#they only last a year until it's back to the same shit

[urstruly-ghst]

the 1 - the second years !

in which you return home with one last message: it would've been you.

author's note: love when we get to go home! but the cost?

cw: swearing

riddle rosehearts

how dare you?— that was riddle's first thought when you came to his dorm, ecstatic with the prospect of coming home. however, he knew that was selfish— his rose was finally getting their wish come true! what more can he ask?

yet, as he reaches out to your arm before you are whisked away, he only had one question: was he the one? the one you wish to have lived a humble life with? the one who would've been by your side for how long time will permit?

you smiled sadly, because, as much as you are ecstatic, you are gutted at the prospect of leaving him. he was one of your favorite— scratch that, he was your favorite part of twisted wonderland. he was your destined soulmate. how cruel was it for you to figure that out when you don't belong in his world.

"riddle, if i could just easily go back on forth... i would, because you are it, riddle. you're my..." you choked up and looked down at your interlocked hands,

"you're the one." riddle choked

ruggie bucchi

why was he here? ruggie asked as you snuck him out for something. he noticed you seem happier yet withdrawn. he reached out and when you spat you're going home? he froze and nearly wanted to leave you.

ruggie didn't need someone else to abandon him, not after all the shit he put through to make things work out. he's pissed, understandably so, but he also can't help but feel defeated. this "talk" could've been his time at work, he reasoned, but here he was— shattered at the prospect.

his first question was, why? he never had someone genuinely care for him that doesn't benefit them besides his family. so when you and him make it past that enormous mountain of doubt, it was a big deal. now here you are, leaving him for what? as he looked at you, he can't help but feel angry and worst of all, sad. because he usually finds ways, but here, he's defenseless once more.

"leave then." ruggie said as he tried to hide his flattened ears and teary eyes. you reach out to him and whispered your dreams of spending your last days with him.

"i would've loved nothing more than to grow old with you, stressing over bills and making ends meet... and maybe you'll find someone else, someone sweeter and..." you caress his face and smile. "and someone who'll be with you till they get to see you succeed."

azul ashengrotto

its unfair. azul would say, you were supposed to be with him until... then again, was there ever a contract? he prides himself that no one gets away from his grasp, yet here he is, losing the most important person he dreamed to have stayed.

azul dreamed of any outcome, just not this. he laughed, foolish enough to think you would've stayed forever. as you both huddle in your private space in the vip room, he can't help but want to make a deal with you, some deal to make you stay. why not delay for a year? a decade? but as he stared at your longing eyes, he knew he had to let you go.

but he can't help but wonder. you saw how azul accepted that the leech twins will leave him the moment the time comes, it took some time... but he surrendered to that fact long ago. azul blames himself for not doing the same with your departure. he should've kept some piece of himself behind, but how foolish is he to give you his whole heart.

"perhaps we can... my dear.. please" azul hiccuped as he hugged you and unable to find it in his mind to make you stay.

"azul..." you coo, "if i had a say in this, i would've... i would've loved to live this life with you. i would've loved to see you grow your empire and well... i would've been there in every waking moment to see you become the man you dream to be." you smile and kiss his head

"and if anything, i can see you becoming that amazing man." as you shakily kissed him, "you're the one i wish i can spend my whole life with"

jade leech

if you thought he'd not fight with you, you're dead wrong. you're welcome to sit there and think he'd grovel, but he's executing every means to delay you. but once he realizes he cannot keep you any longer, he just sits there in shock.

why? why aren't you going to fight against this? wasn't he a dream of yours? was he not worth the fight? he conjured up so many questions and unabashedly used some of his unique spell so you can speak your truth, and it hurt when you answer in full honesty.

can't he just whisk you away? why aren't you... you both sit together in pain and longing. so many times has jade gotten his way this was one of the first... it hurts. he stayed there holding you close, foolishy listening to your heartbeat.

"jade...?" you whispered, "i love you" he nodded with tears in his eyes. he whispered his reply and he glared at the fact you were honest. he wishes you lied, to make him feel angry... but..

"if i could lie to you, i would've. but jade, i meant it. you're the one. i wish i could say you weren't. it would've been easier but... hey, when did i ever choose easy?"

floyd leech

he squeezed you. he didn't want you to leave. it was not fair. floyd wasn't the type to let go and accept things so easily. you were his, the moment he saw you, but why don't you fucking act like it?

you hiccuped as you were taken into his arms, he was convinced you wouldn't be taken away. floyd opened up to you, he told you things not even his twin would know. who else would be his shrimpy? who else would make things count now.

as he hiccuped and held you tightly, you gave him the dreams you wish to have shared with him. and while floyd doubts he'll get your dreams with how he might avoid it, any connection of you, you smile and just believed him.

"i was wrong about you. you proved to me how fun it was to be loved and love crazy. so floyd, prove me wrong again, and prove to me i wasn't the one for you. but, if i can be selfish, i want you to know you can never..." you gasp for air as you regret saying it, "you can never disprove how you're the one for me."

kalim al asim

he was used to losses, kalim can just find new things. but not with you. never with you. irreplaceable was the only word for you, there could only be one you. kalim wasn't prepared to lose you too.

kalim promises he'll be good, he'll go the extra mile, he begs at your feet. you couldn't leave, no. only you could've broken him down to pieces. your sunshine was what he was missing and what he yearns for every waking moment. humor him, stay.

"i could be more... or i could also!" kalim has begged and traded anything he can for the nth time. you shake your head, giving him the biggest smile you can.

"i don't need anything from you." you say as you told him everything he needed to hear, from you, "because you've given me the world, im sorry if i couldn't have given you half of what you gave me. kalim, find someone that your heart desires, screw what your baba thinks. you deserve the world. you're my greatest treasure, so you deserve at the very least the world with love"

jamil viper

jamil reasoned he should've known better. good things end up gone when it came to him. he wondered if this was some cruel prank you did, to make him face reality. but you weren't.

you sat there with a big sad smile and told him why you're leaving. it wasn't because of x or y, it was just you wanted home. jamil should've known that, but he didn't believe it. why didn't he?

jamil curses himself, he prides on knowing what to do next but he's here dumbfounded and once again one upped by you. yet, as you both accept you'll leave, jamil whispers lowly how he wishes he can be free to choose to run with you

"as stupid as it sounds, i want to run off with you" you laugh and smile. jamil looked away and just shrugged, but you looked down and talked lowly

"i wish i can say "be stupid". but hey, don't. you're too good to run away now. jamil, you're amazing. if only i could see what you'll be in the future, i would be cheering on how you were not stupid." you both laugh as you shared one last night together

"and when time passes, just know, jamil, you were the one i know will rise above everyone else."

"and you would be the one responsible as to why i didn't fail" jamil responded

silver

in dreams, silver had visions of you and him sharing a life. you both were delusional to believe the dreams, when the vision was hazy at best. but, two hearts can dream, right?

silver was shattered when you told him that you'll leave. he wondered if he still had the right to dream about you and him. you reached out to him and told him the honest truth, no. he can't dream about you anymore, not when you were never to be seen again

but, unknown to you, the last night you had with him, he dreamt of you two once more. intertwining your last dream together. let silver be selfish, for these dreams are what his heart kept desiring for.

"what did i tell you." you smile as you are welcomed into the dream both of you built together. a small cottage in a far off land, no pain or suffering touches these walls.

"dear, let me be selfish." silver pouts. and you relent, feeling the bitter pain seep in as you realized this dream shall remain only that: a dream.

"how cruel it is, my happy ending won't be with you" silver muses as you held each other, "seven knows i want it to be with you"

"oh trust me, you'll still have your happy ending. much like how i will still get mine. but if wishes and dreams came true? it would've been you, silver"

[edenl0vesu]

Bandaids

Neighbor! Bucky barnes x single mother!reader

Civil war bucky happens to be the loml and my ovaries are SCREAMING as i write this.!!

Warnings: nsfw content, oral (f receiving), 1st person smut 😋, pussy spanking…., praise, soft bucky, slight choking, uhhhh what else…

Single motherhood wasn’t for the weak, with a 6 year old daughter in a small apartment. I was near constantly stressed, it didn’t help that things kept breaking and my piece of shit landlord had been dodging me every time l brought up my broken heater- and the broken kitchen sink. I decided today while Angelina was at school l could use this time to catch up on some laundry. Of course running out of coins for the machines far too fast, because why wouldn’t i, so here i was. Stuck hauling stuff back up to the top floor from the basement. By the time i got to the top i was honestly considering just jumping off.

I was rudely were yanked from my thoughts when i bumped into something so firm. For a second i thought it was a wall- that thought was immediately corrected when you felt a hand under my arm stabilizing me. I blinked before looking up and saw it was my neighbor. He had his usual hat on- really ive only seen him a few times but each time he was just as hidden as the last. “oh! Im sorry.” I said quickly going to grab your basket i dropped. “No worries.” It was quick and blunt, yet he reached down faster to grab the basket for me. Handing it over and grunting a little as he walked down the stairs— ookkkaaayyy. Weird.

—

Of course that wasnt the last i saw of my mysterious neighbor. My daughter was adamant on rushing to the park, she was shooting out of the door before i could even think about stopping her. I sighed before walking out to see her on the ground with tears welling in her big ol eyes. She had tripped, though before i could get to her i saw the same neighbor help her up and say something that made her grin widely. He could be seen looking around for a parent— i felt all the air leave my lungs when we made eye contact.. okay weird again. I just decided to brush it off and go up to my daughter, “you okay sunshine?” She just looked up at me with a big smile and quick nod. Not giving anything else before she began pulling me, off to the park.

It wasn’t until later that night o realized he had given her a bandaid for her knee. See i knew she couldnt have gotten one from the apartment because she was very adamant on only getting the unicorn ones at the store. Yet she had a big normal bandaid on her knee. That made alone could make my ovaries scream and try to take over.

—

It was 5 minutes later than when my daughter usually gets home- she takes the bus home and walks up, she had her own key and everything. So of course my mind goes to the worst possible thing, rushing out of my apartment only to see her walking up the stairs and chatting your neighbors ear off.

“Mommy says the land…….person… was a fat lazy good for nothing douche bag. She told me not to say that word but she says hes a mean man for avoiding her about our heat thingy. Its cold in my house- is it cold in your house?” Shame built inside of me as daughter yapped and yapped- telling this stranger all our information no doubt.

“Mommaa!!” She squealed when she saw me, her hand was holding onto the sleeve of the same neighbors shirt. She let go to run to me and i caught her in my arms to give her a big hug, “go inside and get washed up i have your favorite in the oven.” I said before giving her a little kiss on her forehead.

Once she was inside i shifted on your feet a little, “I’m sorry about her, she really likes talking.” I said with a little chuckle.

“Shes a sweet kid.” He said a but gruffly, “im bucky.” He said out of nowhere. “Oh im Y/n.”

“I know.”

My face must’ve screamed confusion and red flags because he followed up quickly, “she told me-“ i relaxed at that.

With that we both slipped into our respective apartments.

—

The landlord had came the next day to get my stuff all fixed, though he looked tense- very tense. Not that i cared. It was finally warm in the apartment again.

“Momma can we go to the park??” My daughter was at my legs and was looking up at you with those big pleading eyes and i knew you couldnt say no. I never could and she knew that.

It seemed every time i left your apartment now i had see him- Bucky. “Bucky!” Like always Angelina was chipper and waved at him. His scowl transformed into a small little smile. He gave her a little wave. “Wanna come with us to the park??” She asked him with the same big pleading eyes she had used on me moments before.

Though he looked at me as if to ask permission, every part of me was screaming at me to say no. To say you shouldn’t invite your strange and mysterious neighbors to go places with you. No matter how hot they happened to be.

My uterus had other plans at seeing how much my daughter truly liked this man, i gave a little nod. He looked down and gave her a nod, “sure i would be delighted.” Thats the most i think ive ever heard him speak.

Me and bucky watched from a distance while my daughter played on the monkey bars. “Did the landlord come by finally?” He asked me after some silence.

“Yeah- how did you know.?” I found myself filled with confusion again, this is the second time in the past few weeks hes given me that feeling.

“I spoke to him. A mother and kid shouldnt be without heat during this weather.” He said gruffly, it made heat travel up your spine and a blush crept up my neck. And before i could even get my response out he spoke again, “sorry it I overstepped.” His hand went to the back of his neck almost nervously.

“No no thank you. Hes been dodging me so. It was helpful.” A smile forming on my face. Angelina was rushing over and holding her hand out. “I got hurt.” Her lip jutted out and she looked up at the two of us with teary eyes. She had a callus that was peeling- ouch. I reached for my purse to see if i had a bandaid, none. “Im sorry sunshine we’re gonna have to go home if you want a bandaid. Im out.” I smiled sadly as her and the tears in her eyes got more prominent, “but i wanna stay.” She whined.

“Here.” He was blunt as he pulled out a bandaid from his little fannypack. “I always keep some on me.”

“Thank you Mr.bucky!” Angelinas smile came back and relief rushed over me. I helped her put the bandaid on and watched as she rushed back to continue playing. I wasn’t going to mention how he had been carrying around space bandaids with stars and shit on it. “Thank you- again.”

—

Angelina was at her grandparents for a week of her Christmas break. So i was alone- i always forgot how lonely things got when she wasnt here. Day one was just stupid romcoms on tv after doing my work. Working from home was the biggest blessing.

Day two though, my mind kept going back to bucky. He had come with us to the park more often as of late and i cant deny im growing fond of him, so thats how i found myself in my bed. A small purple toy buzzing between my thighs, my right hand circling the toy on my clit, and my other hand covering my mouth. My eyes clenched shut and i thought about him- the way he fills out his shirts, his piercing stare, his gentle tone with my daughter.

Buckys pov 🤭🤭

Fuck. What have i gotten myself into. I wasnt someone she would want in her life if she knew who i was. What ive done. But the kid clung to me like a leech and the first time the kid gave me that little smile i knew i was fine with that. Then the first time i saw y/n blushing i knew i was done for, i couldnt stop myself from getting close.

Maybe i shouldve but how could i when such a pretty girl had a sweet kid who apparently liked me. Though now i feel like im crossing some lines. My room was adjacent to y/ns room. I had figured that out fast enough. So here i was, clenching my eyes shut as i tried to ignore her moans, i can hear her from here. Im not trying to creep on her but fuck. My cock is hard as fuck and literally pulsing with need. I ignored it best as I could until i heard her moaning a little louder. My name falling from her lips.

My resolve snapped and i reached my hands down my boxers tugging down only enough to pull myself out. I knew i wouldn’t last long when my thumb splayed over the head, smearing precum around to use as lube. My hand tightened around my cock and i imagined it was her throat. Stroking slowly and i came embarrassingly fast, like i was a teenager again. I was spilling all over my hand to the thought of her.

your pov

Seeing him when i got back to my apartment w what i expected and my face flushed- a reminder of last night, my thoughts about him. “Hey Bucky.” I greeted- he was just getting back as well. “Hey, y/n.”

Silence for a beat… then two. Before i blurted, “want a beer?” I raised the 6 pack i had just bought. I could see his eyes look me over- slowly- like he was taking me in. “I wouldn’t say no.” He said, closing his door. I opened mine and he let himself in.

“Please make yourself at home.” I said shrugging off my jacket and shoes. Setting the case of beer on my table and stealing a glance at him. He pulled his cap off and for the first time i’d seen him without his hat. He was gorgeous. I wish i was lying but he was truly gorgeous. I grabbed two beers and popped them open. Settling myself on my couch and placing his beer on the coffee table for him.

He shrugged his jacket off and holy shit i don’t know whether i noticed the fact he had a full fucking metal arm or the fact he had more muscle than i had previously thought. I looked away quickly as to not ogle him. He sat down next to me and grabbed his beer. Taking a swig from the bottle. What i said before about not ogling him immediately went out the window when i saw him sitting manspread on my couch.

“What do you like watching?” I asked as i flicked my tv on. “I dont watch tv.” He said simply. “Anything you like is fine.”

“Like ever?” I pushed the no tv thing with a little giggle. “Yeah- like ever. Ive never been a fan.” He said softly, leaning back against the couch a little more.

“Well clearly you’ve never watched school of rock. It will change your mind.” I grinned as i put my all time favorite movie on. I turned up the volume and propped a leg up on my couch.

Somewhere during the movie we had shifted closer to eachother and his metal hand had ended up on my thigh. I gasped at the cold metal, not minding.

“Shit sorry that was-“ he said removing his hand quickly put i pulled it back to my thigh, “its fine- i dont mind.” I instinctively had leaned closer to him and my side rested against his. We went back to watching the movie when his fingers started dancing along my thigh, tracing shaped and making goosebumps rise on my skin. His hand shifted upwards more, i cant tell if it was intentional or not but he was dangerously high on my leg. Any higher and he would feel just how wet i was.

Near the end of the movie he hadnt moved his hand any further. “Bucky..” my voice was quiet, a surge of confidence consuming me. He looked over, “yeah doll?” My stomach churned at his sudden use of the petname. I didnt say anything- instead opting to grab him by the back of the neck and pulling his lips to mine. It was everything i was hoping it was.

Fuck what was i doing- i started to pull away but his flesh hand came to grab me by the neck to keep me there. Embarrassingly enough that was enough to make a moan fall from my lips. His hand shifted again. He pulled away for a moment before speaking, “can i touch you malýsh?” He was pleading, literally begging to touch you.

I nodded quickly but he applied some soft pressure to my throat, “words, malýsh“ he was different than his brooding quiet self, and the gentle and soft version he showed my daughter. “Yes- please.” I whispered breathily.

His lips crashed against mine again and his hand slipped up my thigh to brush his fingers over my mound. My hips immediately pressing down to get more. He pulled his hand away immediately- leaving me breathily whining into the kiss. He tugged my sweatpants off quickly though, the cold metal of his fingers returning to cup my pussy. His fingers sliding over the wet fabric of my panties, he groaned and his head fell to my shoulder. He peppered kisses and bites along the skin, “so wet.” He said after looking down and seeing the slick that had collected on his fingers.

He laid me back against the couch and spread my legs, one thing was already very clear to me- this man had experience. He tugged my panties off and his metal hand returned to my folds and ran along them until his fingers hooked on my clit. I moaned out loudly as his fingers rubbed small tight circles on my clit. My head falling to the side to avoid looking at him, he didnt like that. His flesh hand coming to pinch my cheeks in his hand, “eyes on me. Or I’ll stop.” I complied immediately- though i could tell by the near animalistic look in his eyes he wouldnt stop- not when hes enjoying this just as much as i am.

He cooed shamelessly against me,

“taking it so well.”

“My pretty girl.”

“Doing so good for me.”

“Keep your legs open”

I was shamelessly chasing my own high as his fingers continued to circle my clit, though he shifted down so his lips connected to my thigh, his fingers sifting away from my clit and he worked two fingers inside my entrance. I clenched around them because the sensation was unlike anything ive ever felt. He bit my thigh and i had to hold back a moan, his tongue came to soothe the spot before he moved further down to suck at my clit. My hands threaded in his hair and tugged, shamelessly bucking my hips to get closer. He pulled away and his other hand let go of my thigh to deliver three short and firm slaps to my pussy. By the third one my vision went white with how hard i had came.

….

…

Jesus christ. What have i gotten myself into.

[alilobsessive]

Hi!! Crypted reader has been in my head for days could we please see more of them

But of course! Admittedly, I don’t have much of an idea for a plot. So have some Justice Leaguers meeting Reader!

Superman had actually first met Reader as Clark Kent long before the Justice League was even a blip in the eyes of the trinity. You were a small child back then, hyperactive to the point it was maddening to most people, with an active imagination to boot. The small child had been talking to him nonstop, spouting out whatever came from your tiny mind. There wasn’t anything strange about what you were saying, until suddenly you said “Hey check out what I can do!” And Bruce Wayne, who was standing right behind him with a small smile as he listened to he child’s rambling, face contorted into that of horror. “Please we talked about this” he practically bagged, Clark mentally prepared himself for a child to innocently do something inappropriate. But instead what he got was a little unsettling. Something, shifted in the kids eyes, then stance, the child was clearly human, just mimicked something that wasn’t. They were damn good at it too, the kid didn’t even make a sound as they got on all fours and dashed off. “Not again!” Bruce yelped, running after the child.

Diana on the other hand didn’t even know Reader was Bruce's child when they first met. She was giving a museum tour and Reader was in it, the 11 year old was strange. Not strange in the way typical strange kids are, strange in every bone in her body was screaming this kid wasn’t human. They didn’t seem to be a threat, they never appeared to be at first. She kept a close eye on the child, watching them slink around with the rest of the group, tilting their head at odd angles as they looked at the artifacts on display. Whatever they are, they're bad at pretending they're human. It wasn’t uncommon for supernatural creatures to take the forms of humans for whatever reason, the form of a young child was no exception. Even after the child left, having not revealed their true form Diana stood on high alert. Even when they didn’t come back to steal, she was on edge for weeks.

Zatanna met Reader briefly, it was simple, do a magic sensing test for Batman. Just a simple favor, she was expecting a villain that he couldn’t tell if was using magic or just highly skilled. It happened from time to time. But instead it was a child, his child, and ya she got it. Kid had the exact same crypted tendencies as their Father. Admittedly if she didn’t know Batman better she would think he was a magical entity. Her dad made sure to snip that in the bud that’s for sure! But after a few quick tests it was confirmed that no there just like that. Yes Bruce, she did triple and quadruple checked each test to make sure they weren’t possessed, part magical creature, or any other magic related shenanigans going on with them. Kids just weird like their dear ol’ dad.

Flash had the shortest interaction with Reader, it only lasted a few minutes. It was during an invasion, everyone was fighting, “FLASH! CATCH” Nightwing screamed. He quickly turned to the other man and quickly caught what was thrown at him. Well more like who, a teenager started up at him unblinking. “Shit- okay- evacuation time-“ he said only to be hissed at and the teenager to start scratching his face. He ran anyway, wouldn’t be the first time, or the last that he’s attacked by a reluctant to leave civilian for one reason or another. Once they were a safe distance away Flash stopped and put them with the rest of the rescued civilians. Said civilian leaped out of his arms and hissed at him then ran into the crowd on all fours. Before he could even begin to understand what just happened, he had to run back to the fray. The strange incident completely out of his mind.

Booster Gold was just minding his own damn business in the watchtower one day, when Reader took one look at him and went “I’m gonna mess with that”. It started simple, moving objects from one spot to another when he wasn’t looking, pushing around furniture and knocking glasses off of tables. He felt eyes burning into his back with every step he took. Then Reader started letting him catch glimpses of them, of their shadow or of them turning a corner only to not be there. No one believed him when Booster tried to tell them about the strange spirit following him. Which is bullshit! They literally work with an actual goddamn ghost! The only one who did believe them was Blue Beetle, the second not the third. After almost a week of this Reader started to kind of feel bad for terrorizing this man. It was clearly making him anxious and a little paranoid, so they officially revealed themselves not just to him but to the rest of the justice league. Which was a shock to Batman because he did not know Reader was on the ship! How did they even get there??

[aspecbuddie]

Thinking about Eddie wondering how the fuck he's ended up living here again after he thought he'd got out for good. He thought he wouldn't have to go back ever again once he'd moved to LA other than to visit.

Because visiting is extremely different than living here again. Same shit, but with an end date in sight.

There's no end date this time, just a constant dampened mood that he cannot shake no matter how hard he tries.

It's only been two weeks, and he's already having to spend ten minutes sat in his truck before he goes inside the house, because he thought he'd be able to find a house sooner but no, he's ended up staying with his parents, and his son who is slowly letting him back in but too slowly to not make Eddie feel like utter shit.

And being here is the right choice, because Christopher is here, and he's done missing out on his son's life.

But then two months in he goes back to LA for a few days - accompanying his abuela on a trip to see Pepa mainly, but he makes time to see everyone he left behind, and its the lightest and easiest that life has felt since he moved, since Chris left for Texas last summer.

Still, he misses Chris. He cries in the bathroom on the flight back, because it had almost felt normal being back there, like he was gearing up to return to the 118 after taking some personal time to visit Texas, and not the other way around.

The brief respite feels invigorating; it makes everything he's returning to in Texas feel so much easier. He can do this. He can live in Texas and visit LA and most importantly mend things with Chris and things will get easier.

And then the first twenty four hours back in Texas he's reminded why he left in the first place. Things haven't changed. They're the same as they were when he was a kid, the same as they were before the last few days, and of course things wouldn’t be any easier. Since when does the universe give him a break like that.

It feels worse, even, because his visit to LA was a glimpse into how life used to be, that it did get better for a brief moment in time. But he doesn’t get that. Eddie’s not allowed that apparently. So reality comes crashing down on him harder than before. Not the soft gentle easing back into Texas living that he had a couple months ago, but suddenly and immediately feels impossible.

But he bears it, for Christopher.

He never does find a house in Texas, so he spends a suffocating six months at his parents, simultaneously feeling ten years old and older than ever.

Then one day Christopher turns and asks when they’re moving back to LA – a possibility Eddie had completely ruled out until this point – and they start making plans to move back.

A month later, Eddie is sitting in his truck again, smiling to himself and wondering how he ended up back here when he thought he never would be. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care. A year ago he thought he’d completely ruined his life.

He’s in the middle of taking a moment to be thankful when Buck knocks on the truck window and asks if he’s actually coming inside to get changed before their shift starts.

Now he’s home.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Anon Ask: Wait wait so we have Bella’s mini me, the yan!romantic!Lestrange!OC x Twin!Weasley or criminal!Weasley

But

What about Yan!Malfoy!OC that’s Narcissa’s mini me just without the intense blood supremacy shit

Definitely magic supremacy, she’d wholeheartedly believe wizards and witches are better then muggles but having nothing against muggleborns/half bloods unless it’s personal beef

———

Pt.2 Draco makes a comment to Twin!Reader about never being able to “afford” a girl like Malfoy!OC when they’re on the Hogwarts Express for the first time and he catches them sharing a smile

He doesn’t understand what Draco means until Fred pats his shoulder and tells him that “girls like expect to be showered in champagne and diamonds and pretty flowers” and advises him to steer clear of her and Draco going forward

His inferiority complex thank you, Molly spirals to the point where Twin!Reader is doing dangerous and most likely illegal shit the more and more he develops feelings because maybe it’ll make Malfoy!OC and his mother really love him

If you wanna make it dramatic then Lestrange!OC is standing beside him almost every day wanting to pull out her hair because she’s right there and her cousin is just toying with his feelings knowing that she’ll never really sacrifice the Malfoy Fortune unless Twin!Reader proves he can provide

He does increasingly stupid shit as the years pass on like pursuing bounties the MoM put on dark wizards while holding a part time job during the summer months and finding a work around to participate in the Triwizard Tournament while selling/trading illegal materials at school

He knows that whatever chances existed are gone the moment Lucius Malfoy sits across from him at a poker table in some back room at a sketchy goblin run establishment and he smokes the table

————

I like to think that Yan!Malfoy!OC and Yan!Lestrange!OC are the same age and with that these two just have this deep seeded rivalry. They just always have. So when Lestrange!OC becomes obsessed with Weasley!Reader, Malfoy!OC sees this as another way to get at her cousin. I can imagine Malfoy!OC being someone who really craves and thrives off attention, just someone who prefers all eyes on her and when Weasley!Reader is doing the most to try and prove himself worthy of her (at least that’s what it looks like) she basks in it, wanting for even more constant attention. But she would never say that she liked Weasley!Reader or anything like that, this is strictly an ego boost for her and a way to get under her cousin’s skin.

I would really like to believe that Weasley!Reader isn’t going out of his way so much as to prove himself to the Malfoy’s or Malfoy!OC but instead he’s doing so to prove to himself that he is capable of so much more than what people think of him. Especially his mother and now the Malfoy’s. He’s not trying to earn Malfoy!OC’s affections like she and everyone else is under the impression of, no what he’s actually doing is finally putting his foot down. Weasley!Reader has put up with a lot, he’s already treated like shit at home by his own mother, he’s not just gonna let someone else treat him the same all over again in the only place he feels even remotely safe and comfortable. And I like to think that this only lasts for a bit, not too long, until Weasley!Reader just has enough of feeling like he needs to do anything to prove himself at all anymore and he just stops completely. Stops giving anything of himself to Malfoy!OC especially cause it’s one thing to have to deal with his mother but he can just walk away from Malfoy!OC and ignore her. The poor boy is just tired. So tired.

But in being ignored, Malfoy!OC instead finds herself at a loss. No one has just up and ignored her before, save for Lestrange!OC, so this is a completely foreign concept to her. At first, she tries to brush it off and act like it’s whatever, if anything this is better cause then she won’t be having to waste her own time on measly Weasley!Reader and his shenanigans. But the longer Weasley!Reader doesn’t even so much as spare her a glance, Malfoy!OC is left feeling empty. She doesn’t want to admit how much she actually looked forward to Weasley!Reader’s attention, how warm she felt inside whenever he came back proud of himself after accomplishing some new endeavor or when he ended up bringing something new from one of his many ventures to prove himself capable. Like, the time he gifted her a Basilisk fang after killing the one in the Chamber of Secrets. (He didn’t gift her shit, he tossed it on the table in the Slytherin common room after coming back from saving Ginny and fighting for their lives. Malfoy!OC just took it as a gift meant for her.) I guess you could say Malfoy!OC is experiencing withdrawals. She’s so out of sorts not having Weasley!Reader seeking her out anymore that she almost doesn’t know what to do with herself. More often than not she’s left just to watch as Weasley!Reader gives the attention he use to put towards her towards Lestrange!OC now. Not like he wasn’t giving her cousin attention before but now that’s all Malfoy!OC sees. And she hates it. She wants his eyes back on her, she wants to be the only thing he looks at. What started off as Weasley!Reader proving himself ends with Malfoy!OC now trying to prove herself more deserving of his attention than her cousin ever could be.

Malfoy!OC would turn into a complete stalker after being ignored and basically abandoned by Weasley!Reader. She is everywhere he goes, she sees and hears everything that goes on with and around him. When the Zabini’s take Weasley!Reader in and under their wings, Malfoy!OC is now making more appearances at the Zabini home when he’s over. And whenever the chance, she’s interrogating Blaise for as much more information as she can get her hands on. Like, Malfoy!OC gets so bad to the point where even Dobby is warning Weasley!Reader, and that’s before he ever started working for him. Or Dobby is reaching out to Lestrange!OC in hopes of her being able to do something, whether it’s to get Malfoy!OC to back off altogether or to just be there for Weasley!Reader. Either way, Malfoy!OC just does a whole downward spiral into obsession. Don’t even get me started on when she demands her parents arrange a marriage between her and Weasley!Reader. After all he’s pureblood so it’s fine and he’s obviously nothing like the rest of his family, so why can’t she have him at the end of the day? All just cause Daddy Lucius is a sore loser? Whatever, he can get over it. Otherwise, Malfoy!OC is going to throw the biggest bitch fit ever seen in Malfoy history.

The rivalry between Lestrange!OC and Malfoy!OC will only become all the more intense after Malfoy!OC’s own obsession kick starts. These two will be at each other’s throats even more than they already were. The only time they can even be considered as remotely ‘working’ together is when it comes to someone else trying to swoop in on Weasley!Reader. Only then is it not “my darling”, but rather “our darling”. Could the two possibly ever come to the capability of sharing, maybe but it’ll never truly be peaceful. There will always be competition but hey at least they both get the same thing at the end of the day, right?

[le-trash-prince]

Sorry for jumping in on a conversation, but I agree with so much of this I don't even know where to start.

when did we start only wanting media that is perfectly suited to our standards? I've been thinking a lot about this lately bc ppl will complain about a show that is all fanservice and no plot but then the same ppl will turn around and call it homophobic when a show decides to skimp on fanservice in favor of plot, and while I know that there is a middle ground, I don't think every show needs to hit that middle ground in order to have value.

it seems like a really exhausting and slightly puritan way to do things, to be constantly finding imperfections and treating them as more important than the good parts. dunno about y'all but i don't want to be unintentionally enacting puritan shit.

^ this hits SUCH a chord with me bc ppl will performatively make fun of puritans to signal that they're part of the In Crowd, but turn around and tear down a show for not aligning with their sense of ethics bc a character was/wasn't "punished by the narrative." I've even seen ppl say that queer POC writers have no business writing certain topics until their viewpoint aligns with whatever that OP thinks is correct. Ppl don't even get how puritan they're being and it's so frustrating

it becomes a game of liking the right show at the right time to get that sense of belonging. And some people can feel isolated again for not liking the show that everyone seems to love right now, so they want to at least find community in sharing their criticism.

^ this. especially with how quickly ppl move from fandom to fandom (hard to blame them when there's 543231 BL shows coming out a year), ppl fall back on criticism bc it's guaranteed to draw a strong reaction. But I think it's a rather shallow sense of community compared to the kind built around creativity. I've been into BL for over 20 years now, and I have friendships lasting just as long that were built around creativity.

Fandom used to have an attitude that the thing to do is create things if you weren't happy with the canon media, but these days that attitude is drastically different.

I've definitely seen ppl in BL tumblr deriding the fanfic mindset, as if fandom wasn't built on the backs of fanfic and doujinshi. People will act as if it’s intellectually inferior to want to engage with a show on a creative level rather than demanding that it change itself to our whims. They say that if a show is good enough, no one would need to add anything to it. Which I agree, is a deeply consumerist mindset. Even if creatives may be perfectionists, the act of creation isn’t about seeking perfection. Transformative fanworks are about collaborative artz

Many of the biggest voices in QL fandom don't make any type of fanwork, and I would argue are not part of larger transformative fandom as it exists on the verge of 2025

Plain and simple agree 🙌 It’s really easy to tell when someone lacks a practical understanding of the creative process, and I know it’s something a lot of creatives in BL/GL tumblr have frustrations with. It becomes difficult to take someone’s opinions seriously when they demonstrate ignorance of storytelling while trying to prop their opinions up by using as many words as possible.

One of the reasons I think sense-of-belonging is part of the problem, is that one constant I see in criticisms is to distance a piece of media from 'being actually queer'. For every single queer fandom I ever dipped my toe in, I have seen the 'this is for straight girls' accusation.

^ THIS TOO (i meant it when I said I agreed with too much). It’s especially frustrating when I see self-proclaimed straight allies trying to make claims over what is or isn’t queer enough… Please stop talking over us thanks. I also don’t think it’s the end of the world if a straight person enjoys a BL. I want to be able to enjoy queerness in many forms, I want to be able to share the things I love with my family, and I also know that BL helped me process my own queerness when I thought I was straight, and putting queer media in front of “straight” people can help them on their journey. I think the BL industry is certainly large enough today that it doesn’t need to be shoved into a box of “if this doesn’t upset straight ppl then it’s not queer enough.”

In terms of fandom engagement, for the time being I just try to tailor my expectations about the size of a fandom and acknowledge that the transformative side of the fandom is in the minority and number of viewers in the tag ≠ size of the fandom. Otherwise it can feel really gutting when it looks like there’s a large audience but silent audience. Still, even if we’re only reaching a small number of people, we can always try to encourage other creators and stir up conversations that generate transformative activity. In the end, the critics will leave a fandom as soon as a show is over, and when they’re gone, the ones left will be the ones who want to make something.

(I also think antis have played a large part in dismantling transformative fandom bc ppl have personally told me how nervous they get about posting or engaging with anything that could be interpreted as problematic, and rampant criticism of a show may similarly play a part in people not feeling comfortable creating for a fandom)

a question for QL fandom at large: when did we start only wanting media that is perfectly suited to our standards?

there has never been a perfect show, and there never will be a perfect show, because everybody likes different things and QL is run on shoestring budgets. i thought this was something we made our peace with as viewers of the genre!

so i'm just wondering at what point fandom decided that a show is only worthy of praise/fandom if it has no problems?

at what point did we decide that talking about the problems of a show is more important than talking about what we did enjoy and what kept us watching? i don't know when it happened, but it definitely has. critique is treated more seriously and gets more interaction than people talking about what they like.

it seems like a really exhausting and slightly puritan way to do things, to be constantly finding imperfections and treating them as more important than the good parts. dunno about y'all but i don't want to be unintentionally enacting puritan shit.

i want joy, i want fun, i want the spirit of camaraderie in fandom.

so, why did fandom begin to snub any media that didn't fit very high standards? and how can we steer ourselves away from that impulse?

(i am genuinely curious about why this is happening and how those of us who don't enjoy it can change, so please feel free to jump in, even if you are 'late' or think you only have a very small contribution to make to the discussion.)

[original-punks]

I just noticed how stressed my body becomes when I hear muffled conversations. No matter what level of noise it is, my ptsd turns it into aggression.

[stellewriites]

really fucking grinds my gears how my dad knows just how to make me feel fucking guilty for putting up boundaries and saying no

[mcybree]

I WAS BORN IN THE MCYT, MOLDED BY IT (I've been a hermitcraft fan since like 2018)

HELP awesome hi lorebird

[cuntwrap--supreme]

My cat butted up against my hand and it reminded me of when my childhood cat was starting to go senile and my mom suggested we just have her put down because she doesn't really matter once she's lost it and that she never cared about me besides being a hand that provides food (even though I was the only person in the family she was comfortable around after she'd gone totally feral out of age-induced confusion). My mom never liked that cat, even though she was a really good cat. It's not her fault she got old and couldn't remember shit. To me, that's when she needed the most care. To my mom, she deserved to be locked in the basement for the last two years of her life. And, because my mom seldom let her out and I was both in college and working full time and could only release her for a few hours daily, the basement ended up being where she felt safe, and she would only leave if I picked her up and moved her out. Which is so sad. Imagine treating a dying animal that way.

[the-gay-prometheus]

Do people realize this isn't unique to Disney? Cuz this is not unique to Disney. Other corporations are already doing this and this isn't new. Wish there could've been this big of a reaction about it before someone actually died 🙃

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[ragnars-tooth]

I should not have been taught so badly for 3 years that i genuinely have to google how to find job postings in my field. "Get a degree!! Get a degree!!" for why. To be laughed at by out of touch tutors and not taught anything? It's certainly not going to help me get a job because i CANT FIND THEM. "People will see you went here and that will give you credibility." Will it roderick. Because I now know not to trust a motherfucker who went here 💀

[gender-euphowrya]

ok ngl galaxy buds 2 kinda fucking rule

[lurkiestvoid]

yeahhhhh pretty much, except the only thing is it's less individual investors and more Hedge Funds.

Hedge funds use algorithms to maximize profits by any means necessary, up to and including certain tactics that will deliberately tank a stock. If it's not performing well or if they just don't want it to, they can bet against it and whip out a variety of bullshit of varying legality to push the share price down, which causes other HFs to sell to stay ahead of the market, which leads portfolio managers and accountants and regular folks to sell, and then when the selloffs are done the original HFs make fucking bank off strangling the stock. (This also works in reverse: betting a stock will rise, baiting others to buy in, profit, then bet against it again)

So a "strong" company is one with lots of gains and very few/short losses (harder to break/less room to manipulate, generally Big Name stocks like Disney/Apple/etc) whereas a "weak" company with more losses than gains or lots of volatility is a prime target for the piranhas. The people running companies are terrified of stagnation, let alone losses, because it can very, very easily be taken advantage of and even outright kill the company in just a few weeks or months. Perpetual growth is virtually required to survive the market as it is today.

Individual, casual/hobbyist investors with at most a couple dozen shares in a handful of companies don't have the numbers/margins to seriously affect a stock price. Even hobbyist/semipro "traders" who obsess/hoard and attempt to imitate The Big Guys are comparitively few in number and just don't have the weight to affect much more than their own account balance. But hedge funds do have MASSIVE weight in the market, throwing around thousands of shares at a time, several times a day, for dozens of different tickers, in multiple markets and across multiple industries.

And then there are "market makers." These are giant companies whose SOLE purpose is to manipulate the market ensure "market liquidity," or, "a buy for every sell, a sell for every buy." What this means is that if demand is high but there aren't enough shares available to sell, they make more by "borrowing" them, potentially infinitely. If these market makers feel a stock is too "overvalued," they can dump loads of those borrowed shares to saturate the market and drive the price back down. There is extremely little regulation on this, which leads to situations where the same one share can have dozens or hundreds of "owners."

This can happen because regular everyday investors don't actually "own" stock at all. Like, very literally, their "shares" are 1) not real and 2) can be liquidated by their brokers at any time, because, as the go-between third party, their brokers own the shares "on their behalf," and brokers essentially just "deliver" digital IOUs. All Actual Real Shares are held in the DTCC by a company called Cede & Co, and everything else is traded on credit.

If you buy a "share" in a company through a broker, it's not your name on the company shareholder list, it's your broker's. If you're submitting paperwork to your broker for voting for that company's policies at their annual meeting, your broker is pooling aaaaall the votes and "proportionally" voting "on your behalf." And your broker can decide to lend out your shares without telling you (to their own profit) and you may or may not ever get them back -- this is called "failure to delivers" or FTDs and there is a massive backlog of them that just ... never get addressed.

this is hella over-summarized and sloppy but the tl;dr is that supply and demand economics are beyond broken, the entire stock market is more fake than you ever imagined, it's propped up entirely by computer programs trading IOUs-of-IOUs-of-IOUs, and is easily manipulated at the literal whim of bank-and-billionaire proxies.

companies really have got to be okay with stagnant profits. what is wrong with earning the same amount every year? why does it always have to be more? it's not sustainable. there are only so many people on the planet you can profit from 😭

[singmyaubade]

Good Luck Babe

poly!marauders x nerd!female!reader

summary: after being a wallflower throughout your first five years at hogwarts, you always thought that you could be invisible. but when you hear the marauders talking cruelly about you and proceeding to ask for your forgiveness after, well good luck babe.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, reader wants to kill the marauders , swearing, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), jealousy

a/n: oh hey... this is kinda based on those cliche 2000's movies where the girl is ugly but not really and she has that glow up or whatever. this was written so quick and not proofread, don't kill me. i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

STARTING off your sixth year at Hogwarts being an entirely new person wasn't something that you had planned or expected.

On the inside, you felt exactly the same, the same girl who was bold and could ferociously win a fight when it came to her character.

The same girl who was witty and sarcastic, surprising half of the people around you when you made a joke once in a lifetime.

But on the outside, you didn't have an awkward mis-shaped bob and you no longer wore baggy jackets that didn't do a thing for your figure.

And you didn't hide your face anymore, trying your best to be invisible.

It wasn't that you were shy or that you felt like a loser but you thought social hierarchy was bullshit and the only thing you wanted to focus on was your studies.

You may have been a brave Gryffindor on the inside but on the outside, you had to play the part of a shy mouse as corny as that sounds.

Unfortunately for you, invisibility only tends to last for so long until one moment, you are a nobody and then all eyes are upon you.

And maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't heard the Marauders discussing you the previous year, you would have stayed the same.

You had passed by the boys dormitory to give Remus his textbooks back as you always did when you let you borrow when you heard them speaking of the very person behind the door,

"I still have yet to understand why Lily and the rest of them act like she's some charity case," James huffed, "I mean, she's not some sick patient, they only feel the need to pity her because of how she looks."

You always knew that James had a foul mouth but to be speaking about someone like this, it was cruel.

Remus hissed, "That's not nice Prongs,"

"I'm not even saying it to be a dick!" James groaned, "I just mean, I pity her more for the fact that they don't even invite her to anything outside of breakfast and dinner," He explained, causing Remus to go silent.

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. "That's absolutely horrid."

James reclined on his bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "I’m just saying, if I were Y/N, I’d be mortified."

Your eyes widened as they began to water, they were speaking about you.

Remus leaned against the wall, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe she just doesn’t want to hang out with Lily and the others."

"Moony, seriously," James shot back, sitting up. "Where is Y/N right now, and where are the other girls?" His eyebrow cocked, trying to make his point as Remus silenced.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Why don’t we investigate for ourselves?" He unfolded the Marauder's Map with a flourish. "Alright, we’ve got Lily, Dorcas, Mary, and Marlene all at Hogsmeade, but Y/N is..." His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing.

James leaned closer, annoyance creeping into his tone as he grabbed the map, "She's-" He stopped, the color fading from his face.

"Fucking spit it out!" Remus said next as he snatched the map finally and saw that the map had shown that you were right outside their door.

"Shit!" You heard Remus say as he started making his way to the door.

Hearing his footsteps approaching, you quickly moved away from the door, bolting for your room.

Once you made it back to your dorm, you had sinked the floor. You put your hand on your mouth, muffling yourself as you cried silently.

You honestly hated to even say it but you did consider Lily and the rest of them your friends. You had never really thought about how they didn't invite you to places.

And if you were being truthful, they had never asked you to have breakfast or dinner with them.

You had always just assumed that you could join but they never told you to leave or swooshed you off. Another part of you hated how stupid you were, trying to intrude on their private time.

You didn't want to let it get to you what a bunch of seventeen year old boys were saying but it did sting horribly.

But in a way, it also motivated you to be who you were on the inside. You already had the top marks in your entire year and your plan to work in the Ministry after Hogwarts had already been set.

And now your chance to be something at Hogwarts was right in front of you, an opportunity that you couldn't miss.

You had to do it for yourself.

The Marauders had no idea who you truly were or even cared to know. And although Remus was kind to you, you could always see that he never made any effort to be your friend.

Not that you expected him to but it only taught you that they truly thought you were some hopeless case.

And an assignment to make the Marauders bite their tongues was one that you couldn't bare to fail.

After hearing that, you decided to avoid the Marauders for the next month, especially with summer break approaching. To your surprise, you barely saw them outside of classes, never giving them a chance to reach out—even Remus.

And then that summer, everything changed. You let your hair grow past your shoulders, embracing your natural curls instead of straightening them. You started wearing clothes that were trendy and form-fitting, a huge contrast to your old style.

You discovered a newfound love for self-care, enjoying the process far more than you expected. Each day felt like a transformation, and by the end of summer, your mother couldn’t help but notice. “Finally listening to me about your style, huh?” she teased.

You only laughed as you embraced her,

If only she knew what had caused it in the first place.

As you said goodbye to your family, anticipation mingled with dread. You knew the train ride would be the least of your worries, but the welcome dinner and the ceremony ahead felt like they might just be hell reincarnate.

As you entered Hogwarts, you admired it as much as you did when you were a first year. The castle was something you considered a second home and everything about it was magical, there was no doubting that.

A crowd of students, including yourself, moved toward the Great Hall, and you settled into your usual seat at the Gryffindor table.

You spotted the Marauders and the usual group of girls approaching, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They took their usual spots in front of you, with the girls on one side and the boys on the other. James sat beside you, and Lily was directly in front of him.

You never quite understood why they arranged themselves like that, but it hardly mattered in the moment.

They were busy in conversation before James had noticed someone next to him, his eyes widening. You couldn't quite read his face but it seemed like a mix of confusion and flustered.

You stared at him back but he still had yet to mutter a word. You cleared your throat, "Uh hello," You practically whispered.

He snapped back into reality, "Oh sorry, hi," He muttered back.

Silence took over you both as James couldn't find the words of what to say to you.

On one hand, he wanted to call you beautiful, to tell you that you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. On the other, he just wanted to stare at you for a few more minutes like a creep.

Lily noticed his gaze and leaned in, smirking. "Excuse my friend; we’re still trying to figure out if he has a brain."

"I thought we solved that decades ago," Marlene chimed in, stifling a laugh.

Lily turned to you with a curious smile. "I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?"

Are you actually fucking kidding me?

You scoffed, "I'm Y/N,"

The entire group looked at you in awe, even the ones who weren't chimed in on the conversation.

"Y/N L/N?" Sirius asked, mouth gaping.

"Yep, that one," You snorted.

They all looked like they had seen a ghost, "You look different," Marlene said as Mary shoved her.

"She means in a good way!" Mary added.

"Uh thanks," You said, awkwardly.

They all continued to stare at you like you were an exhibit in a museum, their eyes scanning you up and down.

"Do you all mind not staring at me?" you asked, trying to break the tension. They all looked away, feigning innocence as they muttered apologies.

"How have you been?" Lily asked, clearly trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Fine," you replied, your tone clipped.

You caught the pained expressions on the Marauders' faces, realizing they were the reason for your dismissive attitude.

"That's great," Lily said, forcing a smile.

You felt a wave of frustration at the awkwardness surrouding you and decided it was time to escape. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you announced, heading toward the exit before they could respond.

As you walked away, you could already here the mutters and whispers emerging from the table, the fascinating topic being you.

You paced as you heard footsteps trailing behind you, but you ignored them, letting your gaze wander around the castle.

"Y/N!" someone called out, startling you.

You turned to see Sirius, James, and Remus hurrying after you. You only let out a snort before continuing your same way.

A hand suddenly reached around your forearm as you turned to see Remus. You quickly snatched your hand away, finally stopping to look at the group of boys who you despised.

Crossing your arms, you shot them a hostile look. "What?"

"We just wanna—"

"We're so—"

"Listen, we just—"

They all spoke at once, but you scoffed and turned back toward the bathroom, starting to walk away.

You were hoping that they would realize you wanted nothing to do with them but instead, it only made them want to chase you more.

They quickened their pace, and you spun around sharply. "For fuck's sake, what do you want?" you snapped.

James took a breath, his expression earnest. "I'm sorry for what I said. I've been thinking about it since you left. I was an awful twat, and you didn't deserve a thing of what I said."

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Are you serious?" You asked as your expression changed to furious, "You basically called me a loser and said that Lily and the rest of them were only hanging out with me out of pity,"

James hissed as your statement, feeling the razor in your voice.

"-And now you all want to act as if I should just forgive you since I don't look the same anymore," You got closer to James's face, "Fuck off."

You turned your heel again and this time, the boys didn't follow you.

You finally entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you struggled to read the expression on your face. You were furious at the Marauders, and the idea of forgiving them felt impossible.

Yet, there was a flicker of gratitude that you felt for the change you’d undergone. You’d gained a new confidence that felt good, but the sting of their cruel words still lingered in your mind.

And you knew that you couldn't let it get to you but knowing they thought that of you, even Remus. It still did things to you that you would never admit out loud.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realized it was almost time to head to the dormitory.

The rest of the night had flown by, with first years being introduced to their new home for the next six years while everyone else relaxed in the common room. Despite curfews, fifth years and above knew they could hang out longer—the curfew was mostly for the first years anyway.

"Caput Draconis," you muttered, and the Fat Lady nodded, granting you entrance.

Stepping into the common room, your heart sank as you spotted the last group you wanted to see. They noticed you just as quickly, encouraging you to pick up your pace toward the dorm.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dorcas called out, making you wince as you turned to see her waving.

The Marauders looked down, shame etched on their faces, avoiding your gaze as if you were Medusa.

You approached them slowly, dread settling in your stomach as they eyed you like a science project.

"We were just about to play a fun little game," Dorcas said enticingly, while Marlene snorted beside her.

"I don’t know if Spin the Bottle is a great idea for the first night back," Marlene added, taking a sip of her beer.

"A little peck never hurt anyone," Lily chimed in, clapping her hands together.

Of all people, you’d never expect Lily Evans to approve such a thing. This was the same girl who nearly fainted when she heard about Marlene and Dorcas kissing the previous year.

"I don’t know if this is the game for me," you replied, eyeing the group warily.

"Of course it is!" Lily insisted, but you raised an eyebrow. "Oh my gosh! Not like that, I just mean it's a fun game for us all to play," she quickly added, looking flustered.

Part of you wanted to say no and retreat to your bed, but that was the old you, and you knew it wouldn’t help. This was a new year, and you were determined to embrace new experiences.

Besides, you’d never participated in any scandalous games for all of the years you've been at Hogwarts—it felt like a crime in itself.

So, after a moment’s hesitation, you said, "Okay, sure." The girls erupted in cheers, while the Marauders exchanged worried glances.

What if you had to kiss one of them? Would you refuse and create a scene? Would you want to strangle them for even suggesting it?

The possibilities raced through their mind, but there was no turning back as everyone began to form a circle.

As you sat in the circle, a shiver of nervousness enveloped you. You had never kissed anyone before and the whole thought made you nervous within itself.

Don't get it wrong, you've had chances but they never seemed right and you certainly weren't kissing Matthew Trunchbull underneath the bleachers of the Quidditch field.

So when you got offered a shot of firewhiskey to cool your nerves by Marlene, you took it happily as it burned down your throat.

You brushed off all the negative thoughts entering your mind,

What really is the worst thing that could happen?