Remus nodded, then cleared his throat. “Go on, then.”

“Uh, this happens to me too.” He spoke out, voice scratchy like it hurt him to speak. You bit your lip anxiously. “What I do, uh, I like to play music, I’ve found that the wolf likes it during the transformation. It helps, sometimes, with the voices.” 

You studied him meticulously, taking inventory of his scars and the new ones he acquired the night before. His hand shook slightly where he rested it over his knee, the previous scars in his hands a faint red as if they had been reopened again, a bandage peeked out from his sleeve. His hair disheveled a little like he tried to comb it but gave up mid action, but other than that, he looked like the same Remus you had grown to adore. His amber eyes met yours as Healer Figg continued talking to the rest of the group, and he sent you a soft, tentative smile. You felt a tug at your heartstrings as you waved shyly at him, a tentative tiny thing. 

As soon as you left the healer’s office at the pitch and after you met with the coach, you made your way to your flat to assess the damage before it was time for the meeting. You had desperately tried multiple beautying spells and make up products to make the black bruise taking up most of your eye and temple so faint that it would pass right through Remus. Your efforts were to no avail, so you decided to get there a bit later than usual in order to avoid him questioning you about what had happened, or worse, you telling him about the article on the Daily Prophet. You weren’t sure which one you dreaded the most. 

“Thank you everyone for coming, again, it has been delightful to see the outcomes of the group, you all have progressed very much.” Healer Figgs said, pulling you out of your own head as she turned to you. “Let’s all extend our applause and say goodbye to our companion, y/n, who has successfully finished her time with us.” You looked away from Remus, who you felt staring right through your soul as you shyly smiled at the rest of the group. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled, laying back on your chair as if you wished to disappear against the wall. Everyone stood up, and you took that as your queue to finally leave. 

Your hand shook slightly as you opened the door of St. Mungo’s and caught a breath of fresh air. You dug inside your purse and brought a cigarette to your lips, somewhere behind you the door opened again and quick steps followed you. 

“What was that? Back there?” Remus breathed out, catching up to you. You looked down in order to hide your face from him with your hair, he frowned. “You’re done?” 

“Yeah, um, I was told today I filled my quota for the league.” You said quietly, Remus had to lean closer to hear you. “I was going to tell you–”

“When? Today? When you barely said hi to me the moment you got here?” 

You sighed dejectedly and brought the lighter to your lips. To your rotten luck, the flame lightened your face and gave Remus a very clear glimpse of your pathetic attempt at covering your marred skin. 

He inhaled sharply and gently grabbed your face in his hands, “What happened to you?” Your lips parted in surprise around the cigarette and met his worried gaze. His thumb swept over the skin and you hissed. “Sorry, sorry… Dove, who did this to you?”

“It’s nothing.” You said under your breath, shaky fingers plucking the cig out of your lips. “Really, Remus, it was just an accident.” 

“It certainly doesn’t look like nothing.” His eyes studied you, and you suddenly felt very insecure about your face. Stupid Partridge, you thought. “Are we keeping secrets now?”

“What? Remus, no.” You reached to grab his wrist with your free hand, your hold earnest and desperate as you looked into his eyes. “I just… I just didn’t want you to worry. That’s all.”

“Well, I ought to be worried,” He frowned, bringing your temple to his lips, where they lingered a beat too long as you both savored your hold on each other. 

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, “It was one of my teammates.” You finally said after a moment, Remus pulled back with a frown. “Did you read the Daily Prophet today?” 

“Ah,” He nodded, and grabbed the cigarette from your hand. You watched in awe as he pensively studied you, then, “I had an inkling it was about that.”

“You saw it?” 

“Of course I did, James dumped about 7 copies on me this morning, full moon be damned.” He said, you smiled despite your anxiety. Remus mirrored your tiny smile, happy that his efforts worked. “It doesn’t bother me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But, she… she aired your condition to everyone.” You supplied quietly, a slight frown in your eyebrows that Remus wished to kiss away. “She called you a–” You seemed to work yourself up again, and he wondered what exactly went down to bring this kind of reaction out of you. 

“I don’t care, she doesn’t know a damn thing about me.” He said, and put out the cigarette in favor of holding your face again. “There was a time I would’ve cared, and would’ve tortured myself about that, but now it all slides right off. Dove, please don’t go around picking fights for me. Especially with people like her.”

You looked down, eyes fixated on a spot in his chest. Remus suddenly thought you looked very beautiful, a slight vulnerability to your demeanor that made you look angelic. He kissed your temple again, very softly to not hurt you, then searched for your gaze. 

“But that’s not everything, isn’t it?”

You met his gaze, and his heart ached at the glossiness in your eyes. His eyebrows pinched slightly, and watched as you curled your arms around his middle, your hold desperate for comfort. Remus sighed as you hid your face in the safety of the crock of his neck. 

“I tried really hard to protect them from… from people commenting on their story, how they died. I didn’t want them to become another fatality of the war, and–” To your horror, a tiny sob left your lips and you closed your eyes. Remus thumbed the tears in your cheeks away with very gentle movements, careful of your tender skin. “I couldn’t even do that. I keep just failing them day after day, the league pulling me back, getting into fights and proving everyone right all along. I… I don’t know what to do, the least I could do is be someone worthy for them and to honor them after they died because of me and–”

“Wait, no. They didn’t die because of you.” He frowned, and you seemed to have a hard time meeting his gaze, he curled a hand under your chin to look into your sad, teary eyes. “How could it be your fault? Dove, that man is at fault, he’s the one that killed them, he sent the order. There’s no way you would’ve known.”

“But… but I could’ve tried harder at protecting them. I should’ve done something.” You finally let out the thought that had been consuming you for months and kept you up at night. “How can people call me bright and promising in that stupid magazine… If they only knew how useless I was during the war.” You chuckled humorlessly. Remus decided he had enough of it.

“Listen to me, y/n. You being this incredible, promising witch and your parents’ deaths aren’t mutually exclusive. Voldemort targeted all the muggles and wizards that didn’t follow along his insane ideology, there was nothing you could do to stop that from happening, I know you don’t want to call it that but it truly was a tragedy… because no matter what you had tried to do, he sent his best men to kill you and your family knowing it would be one against four. It was meant to be a tragedy whatever the outcome. And your parents? They would've been so bloody proud of you for fighting the death eaters off, for surviving and fighting tooth and nail for your future that was almost ripped away from you. Don’t… don’t count yourself out just because of this, it might feel like it sometimes… but you’re not alone.”

You bit your lip, finally meeting his gaze. Remus exhaled deeply as he finished off his desperate rant, some fight still lingering inside of him to make you see his perspective. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally said, your finger sweeping back and forth where your hand held his wrist. Remus watched as you inhaled, channeling all your strength to compose yourself. “I… Thank you, Remus.” 

He smiled softly, “No need to be sorry, or to thank me. I would do this every day, pretty much like you would, too.” You blushed, and he found himself ignoring his self-control and leaned forward to kiss your lips. They tasted a tad salty, but not any less sweet. 

“They would’ve really liked you,” You said as you broke away, Remus’ smile got impossibly wider and grabbed the sides of your face to kiss you again. “Ouch.”

He gasped, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss just shy of your bruise. “Let’s go get you fixed up, hm?” He placed his arm around your shoulders, and you trailed next to him in a daze. Still slightly shaken up, Remus noticed; he tried another angle. “So, proved myself worthy to the in-laws already?”

You smiled sheepishly, “Don’t let it get to your head, though.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as you rounded the corner, his flat building in view. 

Remus sighed happily as he dug inside the pocket of his jacket for his keys, his other arm head-set in holding you close to his side. You, for your part, seemed to enjoy his hold around you and walked next to him with a tiny, shy smile, your hand picking at the skin of your lips distractedly. 

“Here,” He helped you out your coat as you both walked in. You immediately took notice of the homely ambience to it, Remus’ taste all over the flat as your eyes rovered the room with curiosity. Remus’ heart did a little flip as he studied you, “Wait here, I’ll go check what potions I have for your eye.” 

You nodded then made a beeline to his couch, a worn out, lived in thing that matched with the decor in the walls. Just like the Potters’, he had countless photographs hung up on all the walls, evidence of his happiness despite the numerous trials he had suffered in the past. The biggest one, you noticed, was one of him holding Harry as a newborn, his amber eyes red and with some tears welling up, you felt a tug in your heart as you scanned it. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Said Remus with a breathy chuckle as he walked to you, a container and wet cloth in his hands. You laughed as you walked to him, “What is it with you and photographs?” 

You shrugged as you sat in front of him on the couch, Remus placed the container on his knee before gently pressing the warm cloth to your face, to remove your flakey concealer no doubt.

“I’m used to still images back home, seeing them move is something I don’t think I can get used to–Ow!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Remus placated, a slight frown to his eyebrows, he made his movements extra gentle to not hurt you again. “A very valid point.” He added, then placed the cloth down. “Ow, dovey, that was a hard punch, it seems.”

“You should’ve seen Partridge.” 

“You hit her?”

“Nah, just gave her a scare. Also gave her a proper demonstration on how it’s done, real muggle style.” He barked a laugh, and opened the container next. You scrunched up your nose at the smell. “That’s foul. Is the smell alone a punishment for getting into a fight?”

“Probably,” He hummed, eyes fixated on your bruise as he gently patted the cream potion on your skin. You felt your insides mushy and soft with gratefulness and something akin to love for him. “I stole this from Madam Pomfrey so I wouldn’t put it past her.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Using your Pomfrey privileges to steal supplies? Oh, Moony, you’re incorrigible.” Remus paused his ministrations to meet your eyes, you smirked playfully at him.

“You will have your kiss after I finish this, dove, do not fret.” He commented breezily, thoroughly enjoying the way you flushed. Remus chuckled as he finished putting the rest of the potion on your eye and kissed it softly, he grimaced, “Shit, that really is foul. Terribly sorry, dovey.”

You laughed. “It’s okay.” Remus placed the container and cloth away to fully face you, you smiled up at him with something giddy and excited in your chest. “So, where’s my–”

Remus smiled, a wide, bright smile that almost blinded you as he grabbed the nape of your neck and pressed his lips against yours. You laughed against his lips, your mood suddenly lifted now that you had what you wanted, Remus kissing you silly and holding onto you like you were about to fly away, and by the happy sigh that left your lips when you momentarily broke away, he wasn’t so far off. You shyly reached over and placed your hands tentatively around his middle, Remus, without breaking away, grabbed your arms and circled them around him, a permission to hold onto him as much as you wanted. You readily accepted the invitation, fisting his jumper with longing and deepened the kiss. 

“Not here,” Mumbled Remus between kisses, he helped you up and immediately pressed his lips against yours again, as if stopping kissing you could physically harm him. “Dove,” He said breathlessly as he pulled you to your feet, you let him manhandle you, a wicked smile on your lips as you pulled him back down to you. “Come on,” He held your hand and guided you down the hall, no doubt to his room, your insides suddenly recoiled with anxiety. 

You sighed as he kissed you again, his fingers toying with the hem of your jumper, you sucked in a breath and deepened the kiss again, hoping it would distract him from his intentioned hands in your middle, but to no avail, he unconsciously lifted the hem and placed his hands over the scarred skin around your waist, if what he found troubled him, he didn’t show, but you stilled and Remus pulled away slowly at your reaction.

“Dove?” He frowned slightly, and you willed your lungs to accept air as you breathed quietly, “Was I too harsh with you? I’m sorry,” His hands found your face again, and you met his gaze, his lips parted in surprise as he noticed the troubled look in your eyes. “What is it?”

“I just..” You sighed, biting your lip nervously. Your fingers grabbed the hem of your jumper, Remus’ eyes flashed with realization. “I haven’t been with anyone… after… you know.” 

“Oh,” He breathed out, scanning your face for regret, but you seemed mortified enough to even meet his eyes. “They don’t bother me, but if they do to you, I won’t touch them. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” You said under your breath, suddenly feeling like you wanted to cry. Why was your past so adamant to ruin your present? You thought bitterly. “I don’t know why I… I’m sorry,”

“Hey, it’s quite alright.” Remus leaned down to search for your eyes, he cupped your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, dove. It truly doesn’t bother me, as long as you’re comfortable.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” You said, holding onto him in the desperate selfish way he was starting to adore. “I just, I keep forgetting they’re… there and it always feels like a rude wake up call when I notice them.”

“I get it,” He nodded, and kissed your eyebrow. “Believe me, I do. Mine used to bother me too, not so long ago, but they’re part of me, of my story. Though they hurt like hell, I’ve eventually learned to accept them. It’s okay if you’re not ready to accept yours, lovely girl.”

You looked up at him, very overwhelmed with gratitude and love for him, you were sure your heart could explode soon. Remus seemed to notice it as he lifted an eyebrow in question, and kissed the corner of your lips after you gave him a short nod. When he pulled away and walked a few steps back from his bed to give you space, you were only mildly disappointed at the distance. 

“We don’t have to do anything, but you can stay over if you want. Have a cwtch, maybe?” He asked, offering a tiny olive branch that felt gigantic to you. You smiled and nodded eagerly, he mirrored your giddy reaction and brought your hand to his lips. 

Remus nodded and laughed when none of you made to move, “I don’t have…” You trailed off, and his face brightened. 

“Oh, no need to worry about that,” He smiled and walked to his drawers, excitedly shuffling some things inside, then lifted a black shirt out. “You like Bowie, don’t you?” 

You laughed and accepted the clothes he presented you, he placed a kiss to the crown of your head as you followed him to his bathroom. Your limbs suddenly felt rather heavy and exhausted as you changed your clothes into his, a ratty Bowie shirt and some boxers that looked awfully big on you. You tried to not stare at your reflection in the mirror as you changed, but had enough courage to inspect his healing work on your bruise. Small steps, you supposed. 

Remus felt his own heart falling out of his arse when he stepped out of his own bathroom, to find you sitting prettily on the edge of his bed, looking around his room and fighting against a yawn that tried to escape your lips. He was overwhelmed with tons of feelings as he walked to the bed and threw himself over it, pulling you down with him. The sound of your surprised giggles echoed around the room as he propped himself over his elbow, eyes full of love as he looked at you. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked quietly then, your finger tracing the letters of his own shirt. Remus held your hand captive and kissed your palm, then reached over and kissed you. “Remus,” You giggled as he placed sloppy kisses on your face, cautious of your eye. 

“Just happy, ‘s all.” He mumbled as he pulled you close to him, you happily accepted his hug. “I still can’t believe I went to that support group just to get signed off for a job, and not only left with a job but with the prettiest, smartest witch as my girlfriend.” Your chuckle came in a sleepy breath, eyes closed as you drowned in the sound of his voice. Remus didn’t mind, telling you all that was his own private indulgence. He placed a kiss on your forehead, “And she fights for my honor unprovoked, too.” He added. 

“Of course that’s the part you fixate on,” You mumbled, words quiet and slurred like you fought against sleep to speak out. 

Remus fought against his own drowsiness, “Oi, you think someone there caught a photo of that?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“It would be a very lovely addition to the wall.”

“Remus,”

“Well, I was just thinking, since you love photographs.”

“Goodnight, Remus.” 

—

Champagne flutes sat empty over the tables as the record on the turntable echoed faintly around the room, one of the records Lily picked halfway over. James and Sirius busied themselves picking up the trash and cleaning the remaining dishes respectively as Lily climbed down the stairs after putting Harry down to sleep in his nursery. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her, Remus and you passed out on her couch, clinging to each other. You still wore your Quidditch gear from the match earlier and Remus didn’t deign to change his Holyhead Harpies jumper neither, even after the match had been won and long over. 

“They’re asleep?“ Asked Sirius, and both his spouses shushed him immediately. 

“Yeah,” Lily nodded, then walked back to the kitchen to continue helping with the tidying. Her green eyes fell on the polaroids she left out to develop. “Oh, isn’t this adorable.” She gasped with a smile as she picked them up.

She walked back to the sitting room and stood in front of the wall, eyes searching for an empty spot for the new additions. James stood behind her, a frown to his eyebrows as he helped her out. 

“What about moving these, lovie? So they can fit here.” He pointed, Lily followed his eyes and nodded excitedly. “I hardly think ickle Harry would mind.” 

Lily lifted her wand and whispered a sticking charm to the new additions, a warm, happy feeling in her chest as she admired the final product. 

There stood two new photographs to the family wall, one of you winning the Major League match, your big smile as you lifted the Golden Snitch in the air and the crowd roared behind you; the other a candid photo of you Lily took that very same night, of you and Remus dancing and laughing, both of you sporting matching bright smiles as you celebrated the big win of the night. His arm placed firmly around your waist as he playfully dipped you low, and baby Harry clapping happily somewhere in the back of the shot, but the real star of the photograph was the glistening ring in your finger as you cupped Remus’ face, Hope Lupin’s very own engagement ring that was passed down as an heirloom to you.

[mask131]

I have not looked at all the notes below, just at these pictures.

This discussion, unfortunately coming up in the lights of all these horrible things, is something I do wish to explore further and that I already kind of felt before - see my last post about Good Omens, as the TV show adaptation and Gaiman's handling of it DID make me doubt some of his claims. While I do believe the first season was made with respect and care for Pratchett's work (despite failing to do justice to Pratchett for me, but at least there was a real sincere effort there), I also believe that with the additional seasons Gaiman was milking the non-existent cow that was the unwritten sequel and that we can't fully trust what he claims when it comes to idea planned since the early beginning and stuff he might want to add or project or on his own... But that's something that tends to happen with every book that is co-authored, so I won't go down there much further.

What I DO want to stress however is that, while yes we can put into doubt how much Gaiman was truly close or "in the papers" of Pratchett (a part of it isn't just Gaiman's own invention, another part is also a lot of popular culture projection and fan assumptions, we can't throw the stones just at Gaiman, there was also the whole cult following thingy at play), we also have to put into doubt WHO is currently putting into doubt the Gaiman-Pratchett connections.

I'll explain: Internet seems to have a very short-term memory, and people tend to forget that not so long ago transphobes literaly tried to mass-gaslight people (and gaslighted themselves) into thinking Pratchett would be against trans people, when Pratchett literaly wrote an entire book about accepting trans people. And for all Gaiman has done or has been accused of doing, we can't forget that he was one of the two fervent defensors of Pratchett - or rather one of the two major voices to denounce the absolute craziness of these people (alongside Pratchett's own daughter). And that's something people did NOT like. A lot of people got angry at Gaiman for "pretending to know" what Pratchett would think...

... This is exactly the same kind of talk that is starting to appear here and there. For very different reasons, from different people, but it is still the same doubt and so it means there's a bridge here ready to be crossed. The same way there is a certain amount of people who try to use the Gaiman scandal to "justify" or "defend" J.K. Rowling, and turn a very serious case of sex crime accusations into somehow a "turns out the transphobe was right all along".

Don't be fooled, the people who are outraged, angry or mobbing against Gaiman aren't not all defendors of women's rights, or betrayed fans, or even just decent people shocked at such a case. Some don't even want to know the truth. There's a lot of people who are ready to pounce and get in the fight just because they hated the guts out of Gaiman for being against transphobia, and for gay people, and for a lot of other causes they want to persecute or eliminate.

There was an interesting thread on Bluesky dissecting Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's relationship

TL:DR - It seems like Gaiman has been exaggerating the level of closeness between them for YEARS

[wingzie]

Home - Mi Casa

On 20th December, my flat flooded. This was due to a fault in the flat above, which caused water from their boiler to vastly flow into my flat. This happened for about six hours until someone came to fix the problem. The only way I can describe it is like watching a waterfall of warm water cascade across my entire flat. It will probably come to no surprise that, after the event was over, my flat was deemed unlivable due to the water damage. I have since also had to throw out most of my furniture and belongings. After having a somewhat stressful Christmas at my Mother’s, I came back knowing that I was effectively homeless and I have been living at a hotel for over a month now. My current stay is until the end of March, but I have been warned that the work in my flat might take up to June to complete. Which is somewhat poetic, if it will take that long. All of this has got me thinking about one thing though: What classes as a home? I have mentioned before how, due to my parents work, my childhood involved moving location every couple of years. I thought this was “the norm” and just went along with it. Even when my parents divorced. When my Mother wanted to move closer to her own family, she asked if I wanted to move to somewhere near her. Or stay closer to work. I chose the later option and found a lovely place to rent near work. Where I had just been promoted at the time. Things were going well and I wanted to use this opprtunity to start my own life.

Lockdown happened shortly afterwards, so I missed a big chunk of getting to know the area and the local people. However, I made up for it later on with community work and have since made some amazing friends. These include army and non army and this is where I consider myself very lucky. Though I am still having nightmares and my mental health isn’t the greatest right now, the kindness of people around me since the flood has been incredible. 

I have several colleagues who fight over who will do my washing or bring me meals. Some friends have invited me to their houses. The belongings which survived are scattered around different houses in storage. People often check in on me. And I try to do what I can in return to thank them. It’s a big part of what makes a community a community. And thus what makes the community a secure part of a home. It keeps things going even if one falls down or needs support.

In terms of BTS, we have seen Yoongi be afraid of moving in the past. Jungkook mentioned the members being back together in BV4. How the members congregated together during ITS or at hotels whilst on tour. No matter where they go or no matter how long apart, they make it work or lift each other up. The same goes for their group chat too or hearing each other's voices on the phone. As long as they are together, they are able to keep going as a team. And in part of that, I am also very grateful that Jimin and Jungkook have each other right now. 

Not being in your physical home throws you completely off balance, but knowing you have that connection with others and the love around it goes a long way. And that is what makes a home. Note: I know this is very different than what I normally post, but I have had this in my drafts for a while and decided I might aswel share it. Talking about how traumatic the last month has been is somewhat helpful to and I would like to thank everyone who has reached out, offered helped or been so understanding about my lack of post schedule. Much Love, Becca xx

[pyro-tf2-but-trans]

After extensive research (scrolling down on my blog a few times) I noticed I have never headcanoned ages, so for my reemergence, here’s how old I think the mercs are and some other stuff :)

Scout

23 (im pretty sure this is canon)

Born April 8th

has a fuckass tooth gap, needed braces as a kid that he hated and refuses to wear his retainer now (medic does NOT approve)

terrible diet, he's only so thin because of his occupation and insane metabolism. He hasn't seen a vegetable since last time he visited his ma.

On that note, he's also TERRIBLE about drinking water and gets confused as to why he always has a headache.

boyfailure <3

decent cook, actually

as in the food he makes is edible, despite however it might look visually

grew up just outside of Boston

Keeps random shit on his walls, constantly needs more thumbtacks. Posters, post its, stickers, pictures, signs... why is there a fucking SPOON taped next to his door this is ridiculous.

Sometimes he catches himself sucking his thumb at his big age, the loser

when he was a kid he got bullied for not looking like his siblings like at all

Soldier

38

born July 3rd (WHY COULDN'T YOU HOLD HIM IN A LITTLE LONGER, MOM.)

world war autism

both as in intensity and special interest

First got into US military type stuff hearing about the Vietnam war as a kid, it fascinated him and made him absolutely determined to help

grew up in Minnesota, ironically HATES the cold

typa guy to make himself run laps and junk if he realized he was being rude to women or something

probably ace, yes I know he has children shut up

Pyro

probably the youngest on the team, maybe 25?

born December 20th

facial dysmorphia :(

they have burn scars all over their body from an old memory they've since pushed deep into the back of their head

they can handle not wearing their suit if they absolutely have to, but avoid mirrors lest they stare into it for a long time not quite recognizing the person looking back at them

medic and engie are really the only ones that have seen them outside of the suit more than once

sorry that got sad lol

anyway they hate being infantilized, not only for being the youngest but also for being delusional

it doesn't happen as often as you'd think, at least. But sometimes medic will baby talk them when they're getting a checkup or scout will say something ignorant. They can ignore it but it gets annoying.

they enjoy chocolate ice cream

a fan of the cold in general

pretty handy, actually. They built their flamethrowers and a good few of their melee weapons, engie taught them a lot.

cutting this short cause I've been yapping about pyro for too long

Demoman

36

born January 31st

has only actually been to Scotland like twice, he was born in the us with his mum, just grew up with her long enough to gain the accent anyway

doesn't know a lick of Gaelic, sorry. Obviously words like "bonnie" and "Gob" slip out, but that's just basic Scottish vocabulary lmao

he has a collection of eye patches, he thinks his missing eye is kinda cool when he isn't annoyed about his lack of depth perception

he uses bombs specifically because of his lack of depth perception, actually, since as long as he hits within the vicinity of his target he usually wins

he's a fan of the outdoors, hangs around sniper sometimes

crazy smart, specifically a chemistry nerd (obviously) but he can answer crazy specific questions on anything. this also means he's very good at converting measurements, if you're ever baking or something lol

that last part specifically helps whenever the European dweebs say something metric and the Americans need a translator.

"yeah that's 55 kilometers away" "..." "that's about 34 miles, lad" "oooohhh"

Heavy

54, the eldest

born August 16th

hes generally pretty good at English, but certain words annoy him

like colorful? jump

likes working out with soldier, specifically lifting. The most wholesome gym bros.

helps short people reach things on tall shelves

not a whole lot I haven't already said about him lol

Engineer

42

born June 10th

horrific blue eye stare

get brown eye contacts I'm scared

scout clings to him almost as much as pyro does, actually.

he doesn't mind all that much, at least

speaks Spanish pretty fluently, though he has a very obvious accent and has yet to master rolling his Rs, he's trying his best at least <3

he's a fan of fall

used to be the worlds most annoying angsty teenager, if you can believe it

grew out of it, obviously, but he still has a crap ton of old vinyl records of all the rock bands he used to listen to in secret in a box somewhere

(if you're wondering, his parents were NOT fans)

he has four siblings! he's the second eldest, two sisters and two brothers

knows a bit of medical stuff from medic, its how he put the healing factor into the dispenser

Medic

46

born March 19th

never went to medical school, but he did quite a bit of studying in both human anatomy and biology

so yeah he never had a medical license in the first place lol

he has a collection of bones and other bits (organs, wet specimens, etc etc)

human? animal? yes

the med bay smells like birds, its not sanitary

he's a good medic despite all of these, though! just double check that you have all your guts in order before and after an operation! scout still has a bird in his chest, after all.

off topic but he also has really thick hair that sheds a lot, like if he lays down somewhere you can find a bunch of black hairs like little snakes all over the place

^hes just like me for real!

like weirdly beefy? that medigun is heavier than it looks, and the backpack is even heavier

hed be a fan of squid game in a modern au

Sniper

30

born February 23rd

weirdly cagey about his birthday?? like he'll tell you if you ask but he'll be all like "what?? why do you need to know that??"

his footsteps don't make noise, he regularly startles people (scout) by just walking into a room and just standing there

sushi fan

like never gets sick, probably from being outside all the time his whole life but his immune system is made out of steel

medic finds this fascinating lol

blind as hell without his glasses

shaves with his knife just because he thinks its cool lmao

he has a scar on his cheek because of this though he lies and says its because he almost got hit by an enemy sniper

loser hides under his hat when he's embarrased

kisses him with tongue

Spy

50

born ??? (he says a different date every time someone asks)

THIS BITCH ISNT EVEN FRENCH!!!!!

grew up in like Nevada and puts on the whole french thing to be more anonymous

fuck is a petite chou fleur?? your little cauliflower?? come on now

#spyhater

no but I do think he is a spy, and a very good one at that (he managed to convince everyone he's french, after all)

he was supposed to be on a way more advanced team but got misplaced but he was useful on the team so he stayed there (and he felt guilty about leaving his son yet again)

needed braces as a kid, wears his retainer religiously

he's visibly uncomfortable with having his mask off, but not in the same way pyro is. He hates the idea of being seen more than they hate seeing themselves.

If he doesn't like you he won't make it obvious, but he'll just. stare at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. not even in a death glare way, more like he's calculating how many ways he could make you vanish into thin air

sniper thinks he's neat

[live-laugh-lenney]

any george or arthur angst 🙏

a little inspiration from the new platform roulette...

hurt.

that's how she felt whenever she heard arthur deny the relationship that they had been settled into for the last seven months. with every joke about being single and every joke about being with a woman alongside every laugh he let out when one of his friends made a joke about his dating life and his one-liners in an attempt to pick up women, it tore into her and broke her just a little more each time.

at first, it was something she was really thankful for. he wanted their relationship to be taken slowly, at a pace she was comfortable with, so she wasn't scared off by the way her whole life would become a whirlwind of chaos once his fans knew who she was. from the way her social media would have taken off to the way she'd have been a name they searched for online alongside his own to the way her name would have been in tweets and comments on his instagram, in both nice ways and hated ways. and, he wanted to protect her from the nonsense that she would have been flooded with.

but now?

now she wanted to show him off. she wanted to be shown off. she wanted to live their life together in public and not have to feel like she was being hidden away anymore. she wanted to be taken on dates, double dates, she wanted to share their relationship online with their little milestones, and she wanted to partake in the videos their friends post online without being kept in the background.

she didn't want to hide away anymore.

"people speculate about us anyway so would it be such a problem if we told them what they wanted to hear?"

what had started out as a peaceful night at home, waiting for the long-awaited release of arthur's appearance in platform roulette, had soon turned into a night full of anger and upset. their dinner getting forgotten about, the bottle of wine on the table being ignored and the tv had been paused on a moment that yn couldn't just let slide.

"you might be ready but," he runs his hands through his hair and tugs on the strands that his fingers managed to catch in his fists, "i might not be as ready as you. i don't want to rush things."

"oh, come on, arthur," she scoffs heavily and places her hands on her hips, "we've been together for seven months, can't you see where i'm coming from? or are you that blindsided and scared that you'll lose your fanbase because you won't be the cute, single man in videos anymore?"

the silence that soon followed was deafening.

and thick.

suffocating her with regret because she knew she spoke the words before she could think about how she wanted to get her point across to him. her heart dropped in her chest, almost the pit of her stomach, and she couldn't bring herself to look at him because she knows he'll pull a face that would break her into bits.

"you think i care more about the numbers on my socials than you?"

"that's how i'm feeling right now, arthur."

"do you know how stupid you sound right now?" his voice was thick and laced with anger, the words rolling off his tongue with a hiss, and it dawned on her that, maybe, there was a better way to have brought the topic up and not to cause a fight, "because you sound absolutely ridiculous."

"how would you feel if i went online and started acting exactly how you do in these youtube videos? pretending to be single with such a terrible dating life?"

his silence was just the answer she needed.

"exactly."

all yn could do was busy herself as she collected their dirty plates, food having gone stone-cold and wasted, trying her best to ignore how she was feeling deep down. she hated arguing with him, and the feeling was mutual from arthur, because she hadn't brought up her thoughts with the intentions of picking a fight.

"what do you want me to do, yn?"

"i want to feel like you care about me. i want to feel like you love me enough to show off how happy you are," she glances at him and he stands in the middle of the room like a lost puppy, completely unaware of what to do in that moment, "are you embarrassed of me?"

"embarrassed?"

"it's not a trick question, arthur," she grumbles lowly, scraping off the food from the plates and placing them in the kitchen sink, "are you or aren't you?"

"why would i be embarrassed of you? i have no reason to feel like that towards you, at all," his voice gets louder and she soon realises he's in the kitchen with her, his presence filling the room and she hears the wine glasses, that were in his hands, being set down on the side unit, "i'm far from embarrassed of you."

"then why won't you make us public?"

he gulps back the lump in his throat and leans against the counter, bending his elbows and resting his hands on the edge to keep his body propped up, and it's the first time where they're looking at each other without darkness taking over.

"i'm scared for you," he admits softly, "i want nothing more than to be able to talk about you, about us, with my friends in the videos we film out and about. but i know how brutal people can be and i don't want you to be a victim of social hatred because of who you're with."

"you can't just assume that, though."

"i've seen it happen to my friends, yn," he says; because he had. he'd heard stories about how chip's girlfriend struggled to adapt to his life as a youtuber, how theo's partner would read about herself online to see what people were talking about, how shannon felt when she was with chris. he'd heard it all and seen it all happen. "i didn't want you to tear yourself apart, to become a shell of yourself, because of some of the bullshit people write online."

the words wants to come out but she couldd't speak.

she'd overreacted and it definitely dawned on her, in that moment, that it was something that didn't need to be argued over.

"i just want to keep you safe, yn. that's all."

[regulationhottie7905]

Back on my bullshit analysis, now from Will’s pov!

From a young age, Will knew he was Different in some way. I think a lot of his pain comes from the fact that it’s something about himself he couldn’t figure out, at least for the first 13/14ish years of life. There’s something about the way he is inherently, something about the very state of his own existence, that makes other kids, his own FATHER call him a fag.

Honestly, for a long time, I don’t think Will even had a concrete idea of what he was actually being accused of. And when he met Mike in kindergarten, he had made one good friend, and that was really all he needed. Then, he made more friends in Dustin and Lucas, and everything was perfect for awhile. He could get through the bullies and everyday little insults with his friends. (This goes for all the group and ties into ST’s overall theme of friendship).

Him and Mike were a team. They always were. Mike rescued him from the Upside Down, and Mike slept by his bed to protect him from nightmares, and if Will went crazy, Mike said he would go crazy with him. They’re a package deal. They’re Best Friends.

But in s3, Mike begins spending more time with El and Will barely sees him anymore. Dustin goes away to summer camp. Little by little, his friends begin drifting apart. After all, Mike is the one who introduced them. He was the DM. S3 is the first time in the last year-ish that Will has been in commission, able to engage with the world around him and play with his friends. He just wants to play D&D. He just wants some normalcy. Dustin is back from summer camp, why don’t they just play like they used to? And there’s a part of him that’s angry. So angry.

Mike is busy. He won’t stop leaving with El, but when they’re not together, when he’s with the guys, he COMPLAINS about her (as evidenced by Mike’s bitching post breakup with El in s3). El’s fine, but she causes a lot of drama, and Mike doesn’t seem to like her that much anyways. They should just play a game together. Like they used to.

So he does. Will spends the time and effort to get everything ready, and he knows it won’t be as good as Mike’s. But Mike is even more annoyed, and god-fucking-dammit, Will just wanted some normalcy with Mike, but if he can’t have that, he’ll just go home. So he tries. He tries to leave, but Mike chases after him, and he doesn’t know what Mike wants. Mike tries to get him to stay, but for what? So he can scoff at Will’s every word? Every movement? Every breath?

So Will is honest, just like he’s always been. Mike’s been being an asshole anyways, and usually he sees sense. Back and forth and back and forth, and then Mike says it.

“It’s not MY fault YOU don’t like girls.” As if this is Will’s fault. As if HE’S the one who’s been being a dickhead all summer. As if it’s Will’s fault that him and El are fighting, and Will was just trying to help. As if Will has an issue with El. But there’s no point in fighting, and Will’s never been a fighter anyways. It was Mike who usually defended him anyways. There’s no point in having this conversation.

When Mike asks him if he thought they were just gonna play video games for the rest of his life, Will just shrugs. “Yeah, I did. I guess I really did.” Because they’d talked about it, hadn’t they? While Dustin mooned after Nancy and Phoebe Cates and Lucas mooned after Max, it’d been the two of them. It had been the two of them first and it was going to be the two of them forever… or so Will had thought. And so Mike had said.

He thought Mike understood that they were a party first. Him, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. And Max. They’d survived the Upside Down together. They’d barely seen each other all summer. They had been a team, and Mike was ripping it apart.

He wants to play D&D and have fun and enjoy himself for just a little while. He wants the old Mike back. The old Mike who ran D&D campaigns like it was nothing, and was getting into trouble in middle school for cussing out teachers, and slept by his bedside when he was sick, and helped him on Halloween.

He smashes Castle Byers. Where he’d hidden in the Upside Down from the Demogorgan. Where this all started.

“FUCK!”

He misses Mike.

Is this the part of him that’s so repulsive?

Is this the reason his dad called him a fag?

Mike and Will don’t talk about the fight. The Mindflayer comes too quickly, and the Byers moved to Cali soon after that.

During these 6 months between s3 and s4 is when Will sorts through everything and figures everything out. He is not repulsive. He knows what he is. He knows who he is. Now, it’s just a matter of how people will respond to the information.

And Mike. He knows he’s in love with Mike. But El and Mike are still together, and he can’t ignore the twist in him every time he sees a letter for El and not him. There’s probably a perfectly logical explanation that Mike give him when he visits on spring break. Him and Mike were friends, weren’t they? Weren’t they?

So he makes him a painting. He pours all his time and effort into it, trying to remind Mike of his roots. Trying to remind Mike who. he. is. He’s done hiding anyways. He rolls up the painting and brings it to the airport, and he can’t help the way he smiles when he sees him for the first time in what feels like years.

But Mike can’t even look at him. He pats his back awkwardly and moves to El without a second glance.

Will doesn’t even bother to hide how upset he is this time around.

MISCELLANEOUS THINGS

I think Will’s longing gazes in s4 are on purpose. I don’t think he cares enough to hide anymore now that he’s figured himself out. Mike’s already been a Grade-A Asswipe (a sympathetic asswipe, but an asswipe nonetheless) and I think this is Will’s reaction.

Will is many things, but he is not a liar (“friends don’t lie”). He is a genuine, sincere person. It’s only an escalation of his s3 actions.

So fine. Treat me like this. But this is how I feel, and I’ll say it regardless of your discomfort with emotion. Take it or leave it.

I think the scene while they’re digging the grave in s4 really exemplifies this- everyone can see that Will is just standing there, staring directly at Mike. If Will was shy, or genuinely trying to hide it, wouldn’t he look away the first time Mike noticed? But he keeps looking. Even once Mike does a triple take, then begins digging again, he keeps looking.

The rink-o-mania fight is also a great example of this! It’s Will who brings up genuinely how he feels about the way Mike’s acted. “We’re friends! We’re friends!” Mike insists, but he’s defensive, the same way he was in the garage last summer. Will brings up the contradiction in all of El’s letters, and only a few for him. And for just a minute, you can see Mike falter. “I don’t know. Maybe you should have reached out more.”

When I first watched ST, Mike’s, “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” immediately struck me as him projecting. Like anyone, I’ve read a lot of analysis and I’ve seen a lot of takes, but let me explain mine.

In my opinion, until s4, there’s more evidence to support the idea that MIKE is the one who doesn’t like girls, rather than Will. He only has 3 close (guy) friends. He never remarks on girls he finds pretty, he shows zero interest in any girl but El (which I honestly think is just him trying to hold on to a veneer of heterosexuality). In s2, Will, Lucas, and Dustin wants to be friends with Max- it’s Mike who dislikes her.

I think Mike and Will have always had a different kind of friendship. Even if they don’t have the right words for it, it’s kind of like the codependent homoerotic teenage friendships people make memes about. I mean, honestly, Mike won’t properly apologize to his own girlfriend but he runs with his tail between his legs to apologize to his ‘best friend’. Mike has always known he was Different, but he didn’t have the support system Will has, or the time to try and figure it out.

In s3, Mike is going headfirst into his relationship with El. He’s copying everyone around him and doing what he thinks he should do, which (imo) is why he spends SO much time making out with El (living up to the red blooded American male fantasy) than establishing a genuine relationship with her. Something about it is Off, but I don’t know if he’s even admitted that to himself. And Will made him stop (with the “day without girls”). Will made him hang out with him, and Will made Something Happen.

They’ve always had Something between them, but verbalizing it is too dangerous in a town like Hawkins in the 80s. They just knew that they were… different. Best friends in a way Lucas and Dustin weren’t. But Mike crossed the line during the fight (“it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”) and after he says it, you can see him pull back. He felt guilty and weird and he didn’t know why, and he felt defensive and felt like he was backed into a corner so he said it. Will was being earnest and honest in a way he wasn’t ready for- but he doesn’t know that. He just knows that he felt sick and needed Will to stop. So he blamed Will. Because it’s Will’s being weird, right? Will is the one who’s making him feel weird, because HE’S the one being weird about it.

“It’s not MY fault YOU don’t like girls!” As much as we like to joke about it (Mike accusing Will of being gay whenever they argue) a lot of byler fights make a lot of sense in this vein, and I think it’s a really interesting insight into his character imo. Will is being honest and genuine in a way Mike isn’t ready for. Pushing Will away and attacking him in such a vitriolic ways really ensures that Mike’s masculinity is protected while Will is shamed (in Mike’s mind, at least.) The Byers moved to Cali so soon that the events of the rain fight were never truly discussed.

Mike REALLY hurt Will and I think that’s why he didn’t reach out- because he didn’t know what to say. He avoided his feelings and thinking about Will as much as possible and wrote El letters. But seeing Will at the airport changed something. He’s taller. He’s grown. He’s confident now (I’ll get back to that later). And when he sees him, Mike’s stomach does something it’s never done before. And he doesn’t know why. But despite that, he goes to hug his girlfriend. He doesn’t hug Will.

I firmly believe that Mike is gay (again, imo. Bi Mike people, ily, I love ur analysis, ur cool asf, this is just my opinion). I don’t think he’s ever felt a genuine attraction to El. He’s mimicking his parents and his friends and comics and fairytales- he will be her knight in shining armor, her Superman. With El, it’s friendship and the anxiety of a facade, but he mistakes it for the butterflies of a crush. With Will, it’s the only time he feels something REAL. I just don’t think he’s used to feeling genuine feelings, especially powerful feelings (let’s not forget he’s a teenager, the hormones are RAGING) and while he likes it (even though he has trouble admitting it… I think he gets better as s4 goes on though) it’s overwhelming and scary. I think he interprets those feelings as some kind of threat (especially considering that he’s been bullied before) or at least, he subconsciously does.

[lovetogether]

We think the idea of “xyz makes us human” becomes very disingenuous when you start to think of other people, people you’d not even consider. We loved music growing up and considered it “what made us human” until we met a deaf friend, who had no feelings towards music at all, and we realized that no matter what there is going to be somebody who cannot relate to your stance, whether cause they physically can’t or cause of personal preference. “Art makes us human” is especially frustrating. Many people can’t draw, and yes we know “everyone can hold a pencil” but that’s not true and that still doesn’t mean anything. We like “bad art” and sloppy work and we still think that centering art as “human” is. Funny. You can debate back and forth what makes us human, heck we center our beliefs around community and love and even then we still think it’s only correct to acknowledge not everyone has that. What makes us human is a wholly personal idea. You’ll always end up excluding somebody, so why not just be happy as we are.

[umblrspectrum]

ive been struggling big time coming up with anything funny to draw that hasnt been done yet so have my rw au art dump

[moeblob]

Happy Birthday to Ferdinand von Aegir!

I actually made 33 emotes, affectionately known as Aegirglyphics to some, for my own personal use on discord. However, I figure why not share some of them! They're free to use for discord servers/icons/pfps or whatever. However, my only request is Do NOT use them as subscriber emotes on Twitch. You can make them free follower emotes but you are not to make them locked behind a paywall.

[dykedvonte]

I hate the stretch lines in the front of Curly's uniform because that means the devs rushed to make a model in like a month or so and thought "They gotta at least know he has huge knockers, gotta know he's got back pain." Cause like what is the thematic importance of his tits having overhang?

What responsibility is that representing? Breast reduction? It shows an inherent greed in his character due to the excess and heshouldletmeholdone and that he clearly is blinded cause if he tries to look down his damn ladder all he's seeing is his own cleavage.

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

My vld time travel au is really just- Beautiful morally grey women, who have close but concerning platonic relationship with Lance, and want Lotor dead/trying to violently murder him, not out of malice or vengeance or anything personal but simply because of pragmatic "it's for the greater good" reasons and they are sorta?? Right about it

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[quibbs126]

Well I haven’t made one of these in a while, but it seems like we’re back to it

*sigh* okay, so basically, here’s what’s going on with my life right now

So I finished up my current semester of college this week. I was on academic probation this semester due to my poor grades the semester before, and to fix this, I needed to: get my GPA up above a 2.0 once more, take a mandatory workshop during the semester, and have at least one meeting with my academic advisor throughout the semester. Once I did all that, or at least finished all the meetings, I would have my hold of my account removed and I could register for my next semester’s classes

But here’s the thing. I did the first two, I’ve gotten pretty good grades this semester, As and Bs in my classes (even if grades aren’t finalized yet, I highly doubt that it’ll change from that from when I saw them before finals). But I never met with my academic advisor throughout the entire semester. So I still have that hold on my account. And the semester’s over, so I don’t know what that means for me going forward

I tried looking for what would happen if I miss those meetings, and right now I’m not sure, but what I do know is “failure to meet the requirements of academic probation can result in suspension or dismissal from the university”. And so now I’m terrified that because I missed those meetings, I won’t be able to return next semester

But specifically what makes it so bad is that I had fully intended to come back next semester, I was not preparing for not being able to go back this semester. And worst of all, I told my parents that I had everything sorted out for next semester when they picked me up a couple days ago, I just had a hold on my registration because I hadn’t met with my advisor yet. Which isn’t untrue, but what I failed to mention to them is that I was supposed to do these meetings during the semester, not after, and that I was required to do them. So if I were to tell them the truth, they’d know I’d have lied to them

I know for a fact that the worst thing I do in their eyes is when I have a problem, but then I hide it from them and lie to them about it, saying everything’s fine when it isn’t, and only revealing the truth at the last second, meaning they have to scramble to try and get everything fixed. This is literally the main problem I had with them the last semester and two, and why my last couple days of summer felt horrible because I hadn’t applied for my loan this last semester yet and I had found out that day when they asked that the place I had been getting loans from was no longer doing them

It was supposed to be different this semester, I was supposed to not fuck it up. And yet I’m doing the same thing I did before, I haven’t learned my lesson at all. And when they find out, they won’t let me go back, I’m sure of it. They didn’t really want me going back to college this semester either, because of all that had happened prior, so this new wrench in everything might just be what makes them fully say I’m not going back

And by the way, not a lot of this is hyperbole, at least not that last paragraph. A number of these things they did say to me. They’ve said verbatim that the problem is that I lie and hide things, and that I do it over and over again. I’m not just making stuff up, I know it’s what they’d say because they have before

I want to go back, I like it there. My best friend goes there, and quite frankly, I feel like I need her in my life more than anyone else. And I may not talk to a lot of people, at least not as much as I should, but I enjoy being around other people and at least getting the chance to talk to them. I like taking walks around campus, I like being able to go to the store and buy whatever I want whenever I want. I like being a person here and not stuck in my room, stuck with the same three people and basically only doing things when I’m told I have to. I just can’t take online school, I go mad now staying 4 months here in the summer

And what makes it even worse is that this whole situation was so avoidable. It really would have been no problem to just schedule appointments with my advisor, it would be so easy. The other things were probably the more difficult things to accomplish in all honesty. But I genuinely forgot about them until Thanksgiving, and I just couldn’t be bothered after that, because the entire semester whenever I did remember it, I thought, “I’ll have time to make that appointment eventually”, up until now when I don’t. It’s all my fault this is happening because I was so lazy I never bothered to do it. There’s no one to blame but myself for all this

I sent an e-mail to the account I think I’m supposed to send it to about my probation, explaining the issue of missing my meetings. They don’t respond on weekends, so I have to wait until Monday to get a response because I sent that email at 11 PM on Friday. So I’ve at least started to work it out

And a part of me recognizes that maybe I’m just overblowing things in my head; again, this was probably the least important thing I needed to do, especially since we were supposed to meet with our advisors to work on improving our grades, and I’ve done that all on my own this semester. So maybe it really won’t be that bad, and everything will work out

But I’m terrified it won’t, that I’ll have thrown everything down the drain for something so small, and that I’ll be found out and have to deal with last summer all over again. It was supposed to be different this break, I could finally rest from everything, and literally my own mistakes have brought it all down

I feel like it’s been eating me alive these past two days, especially at night when my brain thinks more about it. But I can’t tell anyone, since my brother won’t really understand, and I’ve already listed why I can’t tell my parents. And it just makes it worse, because I have to be alone in this lie. There’s no one to tell, to assure me things will be fine, there’s only me. Which is probably why I’m posting it here, at least you people aren’t part of my real life to make me feel worse

I don’t know if I can keep it up for another day or two. My dad hasn’t come and asked me about the situation today, but I feel like he will tomorrow, especially if we go out tomorrow, which I assume will happen since we didn’t today. And by the way, I’m a pretty bad liar and I crack under pressure, so “keeping it up” means literally avoiding my parents whenever possible. I have the trick of staying under my blanket when they come over to my door, because I’ve somehow confused them into believing I was asleep/taking a nap, but I won’t always be listening in and prepared to use it at a moment’s notice, they can creep up on me. Or again, if we go out, it will be something my dad asks about. My parents don’t really like to ask me about normal non school/stress related things unless they think I’m in the clear. Which at this point is less frequent and they already have something to question me on. And I know I’ll just bury myself further and get them more mad if things don’t work out, but I can’t take them being mad at me either and causing them more problems, especially since I’ve already been lying about the situation, just not as much as I would be if I lie tomorrow as well

Why did I have to do this, why do I have to be such a horrible person? Why couldn’t I have just done this before, there would be no problem otherwise

[macadam]

Gonna put myself out here for a hot minute to remind everyone that the runner of a poll or little event on tumblr is not responsible for the replies/posts of everyone else in the fandom, nor do they have the power to stop people from reacting in any which way in the notes of their post without turning off reblogs and shutting down the entire thing full stop. I think we can all agree on that? They are not a discord mod, or the fandom's babysitter. Tumblr is the Wild West and by god none of us are the sheriff.

That's all ok keep on keeping everyone