#he is the teacher’s pet of the fucking dark side. look at me. that’s hilarious. WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY

[loveoaths]

I’ve been reading through Darth Momin’s Wookiepedia entry recently and he is fascinating. Momin is considered a “Sith heretic” which, conceptually, is just…… how bad/weird/annoying do you have to be for the SITH, the biggest annoying asshole whiners in the galaxy, to look at you and think, “Yeah I’mma need this bitch OUTTA HERE ASAP”???

The answer is: pretty goddamn annoying. But I’ll get to that in a second.

His “heresy” is believing that the Sith do not control the Dark Side; the dark side controls them. They exist solely to serve it, to please it through their works and actions. He does not believe in the wanton destruction of his peers; he believes in creation. Adding to the world instead of taking it apart. Unfortunately his idea of “adding to the world” is shit like “use the Force to lock an entire city in the second before it’s utter annihilation, thus creating an endless source of pain and fear and terror to fuel my Evil Engine so I can get a good grade in Being Loved By the Dark Side, which is both normal and something possible to achieve.”

And then he fucking FAILS at it because some pesky little Jedi get onto his engine and the mere presence of light side energy distracts him so much that he EXPLODES HIMSELF. this guy sucks so fucking bad it’s unreal. I’m obsessed.

Momin thinks the Sith obsession with Jedi is stupid and irrelevant to their purpose, which is to honor the Dark Side and execute its will across the Galaxy. This school of thought appears to be unique to him, since it is considered antithetical to everything mainstream Sith believe, and it dies with him, because they ensure his name is not recorded in any Sith or Jedi holocron; his legacy is all but eradicated. This is 1) hilarious, but also 2) indicative of the accusation he levels against the Sith: they are so focused on hoarding and hiding knowledge that they undermine themselves and the efforts of their entire group, when they could be serving one goal — honoring the Dark Side — and rebuilding the galaxy in its image. This guy is technically the eclectic fringe hippie guy of the Sith, and he’s like. An art / architecture / engineering triple major with a minor in being fucking creepy.

And the reason he is LIKE this is because he got one (1) bad art review on his first sculpture — which was totally understandable considering he made said sculpture out of the family pet. And Momin decides, fuck it if y’all don’t like my work then I don’t like YOU. Also DIE.

His art (and therefore life) philosophy becomes obsessed with pain and fear. To him they are the only true emotions, the only ones that define our nature, the only emotions that matter. Sure dude. I’m sure that has nothing to do with everyone hating your art and being freaked out by you. You totally didn’t create an entire artistic vision that claims how people receive YOUR work is universal and the only purpose of art, because there is no way your art isn’t just awful and bad and nauseating. Noooo, that’s what art is supposed to be!

He also thinks Vader is a bitch, which is hilarious, because seconds after this Vader smears him across the floor.

If this guy was a doughnut, the outside dough would be Art/Stem Boy Who Tells You You Like Art Wrong and his inside would be Hannibal + Villanelle jelly.

He may as well have said “This is my design.”

Oh, and on top of being a brilliant dingus, this guy somehow conjured a door to the dark side itself, pulled his original body from it and transfered his consciousness to it (implying that he has technically unlocked the key to immortality that the Sith have been banging on about for eons), is strong enough in the dark side that a fragment of his soul can survive inside a stupid little helmet long after he’s dead, doesn’t believe in the Master-Apprentice dynamic, is a perfect plot vehicle for any time travel fic because if any bitch has found a way to the World Between Worlds it’s this guy and he WILL be making it your problem, and is somehow both one of the most unique and most exhausting Sith —

All while looking like a rejected Keebler elf.

I’m obsessed.

(Credit to @gffa for these comic images I found in the #darth momin tag!)

#I need to actually buy these comics because I NEED to see the full picture but goddamn I’m so ridiculously amused. #this guy is like. an evil liberal arts school kid. that is objectively so fucking funny #he names his lightsabers Praxis and Direct Action #he is staging the bodies of his enemies as an art installation in the middle of a walkway so everyone has to see his GLORIOUS PURPOSE #he is the teacher’s pet of the fucking dark side. look at me. that’s hilarious. WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY #darth momin #you know i love a freak in a mask. i reject his white boy face though. i’m gonna commission art of him and he will look so awful #darth Vader #I don’t even go here but I do now. I’m a Jedi lover but this guy is too ridiculous not to stan . I’m going to write something so weird #long post #ALSO HIS NAME IS BASICALLY EVIL MOOMINS. THANK YOU TOVE JANSSON!

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

give me all your venom, i love that shit

summary: i do apologize. no one asked for this...but i accidentally watched assassination nation. okay, it was intentional the first time. but the twenty times after that while i was writing this were accidental. anyway...smut stuff. webcam smut with love of my life Andrew Barber.

warnings: cheating. age gap. andy gets a little dark. this is prob as dark as i would ever write this perfect, beautiful man. a million and one pet names also.

word count: around 11,100 lol oops

pairing: andy barber  x reader

a/n: so yes, age gap. it’s unclear what that is. go ahead and do what you will. it’s truly none of my business. also...one day, i’ll write in my tags ‘i’m gonna post tonight’ and actually post that night. not 300 nights later!

Laurie was a great woman, pretty much the kind of woman that you had always wished your mom would just wake up one day and feel completely compelled to act like. She was always so nice when she spoke to you, even the times you were clearly a little drunk and practically falling out of your tiny skirts.

She chalked it up to youth, so you’d once been told. That was huge in the little town you lived in. Mostly, if people saw all the skin you were showing, what they thought of you was clearly written all over their faces.

Laurie just liked talking to you. About anything. Everything. School, friends, boys, the future. This interest that she took in you didn’t end when you stopped babysitting for the Barbers, if anything, it made your conversations warmer. It was evident that the little time she could get with you was precious to her.

Jacob was the sweetest kid in the world. You had been apprehensive when she first called you. One reason only: babysitting boys was the worst. They were little demons and their parents either were blissfully unaware or did know and just didn’t care. You’d seen the same show for several years.

Not Jacob. And definitely not the Barbers. They were all so perfect and well-adjusted. You hadn’t been sure what to make of them those first few months. You had briefly suspected that both Laurie and Andy were total sociopaths who’d spawned another little sociopath. Come to find out, you just actually had such a fucked-up family situation.

Jacob loved playing video games with you, even though you were terrible at them. He never got upset when you made him lose, he just insisted that you needed to practice. Around the time you left, you’d started to get a little decent at them. He also enjoyed coloring and reading, two of your preferred babysitting activities.

Still, he was also an energetic little boy and that meant that he had dragged you outside sometimes to play very distracted versions of soccer, basketball, baseball a few times, and football once. Only once.

You’d both ended up covered in mud, it had been raining that morning but neither of you wanted to be deterred by that. When Laurie found you, she was horrified. Maybe a tad amused, seeing as she needed several pictures of the two of you.

You had wanted to walk home that night, the same thing you did after most shifts. The problem was, they had arrived home a bit later than usual. Laurie first, Andy about 10 minutes later. You didn’t want to walk through the house, so while Laurie was still threatening to hose off Jacob outside, you made your way around to the front porch.

Just as Andy was unlocking the front door.

Andy. He was easily the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. Mostly, he was in these perfect god damn suits because he was a lawyer. Other times, he didn’t shy away from tight shirts that clung to his arms and chest, and jeans that did the same for his ass.

The coveted position of babysitting for the perfect, loving Andy and Laurie Baber. It was hilarious that it went to you because you were the only one who hadn’t been desperately trying to get it. All your friends would bend over backward, even though a friend of a friend of a friend, Julia Something, had claimed that Jacob was an utter hellion.

But what it came down to was the fact that Andy looked like he had been made by someone trying to create the perfect human being. Everyone was just looking for a way in and when you got it, no one could believe it. You hadn’t been as serious about babysitting. You liked the families you liked and tended to stick to three to five, but Laurie got your number from one of those mothers. How could you say no?

According to many of your friends, you should have. It was a betrayal, but one they couldn’t be too mad about because only an idiot would turn down an offer like that. They tended to pay generously also, so it took a total of three seconds to decide you were in.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “Back door locked?”

“No, I just didn’t want to walk through the house.”

“Right.” He gave you a once over before turning down to his phone. “Do I even want to know?”

That would officially mark the most words he’d ever said to you in one conversation. Laurie loved you, Jacob claimed that he was never, ever going to allow another babysitter to step inside his house, but Andy hardly even looked at you. That wasn’t uncommon. Most of the dads didn’t care, but those were the families that you didn’t stick with for too long.

“Football,” you explained.

He gave you a surprised look.

“But don’t get your hopes up or anything. Jacob sucks.”

He scoffed.

“Can you grab my bag? It’s just right by the door.”

“Heading home?”

“I should. My parents hate when I work this late, they’ve probably been texting me for the past two hours now.”

“Yeah, one sec.”

He didn’t close the door after him so you could hear Jacob excitedly screaming about his father being home. Andy was a great dad and Jacob idolized him just as much as he idolized Laurie. It was a beautiful family dynamic that sometimes still baffled you. Your family looked much different.

He returned with your bag.

“Thanks.” You took it and turned.

“Y/N!”

You looked back as Laurie was rushing out.

“Oh, don’t walk home, dear. Andy will drive you.”

The look on his face told you that he had not offered and that she hadn’t even run it by him before that moment.

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” you attempted to decline. “Honestly.”

“It’s late and cold.”

“I don’t want to get mud all over the car.” It was an expensive fucking car.

“Nonsense, it’s just a car,” Laurie insisted. “Besides, I paint the house a lot. I’m sure we have a few tarps still. Andy, will you go get one?”

He didn’t need further prompt to disappear inside. Laurie apologized for being late, you told her not to worry about it—more time with Jacob was never a bad thing. She thanked you for everything you did for them and you shyly accepted. She asked about your parents then, and before you had to give an elaborate answer, Andy was back with the tarp.

The drive was awkward.

It had started silent and you tried to hide away in your phone, but apparently, no one felt like texting you in that moment. Prior, your friends had been trying to talk to you nonstop, but wasn’t life just funny like that?

You felt like an idiot just staring out the window. This wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen around a thousand times before; he wasn’t even driving a different way. It looked like you were trying to avoid him and this insane, aggressive part of you just hated to appear weak or caught off guard.

Maybe it was your fault then. You were the one who spoke first and after that, things were just different. “How was work?”

It took him a moment to come up with a reply, and what a reply it was. “Fine. I guess.”

“Cool…” you sighed, clicked your tongue a couple of times, then glanced at him. He was staring forward, eyebrows pulled together, confused. Sure, he’d never taken much of an interest in you, and up to that point, as far as he knew, you’d never taken an interest in him. “What kind of lawyer are you?”

“What kind?”

“Like…a wife kills her husband for all of his money. Where are you in the courtroom?”

He chuckled. “I’m a public defender. I don’t normally get cases like that, unless my boss is trying to get on the good side of some irritating, rich people.”

You hummed. “You like it?”

“I do.”

“Cool.”

“Why all the questions? You want to be a lawyer?”

You snorted. “I was just curious. I don’t really hear you talk about work.”

He didn’t say anything else and you felt shot down in a sense. Most fathers were easy to talk to. They loved to hear their own voice and they loved how you pretended to like to hear every word. Obviously, Andy wasn’t in that group. At least a few of your friends had responded to your texts so it wasn’t terribly awkward. He said goodnight when you climbed out of the car, you said it back and closed the door.

You thought that was that.

After that, any time you babysat, he would drive you home. Laurie didn’t even have to say anything, it was just expected that he would do it. He was the one who spoke on the second drive because you weren’t going to try again. It was just stupid stuff. How you were doing with school. How your family was. How your friends were. How your boyfriend was. Because you had a boyfriend, right? He had asked but you knew that he knew you did, Laurie asked about him a lot. Andy never seemed to be paying attention.

That was how it was for almost a month. Then something just changed. The conversations became something else. He asked you where you wanted to go, you weren’t sure you wanted to leave Massachusetts, but you knew you wanted to put some miles between you and your family. He asked you about the future, where you saw yourself. He told you a little about himself, only what he had wanted his life to look like when he was your age.

He had believed he was going to be a high school history teacher.

It wasn’t weird. You didn’t talk to any of the other fathers like this, but it didn’t feel like something you shouldn’t be doing. He just liked talking to you and he actually wanted to hear what you had to say, what you thought about things.

It was innocent. Even when he started coming home early just to make sure he could drive you home. Even when you started taking your jacket off in the car or crossing your legs and pretending you didn’t notice that your skirt was riding up. Even when he looked at you and you acted like you didn’t see it. Even when you would end up sitting in his car, parked down the street from your house, just talking because he knew you didn’t want to go inside.

Perfectly innocent. For almost six months.

You were walking home from school when you got a text from Jacob. He couldn’t find his science project that you had helped him work on. You could have just told him where it was, but then you wouldn’t get the chance to stop by the Barber house. You showed up and Laurie happily invited you in. It was in the garage, something you pretended to remember after about an hour. Jacob had a play date so when his friend’s parents picked him up, Laurie asked you to stay for coffee.

You did. You wanted to extend your time there because even if he didn’t come home soon, Laurie would tell him you had been there. She would mention you and he would be thinking about you. Which is all you ever really wanted.

But sometimes your plans didn’t really work out. You had been turning down jobs, better-paying jobs, jobs you’d had far longer than the Barbers. They had been friends of your parents, it was how you met them, so typically, word got back to your mother. She felt you were the most irresponsible person in the world and didn’t fail to remind you of those feelings when she sent you seven texts and ordered you to get home.

You didn’t want to deal with the chaos of making her angry by spending any more time trying to see Andy. It was a failed attempt at getting closer to him, and as you were walking down the street, you were almost thankful. What the hell were you doing? Why were you trying to get closer to him? Jacob’s father, Laurie’s husband, your boss. That was it. That was all he could be.

But then, much earlier than you’d ever seen him, he was driving by you. You smiled, waved, but kept going. He was the one who circled back and told you to get in. You didn’t need to be told twice. You wanted to talk anyway, you wanted to tell him what was going on with your mother.

He parked down the street again. It wasn’t dark like it usually was but there was no one around. Everyone was staying warm inside. The heaters were on and you had draped your jacket over your legs. It was freezing but leaving the car was the last thing you wanted to do.

He only spoke when you had finished venting. And it wasn’t in the direction you had thought it would go. “You’ve been turning down jobs?”

Shit. You just shrugged. “A few, I guess.”

“Why?”

“I’m busy.”

“You’ve been around the house a lot more lately,” he pointed out. “Is that how you’ve been so busy lately? With Jacob? With us?”

“I…I just don’t feel like babysitting for them anymore.”

“Because you just want to babysit for us.”

“I don’t know,” you finally said. “I don’t know why I’ve been turning them down.”

“I know.”

You lifted your eyebrows.

He placed his hand on your thigh with absolutely no hesitation.

You couldn’t explain how good his skin felt against yours. Like after running a mile and then finally catching your breath. Or waking up and seeing that you still have hours before your alarm clock goes off. Like when you’re walking down the streets during October and the houses are all decorated. Like when you’re starving and you finally eat something you’ve been craving.

“You want to see me.”

“I like seeing Jacob,” you muttered. You saw his hand move up before you felt it, your breath audibly caught and you shuddered. Pathetic. Weak. Desperate.

“You come over almost every day.”

You turned up to him, trying to keep your voice level. “You come home early every day.”

“I want to see you,” he assured. “Just like you want to see me…right?”

You nodded.

“Because you feel something for me.”

You wanted him, that was the best way to describe it. So fucking bad, so bad you couldn’t think straight sometimes. So bad that when your boyfriend touched you, you nearly got physically sick sometimes. So bad that in your bed, at night, with your hand between your legs, you pictured Andy and no one else.

“And you feel something for me,” you countered.

“I do.”

Before you could respond, his phone was ringing. Laurie, oh god. He saw the look on your face but clearly had no interest in letting those logical emotions—shame, guilt, disgust—grow. “Give me your phone.”

You weren’t sure why you did so. He handed it back to you with a new contact. Under the name: Daddy. You closed your thighs, rubbing them together, catching his fingers where they were still laid over your leg. You were so wet, desperate for some friction.

“You’re going to go inside,” he started. “You’re going to go to your bedroom, strip down, get in front of your mirror, and fuck your fingers. You’re going to watch the whole time. Then, when you can’t take another orgasm, you’re going to send me a picture.”

“Of what?”

“Whatever you want.”

Your mind was reeling. You had never sent naked pictures before, but that was because you knew what would happen if you did. They would get shown to everyone. Andy couldn’t show anyone. Andy wouldn’t show everyone even if he could.

“Okay.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You swallowed thickly. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Give me your panties,” he ordered. “I want to take them home.”

You wondered if he had done this before, if he did it often maybe. But did it matter? At the end of the day, that wasn’t going to make either of you any less terrible than you were being.

But there was just one problem with his request. “I’m not wearing any.”

His eyes dropped down. “You aren’t wearing panties?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“I think you do. Now, you didn’t plan on fucking me tonight. That’s too much too soon. But I am the reason…it wasn’t because you thought my fingers would end up buried in your pussy, not yet… Daddy wants an answer, baby girl.”

Baby girl. Oh, fuck. Instead of speaking again, you spread your thighs and brought your own hand up your skirt. You were soaking, something he could hear when you pressed your fingers down. Which was why you had decided to skip underwear. Any time he was around, in a suit, you were wet.

His hold tightened on your thigh and you let out this small whimper. It was almost deafening in that car.

You pulled your hand back and brought your drenched fingers up to the steering wheel. You just wanted to leave something for him without risking anyone seeing you both in a weird situation.

He leaned forward almost instantly, inhaling as his eyes shut. “Fuck, you smell exactly like I thought you would.” His tongue dipped out just slightly and he licked the slick off the steering wheel, groaning gently. “And you fucking taste…”

Your phone buzzed and you both startled. “Shit.”

Andy sat up, clearing his throat. “Go. Do what I said.”

You went to reach for the door, but he cleared his throat. Oh, god. After what you just did, could you even pretend that you hadn’t surrendered completely? “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

After that, it was all kind of just a blur. You quit babysitting, which was very hard. You really did love Jacob and you were sad for a very long time every moment you remembered that you weren’t going over there to see him. You were never going to that house again, at least that was what you had told yourself.

That meant you didn’t see Andy quite as often, which was probably for the best. But he saw you. Often. Very naked. You sent him nearly hundreds of pictures a month, dozens almost every night. He was never too busy for you and maybe you liked that, maybe that was what made you feel so special. Maybe it was just him, the way he looked at you during those awkward exchanges when your mother dragged you to the grocery store with her and you ran into them. Maybe it was when he would call you even though he was at the office once you got home because he wanted to hear you orgasm. Maybe it was after your boyfriend would drop you off at home—and Andy always knew because you told him, you weren’t going to lie, you had no reason to—and he would ask you if he touched you, if he made you come.

He was your age. Andy was much older. More experienced. He never failed to remind you that that meant he could make you feel so much better. You weren’t sure what you were doing, why you didn’t just break up with him. Security, probably. If Andy ever decided to end this. Whatever it was. At least you wouldn’t be alone.

When Laurie wanted something, she got it. It wasn’t because she was aggressive or just didn’t take no for answer. It was because she was such a good person, how could anyone feel okay disappointing her? You certainly couldn’t.

When she insisted that you come over for dinner, you knew it was wrong. You knew she would rightfully hate you if she knew what you were doing with her husband. You knew she would feel hurt by the both of you, betrayed, outraged, disgusted. But you went anyway, and it wasn’t to flirt with Andy. Sure, you had done that once or twice in the past, but not this time. This time was for Laurie because she missed you. You had quit so suddenly and then it was like you didn’t exist to her at all. You owed her this dinner.

The look on his face when he saw you in the living room told you that he hadn’t been told about this. He looked terrified, worried.

“Look who I ran into this morning!” Laurie called out from the kitchen. She was over the stove stirring some pasta and you were at the table looking at all of Jacob’s drawings he had done in the past few months since you’d last seen him.

You gave him a look. He should know better than anyone why this was something you couldn’t just get out of. He couldn’t be mad at you. And he better not be accusing you of playing with Laurie like this.

He nodded once, just slightly. “Y/N.”

“Mr. Barber,” you returned.

Then nothing, he went upstairs and you returned your undivided attention to Jacob. Around a half-hour later, Laurie had to go upstairs and drag him downstairs, both trying and failing to hide their irritation.

She asked you about the usual after you had all settled in a bit. School was always the start. Laurie told you that school was the most important thing in the world. She had graduated but with a degree that she didn’t utilize. She loved her life, but she had her regrets and she didn’t want you to make the same mistakes.

She moved to family next. You always kept the answers light around Jacob, knowing that Laurie could read between the lines anyway. Your mother joined two different book clubs. Laurie knew that meant she was just trying to avoid your father.

Then your boyfriend. Another thing she wanted you to be careful about. She wasn’t expecting to get pregnant with Jacob when she had. She loved both Andy and Jacob, but she would have loved to hold off for a few years. She told you to take care of yourself first. Take care of your dreams, your future, your body, your identity before you worried about anyone else. Be selfish, be ambitious. She was like a mom; one you never even knew existed outside of television. You often wished she weren’t so nice to you. You knew you didn’t deserve it.

She just wanted to know how he was. How long had you guys been together, again? Right, that was quite a long time, she claimed. Where was he working? The same place still? You felt Andy’s eyes on you the entire time. He hadn’t looked at you for the whole dinner until Laurie mentioned your boyfriend.

Did you know about his politics? She promised it was better to know before it was too late. She knew his parents, knew that they were rather conservative. Everyone there was, though. The chances of finding a perfect man? Well, Andy was already taken.

Had you guys spoken about the future? Not really, not cohesively, but that wasn’t the answer you gave. You knew what he wanted and he pretended that he didn’t know what you wanted, pretended that one day you would just wake up and see it all his way. What does he want to do?

You were thinking about Andy. His hands, his mouth, his beard. You thought about making him mad, jealous. You thought about how he would be short over text and make you send him pictures and videos until he was less angry, then he would call and his voice would be so deep, he would growl orders at you. Fuck. “Yeah…he wants a huge family.”

“Oh.” Laurie nodded, clearly it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Well…what do you want?”

“I don’t know.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie, but Andy would give you hell for it later. He told you that was one of the sexiest things about you. That you knew what you wanted. Basically, he just meant it was sexy that you were selfish enough to be getting involved with him.

“Well, just make sure you know before you make any choices that can’t be undone.”

If only someone had given Andy this lecture all the way back. You wondered how things would be if he wasn’t married, if he had never met Laurie, but If he was still here. You wondered what relationship you would have with him.

“You want to stay in Massachusetts?”

You shrugged. Andy wouldn’t let you come later, until you promised you were going to stay. You just had this deep, sinking feeling he wasn’t going to be kind about it either. Good. It had been so long since he was rough with you. Even over text, he was dominant and in total control. He owned you but you were worried he was getting comfortable with that, you worried that he was under the impression that he could be less possessive. Hell no. You were his, undeniably, but only so long as he was going to claim you as his.

“Well, you’re young…the possibilities are endless.”

“Well, I hope you guys break up,” Jacob bluntly stated.

You and Laurie both turned to him with wide-eyed looks. Andy was stunned for a moment, then had to hide his smile by sipping at his beer.

“Jacob,” Laurie scolded. “Don’t say things like that. That was very mean.”

“Well,” he huffed, ‘if she has more time, she can come back to babysit me.”

You scoffed.

He turned to you. “Is it because of him?”

“No, I promise. I’m just…busy.”

“Busy?” He rolled his eyes. “Adults are always “busy”.”

“You know, I think it’s time I put him to sleep,” Laurie scoffed.

“No,” Jacob whined. “I never get to see her anymore!”

Laurie sighed. “Jacob—”

“I’m not going to bed until you promise to come back,” he declared.

“Jacob,” you pleaded.

He crossed his arms over his chest, brow furrowed. “I’ll stay awake forever if I have to.” Then he set his jaw and turned forward. He had never looked more like Andy, where usually, he looked eerily like Laurie.

You really did miss him. Not that you would ever tell Andy, but a part of you did resent him for the fact that you had to quit. It wasn’t all on him, but if he had never let this start, things would still be the same.

Laurie looked completely exasperated and it wasn’t like you didn’t have enough guilt where she was concerned. “Okay, Jacob, if you go to bed, I will try to come back for the summer. You know, I won’t be so busy.” You glanced at Laurie who appeared just as hopeful. “You know, maybe at least a couple of days while you guys are at work.”

“Well, I was going to do this later because I didn’t want you to feel like this was the only reason that I asked you here. We miss you and I just wanted to see you, but…” she glanced at Andy. “I just found out that I’m going to be taking a work trip this summer.”

“Work trip?” you inquired. You weren’t aware that her job would ever require traveling.

“Yeah, just this conference, kind of, for people who work with children. This is the first time we have been invited to it, so it’s really important but I’m just not okay leaving Andy and Jacob alone. Andy’s job…”

“I told you, I could take the summer off,” Andy assured.

Laurie gave him a look. Yeah, that was highly unlikely. Andy wouldn’t know what to do with himself after probably the first three weeks. She faced you. “I don’t want to put any pressure on you. If you can’t come back, we understand. The Rifkins were telling us about your friend, the one who also babysits. Her name is Lily…something?”

Your eyes instinctively went to Andy. He was giving you a knowing look. All your friends would fuck him in a heartbeat. You shouldn’t have cared. If he fucked anyone, you should have had the plan to just walk away. You doubted your ability to do that, unfortunately. And you couldn’t stand the thought of him touching her. Anyone but her.

“I’ll think about it,” you promised Jacob.

He smiled widely. “Okay, I’ll go to bed now. I’m exhausted.”

You smiled.

Laurie took Jacob upstairs after saying goodnight to you. That left you alone with Andy for what you both knew would be just enough time for anything, but you had your limits. Not in the house. Not while Laurie and Jacob were here. You decided it was time to call it a night and he decided he was going to walk you to your car. It was dark after all.

You just rolled your eyes and marched out the front door. You tried to stay in front of him so you could get inside your car first, so he couldn’t grab you or talk to you. You just needed to get out of there, anything that needed to be said would have to wait for that night when he texted you.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get my kid’s hopes up.”

That was how he wanted to start? You looked back at him; eyebrows lifted. “You mean yours.”

“Jacob misses you—”

“And you?”

He sighed at you. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing, just don’t try to use Jacob against me. I will think about it…there are just things…that could go wrong.”

“Like what?”

“You know what, Andy—”

His eyebrows shot up. “What did you call me?”

You crossed your arms, silently staring up at him. Your back faced the driver’s side door, the handle perfectly in your reach if you needed it.

“Baby,” he warned. “Don’t start acting up right now just because you know I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m not acting up—”

“Then what did you just call me?”

“Nothing,” you muttered. “I’m sorry, I meant to call you daddy.”

He moved closer then, either hand on the car door behind you.

Your eyes widened in sheer panic and you immediately looked around. It was too dark to see anything, and this was Andy Barber. He was a trusted and well-respected man. No one would think anything even if they did walk out and saw this with their own eyes. He was a damn good lawyer and could convince anyone of anything.

It had been months since you spent so much time with him, but even still, the closest the two of you had ever been was in the car. There was an invisible line that neither of you crossed because you never wanted to get caught. It was always so light out, your creepy neighbors would just sit on the porch from sunrise to sunset because they were desperate for anything.

This was different. There was no one around. There was nothing to stop either of you from taking this further than you ever had. This was the extent of your relationship. Stealing moments. Secrets. But he had never touched you, he’d never kissed you. It was all you could think about in that moment.

“What was all of that?” he asked.

“What?”

“All that bullshit? You lied to Laurie.”

You scoffed. “No, actually, I didn’t.”

“Really? That’s what you want to fucking do with your life? Just be some god damn trophy for that boyfriend of yours?”

You shrugged. “I would love to be a trophy.”

He glared. “You’re smart, okay? And you’re interesting—”

“So, instead of being a trophy, I should be a spectacle? I should entertain people—”

“That is not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That I’m fucking angry.”

“About what?!”

“Him!”

Well, mission accomplished. It wasn’t that you were surprised he felt that way, you just weren’t expecting to hear him say it.

He sighed, turning up. He was probably watching the window to make sure Laurie hadn’t heard anything.

“What are you even angry about?”

“I work with his fucking father.”

“And?” you demanded.

He looked down at you after several seconds of staring at the window. “He always fucking talks about you. He thinks you’re going to marry his son.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I will.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” you pressed. “Maybe I fucking will, Andy.”

“He’s an asshole. You tell me all the time. And if you think I’m going to let you—”

“Let me?” you scoffed. “You’re married. You can’t do shit.”

The look he gave you told you that was the last thing you should have said. He grabbed your shoulders and turned you away from him, pushing you into the car door.

“Andy—”

 You were in a tiny pair of shorts, despite how freezing it was that night. That must have been what gave him the idea to smack you, more so your thigh than your ass, but it hurt, nonetheless. You slammed your hands over your mouth to stifle your yelp.

There were times when you thought you were going to die if he didn’t touch you. Obviously, you were always wrong, but you didn’t care. Sometimes, when you would plead to whatever or whoever it was up there, that you just needed him to touch you, just a touch, you would claim you didn’t care how. This worked. Even though it really fucking hurt and the cold air was still stinging your skin, this was what you wanted.

“You know what you need to be calling me, honey.” His hand was at the button of your denim shorts and you panicked.

You tried to catch his wrist, but he was much stronger than you. Before you said a word, he had yanked them open, the zipper too. But no, not now, not here. “Daddy, stop—”

“You still think I can’t do anything?”

“Please, not here—”

His fingers pressed against your stomach and traveled down. You instantly lost your ability to speak or think. When he reached the band of your underwear, he scoffed. “Wearing panties? Why?”

What kind of question was that?

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” he cooed. “Such a sweet girl.”

“Daddy,” you whispered.

“Daddy will stop,” he promised. “But only if you want him to. Do you want daddy to stop?”

“Please.” Yes, please. But also, maybe please, don’t. Please, keep going. Please, touch me more because you never have. Please, touch me where we both want you to so bad.

“Okay, but first, I’m going to check if you’re wet. If you aren’t, fine. If you are, well, you know you’re not supposed to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you promised. “But—”

“Shh, baby.” He pressed his fingers down and you felt like you were dying. Honestly, like your life was on the verge of ending because nothing had ever felt so good and nothing should feel so good.

He didn’t go inside your underwear, of course not. He was always teasing you. Instead, he moved down until he felt the material was damp and made a soft, disapproving sound.

“I wasn’t lying,” you insisted, trying not to move too much. If he thought you were enjoying this too much, he might decide to get cruel.

“So, you want daddy to stop right now?”

You wanted to say yes, you wished you could make yourself. However, you stayed silent because you knew he would stop, you knew he would completely withdraw from you until you were begging him. Mostly, you couldn’t force yourself to want him to stop touching you no matter how wrong you knew it was.

“You know, baby girl, daddy wants something from you.”

You almost promised him anything he wanted but thankfully, forming coherent words was still something beyond you.

“Daddy wants you to come back this summer.”

No. That wasn’t going to happen. You knew now that it couldn’t happen. You knew now that if you were ever in a room with Andy, that both of you would get as close as you possibly could, that you would try to touch in any way that wouldn’t raise concern. And if no one was home? If Jacob was upstairs and you and Andy were downstairs? No, you wouldn’t do that to Laurie. Not in her house.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

You shook your head. “You know I can’t.”

“All I know is that I don’t like it when you tell me no.”

Which is something he wouldn’t actually know because you had never told him no. This was different. This was about hurting someone who had only ever been good to you. And Jacob—god, Jacob. If you were caught, Laurie would leave Andy and that was the last thing you wanted for Jacob.

“I’m saying no,” you insisted, but your voice was hardly more than a mutter.

He said nothing for several terribly long seconds, then pulled aside your panties and finally touched your pussy.

Your eyes fell shut and you pressed your forehead against the car window. His fingers moved higher until he circled them around your clit and you shuddered. Even biting your lip couldn’t completely muffle the sounds you were making.

He shushed you, a completely patronizing gesture as he was the reason you were being so loud.

“Daddy,” you gasped. “Daddy, please.”

“You want to come on daddy’s fingers?”

You nodded fast. “So bad, daddy.”

“Mm. Well, daddy wants you back, princess.”

“Daddy,” you whined. This couldn’t happen, not now. Where was his fear? Anyone could walk out. Laurie could just glance out the window and see everything.

“Daddy wants to see you back in the house every day. Playing on the floor in your tiny little skirts and your tiny little shirts that you never wear a bra with. Daddy wants to see you biting your lip and pressing your thighs together when you’re watching me, when you think I don’t notice.”

Fuck. You genuinely had thought you were being discreet. He was clearly discreet, however, because you had never noticed that he was watching so closely.

“But more than anything, I want to have you all to myself, baby girl.”

“I…would be babysitting,” you reminded.

“Jacob has a lot of friends. I’ll schedule him some play dates. Say yes.”

“No, daddy, please—”

“Say yes,” he ordered.

“I can’t.”

“I’m not going to let you come until you do.”

The noise you made was a cross between a cry and a whimper, something truly pathetic. He had you scared and he knew it, so he thrust two fingers inside you and when your mouth opened to scream, he wrapped his opposite hand around your neck.

You swore you would come just like that if he didn’t stop. You had dreamt about his hands around your throat. You would try choking yourself when you were making videos for him, but you knew it wasn’t like the real thing. When he would call you, you would always beg choke me, daddy.

His fingers were thick enough to stretch you even though you were dripping. Your mind wandered to his cock. You could feel it against your ass, and even through his pants, you could tell he was big. But it was little more than a theory. You’d never seen his cock because he didn’t send you pictures. Most of your relationship with Andy had been set around your imagination.

He kept you quiet with his hold around your neck, but his fingers fucked into you so hard that the wet sounds echoed down the empty street. If anyone found the two of you, you would be completely humiliated by how evidently desperate you were.

“Daddy,” you gasped when you felt yourself just right there, so close to that edge. Maybe you were biased in the moment in thinking that this was going to be the best orgasm you had ever had. You had toys, Andy had made sure of that, and some of them did the trick. But it was never like this. Close, at times, but only ever when you were making videos for him or talking to him on the phone. It was all Andy, he hadn’t been exaggerating when he was telling you no one else could make you feel so good.

“You close, princess?”

You hummed a confirmation and just like that, he pulled his hand away altogether. The one around your neck was keeping you quiet but your pussy was completely neglected. It was absolutely devastating.

Stupidly, you’d forgotten his grand plan of forcing you to say yes. You weren’t going to, this was so much bigger than this stupid affair. You could live with yourself knowing you were a whore, you could live knowing you were a homewrecker so long as no one else knew, but you could not and would not even attempt to be okay with sheer stupidity. And stupidity was playing this game. You didn’t understand why he wanted to either.

“How do you feel now?”

“No,” you snapped.

“Watch the tone,” he warned.

“God,” you huffed tiredly. “I can’t. No, I’m saying no.”

He simply hummed and with no warning, buried his fingers inside you once more. “Then I guess we’re going to be here for quite a while.”

A whine caught in your throat and you practically choked trying to talk to him. “Daddy, we’re going to get caught.”

“Then say yes. You think you can have an attitude and mouth off and I’m just going to let it go because we might get caught?”

Well, honestly, yes, you had expected that. This was bad and you knew you were fucked up because that was making it feel better. He was pressed against you, hiding you from any eyes that may look outside because he was insanely possessive and didn’t want anyone else seeing you naked. He was holding you so tight that it actually hurt and he was barely letting you breathe, you were getting dizzy and lightheaded and you just needed to come.

He did this to you so many times that you lost track. The only thing you did know was that it wasn’t taking long even though it felt like it. It was Tuesday night and you had been here enough at this time to know that this was a busy night for these rich people. You’d walked out of the house at 7:46. The bathroom light was still on and would be for another 30 minutes at least, because Jacob was a menace when he wanted to be—but never with you. Mrs. Johnson always came home from her cooking club at 8:20 to 8:30. Mr. Garcia would always come out at around 8:15 to leave his trash or recycling, depending on the night of the week. Sometimes, Mrs. Wilson’s grandchildren would stop by for late visits. They were all doctors and lawyers, at least, that was the reason they gave for never coming at a reasonable hour, but they actually just wanted money and knew she would be too tired to say no. Mrs. Taylor’s twin demons you once had the displeasure of devoting your Monday and Friday nights to had to go out every night at 8:30 until 10:00 because of some stupid project they were doing on stars.

Andy had to know all of this also, so you understood that he was just trying to call your bluff.

Well, fuck, it was going to work. You were terrified. There were so many variables, anyone could show up early. Or hell, there had to be some people here with drinking addictions, an affliction for pills, a house fire could start. Or a revealed affair could lead to a staged murder that looked like something else. Andy being so calm was almost worrisome.

But you were more worried about Laurie. Apparently, you weren’t like him. You couldn’t just shut off your guilt surrounding her. You knew you had to try one more time to get out of this. Andy was pretending right now to be so hard, but he was more than soft for you. He spoiled the hell out of you and let you be very bratty even though he put on a whole show that he couldn’t stand it. But you knew that when you gave him a look, when you softened your voice just enough, when you said the right things, that man would give you the world if he could.

In your littlest, whiny voice, you begged him. “Daddy, please.”

He froze for a moment, letting his hand fall away only to take your shoulders and turn you back to him. He was looking at you curiously, also a tad suspiciously.

You simply stared at him with pleading eyes. He couldn’t honestly think this was a good idea. “We can’t do this. Not around Jacob. Not in the house.”

Realization showed on his face and he scoffed. “Oh, baby, you really are the sweetest thing.” He leaned in to press you flat to the car door once more and brought his hand up, slipping his fingers into your mouth. His eyes were on yours the entire time, as you sucked and licked, and then as he started shoving them down your throat. You gagged, tears were running down your cheeks, and you had started rolling your hips, grinding against the bulge in his pants.

“You are the most beautiful little girl in the world, you know that?”

You hummed, thankful that you didn’t actually have to put an answer to that. He never stopped telling you that you were beautiful, that he’d never see someone else like you, but when you really had to think about it, you were just the average insecure person.

“You’re my little girl, yeah?” He pulled his fingers from your mouth, touching your swollen lips. “Tell me.”

“I’m your little girl.”

“Do you know how badly daddy wants to eat your pussy?”

It took you a moment, but when you realized that he wanted an answer, you shook your head. He didn’t talk about it much. He just liked to listen to you, he liked to tell you that he just wanted to be inside you, that he couldn’t wait to feel you around him.

“Mm…I do. I want to lick you for hours until your begging me to stop. I want you to come in my mouth. I want you to grind your pussy all over my face. You have to know how badly daddy wants you on his cock, though?”

“Yes.”

“Say you’ll come back, gorgeous. Of course, Jacob can never know, this isn’t a game. I just miss seeing you. I miss smelling your perfume and hearing you laugh. I miss having you so close.”

“I miss you, too,” you promised. But. There was still a but, even if you didn’t come right out and say it.

You felt his hands moving against your stomach and then you heard the zipper of his pants. Oh, god. He took your hand and slipped it down his boxers, you both shuddered as your skin touched his.

His eyes fell shut and he took a deep breath in. He tightened his hand around yours and began slowly jerking your hand up and down his cock. “What do you think, baby girl?”

“You’re really big, daddy.” And so fucking thick, you were going crazy just picturing yourself trying to ride him. He was much bigger than your boyfriend, much bigger than anyone else you’d ever fucked.

“Imagine my cock inside your beautiful little cunt. I bet it’ll hurt so much that you cry. And I am going to pound that pussy until you are so stretched and used that your boyfriend won’t be able to make you come at all.”

You wanted nothing more, but you also wanted to have a little bit of fun. “I said you were big…but I didn’t say you were bigger than him.”

He pulled his hand and yours out of his pants and the next second, he was on you. His hand was around your neck, his other holding your jaw, and his face just inches away from yours. “You fucking little brat. You’re lucky I don’t make you get on your knees and choke you on my cock.”

“Kiss me, daddy.”

And just like that, he was no longer upset with you. It was hilarious how easily you could push this man into anything you wanted. And he didn’t even care, he just wanted to give you everything you could think to ask for.

He sighed, glancing around. “I can’t do that, baby, not here.”

Then where? That was when you finally understood. He wanted you back so badly, because where else would you be able to do this? He could get a hotel room but if anyone ever saw you, there would be no defense. It would be apparent what you guys were doing. Your house? Your parents were always around. That only left his house and if Laurie was going to be gone…maybe you didn’t see much harm in that.

“Say yes,” he whispered.

You should have never turned around to look at him. He had won, there was no way you could deny him anymore. You nodded. “Yes, daddy.”

He smiled and your heart stuttered. He was the most beautiful man in the world. “I’ll let Laurie know...I’ll tell her this was why I was out here so long. And you, angel, need to go straight home, shove a toy in that pussy, and make some videos for daddy.”

It was weeks later than Andy told you he had a surprise for you. A few months had gone by. You hadn’t returned to the Barber home since the dinner and you kept your usual contact with Andy. Just more sending pictures and videos and texting every second it was possible.

He was still thrilled that you were going back for the summer and regularly checked in just to make sure that you didn’t change your mind about it. You still had a few months and he was constantly worried you would feel a sudden burst of guilt. It wasn’t too farfetched, actually.

When you got home, your mother informed you that you had received a package. She claimed it didn’t say who it was from. You knew what that meant. You had checked your phone that morning and saw a text informing you to expect something.

You texted Andy, I got it, then you went to your drawers to pick out something skimpy and lacy.

Good. Take off all your clothes.

Odd, he usually wanted you wearing something. You did as was asked of you and let him know when you were ready for more instruction.

Go to your bathroom with the box.

Once more, you let him know when you’d complied with his orders.

Open the box.

Inside was another smaller box, a picture clearly displaying the product. He bought you a dildo, a rather large one. You didn’t normally get toys this size, they were harder to film with.

Before you could respond, he texted again. Get it out of the box and clean it really well, then stick it to the floor.

Again, you followed his directions. Once it was set up and immovable, you let him know.

Get your laptop, we’re going to Skype.

That left you naked in front of your laptop that was a few feet away. He had you sitting with your legs bent and spread wide so he could see your pussy.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, that was the first thing you noticed. The second was his background, you didn’t recognize it.

“Where are you, daddy?”

“Home. My office. Laurie’s sister is in town so they both went out to see her. Focus, baby. I’m going to send you some videos that I want you to watch.”

“Videos?” You had a feeling you already knew what he meant. And mere seconds later, got confirmation through the email link he sent to you. Porn. Not surprising and you weren’t really opposed.

The videos he sent you were all starred older men, many roleplaying as the stepfather, and younger women playing the innocent, naïve daughter. Older than you mostly, but still significantly younger than the men they were fucking. The videos started tame, small, just cheesy scenarios and rough sex following. But as he sent you more, the men became more dominant. They would choke, pull hair, spank, call her degrading names. You didn’t hate any of it.

He wouldn’t let you touch yourself and he didn’t touch himself. He just watched you the entire time, sometimes talking and asking you questions, but he mainly just wanted you focusing on this. He made you keep your legs open so he could make sure you weren’t being sneaky, which was slightly humiliating. You felt that voicing that, however, would be considered talking back.

It was nearly an hour later that he requested you show him how wet you were. Your fingers frantically ran through your cunt and you held them out toward the camera. He told you to pause the video and get on the dildo. You gracelessly rolled onto your knees, your legs just a little tired from the uncomfortable position he’d directed you to hold for so long. You climbed over the toy, one hand holding it as you straddled it.

“Just take it slow, baby girl.”

You carefully spread your knees further, bringing your pussy closer to the head of the fake cock. You heard him shifting as soon as if touched your skin. You weren’t as nervous as you should have been, you figured you were wet enough to take it all. That insatiable longing to be filled and ruthlessly fucked by him clouded your mind.

As soon as it was inside you by what probably wasn’t even an inch, you froze. Yes, bigger than anything you’d ever taken. It stung a little, yet you didn’t want to pull off completely. You kind of liked the pain anyway.

“Keep going.”

“It hurts.”

“Just try for me, angel.”

You set your hands to the floor, once again spreading your legs wider. The ache didn’t dull as you kept going. “Daddy, I think it’s too big.”

“I’m bigger, that’s why I want you to get used to it.”

Bigger? Even though you were struggling to handle this, you wanted him instead of the toy. You wanted him on top, forcing you to take his cock, cooing to you and kissing your face the whole time. This was a flawed plan that he came up with because you were going to need some major convincing to get any further on this thing.

“Take a minute,” he decided, and you needed no further prompt to pull off.

You hissed lightly, looking at it. You had barely made it down the head. So, this was going to be one of those long calls.

“Use your mouth,” he instructed.

That you could do. You leaned over it, immediately dropping down until it hit the back of your throat. Your eyes flickered up to the screen where you saw his arm moving so slowly, back and forth. You would ask later if you could see him, when you didn’t have something in your mouth.

“Baby doll, you are fucking beautiful.”

You hummed, pulling back and then sliding back down.

“Gag on it. I want to hear you choking.”

You prepped your throat by bobbing up and down, taking it a little further each time. It wasn’t until your nose was hovering just above the floor that you gagged loudly. You backed off hurriedly but did it once more, a second time, a third, a fourth, until he told you to stop.

“Stay there, sweetheart, keep it down your throat. Try swallowing around it. I want you to get used to that, too. That’s how I love having my cock sucked.”

You obeyed, attempting to swallow around the thick piece of silicone. Those tries were followed by a lot of short coughs, gagging noises, and your body moving almost violently every time you got just a little too ahead of yourself. You were suddenly very thankful that you’d woken up late, since you’d stayed up until almost 5 in the morning talking to him, and hadn’t had time to eat anything.

“You think you can do it now?”

You hummed and hoped he wouldn’t press for more. You weren’t sure. You were nervous to try but it wasn’t like he was going to let you off that easy.

“Okay, try again.”

Positioning yourself over it, you realized you were much wetter now. Getting the head inside was easy enough but just as soon, it started to hurt again.

“You okay, princess?”

“Yeah.” You turned your attention down and tried to force yourself to relax. You were nervous, double that now because you didn’t want to fail in front of Andy. You wanted to show him that you knew what you were doing and that when he finally fucked you, it was going to be perfect. You didn’t want him to think of you as some inexperienced little girl.

“Remember, take it easy. Don’t hurt yourself.”

You never thought you would have an issue with him babying you. “I wish this was your cock, daddy.”

He hummed as if it was a question but was much more focused on your comfort than your attempts to distract him.

“Mhm,” you returned. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me. I can’t wait to be filled up and dripping with your cum.”

“I’ll cover you in my cum, sweetheart. You wanna try taking a little more?”

You hadn’t moved and it was still aching, but your mind was getting hazy. You were thinking about Andy and how good he was going to fuck you. You wanted it so hard and so fast that you didn’t think the dildo would even suffice. You lowered a tad too fast, earning a disapproving sound from him.

And yes, it hurt, but admitting any type of defeat was beyond out of the question. “Fuck, daddy, it’s so big,” you sighed. You didn’t pull off, but you tried shifting your hips to get a little more comfortable.

“Fuck yourself with it.”

You used your arms for balance and began pulling back carefully before dropping back down. You did this several more times until it was no longer uncomfortably painful. “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

You pushed yourself up, balancing on your knees as your hands came up to your breasts. “Can I see you?”

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You wanna see me?”

You nodded. “Please?”

He sat up, pushing the laptop back as he stood. You finally got to see that hard stomach you had been pressed against that night and it did not disappoint. You had no idea that he was going to look so strong and beautiful—and honestly, what the hell was he doing with you? You were confident enough and sometimes, some days when things were just going your way, you even loved how you looked. But Andy was inhumanly, unfairly breathtaking.

Then you saw his cock and you instantly whimpered. He was so big, bigger than the toy just as he’d claimed. You’d suspected he was exaggerating, most men did. He laid his cock out on the desk, tip leaking, skin angry and red.

“Daddy,” you whispered.

“What, honey?”

“I can’t wait for summer. I need you now.”

“Just be patient. You need to get a little more accustomed to the toy first because I’m not sure I’m going to be able to be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“You want daddy to make it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Touch your clit, princess. I want to see you come.”

Your hand snapped down to your cunt, mindlessly searching for, and at times successfully catching, that hypersensitive spot. As soon as you heard him grunting, jerking himself off to the sight of you, you knew you weren’t going to last long.

You watched his arm move, the way his muscles tensed, you noticed the veins. He wasn’t the kind of man to show off. His suits were always fitted and occasionally, he wore a short sleeve tee, but you were starting to realize he was rather modest. It was this secret that he finally told you, he was finally showing you parts of himself that you never would have known about had he not extended some type of trust to you.

You needed him to fuck you. You needed him wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest, hips thrusting into yours. You were bouncing on the dildo now, uncaring of how much it hurt, fingers still rubbing large, unskilled circles into your clit. You were high off him, completely entranced and focused on Andy. “Daddy…”

“You close?”

“Yes. Can I please come?”

“You can come, angel.” He stroked himself faster, opposite hand settling on the desk as he leaned over a little.

You took as much of the dildo as you could and stayed, just focusing on touching your clit. You whimpered and whined as you approached your finish, mewling ‘daddy’ at least a dozen times, and told him several times that you needed him inside you, and promised you would do anything for his cock. He was quiet even though he was still fucking his fist, wanting to hear every sound you were making for him.

You nearly collapsed when your orgasm hit. Thankfully, instead of down—because seriously, this was an obnoxiously large toy and there was still so much that wasn’t inside you yet—you fell forward and caught yourself with both hands. You continued to roll your hips, haphazardly moving your hair out of the way with one hand at a time so he could see your breasts move and just how far down you were getting. One feeling you never quite got rid of, no matter what you were doing, no matter how good whatever you were being fucked with was: his praise was even better than coming.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he blurted out. You heard one of his knees buckle, it hit the desk he was standing behind.

“Are you close, daddy?”

He hummed shortly.

“I wish I was there, daddy. I want to taste you so bad.”

And that was all he needed. With a slight groan, his cum streaked out onto the desk between him and his laptop. His hand slowed but didn’t fully stop until he was done coming. He fell back into his chair, chest rising and falling with his quick breaths.

“You want me to come over, daddy? I could help you clean your desk.”

He scoffed. “Come on, princess, don’t start being a tease.”

“I’m not,” you promised. “Really, I’ll come over if you want me to.”

He finally looked back at the screen, eyes moving over you as you pushed yourself back onto your knees. Though you still felt the toy was too big, it no longer hurt so you were counting this a success. If you continued to use it every day until you were working for him again, fucking him wouldn’t be so difficult. At least you hoped.

“You wanna come over? You’re not scared of getting caught anymore?”

You shrugged. Yes, you were still terrified but your pathetic desire to be touched by that man could make you do some pretty stupid things.

“Don’t be a brat,” he scoffed.

“Then you should come here. My parents won’t notice.”

“I’m not some uncontrollably horny teenage boy you can convince to sneak in through your window. Come on, you just gotta wait a little longer.”

You sighed. “But I want you.”

“I know, trust me, I want you…” His eyes lowered on the screen and he sighed. “I want to taste you, too. Especially after you just finished.”

You leaned forward to grab the edge of the laptop and pulled it closer. “Look, daddy, I took a lot.”

“You did, baby,” he agreed, voice still just a little light. You came down much faster than him. You had to stall and get him ready to go before he decided it was time to end the call. You wanted to see him. In person. And you were not opposed to playing dirty.

“Do you want me to try again? I can do more—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it, angel. You did good today, you need to rest before we do this again. Maybe take a day or two.”

A day or two? Fuck that. He couldn’t see your face, all he could actually see was the dildo still buried in your pussy. You looked down, finding your slick was dripping down the toy. This was going to be easy. You took your fingers and ran them up, collecting what had leaked out of you. You brought it up to your mouth and moaned lewdly—you had to be a little extra, just to make sure he knew.

“Sweetheart,” he warned.

“I wish you could taste me, too, daddy. I’m really good.”

“Come on,” he complained. “Stop it, right now.”

“I could get in my car right now, daddy. We could drive out to that dead-end street by the park. Just one quick, little taste and then I’ll come back home and get into bed and make some more videos for you.”

He said nothing, which you always knew actually meant that you were closer than he wanted to let on.

“Please, daddy? I just need something…summer is so far away.”

“Damn it,” he muttered, finally sitting up straight in the chair. “Damn it, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, daddy but I really, really need you.” You started to pull your hips up and then slowly slid back down. “Can’t you hear how wet I still am?”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Okay. Okay, fine.”

You shoved the laptop back, leaning down on your forearms. “Really?”

“But you’re going to keep that toy inside your pussy.”

“What?”

“Keep it right where it is. Get dressed. Drive to the dead-end street. Wait for me. Oh, bring a towel.”

“A towel?” You tried not to sound too excited, but you knew you’d failed. He wasn’t really planning on fucking you, was he? You wanted it, you would never say no to that man, but you hadn’t thought it would be so easy.

“You’ll need to bite down on something when I’m spanking you.”

Oh, fuck.

#andy barber x reader #always accepting andy requests just fyi #my writing

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 6

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. There's non-explicit smut in this part!

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Remember that questionable morals remark? Yea, this chapter is the reason. Y/N, girl, you gotta stop... But at least it's kinda funny. Okay, it's pretty damn hilarious.

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She is amazing. I larb her. 💙

"And then I was like 'No Way!' and he was like 'Totally' and that's how I met Tony Stark," I finished excitedly, opposite a laughing Mr. Davies. The story of how I met Iron Man was a total hit with the teacher and my vigorous mimicking of the facial expressions that described my feelings during the time had my teacher busting a gut something loud. 

"I honestly have some trouble believing that but - hey, what the hell, he's a billionaire superhero, it's basically expected for him to be a little strange," When his laughing fit was over, Mr. Davies reminded me he was, in fact, a psychology doctor. There was serious brain power under that easygoing attitude.

I expected detention to be bearable in his company but Mr. Davies rose above expectations, welcoming me with another cup of tea and some colouring pages. Admittedly, I contemplated stealing some - those mandalas were really captivating.

"Oh, he's strange alright, but nothing I can't handle," I twirled a pencil between my fingers. 

Mr. Davies grinned knowingly, too knowingly for my comfort, and I had no choice but to make a stone face before looking him in the eye. 

He smirked. "So, anything else interesting for you going on?" 

"Nah, not much. Really looking forward to being done with high school and going out into the bigger world, y'know."

"You turned 18 already, right?" I nodded in confirmation. "Maybe get a job, something part-time? OsCorp always hands these leaflets out, they're looking for lab assistants."

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't need a job. Plus, I'm sure Bruce-err, Doctor Banner would smash me if I went to work at OsCorp," I glossed over my slip-up, hoping Mr. Davies would do the same. But no such luck happened.

"Right. Me and Bruce, we actually go way back," He smiled, stirring his tea. I perked up in interest. "We studied psychology together, sat next to each other in half of our classes. It's a shame what happened to him but I hope he's happy now," Mr. Davies was smiling earnestly, looking out of the window where rain had started flowing down on the glass.

"Really? That's cool," I said, lacking anything else to add to his statement.

"He used to skip classes and always lost his glasses even though they'd be on top of his head," My teacher continued. "Banner was actually quite a rowdy student," He added with a smirk.

"Hah, he still routinely loses his glasses, although he wears them on a string around his neck now," I chuckled fondly. Bruce was such a dork.

I chatted with Mr. Davies some more, just casual conversation about everything and nothing in between. His parents were hippies, he had two moms and one dad and according to him, Thor was very overrated. I didn't even notice we were up in each other's space until our knees brushed when Mr. Davies - "Call me Will" - was showing me the pictures of his cats, dog and lizard. I figured that as the hippy child, personal space was kind of a foreign concept to him - and that rang true, I've seen Will give out more shoulder grabs and high fives than anyone else sans the gym teacher.

The clock's ding announced 6 PM and I quickly gathered my things, hastily saying goodbye. I was stopped though.

"If you don't mind a quick stop at my house, I can drop you off. It's pouring buckets outside and I would hate you to get sick," Will spoke casually. 

Technically, I knew he was bending some rules of conduct. But it was also 55° outside and the water coming from the sky was unlikely to be warm. So I caved without any guilty conscience, obediently following Mr. Davies -Will- to the parking lot where a new-ish Jeep Cherokee proudly stood amongst several older, less gently used cars. With New York city traffic being the way it is, I didn't text Bruce yet, fully expecting for the trip to take a whole hour if not more. 

Thankfully the parking gods were merciful and Will managed to find a spot right across his two-story townhouse. "You're welcome to come in if you feel comfortable, I just need to fetch some documents," He said.

And that's where I fucked up. I nodded affirmatively, I followed him through the door and made myself as comfortable as I could on his living room couch. It was a cozy home, his iguana chilled opposite me in it's terrarium and the little mutt that was his dog really reminded me of the atrocity that my parents used to own before they had me. It yipped and yapped, wagging it's bushy tail at me and demanding pets.

The steaming tea mug was dutifully placed in my hand by Will who hopped upstairs immediately after that, skipping steps. I watched the man with a benign stare: he'd removed his sweater and I could see the defined muscles of his back and the admirable backside that he possessed. There was no harm in looking respectfully, right?

I was halfway through my mug when Will came back down, brandishing a truly impressive stack of manila folders, setting it on a nearby table before sitting down on the other end of the couch, maintaining a respectful distance between us. We chatted some more and the more he spoke about his current research, the more passionate he became; by the end of his truly epic description of the effects that anti-depressants have on the learning process of depressed adolescents, I was mesmerized by the way his pink lips formed words.

Sitting with my calves tucked under my butt, leaning against the armrest , I was a goner. He caught my eye, diverting his own stare from my exposed legs to the side, blinking furiously. It calmed my spirits somewhat, knowing that I wasn't the only one affected by the sudden change of atmosphere in the room. My mug landed on the low table with a loud clang as I leaned forward, the sleeves of my sweater accidentally brushing against his leg.

Will cleared his throat and I startled, tilting my head up towards him in confusion. He was staring at me with a mix of fear and delight in his eyes, like a boy preparing for his first kiss. I would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if the darkness in his stormy grey eyes didn't make my own breath do somersaults somewhere between my lungs and my esophagus.

Fifteen minutes later, both my sweater and my panties were thrown somewhere in the furthest end of the room and those thin lips were making me see stars. For some reason he was convinced I'd had only typical teenage disappointing sex up to this point and was really eager to show me what a grown man can do. I mean, I wasn't complaining, he was really, really good with his mouth - but I didn't have all night, so I flipped the tables and showed off my own oral skills until he had to bodily remove me from his dick and lift me onto it. Every movement felt surreal, like I was living in a dream. Despite my common sense yelling expletives at me, I kissed Will back with twice the heat and none of the finesse, each of us reaching the peak nearly in sync.

"Can I get that ride to the tower now?"

Will let out a decidedly unmanly squeak when he realised where exactly he'd be taking me after we did what we'd done. I smiled at him in hopes of calming down the man but it seemed it came out more predatory. He shivered, his dick twitching within me.

I texted Bruce the same time I was getting into Will's car. My brain was still somewhat in a state of shock and I used the brief moment to tidy up my hair and makeup, taking note of my sex-flushed face. I only hoped I didn't stink like man-sweat and Will's cologne. 

Another realization was startled out of me: that was my first time having had sex without a condom. I was on birth control since I was fourteen so pregnancy wasn't a scare; currently, I was more worried about the mildly uncomfortable, wet feeling in my panties where my teacher's cum had pooled out.

Yikes. That moment Will took a careful monitoring of my facial expression and it took me a lot to keep it somewhere between neutral and happy. Internally, I was freaking the fuck out, torn between horror and incredible arousal.

It morphed into full fledged mortification when I saw Bruce's lab coat from afar, the man standing next to the entrance door. Having had a dumb moment, I texted Banner that a former schoolmate of his was the one giving me a ride and it really shouldn't have been a surprise that Bruce would go downstairs to greet Will.

'Fuck you, you dumbass,' was my approximate train of thought, directed at myself, when all three of us gathered, hiding from the cold rain and the autumn wind under the safety of the roof. Both men shared a brief, warm embrace before Bruce's arm snaked around my waist.

"You go upstairs, okay? I don't want you to get sick," Banner said, eyeing the disastrous weather.

I looked at Will, finding his eyebrow cocked at Bruce's frivolous gesture and a faint flush blossoming on his face. The man shuffled awkwardly, giving me a small wave and a tight-lipped smile before turning his attention back to Bruce. I wished him good night, hastily retreating into the safety of the elevator.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu-u-uck..." I chanted under my breath, acutely aware of the blossoming bruises on my hips where my teacher held me, the dampness of my underwear. 

The elevator doors opened, revealing the common room couch being occupied by Wanda. Peter, Wanda's brother and the two resident super soldiers setting the table for dinner. Tony was off bickering with Loki and Strange by the coffee maker and Thor was standing outside on the patio, doing something very strange with his hands and his hammer. Was he summoning the shitty weather?! The audacity!

"Hey," Wanda greeted me quietly. Her eyebrows raised upon seeing my face full of perplexed confusion. "You okay?.. Wait, what? Tell me you did not!" As my internal crisis reached its peak, I remembered that a) Wanda is a telepath and b) There were other people in the room.

One ungraceful landing next to her later, I turned my bleary stare onto her. "Oops?" I offered in the way of explanation. What was I supposed to say if I didn't know for myself what the devil possessed me to fuck my social studies teacher after school? He was fucking hot, okay.

The witch smirked, obviously following my defensive internal monologue. "Oops?" Her tone was laced with gleeful sarcasm.

"I'm a human disaster," I groaned, finally caving in and palming my face. Wanda began snickering. "I have zero impulse control," I continued wallowing in self-pity. The redhead just cackled harder.

"I feel so attacked right now," Tony's voice loudly announced the man's presence. I was thankful for the distraction, happy that today, out of all the days, he decided to make the situation about himself. "I am the resident hot mess and nothing you do will change that. Or get out of my tower," He made a dramatic gesture, waving along everybody to the table.

At the dinner table, with Peter on one side of me and Bruce on the other, Wanda's speech was clear. "I think you two are about on the same level, Tony," Her tone was dry. The looks she cast me were cheeky at best and downright gleeful at worst. Not only was she the resident telepath but also, apparently, a huge drama fan.

I, on the other hand, felt like a fish thrown out of water. My mind was still jumping between astounded and horrified like a rabid rabbit and Bruce's excited remark about seeing a former schoolmate only worsened the anxiety. My brain was telling me EVERYBODY knew EVERYTHING whereas in reality, it was only Wanda and it didn't seem like she was upset enough to give up my dirty little secret. If anything, the witch seemed almost impressed. And that dry, mildly interested facial expression only solidified when she put two and two together: my teacher, whom I fucked, also known as Bruce's former study buddy.

"I have some spare sweatpants that might fit you," Wanda directly addressed me as we were finishing up the wonderful chicken roast courtesy of Clint and Bucky. Nobody batted an eye at the sudden exclamation, evidently used to being around someone who could hear their thoughts. 

I nodded, mentally waving a big, red thank you note. With sparkles. And hearts. Wanda chuckled.

"Hey, did you change your perfume?" Peter's innocent remark made me nearly freeze in my spot. 

Kill Bill sirens started playing in my head on repeat as I heard Wanda choke on her asparagus, inadvertently drawing attention to the three of us. Peter looked at us in confusion: Wanda kept on gasping, but it seemed like the dam had finally burst and she was laughing in earnest, snorting, loudly, as I engaged my willpower to stop myself from doing the same. Needless to say, it was a spectacular failure and now both of us were bent over our dinner plates, absolutely losing it - much to the concern of the adults present at the table. The rest of the team was growing concerned.

"Oh my god, your FACE!" Wanda's incoherent mumbling and the accusing finger pointed in my direction did it.

"A lady doesn't... kiss... and tell...." I fervently gulped the oxygen as I tried to articulate my thoughts into something comprehendible. The hysterical laughter won by a wide margin.

"Who's the lucky guy?" Natasha seemed to get the gist, relaxing immediately and picking up her fork to continue her meal. 

I shook my head, unable to form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. Bruce chuckled from somewhere beside me and just like that, the tension broke. The adults in the room traded knowing looks, chuckling and snorting amongst themselves. 

The moments I needed to calm down went to waste really quick: my first laughing fit over, I took one look at Wanda and yet again, both of us were puffing out our cheeks to try and prevent another hysterical fit. 

"Whew," I exaggerated, eyes wide and looking ANYWHERE but at Wanda.

"What a wild ride," She snorted and I put a palm over my face, shaking my head in... 

Disappointment at myself? I wasn't disappointed. Now that I got over the WTF factor, I found the situation to be pretty damn hot. Will was hot. Eh, whatever. 

My casual mood of zero-fucks-given began returning. After few of the last bites of potatoes, I was prepared to face  Natasha. I looked the Black Widow dead in the eye as I firmly stated: "And for the record? We are NOT having this conversation."

She elegantly arched her eyebrow whilst everybody else held their breath. "That bad, huh?" The retort was immediate.

I allowed myself to radiate a bit of that newly acquired smugness I had begun to feel: "You have no idea," I hoped my smirk was as devious as I wished it to be.

"Alright, heartbreaker, colour me impressed," Natasha nodded in affirmation. We shared another meaningful look and reverted back to our plates with the menfolk observing us akin animals at a zoo. 

Somewhat amazed, slightly afraid. Bruce's stare was somewhat concerned, too: he contemplatively eyed me from the corner of his eye, the same way I eyed him, checking out the fact that he appeared somewhat annoyed. Like a proper father would, I suppose. 

Luckily for me, I finished off the remaining food and drink quickly, with Wanda being my saviour once again as she all but bodily dragged me into the elevator, promising to return me to the science den in no more than an hour. Tony went to complain but was promptly stopped by Natasha inconspicuously reaching for the butter knife: the engineer knew how to pick his battles. I didn't doubt that Romanoff was going to hear "all about it" second-hand from Wanda and I was fully prepared to face the redhead spy's judgement. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, escaped that clever woman.

A quick shower and a change of clothes later, I sat on Wanda's couch, nervously fiddling with the two sizes too big sweatpants, occasionally stopping to straighten the plain white tank top that just barely fit me. I washed my hair but didn't  dry it before Wanda was impatiently telling me to hurry up: the mess sat atop my head held up by a single scrunchie.

"Okay... Where do I start?" She asked me, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

"Don't start," I stopped her with a raised palm. "It was a casual, one-time thing and I've no interest in pursuing that shit on the reg," I answered honestly. The fact that he was my teacher simultaneously worsened the situation and made me elated. But ultimately, I didn't want to risk the trouble that would come along with this mess. Besides, I had no feelings for the guy whatsoever. As I've said previously, it was just bad impulse control on some teenage hormone steroids.

"You're a strange one," Wanda's penetrating gaze made me shiver. "You live without a care in the world but at the same time, your mind is always all over the place. It is interesting."

"Uh, thanks? I guess?"

"I think we should try being friends," The witch remarked after a brief moment of awkward silence. I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Because of my powers, I can literally see through people and predict what they will do before they even think about doing it. With you, it's not like that," She explained, her Slavic accent making a full guest appearance.

"So...you want to be friends because I'm a fucking mess?" I couldn't help but feel a little offended. The occasional shitty decision aside, I didn't think of myself as that bad.

"I want to be friends because I like you," Wanda fondly rolled her eyes, standing up from the couch and motioning for me to follow. "Now let's get you to Tony or he'll blow a gasket. He's already insufferable as he is."

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem

#stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #bun writes #party favours #LEMME TELL YOU THERE WILL BE SURPRISES IN THIS CHAPTER

[exhaustedfander]

First Comes Love: Chapter One

I’ve decided to write a sequel to my Intrulogical fic When is Enough Enough? I really enjoyed writing that one, and I’d recommend giving that one a read for context before reading this. I’d love to hear what you think thus-far, and feedback and reblogs are always really appreciated. Have a nice day/night! 

Summary: 

After healing from his accident, Remus has settled into comfortable domesticity living with Logan. Lying awake looking at Logan's sleeping figure just two weeks prior to their one-year-anniversary, a thought suddenly strikes Remus:

He wants to marry him.

word count: 1,837

a03 link 

Remus’s eyes cracked open against the morning sunlight streaming in through the blinds, harsh and irritating. He was surprised to find that he’d woken unprompted – usually, he slept far heavier than Logan did. Logan’s grip around him was lose, but his head lay against his chest, mouth parted as he snored lightly. Logan would never admit that he snored, which Remus found absolutely hilarious.

Careful not to stir him too much, Remus craned his neck to steal a glance at the clock. Damn it, ten minutes till Logan had to wake up for work. It was stupid, but lately Remus was wishing more and more he could spend the entirety of his days with Logan by his side. Obviously, that wasn’t possible. Logan had a job as a teacher and while Remus worked from home as a writer, he still couldn’t occupy all his free time kissing and having sex, as much as he wanted to.

It felt so silly. In past relationships, Remus had certainly wanted his partners. He’d cared about them, at least to a degree, and he’d enjoyed their company. But his relationships with his exes were a far cry from love. But now here Remus was, lying in bed with his boyfriend thinking about how much he simply liked existing in the same place as him.

Remus had lived alone for so long, it was odd, at first, sharing a home with Logan. He’d let himself fall into slobish behavior early into his childhood, habits that hadn’t really been broken until now. Because even if he didn’t give a shit about leaving a pair of underwear on the floor, Logan certainly did. Remus might be irritated with how tidy Logan liked to keep everything, if it weren’t for the fact that he was so head-over-heels for the guy. He’d do practically anything for him; when had he gone so soft?

Remus’s eyes settle back over his boyfriend, tracing the lines of his face slowly. In his sleep, Logan always looked so peaceful. Not in a creepy, corpsey way, or anything like that. He just looked content, relaxed. The worry lines that seemed etched into his forehead disappeared as he slept, his face slack and at ease. Remus hoped, maybe a little selfishly, that Logan slept better with him than he ever had alone. Remus certainly slept better now that he shared a bed with Logan.

Logan’s hair was mused from sleep, something that he would be sure to fix when he woke up. He liked to look presentable and said it often enough for the fact to be drilled into Remus’s skull, which made messing it up again when he got home all the more fun. And Logan let him, too. He laughed lightly as Remus combed a hand through his hair, not swatting him away or discouraging him. Remus was fairly certain Logan liked him messing it up almost as much as he enjoyed doing it.

Hesitantly, Remus let his fingers sink into his boyfriend’s dark hair, stroking softly the way you might pet a kitten you’re intent on keeping in your lap. Logan stirred, groaning softly. Remus hadn’t intended on waking him, but ah well, it was almost time to get up anyhow.

Watching Logan’s nose scrunch up as he combed through his hair, a thought suddenly played through his head:

I want to marry him.

Whoa.

Where the fuck did that come from?

Remus felt the thought dragging him down in a way that most irrational, intrusive thoughts did. For a moment he tried to think of something else, anything else but his mind was simply swimming with thoughts of him and Logan at the alter smiling so wide, kissing one another and crying.

“Mm…Remus?” Logan’s eyes fluttered open. Remus did what he could to shove the thought to the back of his brain (foolish really, he knew better than anyone how little repression worked). “Morning, Dragonfly,” Remus said sleepily with a lopsided smile, continuing to card through his hair. “How’d you sleep?” “Fine,” Logan grunted drowsily, sitting up and rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, “What time is it?”

“Just a little before six thirty,” Remus responded, throwing his arms around Logan again and pulling him back down into the mattress, “Still time to cuddle. Or, something else, if we’re quick.” Logan let out a sigh, pressing his face into the crock of Remus’s neck, his arms and legs wound around him.

“You know there’s no time for that, love. Perhaps later tonight, though…” Logan trailed off, his voice still thick with exhaustion. Remus’s fingers proceeded their movement along Logan’s skull, massaging lightly.

“Promises, promises, Dragonfly,” Remus huffed through a laugh. Silence settles over them like a heavy throw blanket, thick but not uncomfortable. Before Logan, Remus had never really learned how to be quiet, shutting up didn’t seem to be in his nature. He dared to say he was learning. It was painfully domestic, but Remus was always content being in Logan’s presence, even in silence.

“Our anniversary is coming up in two weeks now,” Logan said suddenly, after a long while of quiet.

Remus knew this, of course he did. Even if he’s not usually all that good with remembering dates, he had it written on the calendar highlighted in a million colors, circled, too. He had more than one reminder set on his phone. They’ll have been together a year.

Why did the fact make Remus's heart ache so? it's not as though he was unhappy about it; quite the contrary, he was thrilled to be approaching such a milestone with Logan. But even so, he could feel goosebumps prickling up on his skin.

“Yeah, a year since we nearly fucked in your brother’s backyard.” Even buried in his neck, Remus knows Logan’s making a face.

“We most certainly did not. We merely kissed and…”

“And talked about all the sex we were gonna have back at your place? And then went back to your place, and had all of that aforementioned sex?” Logan sighed.

“Well, yes. But it was more than that…”

“Oh, I know that. Come on, Logan, do you really think that’s not one of my favorite memories?” He could feel Logan’s skin heating up against him slightly. “The first time I got to kiss the love of my life.”

Logan stiffened beneath him. For a moment, Remus racked his brain as to why that might be – only to catch up with the fact that he didn’t recall every referring to Logan as the love of his life before. Those were weighty words, and he’d let em slip. Shit.

“I –,” Remus blurted, only to have his words silenced by Logan’s lips slotted against his own. It was a slow, early-morning kiss, far less passionate than many of their embraces are. But Remus didn’t hesitate his melting into it for a second. Remus sat up, pulling Logan into his lap so that Logan’s legs were wrapped around his middle, his hands dug into his boyfriend’s hair. Logan’s hands settled on Remus’s bare back - Remus insisted on sleeping in the buff - fingers just brushing. The tension that had hung thick in Remus’s mind dissipated, if only for a moment.

“I love you too,” Logan said softly, sincerely, their mouths still so close his breath brushed against Remus’s face, “Very, very much.”

And with that, the alarm began going off. Remus groaned as Logan pulled himself away. He reached out, ever so slightly, only for Logan to shoot him a pointed glare.

“Don’t you dare try and lure me back to bed. I refuse to be late to work because you’re in need of a cuddle.” Remus sighed, accepting his defeat and watched as Logan rose to his feet, arching his back and groaning at the deceive pop his spine made. The sound gave Remus ideas of a torture scene he could write. He'd have to jot that down.

“You’re no fun!” Logan laughed lightly as he took a polo shirt of its hanger in the closet, reaching into the dresser for pants and a tie.

“Yes, so I’ve heard. Go back to bed, Remus, you’re being needlessly grouchy.”

Remus wanted to have the energy to eat breakfast with Logan, to even make him a meal, maybe. But he’d stayed up late writing a new idea for a chapter, late enough that Logan had drug him from his laptop, scolding him all the way to bed. He was tired and working from home allowed him to work out a schedule that allowed sleeping late into the morning, if such a thing could even be called a schedule, really.

He collapsed back against the pillows, pulling the blankets up to his chin.

“Fine. Try not to let any kids set the science lab on fire, okay, Dragonfly?” Remus laughed as Logan let out a strained sigh.

“It was one time, and it wasn’t my fault. I don’t have eyes on the back of my head, for Christ’s sake!”

“Go easy on the troublemakers. They’ve got enough problems as it is.” Remus smiled, watching as Logan adjusted his tie. He would comb his hair when he got in the bathroom, it was still mussed, just the way Remus liked it.

“I already go easy enough on the troublemaker I’ve got at home,” Logan muttered as he bent down to kiss Remus gently. “Goodbye, love. Have a good day, I’ll see you when I get home.”

“See ya, nerd. Go be a good example for those kids, or whatever.” Logan smiled in a healthy mix of fondness and annoyance. Remus liked to think the fondness outweighed the annoyance most of the time. Logan pressed a final kiss to the crown of Remus’s head before walking to the doorway.

“Pleasant dreams. I love you, Remus,” he said softly, closing the door behind him.

“I love you too,” Remus said, even though Logan had already disappeared into the next room.

As Remus lay against the pillows, quickly succumbing to his exhaustion, a thought clung tight to his mind:

I want to marry him.

He doubted it could be chalked up to irrationality, rash though he could be. This desire wasn’t new, not really. He’d felt a similar burn the first time he’d kissed Logan, the first time they’d made love, the first time Logan had said “I love you”, when Logan visited him after the accident, when they moved in together. Like a heat in his belly that grew in intensity every time he was reminded of just how strongly he felt for Logan, Remus was becoming consumed in the flames.

Logan was the love of his life. He’d said it, just moments ago. Remus was happy, deliriously happy. Happier than he’d been in years, and Logan was the cause.

Remus shut his eyes, finally settling into the idea, embracing the desire, at least a little bit. Remus drifted back to slumber, mind buzzing lightly with that pleasant, only slightly mad idea:

Remus wanted to marry Logan.

=+=

#Intrulogical #Romantic intrulogical #First Comes Love #sequel to When is Enough Enough? #human au #fluff #Remus suddenly realizes he wants to marry Logan #oh what fun let's see what happens! #background moceit [will appear in future chapters] #background prinxiety [will appear in future chapters] #my writing #sammy writes #exhaustedfander #exhaustedfander writes #remus sanders #logan sanders

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Bad Guy

Summary: Marinette breaks down.

Warnings: Murder, mention of child neglect, bullying, attempted murder

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Marinette had an okay childhood. Her parents treated her like an adult but they did love her. They taught her some things, and were there for her always until age ten where they just got to busy. It was fine though, honestly.

It was fine they scolded her when she just wanted some help. It was fine her mama was upset her baby couldn’t speak any sort of Chinese despite the woman never trying to teach her. It was fine.

 It was all fine.

 Marinette was sitting sideways in the chair she’d insisted on adding to the warehouse they’d claimed as their HQ. Part of her adored the freaked out faces by it. After all, having the bloodstained clothing of Gabriel Agreste and his assistant being made into a chair was hilarious.

 Marinette sighed, leaning her head back and glaring at the roof above her as another moron made empty threats. Just because she was in a suit and a domino mask didn’t mean she wasn’t as dangerous as she was when she was in her super suit. Really.

 Marinette was a good girl, a very good girl who did what she was told. Sure, she was bullied by Chloe but Chloe bullied everyone. The teachers used to step in until Bustier came around and said oh no, it’s Marinette’s fault for not providing a good example. 

 Her parents found out and they agreed so Marinette had to to, it made sense after all. 

 Marinette stood in front of the man forced to his knees, arms zip tied behind his back.

 “I thought I told you not to sell to minors,” she said in a clipped tone. The man sneered.

 “What, like a hero like you can do anything to stop me.” He jeered. Marinette frowned.

 “I would watch your tone.” The man scoffed and laughed at her. Until the head of one of his gang was brought in and handed to Marinette.

 He changed his tune then.

 Oh, Marinette had to work in the bakery sometimes. Oh, and of course her parents would volunteer her to watch their friends’ kids. It wasn’t like Marinette had homework or her commissions, or if she needed sleep or anything.

 And then she got a box with earrings.

 Marinette snorted as she read an article in the paper talking about how the new mayor was discussing removing the various statues of the Miraculous team. She rolled her eyes at the man’s words but smirked at the various comments from the reporter who’d written the article.

 “Apparently they want to focus on the fact we all snapped and went after various teachers, police officers and such,” she said out loud. “Rather than rip down statues and cost the city money that way.”

 “Who wrote that article?” Kagami asked as she ate her breakfast, wearing only a robe and looking pleased from her nightly activities. Marinette snorted.

 “Alya.”

 “Of course.”

 Being Ladybug was… fun. People liked her, they liked what she did, they liked how she saved them. They actually liked her and appreciated her.

 It was addicting. She had her partner, she had friends, she was able to stand up to people…

 And still she had to babysit. Still she had to put her commissions on hold. Still she was told she had to be an example.

 But she had friends.

 Marinette drank her coffee, staring at the bakery across the street. She was standing in front of an old school- not an old and abandoned one but one almost completely destroyed. The bakery across the street looked like it had seen better days. It was obviously struggling. Marinette watched with an impassive face as someone left, looking disgusted.

 “I’ll never eat anything from here again. Didn’t they used to be good?” Marinette finished her coffee and turned and left. 

They did. And then they pissed off a creature of luck.

Lila happened one day and… things changed. Her friends were turning their backs on her. More demands, more wishes, more screams. 

 She felt like she was drowning like she was being dragged down towards hell as she tried to breathe. Tried to think.

 She broke down and released her transformation one day, screaming.

 At least her kitty was on her side after that.

 “Bug,” Max stuck his head into her design room. She blinked, looking up from the bulletproof dress she was making Alya for her assignments.

 “Yes?” Marinette asked.

 “We need some help- Fox found out about a conspiracy. We need a bit of luck.” 

 Marinette smiled like a shark. “Of course.”

 She had her kitty, she had Adrien and slowly she had the rest of the team. They all started seeing, they all started frowning. They all started speaking up.

 Lila kept lying, she kept saying things, she kept breaking them. She kept saying things that weren’t true and people believed them. Marinette’s mom and dad did. They frowned at her, they looked at her sideways.

 Marinette could breathe though. She had her friends. She had her team.

 And then her kitty was run through.

Marinette petted Adrien’s head, watching with a bored face as various gangs all tried to jockey for position before her.

 “He’s nothing but a pet-” Her head snapped to the speaker and she stood, standing high above them and looking down her nose at the speaker. She strode towards him, a snarl on her face as black energy took her over.

 “What did you say?”

Her kitty was hurt and she was screaming and it was to much, to much for her to think for her to breathe. She wanted it to stop.

 She couldn’t heal him, Plagg had to step in and the energy affected them all. They were sharper, more dangerous. A little more animalistic. 

 It was okay though… it was okay. It had to be okay. Hawkmoth- Adrien’s father and oh she enjoyed ripping into him with magic and her hands- was in jail.

 They got their happy ending.

Only they didn’t.

 Marinette hummed as she carefully set up an adorable little house. It was perfectly Kwami sized with a small bed and a small phone for use as a TV.

 “Oh, Mullo,” she smiled as the Mouse Kwami floated in front of her. “Do you like it?”

 “I do!” Mullo smiled at her. “Oh, can I say also thanks?”

 “Oh?”

 “You don’t make us do things we don’t want.” The mouse explained. “Fu was worried you’d be awful with us but you aren’t.” Marinette laughed.

 “Well I try.”

 Lila wouldn’t shut the fuck up and no one would listen. Master Fu didn’t. He focused on her being like him, wanting all the Miraculous back, scolding her for letting Plagg save Adrien.

 Her parents stopped loving her. They stopped being proud.

 Where they ever anyway? 

No one cared, they sneered at Adrien, called him names and he couldn’t speak back. The magic Plagg did made him wonky, lopsided at first. Sometimes he was more animal than human.

 And they wouldn’t shut up.

 “Kitty?” Marinette asked, petting Adrien’s head. He hummed, eyes unfocused as he leaned into her. “Awww, poor thing. You’re so out of it baby.” Adrien purred and leaned into her more. Marinette hummed, picking up some papers. Adrien hissed suddenly. “Oh yes, Gabriel is campaigning for an early release.” Marinette smirked as Adrien growled.

 “Oh Kitty, don’t worry. Even if he gets out… we can handle him.” Marinette smiled even as Adrien continued growling. “We’ll handle him permanently.”

 It all came to a head when Lila shoved her off a third floor to the ground. And no one did a damn thing.

 It was her fault, she was fighting Lila after all. Never mind she had just been chatting with Adrien.

 Her parents called her a monster.

 So she became one. She embraced the darkness, Tikki along for the ride, laughing. Fu hated it, tried to rip the Miraculous away. 

 They dealt with him after that. 

 Marinette transformed, staring at the school in front of her. Behind her stood her team.

 Gone was the ladybug red and black. Now was a blood-red suit with armoured plating, her mask jagged and looking like blood trails were going down her face, the eyeholes now completely black. Dark energy- the same energy they all carried now- lashed from her. Under her arm was the Miraculous Box.

 “You want a bad guy?” she snarled. “I’ll give you one.”

Tagged: @ines-nz  @seraphichana, @glasswolff, @crazylittlemunchkin, @miraculous786, @viinaa08, @18-fandoms-unite-08

#broken heroes verse #miraculous ladybug #maribat #in the future #ml au #tw murder #tw bullying #tw attempted murder #tw child neglect

[mondixu]

butterflies | d. kaminari

you're my new best friend if you get the reference </3

genre: fluff

gender: neutral

warning: none

[ ✾ ]

        You were fourteen when you first met him.          It was a rainy day when you were walking to school that morning, and instead of doing the smart thing - bringing an umbrella - you decided you could just run the whole way there.          And yet, despite training to be a hero, you couldn't run for ten minutes with your arms over your head as if that would somehow shield you from the rain like you imagined.          So there you were, walking in your uniform and worrying about your reputation and how much it would be damaged, when all of a sudden, you didn't feel the cold drops of water splattering on your soggy clothes anymore.          Instead, there was a slight feeling of warmth beside you. Glancing over, you looked into the golden eyes of a tall male, whose yellow hair wasn't the least bit wet.          Ah, yes, he brought an umbrella.          Like a smart person would do.          He grinned like a dork and you ignored your stupid heart that fluttered when he smiled his adorably cute smile.          "Hey."          That simple word changed your fucking life.          "Who the hell are you?"          "Can you . . . see me?!"          "Yeah . . . "          "You can see me! I'm gonna have a new best- FRIENNND-"          "Okay I think that's enough now," you said, pushing him away and snatching the umbrella out of his hand. "Wait wha?"          You stared at the cute boy in front of you and decided you didn't like him, no matter how many times he smiled his stupidly cute smile at you, no matter how many times he would save you from the freezing rain, you would never like him.          Never in your life.          And so, you traipsed away from the boy with his lightning-patterned umbrella clutched tightly in your hand down the path to your school.          You never looked back. 

[ ✾ ]

        Out of all the places you expected to see the blonde boy next, you never would've guessed the famous hero school of U.A.         You didn't want to be reminded of him, of his cute face, his golden eyes, his honey-blonde hair, and his adorable grin, it wasn't particularly fair that someone could look that good. Just looking at him made you want to puke from nerves.          And of course, he wiggled his way into your friend group.          The two of you never talked about what had happened, but he always flashed his bright grin whenever he saw you, activating the ever-present flutters in your heart once again.         You ignored the stupid butterflies.          Quickly making friends at U.A., you thought that everything was looking up for you, the future was looking bright!          That is, until villains suddenly bombarded USJ.          And of course, as "fate" would have it, you got thrown into a group with your least favorite blonde.          And yes, there were females from the class with you -- you hadn't bothered to learn their names -- but that didn't stop the stupid butterflies from deciding to come to life once again. They were worse when he made physical contact with you, such as when he saved you from tumbling off of a pile of rocks, or when he shoved you out of the way as a knife went flying by where your head had once been.          Stupid butterflies. 

[ ✾ ]

        Note to self: never tell the Bakusquad you're going to study.          They'll beg to come along.          It wasn't that you didn't love your friends -- far from it -- but they could be a little . . . hectic, to say the least.         When it comes to sitting still, go to the Dekusquad for studying help.         Bakugou was fine, the only reason he came along was because Kirishima wouldn't "get off of his fucking back", at least he knew how to study quietly.          Sero was okay; he was sorta mellow, occasionally finding the passion to study with no sound emitting from him, while other times, he was spilling Tic Tacs all over his books and having a mini food fight with Kaminari and Mina.         Kirishima tried.          He really did.          He just had no concentration in him whatsoever.         The red-haired male was constantly asking you or Bakugou for help, and while you were more than happy to help him, you came here to study, not to tutor. Bakugou, obviously, did nothing to help until Kirishima pulled out the puppy eyes.          Kiri's got him hooked on a fucking leash.         Kaminari = never ever ever ever ever ever ask him to study.          The child probably had dyslexia, as he was c o n s t a n t l y asking how to pronounce the simplest of words, then going off and googling it as soon as you told him, thinking that you were the one who pronounced it wrong, not him.          He peered over your shoulder, whispering in your ear for the correct math answer on the homework, fueling your already prominent blush on your face already.          To say the least, you didn't get much studying done when you sat beside him, and instead, spent the entire time glaring at your book as you thought about the stupid butterflies that existed in your stomach.          When it came to Mina, she honestly didn't really try. While she wanted to pass school and become a hero, it was hard for her energetic body to sit still and stare at books all day.         When you suggested she grab some snacks for the group after seeing her restlessness, she jumped at the chance, but then didn't come back for a whole hour.          When she did finally come back, she had no snacks in her arms, and instead, held a dog.          Yes.          Ashido fucking Mina bought a dog instead of getting a simple box of pocky for her friends.          Everyone but you and Bakugou found it hilarious, asking to see the dog, pet it, and become the fucking parent.          Then, they got kicked out of the library.          Kaminari tried to engage you in a conversation as the group walked back home, but you were too pissed to concentrate on anything he rambled about.          Mina bought a dog.          A fucking dog.          "WHY THE FUCK DID YOU BUY A DOG, MINA?!" you cried, interrupting the blonde's tangent about a hacker who beat him in Roblox.          "Because it was cute," she said simply.          You facepalmed.          Kaminari slung his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close and saying, "aw, c'mon [Name]! You gotta admit, it was pretty cute!"         You shoved him in a mud puddle.          Stupid butterflies. 

[ ✾ ]

        "Look Denki, I get that you want to have lightning bolt streamers everywhere, but this is Aizawa's party we're talking about here, not yours."          You were in your second year of U.A., all of your class having graduated the first year of hero training with flying colors. You were on better terms with Denki now, having saved him from impending doom when the League kidnapped Bakugou. You worked all your differences out and were now good friends, some even going as far as to call the two of you besties.          That didn't mean the butterflies had disappeared.          In fact, they were worse than ever the more time you spent around him. It was like every time he put his arm around your shoulders or abruptly snatched your hand, the bugs were on a reproducing spree, manifesting more and more butterflies every time he came into physical contact with you.          "C'mon! It's lightning! How could you not love it?!"          "You weren't the one who came up with the idea for this party! I was!"          Ah, yes.          Your fiery temper was still there.��         "Fine, fine, we can use the black streamers," he said, rolling his eyes and heading to the kitchen. You grinned deviously, a plan already forming in mind that would surely get you a handful of swears from your teacher.          Fuck it all, you were doing it anyway. 

[ ✾ ]

        "[Last Name], what the hell are you doing?" Aizawa inquired, rubbing his tired eyes vigorously.          "Oh, don't worry Aizawa-sensei," you replied deviously, smirking at the black-clothed teacher. "Everything is a-okay!"          "That automatically makes me assume that nothing is okay."          "I SAID DON'T WORRY, AIZAWA-SENSEI!"          "And I said that automatically makes me assume I have to worry."          "BUT YOU DON'T!"          "Mhm." You could hear the skepticism lacing his fatigued voice, giving a boost of excitement to your tired legs as you dragged the sleepy man to the common room, smacking your hands over his eyes.          "Ow."         "Okay, okay, okay, open your eyes," you said, ignoring his cry of pain.          "I can't because your filthy hands are over them."          "NOW OPEN THEM."         His dark eyes opened, holding a small glint of surprise as he saw the black, silver, gray, and white streamers dangling from the ceiling that Shouji put up, the luscious dark chocolate cake Sato had prepared, the birthday balloons Yaomomo and Denki had dotted around, and the whole class sprinkled around the common room (plus Shinso and Eri), wearing party hats and smiling at their shocked teacher.          Aizawa's throat caught slightly at the end, but he still managed to get out the words, "who's idea was this?"          Denki stepped up, raising his arm but pointing his finger at you. "[Name] did, they just dragged us into it." You grinned sheepishly, rubbing the nape of your neck and quickly trying to atone for your sins.          "I understand if you don't like it, I could take it all down if you want, I just thought that maybe-"          Kaminari rushed over to your side and slapped his hand over your mouth, steadily looking you in the eye and shaking his head.          "No, [Last Name], it's great."          You were surprised to hear the tired voice of your favorite teacher, and even more surprised to see him crack a small grin at you, saying, "where'd you get the party hats?"          "Yaomomo made them," Denki cut in.          "He didn't ask you," you said, licking his hand as he jerked it away.          "Let's party!" 

[ ✾ ]

        So far, so good, you thought, twisting your fingers together as you watched your favorite blonde attempt to playfully flirt with Uraraka.         You can do this, you can do this, you can do this, you can do this.          "Hey."          You shrieked at the voice that suddenly appeared in your ear, jumping a little and whipping around, only to come face-to-face with an electric boy.          "Denki! You scared me!"          "And you made me bite my tongue! Even?"          "How did I make you bite your tongue?"          "When you jumped, my chin was on my way to your shoulder," Denki exclaimed, "but then it moved so my teeth clanked together and my tongue got in the way."          You smiled, lightly punching him in the arm.          "Clanked," you teased with a grin.          "It's a word!"          "Okay." You rolled your eyes. "Hey, what happened to Uraraka?"          "Oh, as soon as I started talking, she said she had to make sure Midoriya had his hero notebook or something, then ran away."          "WOW," you said, bending over and clutching your stomach, trying to breathe through your laughter. "That's a mood."          "It is indeed," Kaminari replied, a grin on his face.          Stupid butterflies.          "Hey, Denki --"          You were abruptly stopped by the strange feeling of another pair of lips on yours, kissing you passionately. Your shocked brain had no idea what was happening until the sudden warmth moved away, revealing the familiar golden eyes of a honey-blonde.          "I'm so sorry, I just thought you looked really cute in that shirt and then I thought 'well why don't I kiss you' and then you didn't kiss back and --"         You pressed your lips against his this time, a small smile gracing your lips as your crush kissed back with fervor.          Finally, after what seemed like it would never be enough, you pulled away from the awkward-yet-electrifying kiss to inhale the life-saving air around you.          "Did you get butterflies too?" you asked, panting. "Yeah, yeah I did."          Those golden eyes.          You couldn't look away from the millions of emotions swirling in his orbs, anxiety, euphoria, fear, nervousness, joy, shock, and trillions more.          The same feelings were probably circling round and around in your eyes.          "So what does this make us?"          Another kiss was your answer.

[ncityislove]

The Jury is Out Ch. 3

➳ Pairing: Renjun x Reader

➳  Genre: Fluffy Angst

➳ Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: HELLOOOO!! Here is the long awaited third chapter of The Jury is Out. This was promised to be out in January but here it is, four months late. Sorry it’s so short and I’m sure there are typos as well ugh!! Thanks for reading and sorry for the wait! Also, the new album SLAPS!!!

The awful pounding in your head is unbearable as you wait for your first class to start. Your sour mood worsens when you recalled yesterday's events. The strong sense of shame you felt was overwhelming but you push the thoughts away in favor of finding your only pencil in the mess of your book bag.

When Renjun arrives, he sits his things on your table, unpacking his binder and pencil box. You don't know why he isn't sitting in his usual seat when you didn't have a lab today. You frown but remove your book bag from the chair next you, nonetheless.

Renjun sits down eagerly, glancing at you a moment longer than normal.  "I like your hair."

Your hands immediately grip the strands. "Oh, thanks."

Was that a compliment just now?

"Where were you yesterday, by the way?"

"I was sick, so I missed first period," he says, flicking the dark tufts of hair out of his eyes.

Unbelievable. He's lying straight to your face.

"That's not what Chenle had to say."

"Hmm? Chenle? He's always pulling pranks; I wouldn't buy anything that comes out of his mouth," he laughs.

You glare at him for a moment. "You didn't get my texts messages?"

He smiles sheepishly. "Oh...sorry about that. I was...um...busy?"

"Hmm. Are you okay at least?"

"Yeah, never better!"

You shake your head, not wanting to seem like you actually cared even though deep down you knew you did. It's crazy that all it took was one little afternoon alone together in the cold and suddenly Renjun matters to you. All those years of being at each other's throats out the window. Just like that. It was different now. You were more mindful of each other's feelings and it's even gotten to the point where you're receiving compliments. It was a change that you still hadn't adjusted to but maybe it was a good one.

The horrible excuses and lies weren't something you were fond of but it's not like you were friends so you kept that to yourself. You just wished he'd tell you the truth or even hearing that he didn't want to talk about it would've been fine. You didn't see why he had to lie...

You had to remind yourself that you shouldn't be so concerned with Renjun. It was weirding you out that you were thinking about him so much lately. As much as you hated to admit it, you might've maybe felt something for him in that teeny split second after you made up on the field. You never really noticed how funny he was because you were always the butt of the joke but turns out he was hilarious. And his voice was so sweet and calming you could probably listen to it forever. But whatever it was—that moment your heart skipped a beat— was gone. It was crazy to even think—there was no way you'd ever say that out loud. Clearly, Renjun would never reciprocate.

If only Haven could see you now.

Renjun turns his body toward you, giving you his full attention. "Are we meeting at the track after school?"

"I have volleyball practice but we can meet after, if you want."

"Yeah, cool," he says, looking pleased.

"Are you sure you're okay though?"

The question had been on your mind since yesterday. Maybe something happened with his dad and he didn't want to say anything. According to Jeno, he didn't talk about that stuff much but you still wanted to make sure he was okay.

"Hm?" he looks at you strange. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Are you sure? I mean, you can tell me if you're not. If you want to, that is."

He laughs, his face glowing with a big smile. "Are you worried about me?"

You scowl. "As if."

"Aww, you care about me! Who knew the coldest person in the world had a heart?" he pinches your cheek.

You violently slap his hand away. "Don't ever touch me again. Got it? Ever."

Renjun chuckles lightly. "Alright, sorry. Whatever you say."

When class starts, the teacher pulls up her usual PowerPoint and you began messily jotting down the first slide. She seems to be in a rush as she breezes over everything making it difficult to write down everything in time. Renjun nudges your arm. You look to see him offering you a piece of gum. You reject it, mouthing a 'no thanks' with a polite smile and scramble to write down the rest of the slide. He purses his lips, taking a piece for himself, leisurely writing his notes.

A few minutes later, he nudges your arm again. "You got any led?"

Your nostrils flare as you let out a sigh, pulling out your pencil pouch for him to find the type of led he needs. You pick your pencil back up and continue your notes.

"Thanks," he whispers. "Hey, did you get that last slide?"

"Oh my fucking--no, Renjun! How could I have gotten the last slide when you keep distracting me?"

Renjun starts to giggle and Mrs. Brookes stops her lesson.

"What's going on back there?" she looks irritated to find you and Renjun talking. "__, would you like to tell me what the main parts of the brain are?"

"Umm," you hesitate, your eyes scanning over the board. It must've been on the last slide, which you didn't get, thanks to Renjun.

Mrs. Brooks looks at you expectingly. The class turns to look at you as well when you take too long to answer.

"Cerebellum, frontal lobe, parietal lobe, cerebrum, and the thalamus," Renjun says, saving your ass.

"Very good! Thank you, Renjun. Now, as I was saying..." Mrs. Brookes turns back to the board and continues rambling on about the brain.

"I thought you didn't get the last slide?" you whisper.

"Just because I didn't write it down doesn't mean I wasn't paying attention."

You stare at the side of his face in shock and you can tell by the way his cheeks were lifted he was smiling.

-

Renjun sits with you again in third period. You scoot your stuff over, once again saying nothing. This was getting a little odd. If you weren't friends why did he keep sitting next to you? You weren't friends, were you? You decide not to ask. Sadie seemed like the right person to confide this type of stuff into.

Your desks were too close together which made Renjun's knee touch yours. You wouldn't have noticed any other time but this time in particular it was hard not to.

"You should sit with me at lunch from now on."

Definitely getting mixed signals here.

"Why?"

"We're partners. It only makes sense, you know?"

"But we've been partners for years."

He opens his mouth then closes it. "Well, yeah that's true...but you still should. I won't force you to but I'll be really upset if you don't."

"Upset?" you repeat with a tilt of your head.

Why would he be upset about that? You couldn't understand why he was acting so weird today.

"Yeah and if I get upset, I won't be able to focus on the booth," his tone is sad and it tugs at your heart for some reason.

"Well...if that's the case, I'll do it. For the sake of the booth."

He smiles triumphantly. "Right. For the booth."

The kid who usually sits next to you walks over and stands there awkwardly before he finds an empty seat somewhere else. You try not to giggle at how uncomfortable Renjun looks. The class goes by smoothly this time, Renjun only bugging you every once in a while to compare answers on your worksheet. When the bell rings, you and Renjun walk to lunch together. He's talking to you about the Pythagorean theorem but you keep getting distracted by the odd looks people keep giving you in the hall. You weren't used to getting this much attention; you're existence was pretty much irrelevant unless something happened with your rivalry against Renjun. Renjun, being the top of the class and friends with almost all the sports team members on the other hand, was very much popular. You couldn't begin to imagine the confusion you two were causing just by walking to lunch together. Jisung is the first person to see you coming, a look of recognition crossing his face. Chenle was next; he smiles sending you a friendly wave. You say hello, sitting your tray down next to Jeno's and Renjun sits on the other side of you.

"Hey, beautiful, what're you doing here?" Jeno asks.

You flush at the pet name. "I think as Renjun's partner, we should take advantage of the free time we have to work together."

"Oh god, you two are so much alike," Haechan groans.

"I think it's cute," Chenle beams.

Jaemin fake gags and everyone bursts into laughter except for you who didn't find it all that funny.

The laughter dies down.

"Will you be spending all your time with Renjun?" Jeno asks.

"Um, no..."

"Well, in that case, would you like to go on a date with me tonight?"

You drop your carton of milk on the table, thankfully you hadn't opened it yet. You feel your palms get sweaty.

"I...can't. I have practice after school and then I have to work on the booth. I'm sorry."

The boys "ooh" in unison like a bunch of fifth graders.

"It's not like that!" you scramble to fix your words. "We can go another day?"

Jeno's eyes disappear as he gives you the most heartwarming smile. You can't help but smile back at him.

Chenle clears his throat. "What do you think about that, Renjun?"

Renjun's picking at the edge of his foam tray when he shrugs. "I couldn't care less."

Chenle gives him a glare as if he's trying to convey some message to him but Renjun doesn't meet his eyes so he elbows him.

"Fine. I admit, I don't approve."

The whole table gets quiet. You and Jeno share the same expression of surprise.

"Why not? And don't say she's too good for me."

"It'll distract __ from school and I don't think that's what she wants."

Jeno snorts. "It's just one date; I think she'll be fine. And when we do become a couple, which we will—I'll make sure of that—I won't distract from her school work."

"Yeah, but I don't think—"

"Plus, you used to have a girlfriend—what's the difference?"

The atmosphere gets tense at the mention of Haven and Jeno looks sorrowful as the boys send him angry looks.

"Um...sorry."

"When does practice end?" Renjun changes the subject.

You're still confused about what's going on. "Who? Me?"

"Yes, you, dummy," he grins.

You ignore the fact that he just called you a dummy. "It ends at four but I can leave early."

"Mind if I come and watch?" Jeno asks.

"Sure!" you get excited at the thought of Jeno watching you play.

"No fair! I wanna come too!" Jisung exclaims.

Jaemin reaches out to pat him on the shoulder. "You're not going anywhere near those girls, you pervert."

You giggle at the two, unaware of the concerned look Chenle's giving Renjun as he silently scribbles in his notebook.

You arrive at the gym, hauling the equipment the coach had you fetch. The girls are all huddled in a circle, gossiping most likely. You set up the net and clear the court of the mats that were left behind from a previous class. You could ask for help but you were sure no one wanted to.

You break up their little party after you get another text from the coach.

"Ladies, coach says she's not coming until the end of practice so we're starting without her. Let's start stretching, okay?"

The girls spread out and begin their stretches and you join them. Everyone's following instructions except for Haven, who's still standing in the same spot.

"Haven," you call in a warning tone.

"Why can't we just hang out until coach gets here? She doesn't have to know."

Everyone agrees, the room filling with murmurs.

You already feel the anger rising in your body. It felt like every time Haven opened her mouth, it was always to go against you. Maybe her and Renjun were the perfect couple after all.

"Guys, c'mon. If we slack off, we'll throw the next game and lose our winning streak."

"No way, skipping one day of practice won't cost us some measly game. You're being a little dramatic, don't 'ya think?"

"Some measly game?" you repeat in utter shock. "You don't even care about winning. Haven, you don't care about this team at all; why should any of us listen to you? I am captain of this team, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh god here we go again," she sighs. "That's just a title, __. That doesn't make you the boss of me."

"Oh, yes it does. I can get your ass kicked off the team with one word. Coach trusts me, all I have to do is say it. Should I have a chat with her when she gets here?"

Haven gets as red as a tomato, her lips poking out in an ugly pout. You almost laugh at how immature she's looks right now. It was a mystery how people adore that girl so much when she's got such an ugly attitude.

"Since you all agree with Haven, let's do ten laps. C'mon."

Everyone gives Haven dirty looks as the get up and starts running.

"Let's go ladies, I'd like to get this over with so we can start practice." you clap your hands to speed them up. "And Haven? You get ten extra laps."

Haven flips you off before she runs off but you don't really care. At least she was listening to you for once. You hear a door slam upstairs and Jeno struts in, sitting at the back of the bleachers. He's smiling as he waves to you, giving you a thumbs up. You can't help but match his smile as you wave back.

When everyone's finished their laps and done their stretches, you split everyone into teams. You're opposing Haven's team and boy, do they suck. They're losing embarrassingly bad and you're not even the one who's hitting the ball. One of your best players, Sana, was dragging the other team through the mud. Mina and Momo always made sure the ball got passed to her and when she swung her fists, the ball connected with the ground every time. Haven hated lots of things but you knew most of all, she hated to lose. This was only reason you haven't kicked her off yet. She wasn't the best player—not even close—but she did like to win. You don't know what made her join the team but she did and she always tried to win when it came down to it.

You switch positions on both sides, you serving this time. You throw the ball up high, spreading your fingers apart as you raise your hand and slam your palm against it so hard, there's a loud thud that echoes through the gym. The other team throws themselves to save the ball but their efforts are in vain. The ball is too fast for them. Applause comes from the top right corner of the room and everyone turns to look at Jeno. You pretend you don't notice him, calling the ball back but your pink cheeks exposes you anyway.

Jeno whoops and cheers every time you scored a point, and let's be real, with the skills you have, that means it happened a lot. You never had someone who weren't your parents or your coach cheer you on like this and it was something you found to really enjoy. This was something you could get used to. You imagine him attending your future games. Your stomach fills with butterflies and you could almost hear him calling your name when you dive to save the ball.

"Why's Jeno here?" Haven whispers to one of her friends. "Since when was __ this close with Jeno?"

You smirk, calling Jeno over after letting everyone take a short break. The two of you laugh and talk for a bit, ignoring the cold stare Haven's giving you not too far away.

-

   Jeno walks you to the track field where they meet Renjun, who's already got a head start. His jacket is thrown over his book bag and you notice how toned his arms are with his sleeves rolled up. He looks up when hears your footsteps, the smile on his face slowly fading when he notices Jeno behind you.

"Oh great. What are you doing here?"

You laugh at his displeased expression. "He's just leaving, calm down."

"Actually, since I'm here, why don't I stay and help out?" Jeno proposes.

"Oh!" you let out an excited squeal you didn't know you were capable of. "That's great idea! Yes!"

"Absolutely not." Renjun rolls his eyes. "Go home, Jeno. You'll just get in the way."

Jeno juts his bottom lip out and you have to keep yourself from swooning at how adorable he looks.

"Renjunie!" he whines. "I promise not to get in the way. Let me help?"

You give him pleading eyes behind Jeno's back. Renjun looks at you and grunts, muttering something inaudible as he starting hammering away at a slab of wood a little too hard.

"Yes!!" Jeno takes off his jacket and gets to work. "This is a one-time thing," Renjun declares, his back turned to the both of you.

"Right, right, got it," Jeno quickly agrees. "Let me help you with that," he runs over to carry the bucket of paint you were holding.

You watch him lug the heavy object onto the table. "Oh, thanks, but I had it."

Renjun rolls his eyes.

   Hetries repeatedly to get Jeno to go home. Each and every time Jeno would laugh it off, calling him grumpy. You noticed his mood was off but you didn't want to bother him by asking why. He never told you those kinds of things anyway so why go through the trouble of asking? He never laughs when Jeno makes one of his famous jokes and he doesn't look at you when you speak to him. You wish he wouldn't be such a mood killer but he was almost always like this even at parties you've come to find out.

When you start to lose daylight, you decide to call it quits for the day.

"I think we can wrap up for today," you beam. "We're nearly finished thanks to Jeno."

Renjun's bag is already slung over his shoulder by the time you finish your sentence. "See ya."

"Yeah...I'll see you," you trail off as he sprints down the field.

"What's his problem?" Jeno asks aloud.

You shrug just as your phone starts to jingle that annoying ringtone you set it to over a year ago. You dig it out of your back pocket and read the caller ID. It's Sadie.

"Hello?"

"Hey! Listen, I'm sorry, I totally spaced about picking you up after school. I'm out with Jodie right now."

You can't help the displeased noise that comes from you at the sound of Jodie's name. "That's cool, I guess. I can just walk like I usually do."

"Are you sure? We can come and get you in about twenty minutes."

"We?  Yeah, no thanks. I promise I'll be fine."

"I promised mom and dad I'd pick you--hold on. Jodie, I'm on the phone...what?"

There's whispering then a short silence on the other line and you give Jeno an awkward smile.

"Um, okay,  be safe walking. Sorry again! Bye!"

Click.

Jeno kicks a pile of dirt with the tip of his shoe. "Your ride must be here."

"Nah, I'm walking today."

Jeno perks up. "Really? Me too. I'll walk you home."

You stop in your tracks. "Are you sure? I don't want you to go out of your way."

"It's no problem. I like hanging out with you, anyways. You're cool people."

You nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. No one's ever called you cool before. Ever since Renjun and you got paired together for the booth it's like your life had been flipped upside down. People were starting to notice you. You were even sitting at the popular table now. Your blooming friendship with Jeno was sure to leave you a permanent spot there, too. Even girls as pretty and cool as Haven was starting to become jealous of you--for whatever reason, you don't know.

You look a Jeno and the sun hits his eyes that make them glimmer a bit. You never noticed how they turned a lighter brown in the light. Or how flawless and beautiful his skin was. Or even how soft and luscious his hair looked until now. You realize you're staring and heat covered your cheeks.

"Yeah, thanks," you cleared your throat.

"Which way is it?" Jeno asks, dropping his arm over your shoulder.

The air was cold and the wind was biting but the constant blushing of your cheeks kept you warm as you walked the short path to your house. The hand warmers Jeno selflessly gifted you also helped too. You talked aimlessly about nothing and you weren't sure when you started walking so closely but every other step your bodies would brush against one another. Clearly, this didn't bother him as he made no effort to put some distance between you.

Your heart was heavy in your chest as you approached your driveway, the walk feeling all too short.

"Well, this is  me," you tut.

"You live, like, really close to school," Jeno basks at your noble home.

"Yeah, I hate it."

Jeno shakes his head at your sarcastic remark. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, beautiful."

You scoff at the pet name, a smile spreading across your lips. "I'd invite you in but nobody's home and I don't want my parents to kill me. Not yet anyway."

Jeno steps onto the stoop of your porch with you, his body dangerously close to yours. "That's okay. You can have me over another time."

You let out an airy laugh, turning away to unlock the door. "Are you inviting yourself into my home?"

"Yep," his fingers cup your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

You heart stops for a single moment and then suddenly it's pounding harder than ever. He's going to kiss you. Lee Jeno is going to kiss you. Your hold your breath when he pulls you close, his lips mere inches from yours. He pauses, his warm breath fanning over your face and it turns to white in the cold air. The street lamps flicker on and suddenly everything is illuminated in orange.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmurs.

It takes you a moment to find your voice. "Don't stop."

You drop the heat warmer in your hand s to wrap your arms around the nape of his neck and finally, he kisses you. His lips are warm and welcoming as he softly pecks your own. Your mind goes blank and all your senses are filled with Jeno, Jeno, Jeno. It's better than you imagined it'd be.

You both pull back and are smiling like idiots. You bid each other farewell after one very long hug and then you're alone. No one to witness you jumping excitedly like a crackhead in your house, kicking and screaming for joy like a child.

#the jury is out #huang renjun #huang injoon #renjun fluff #renjun fanfic #huang renjun fluff #nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct dream reactions #kpop fanfic #kpop #nct jeno #nct hechan #nct chenle #nct jaemin #nct haechan #nct jisung #NCT

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I don't know if this could be taken the wrong way, so let me just say that I'm approaching this with the utmost respect and admiration for you work: would you ever consider writing a "how to" kind of tutorial for how to structure a smut fic? I love your fics and would love to get a sense of your process, since mine apparently does not work for me anymore.

Okay, phew, this took me far longer to get to than I’d hoped, my apologies, nonny! I’ve never considered writing a “how to” before, since I don’t really see myself as an expert or a teacher, and everyone’s process is very personal and subjective. But I hope this sort of slap-dash tutorial will help you in your writing endeavors!

Warning: NSFW and ���crude” language ahead, since I’ll be damned if I’m bothering to use a bunch of euphemisms while I’m literally talking about writing sex scenes.

So You Wanna Earn that “E” Rating: One Kinky Idiot’s Guide to Writing Smut

(Shut up, I’m hilarious.)

First Steps: Before You Write

Okay, so, I say this pretty much anyone asks me for writing advice about something, no matter what the topic might be: start with research.

Shocking as this might be, I have not had sex with a vampire, a dragon, or a werewolf (yet, hit me up, I’m single). This is pretty easy for the reader to assume, since most of us have not met a vampire or any other supernatural creature (alas). But a lot of the other sex stuff I write about I haven’t done, either, and same with a lot of other writers. For example, I have never given a blowjob to an uncircumcised man. Garcia Flynn is from Europe, where it’s a lot more common for Gentiles (non-Jews) to be uncircumcised, so it made sense for him to still have a foreskin (compared to Wyatt Logan, being American where most men regardless of religion are circumcised). So when writing sex scenes, especially blowjob scenes, I had to know what the fuck to do with the foreskin.

RESEARCH!!!!

Research can also be kind of helpful in the erotic sense. Most articles such as “how to use a vibrating dildo” can be very straightforward and clinical, but the detail of their descriptions can help you to start picturing the sex scene you want to write.

So before anything else: if you don’t have the hands-on experience, RESEARCH RESEARCH RESEARCH. This includes reading other smut fics that have whatever it is you want to write about! I read a lot of gay smut before I wrote two men getting it on, seeing as I am not a man (I am as swift as a coursing river and have the strength of a raging fire but, alas, do not possess the force of a great typhoon and I am the farthest thing from mysterious as the dark side of the moon).

Another thing some fellow smut writers have found helpful is watching porn. They’re much more visual than I am, and so seeing things acted out, even if they’re acted in a cheesy way, can help them to get creative juices flowing and visualize what they want their characters to do. I do not like porn, since I am a fucking snob and criticize the lighting, the script, and the camera angles the entire time.

Yes, I’m a great time at parties, thanks for asking.

Also? Masturbation. YES I’M SERIOUS. Think long and hard (ha) about what turns you on when you’re touching yourself. I don’t just mean that fantasy about the pirate captain, I mean literally, what parts of yourself does it feel good to touch? Do you like to tease and take your time, or get right to it and be a little rough? Do you prefer big dildos that fill you up or a small vibrator that concentrates on your clit?

What you like and how you want to be touched is a great way to start.

Part Two: How to Get Your Blank Word Doc To Stop Mocking You

I usually start my smut scenes one of two ways. The first way is generally for my oneshots: WHAT KINK ARE WE GOING TO GET EVERYONE INTO TODAY??? LET’S SPIN THE WHEEL!!! *game show theme music*

The second way is more for my multichapter fics, which is: what is the purpose of the sex scene? Why are these characters having sex?

Everyone has times where they have sex just ‘cause they wanna have it. That’s what PWPs are for. “I’m horny and I want to read someone getting two cocks in their vagina/being tied up and made to orgasm five times/fucked against a wall.” Great! Excellent. Wonderful. For those cases I ask myself, “well, if I were in Character A’s shoes, what would I find hot?” I consider the person’s personality, and then roleplay in my head what would feel good to me to do. Then I swap and do the same thing through Character B’s shoes.

For example, I am very submissive in bed. I want my partner to tell me what to do (not all the time but when we’re getting kinky). I do not want to be the one giving orders. Lucy Preston, however, is dominant in bed. She wants to be in control. So when I write sex scenes I can’t just say, as Lucy the woman, “oh I want him to hold me down and fuck me,” because that doesn’t fit her characterization (at least, not the characterization I see for her). That’s important to consider, always.

CHARACTERIZATION IS KEY!!!! I can’t tell you how many damn good fics I was into until I got to a part where a character was acting OOC and it took me completely out of the story. Most recently, I was reading this hilarious and sexy smut oneshot that I was absolutely in love with–until I got to the end, and Character B, who is known for being very taciturn and not good with words, started spouting off all this really earnest and romantic stuff.

Look, there are ways that a taciturn person, who isn’t good with words, can be earnest. Having them say cliche romantic stuff is not it. I was completely taken out of the story and that saddened me because I loved it up until that part.

***Interlude***

A good example of this is pet names! Pet names that characters call each other really showcase their personality. For example, I have Flynn call Lucy moja draga and moja ljubav which are Croatian for, respectively, “my darling” and “my love.” But he calls Wyatt moj tigriću which is Croatian for “my tiger,” because it just doesn’t fit the snarky, chaotic, initially-adversarial Wyatt/Flynn relationship for them to call one another “my love” or “my darling.” Wyatt calls Flynn “babe” in a way that started out sarcastic and became a habit before he could stop it.

I could go on (the trio has a lot of pet names for each other) but my point is, the pet names fit their personalities and their dynamics. Gotta do the same for your sex scenes! People don’t just become porn stars when they have sex, they’re still themselves!

***Interlude Outro***

Okay, so that’s PWP But what if it’s in a longer fic? What if this is the sex the characters have been building towards for 50k, 100k, 200 FUCKING THOUSAND WORDS WHAT THE FUCK–

*ahem*

Anyway, if you do that, then of course it’s not just about “hey I’m horny and have a thing for being spanked.” There have to be reasons why. Consider the circumstances. Is it a release of tension? Did they just have an argument and they’re running high on adrenaline? Did one of them just suffer a loss and they want physical intimacy to feel comforted? Why are they having sex now, instead of at another time, and once you figure that out, that’ll set the tone for the whole thing.

This was something I really struggled with in The Thing With Shadows Is (They Come From Light, From Somewhere). The setup for that fic is that Lucy was a dominatrix at a BDSM club, and needs to become one again to go undercover and get personal information on Rittenhouse members. To maintain her cover, only one person will be in contact with her, by posing as a client and doing BDSM scenes with her. The person chosen is Flynn.

This was a bit of a shameless excuse to have Flynn and Lucy fucking every chapter, but having characters doing sexy stuff to each other every chapter can get boring quickly. So every chapter I was thinking, why are they doing this. Why are they being sexually intimate? What are their emotional states? What do they want, and what are they not saying to each other? What is coming out through the sex because they’re refusing to use their words?

The why will immediately dictate what sex stuff actually happens in your scene. If a character is, say, grieving the death of a loved one and wants intense physical comfort, they’re probably going to want to be on the bottom (missionary position) so that the weight of the other person on top of them grounds them. Or, perhaps they would like to be on top, so that the other person can wrap their arms around them, and they feel held and cared for. Perhaps they want to do it with the other person behind them, kneeling, arms around them, so that they feel held but they don’t look at the other person’s face, because they can’t handle that kind of intimacy right now with all the emotions they’re struggling with.

But on the contrary–maybe they want to be fucked hard and rough, taken out of their heads, made to not think about anything at all! All of these are viable choices based on the character, and it’s up to you!

Comparing it to yourself can really help. How would you want to have sex in that given situation?

Is the sex tender? Is it explosive? Is it frantic and on the floor of the foyer with their clothes mostly on because they can’t get enough of each other and they’ve waited too damn long already? Or is it done slow and soft in a bed, fully naked, their hands interlocked, staring into each other’s eyes? What the characters are feeling and why they’re having this sex now, here, will help with that.

Figure all that out, then projectile vomit it onto the page.

Part Three: Revision, or, Taking Your Darlings Out Back and Shooting Them

Once I finish vomiting unleash my first draft, then that’s where the research comes in. I read the scene over again and go, okay, well, this and this and this are very hot, but this position here isn’t physically possible. Or I can add in bits of realism like, okay, here’s a part where I can describe the safeword, or how she tied the knots, or what the vibrator looked like.

Your first draft is where you just vomit up whatever you find sexy. Because if you keep stopping along the way to interject realism or to double-check everything, you’ll never get finished. Save that for the second draft.

And by the way–I’m using the word ‘vomit’ for a very important reason. The goal of your first draft is for it simply to exist. So often we want perfection immediately, and that’s not gonna happen. If you aim for perfection, your story will never be finished. It doesn’t matter how crappy your first draft is. What matters is that it exists.

So. Revision time. Now, fanfiction can be, say it with me folks, ESCAPISM.

LOUDER FOR THE PURITANS IN THE BACK!!!

FANFICTION CAN BE ESCAPISM!!!!!!!

So sometimes that means your sex is a little too good to be true, sometimes the BDSM practices are a little unrealistic (who the fuck is going to survive ten orgasms without a break, the closest I got was five and I got a fuckin’ UTI out of the deal), and so on. But! Don’t break the rules until you know what the rules are! Learn the rules! Do your research! Then you can break them without breaking your readers’ sense of realism.

For example, I have read fics where the person was tied up and had an unreasonable amount of vibrator orgasms, and yeah, probably in real life, there should’ve been a pee break in there somewhere, they should’ve stretched their limbs, taken a breather. But it was a damn good fic to fantasize.

On the other hand, I was rudely jolted out of a fic I read once when the dom fit his FIST inside the sub’s MOUTH.

I tried it, guys. My hand is not that big. It did not work. I was literally reading the fic screeching YOU’VE DISLOCATED HIS JAW, HIS JAW IS NOW DISLOCATED, OH MY FUCKING GOD.

So yeah. Do your research so that you know how to break reality in fun ways that enhance the sexiness, not in weird random ways that take your readers out of the story.

Going back in and looking at your sex fantasy (because that’s what your first draft was, a sex fantasy) through the lens of your research and your critical eye ensures that you can add in details that make it more realistic, and sexier.

When you’re three fingers deep (or jacking off, I don’t know, whatever your genitalia is) and you’re picturing your favorite actor fucking you, you’re not thinking about the details.

Unless you’re me in which case you halt halfway through because no no we should’ve taken our shirts off in the hallway and then she could pick me up–rewind, let’s take it one more time from the top…

And that’s good! You’re flooded with endorphins, you’re chasing an orgasm, who the fuck cares about logistics! But it’s an experience that’s just for you, in your head. When you’re writing a story, you’re giving that experience to someone else, so you have to provide them with as many details as you can so that they can experience that fantasy, too.

Of course, all rules are meant to be broken. There are times when a lack of detail is good, and fits the mood. My smut scene at the end of Love You Like a Killer (I Want To Make Your Heart Stop) was very mood-oriented, very emotional, very much about release and the connection between these characters. I had them make love during a goddamn thunderstorm of all things. So I didn’t go into huge detail about whose throbbing cock was where and so on. Because going into too much detail would’ve ruined the dreamy, emotional, romantic-music-swelling mood I was going for.

But yes, revisions, add in all those lovely realistic details about logistics (I have drawn stick figures in the past to figure out sex positions, do what you must) and things I learned from my research, and ta-da!

Part Four: Random Information I Find Helpful

Variety is the spice of sex. Be careful not to overuse words. This is something you tackle after you revise, when you’re on the more nit-picky stage. If you find yourself using the word “yet” a lot, or you’ve drawn attention to someone’s “massive” cock three times in the last paragraph or said that she spoke “breathlessly” a dozen times… grab the thesaurus.

Fanfiction is often escapism, that means it’s okay to sometimes leave out mundane details like “hey are you on birth control,” using a condom, peeing right after sex, tying your hair back so it’s not in your mouth while you eat them out/blow them, etc. You can use those details! But don’t feel shackled by them if you feel they take the reader out of the moment. Use your discretion.

Cock and dick are the words to use. Prick is okay but it depends on your audience–it’s a very British/UK term, but as an American it’s kind of a weird word to me (it always makes me picture his dick as like three inches long). Use your discretion. “Shaft” works if you’re stroking it or blowing it (i.e. she swallowed around his shaft) and don’t overuse the word. Personally I find “cock” is more erotic than “dick” so I tend to use dick for non-sexy moments and cock for when I’m trying to turn on the reader, but again, that’s personal preference.

For the love of God just call it her entrance, her pussy, her cunt. None of these ridiculous euphemisms. “Her lower lips”? What the fuck. Be careful not to overuse pussy/cunt though because those are unfortunately also used as insults so if you use it too much, readers can find it too crude. Find a balance. Yes it sucks. (Or y’know generally avoid using any term altogether which is what I do yes I’m aware I have a hangup stop looking at me like that.)

Common sense should always prevail. Know your biology. A 40 year old man is not going to get it up again five minutes after coming. A 20 year old man is going to have shit stamina. Characters should not be having athletic sex after they’ve been stabbed. Nobody can deep throat a cock without choking on their first time. And so on.

Don’t bite off more than you can chew. If you don’t know how to describe the knots you’re using to tie your character up, then don’t describe it! Just say Character A tied them up! A good rule of thumb is if you don’t know how to describe something logistically, focus instead on how the character feels while it’s happening. Are they exhilarated by being tied up? Nervous? Describe that instead.

 It’s okay to write something you haven’t done. I was writing smut (well praised and enjoyed smut) long before I ever had sex (on a similar note, hey, it’s okay if you don’t have sex until your mid-twenties or even later, you do not have a “sell by” date, okay?). Don’t be afraid to ask questions of people you trust, if you want first-hand information.

Take. Your. Time. Don’t rush it! Savor it. Enjoy it. Really dive into it. Nobody likes rushed sex in real life and nobody likes rushed smut.

And last but not least, have fun! This should be fun, titillating, this is your fantasy about these two characters. Enjoy it. Maybe your kinks aren’t someone else’s kinks, but your goal isn’t to please everyone (that’s impossible) or even to write what you think will be the most popular. It’s to write what you want, and what you find sexy. So experiment! Enjoy!

We all have moments of writer’s block. But the more you do it, the easier it gets. I hope this was all helpful, dear nonny, and I hope that you’ve having a wonderful day and that you get your smut writing mojo back!

yes that was an Austin Powers reference I’m sorry I couldn’t resist please forgive me

#mads answers things #smut #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #writing #writing advice #smut writing #what the fuck else should I tag this #I was so tempted to specifically reference some really bad fics I read back in the day on FF.net #but I resisted #because I am (sometimes) capable of being mature #I had way too much fun with this

[oh-bosta]

Disaster Potion (Part 1?)

Finally!!! It took me so fucking long...

Summary: Roman tried making a Love Potion, what could go wrong, right?

Thanks amazing @moiraburtons for being an amazing beta.

Tag: @monikastec, @manuggets, @dinossaur-head , @could-always-be-gayer

Lenght: around 2.4k

Rating: T because i have a potty ass mouth, so swearing...

Ship: Prinxiety(main) 

“Roman, tell me again how this mess begun, it still doesn’t make any sense to me.” Logan said putting a hand over his forehead, feeling a migraine starting to kick in.

“Weeeeeeell…”

It was a sunny day outside, and he was so booooored.

Roman was in class looking at the window, daydreaming. He hated Potions class. To be honest he didn’t hate the class, he hated the teacher. Miss Morisson was a stuck-up Gryffindor who tough she was the perfect human being, that woman was the worst example of his house he could find by far. She was an asshole, absolutely the worst.

Miss Morisson, her whole being made Roman want to throw up. Ugly on the inside just as much as on the outside, the woman was in her late forties, with a humped back and crooked nose like a typical Disney villain. Her mouth was always tightly closed and was so thin that you could only see a slight line of a pale pink lipstick on her lips. Those mud colored dead fish eyes never seemed to focus on anything remotely good around her. It was like she had an Instagram filter to make every single thing sour and ugly.

Even though he hated his teacher, Roman heard something that picked his interest.

Love Potion.

If Roman was a cat or a dog probably his ears would have perked up in interest at those two simple words, the idea of a love potion sounded amazing. It was almost literally putting love itself in a bottle. Almost. Roman was not an idiot, he knew that the felling provided by the potion would never be like real love, but he couldn’t help but be fascinated at how many uses it might have besides romantic love. For the first time in a few weeks, he actually paid attention to his potions class, even if Miss Morisson’s face didn’t make it very easy.

Miss Morisson talked about all the applications Love potions have, how often they were used on the course of history, be it as aphrodisiacs or low-key versions of the potion that only ignited platonic love, often used for political gatherings ensuring a friendlier environment. Or the ones used by assassins to seduce their victims, making it easier to complete their job. It was like a whole new world, and for once Roman felt excited about the whole idea of the class.

As soon as Roman got out of the classroom, he ran to the library looking for a few guides to make his own love potion. He wanted to understand everything about it, for once excited, finally there was a way to mix romance and study, he would be able to exercise his creative side, changing small details in the potions to see the different outcomes and the reactions which would entice in people.

After gathering all the things needed, Roman returned to his dormitory and tested all possible different combinations of ingredients and measures he found in books, putting them into colorful tiny bottles. There were six of them, all different colors: purple, light pink, red, orange, navy blue and green. After putting labels of what kind of potions he made, it was time to see what they could do... Who –he would use as guinea pig? could help him with this? Roman put his first, the red one, potion in one of his vest’s pockets and wondered around the corridors, until he heard Patton’s unmistakable cheerful voice.

         Patton Sanders was probably one of his first friends in Hogwarts. The HufflePufff was bubbly and fun to be around and 99% of the time, a smile was placed between his soft freckles adorned cheeks. With his light blue eyes framed by a thick pair of pink glasses, Patton was a few inches shorter than Roman, but since he was often jumping while he talked, not everyone could notice that. For being so friendly, it was no surprise when everyone asked him to be the House's monitor. Also, due to his caring nature, everyone basically just started calling him Dad and in response to that, Patton begun to call all other students, be them older or younger; kiddos, child, his children and its different variations.

Apparently, he was enthusiastically chatting to someone about his last Magical Beasts class, jumping up and down, waving his hands and throwing them in the air. Turning around, in the corner of the hall, he saw Pat facing his cousin, Virgil, who had his back turned to Roman’s direction. The Gryffindor boy smiled despite himself, seeing his friends was the highlight of most his days, along with playing quidditch, but seeing Virgil was on a whole other level. They usually didn’t even talk much, since the shorter boy was far too shy, but occasionally they would share few jokes or teasing comments that made Virgil’s face show lots of different interesting emotions.

Ah… Virgil, Virgil Sanders, he could talk about that boy for hours. Starting from his extremely expressive hazel eyes, framed by thick long eyelashes. He always seemed worried about how much people could read into his eyes, so he usually hid them behind his purple bangs and heavy layers of dark eyeshadow. Just like his cousin, freckles adorned his cheeks, even if he always had them covered by layers and layers of white foundation. But aside from their freckles, the two Hufflepuffs were completely different, while Patton was an extroverted bubble of happiness, Virgil was a small ball of social anxiety. Virgil’s nature made his shy smiles even more valuable, when you were able to see those full lips curl in a smile directed at you, it could make your heart flutter. It was the best feeling ever.

Roman cleared his throat, making his presence known. Both Hufflepuffs looked at Roman, while Patton waved excitedly at him smiling broadly, Virgil gave a little smile and averted his eyes, ‘Was that a blush behind all that white foundation? Nah, Roman don’t get your hopes up’.

“Hey there, Pat, little storm cloud.”

“Hi kiddo” “Hey there yourself, Princey”

The Potion forgotten, for now, the three teens carried on a conversation for a few minutes. It had become a thing for Roman and Virgil, the snarky comments and all of that, even if they sometimes got into discussions where the pet names could get a little mean. What could Roman do? Virgil was sweet but at the same time he felt like the purple haired boy could get on his nerves in a heartbeat, their social interactions were always interesting, no one knew how it would end, if everything would end up with playful teasing or screams from one of them, or both, really.

Today seemed like a peaceful one, at least Virgil-Roman interaction wise, after the few moments in the hall, the three boys decided to go get some air outside. It was autumn so the weather is very relaxing and even the little ball of anxiety agreed to go, which was a sign that they could not show any hesitation, or else there wouldn’t be an opportunity like that anytime soon.

They sat under a huge tree in companionable silence for a few minutes, appreciating the air and the grass smell. That’s till they heard a rather loud thud that startled all of them, mostly Virgil. Looking up, the three boys saw what caused the loud noise, there was a quaffle stuck in a branch of the three they were under. Probably a few people from the quidditch team were playing for fun and someone must have thrown it too far.

“What the f-” Virgil’s eyes snapped open, looking for what on earth made that noise.

Don’t you dare to finish that sentence, mister.”

“I was going to say… fudge?” Virgil shrugged and tried to cover in, but in contrary to popular belief, Patton wasn’t that innocent.

“I’ll let it slip.”

“Sorry.” Virgil mumbled.

Roman watched their interaction with a fond smile on his face. Then, he saw his friend Terrance, the captain of Gryffindor's quidditch team, waving at him.

“Hey Roman, could you get our quaffle for us?” Terence said loudly from afar.

“Aye, aye captain” Roman did a mock salute, making Terence laugh.

Terence was such an amazing human being. The dark skinned deity was one of his best friends, since they both tried out for the team five years ago. Now Terence was the captain, the best he knew. Terence was so incredible that he could make a plan and turn a game from 0 to 100 in minutes. The boy was gifted, and not to talk about funny, he was hilarious, soft spoken and smiles all around.

Roman then started climbing the tree, with a little push from Pat so he could get a grab of one of the lower branches. In less than two minutes Roman found himself sat on one of the higher ones, reaching for the ball. But, when he was almost getting the quaffle, Roman heard a popping noise, followed by the sound of something spilling. He gathered the ball in his arms and froze in place and when he looked down his fears had proven themselves right. Probably during the day, the bottle’s cork had loosened up. The love potion had spilled from his pocket, and all his hard work was wasted on the grass.

That’s when Roman processed a familiar scream, Virgil’s. Then, Roman looked down to notice that the potion didn’t hit the floor, it hit the purple haired boy’s head. A sweet smell flared through his nostrils, it smelled like freshly made tea and mint. Roman liked the smell but Virgil seemed to hate the whole situation if his expression was anything to go by.

Roman quickly jumped down from the tree and threw the quaffle over to Terence, who thanked him and went back to his other friends, not noticing what had just happened. Turning back to face the Hufflepuff cousins, Virgil looked furious covered in a pinkish substance, while Patton had a concerned looking face.

“Roman! What the flying fuck is this thing?” Roman grimaced at Virgil’s tone, but he could understand the boy, he must be stressed and even scared of what was all of this. Even Patton refrained from scolding him for the bad word, knowing his cousin wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m so sorry Virgil it was a potion I was test-”

“WTF! A potion? Testing? What’s wrong with you?” Virgil’s breath hitched, imagining the worse possibilities he could.

“Breathe, Virge. I’m sure it isn’t anything dangerous, right?” Patton looked at Roman expectantly.

“I-It’s a love potion? Or at least was supposed to be one? I tried to gather different recipes from different books, but I don’t know if they work, so I wanted to test them, but the cork slipped and ended up spilling it everywhere.”

“Oh my Merlin, what does this thing even do?” At this point, Virgil was almost shrieking.

“That’s the issue, I don’ really... know?” Roman tried for a sympathetic smile.

Virgil sighed, what would happen now? That is, if anything was going to happen at all.

The three of them stared at the sky, at loss of what to do, at some point, Patton had to go fulfill his duties as a monitor, leaving Roman and Virgil alone.

“Virgil? Do you feel anything different?” Roman was both, concerned and curious.

“Not really, I could smell something sweet when it spilled but not anymore. Maybe it failed?” Virgil shrugged.

“Aw, what a bummer...” Roman teased, earning a playful push on the shoulder, and one of those shy smiles, Vigil looked relieved that there was nothing wrong with him.

Then everything was perfectly norm-

“Oh my! I must be blind cause I never noticed such a beauty on our school. Have you been hiding on the corners of my mind, living inside my dreams?” Both boys froze, as a random guy who passed by them sniffed the air and took Virgil’s hand on his own, kissing the top of it. Then the boy continued, “The name is Shea, here is my number for when you get tired from running through my mind all day long.” The guy, Shea, winked and left without even getting a proper response from Virgil leaving a paper with what he assumed was the guy’s number.

“W-we-well, it must be some sort of punishment prank right?” Virgil said starting to feel more and more nervous by the second.

“Don’t worry, panic at the everywhere, no one would say those lines right?” Roman let out a nervous laugh, Virgil started laughing nervously too.

“Yeah, yeah, totally lame right?” There was something in Virgil’s eyes besides the nervousness, but the Gryffindor couldn’t point what was it.

“Let’s go get something to eat-” Roman was interrupted by a light and careful tap on Virgil’s shoulders. It was a short girl, a ravenclaw, laying with the tips of her braids, red faced and shy looking.

“Uhm, sorry, but I couldn’t help noticing you look like you might be an amazing person, I wanted to know if you’d be up to go out on a d-date with me sometime?” Her face looked impossibly redder than before, that’s when it hit both of them.

The potion works.

“Hm, hi, i-it’s v-very sw-sw-sweet of you but I’m gay so…” Virgil seemed to have a hard time talking to strangers, Roman felt proud of him for trying so hard to let the girl down easy.

“O-Oh, sorry, then… I hope it’d be okay for me to talk to you in the future, tough. My name is Carol.”

“Hm, sure, my name is Virgil.” They shook hands awkwardly and parted ways.

After she left they looked at each other and said in union.

“Fuck.”

                                                                                  “Then... I came here running looking for you so we had someone who could calmly deal with this mess.”

“So, Virgil basically transformed into a giant ‘love magnet’ for the whole school, and you don’t know how long the effect will stay active or even the exact effect your potion had?”

“That’s pretty much it”

“And where’s Virgil?”

“I asked Pat to be with him while I was looking for you so Virgil wouldn’t be alone with everyone trying to get a piece of him.”

“Okay, then, let’s get to work.” Logan sighed, this was going to be so much work.

#prinxiety #prinxiety fic #harry potter au #hp au #sanders sides #hufflepuff virgil #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #love potion #disaster potion

[zoemurph]

to have a friend, chapter 10: $233

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

haha im dying!

thank you for being patient. i have one essay left, a group project (that includes another essay :P), a final quiz, a flash fiction piece, and a final. and i'm done with my first semester of college? i'm actually...taking next semester off so...probably more consistent updates after this. phew. oh and i won nano? wild

i'm exhausted and genuinely don't like at least 75% of this chapter, but it's done. please please p l e a s e read the end notes for a little disclaimer thanks

warnings: anxiety, depression, panic attacks, let me know if any other warnigns should be added

enjoy~

Sometimes Connor has the really strong urge to hold Evan’s hand.

It’s a weird feeling. This desire to just reach out and take Evan’s hand in his own and not even say anything, just hold it.

Sometimes Connor thinks that romantic feelings are bullshit. Especially when it’s seven in the morning and Evan sees him waiting by the locker and lights up like the goddamn sun and Connor’s stomach tries to become an Olympic gymnast.

Like right now.

Evan stands next to Connor, their arms almost touching, as he talks to Alana. They’re still trying to figure out a name for their club, because for whatever reason, Alana refuses to use The Fuck Project.

Jared thinks it’s hilarious, which has somehow worked against the name.

Alana is going on about the details. Evan nods, and he probably knows what’s going on, but Connor’s zoned out. Alana has this in the bag and also Connor isn’t actually involved in their little pet project. Even if the initial idea did come from Alana being way too fucking nosy.

She’s nice when she’s not picking Connor’s brain.

So Alana and Evan talk and Connor stands and people pass them and time until the next class starts ticks down and down and down. It’s a nice moment. Weirdly calm. For once, Connor doesn’t feel entirely awful, despite where he is and everything about himself.

He still wants to hold Evan’s hand.

It’s not like Connor actively tries to think about it. The opposite, in fact. As soon as thoughts about dating Evan pop up, he shoves them to the very back of his brain. He quarantines them away in the darkest corners, because thinking about it hurts.

Evan has made himself a constant in Connor’s life. But a temporary constant. Which is weird and annoying and tiring. Sometimes Connor’s emotions bubble up inside him and threaten to spill out and then Evan will give him this look when Connor pays him and everything just vanishes. Evan looks at Connor and all Connor’s thoughts shrink back and go ‘fuck never mind’.  

That doesn’t mean that he’s actually good about not thinking it. He’s getting worse, actually. It’s turning into a mild problem.

Evan can just look at Connor and Connor’s heart will flip and his mind will be consumed with ‘holy fuck I would date the shit out of him’.

He would. Connor has absolutely zoned out staring at Evan on multiple occasions. He keeps passing it off as being tired and honestly it’s a miracle that Evan hasn’t started asking about Connor’s sleep schedule— which is a disaster but isn’t why Connor keeps staring Evan.

Connor keeps staring at Evan because his brain is a fucking traitor and likes to think about what it would be like to kiss Evan.

Of all the boys to fall in love with, Connor had to go and fall in love with Evan Hansen.

Connor checks his phone under his desk. It’s been facedown on his desk — he’s making an attempt in calculus because he’s doing a really shit job right now and he has to pass because he literally cannot spend a day longer in this hellscape than he has to — but he can see the screen lighting up repeatedly.

From: Ev To: Connor      AR eyou in clasright no w      Of cours e youre in c alss where els e wi oudl you b      Im so ryrcan you g et out ?

Connor squints at the board. There are x’s and t’s and some other bullshit that he doesn’t understand. A lot of lines and marks.

Fuck.

He opens another conversation.

From: dickbag To: assface      you any good at calc?

Jared replies surprisingly fast. Actually, not so surprisingly. Connor is actually not surprised at all that Jared uses his phone in class.

From: assface To: dickbag      ive got a mean b in calc bc      y

Connor raises his hand and asks to go to the bathroom. The teacher waves him out the door and keeps teaching.

From: assface To: dickbag      i have to do something and i need to not fail      you willing to tell me what the fuck is happening?

From: Connor To: Ev      where are you? got out of class

Connor heads to the bathroom, because he’s already on the third floor and that’s where Evan was last time. And it’s the closest bathroom. His phone buzzes in his hand as he hurries through the hall and he tries not to groan when it’s just Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface      no promises but i can try      dont know y ur coming to me lmao      also i charge $10/hr

From: assface To: dickbag      fine but youre a dick

Connor pushes the bathroom door open. The lights are on, someone’s been in here in the past ten minutes, but the bathroom is empty. He drags his hand through his hair and catches a look at himself in the mirror.

Wow. He looks like shit.

Connor rubs his face and checks his phone again. It’s been buzzing, but it’s just been Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface      not news      whats so important that ur running out of class??      o shit drugs?      420 blaze it      i dont kno weed culture

As Connor scrolls through Jared’s messages, a text from Evan pops up on the top of his screen.

From: Ev To: Connor      J aanito s clostesecond follr

Connor runs into a wide eyed freshman as he hurries out of the bathroom and swings around a corner to get to the stairs. He only vaguely knows where that closet it, because he’s never had a reason to pay attention to it. Janitor’s closets are usually locked and it’s not like Connor is observant when it comes to his surroundings.

He skips the last few steps and just jumps down to the landing, slowing to a fast walk as he searches the hallway for the janitor’s closet. He finds it tucked into a corner between two classrooms. He glances up and down the hallway before he knocks softly. He tries the handle and knocks again before he pulls the door open.

“Evan?” he asks softly into the darkened closet. Light from the hallway spills into the darkness, barely brushing Evan’s shoes. Evan is huddled into the corner furthest away from the door, squished between shelves, on the ground with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms covering his head.

Connor stares for a minute, listening to Evan’s ragged breathing, before he steps into the closet. He turns on his phone’s flashlight and covers it with his hand before pulling the door closed. He lets some light slip through his fingers and finds a bottle of Windex on one of the shelves. He puts his phone under it and the room glows blue. Maybe life hacks aren’t always as shitty as they seem.

Connor sits down on the floor next to Evan. “Ev,” he whispers. “Can I help?”

Evan doesn’t look up. After a few seconds he stops holding on to his hair so tightly and holds a shaking hand out to Connor. Connor takes it. Almost immediately, Evan’s hand clenches around Connor’s, squeezing Connor’s fingers tightly. Connor moves over so the position is less awkward and lightly squeezes Evan’s hand back. 

Connor sits and waits, because he doesn’t really know what else to do. He watches Evan’s breathing and tries not to let his mind wander too much, because it’s too early in the day for any of that shit.

Evan loosens his grip on Connor’s hand and the tension seems to run out of his body. He sags against the wall and slowly lifts his head from his knees. He pulls his hand away. “S-sor-sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Connor says. His voice sounds weirdly rough. He clears it and stretches out his fingers.

Evan stares at them. “I— i-if I hurt your…your hand I didn’t mean to I just—”

“You didn’t,” Connor interrupts quickly. “See?” He wiggles his fingers. “Work just fine.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Do you…uh, want to talk about it?”

Evan makes a strangled sound. “N-nothing to… I mean there’s always—” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “D-dr. Sherman always says that— that there’s something? And I just don’t u-understand what so I’m…supposed to process it. But I just…”

“I think it’s a fucking lot to ask you to process shit right after a panic attack,” Connor says flatly.

Evan shrugs helplessly. “I don’t— I-I forget. I forget what I’m— what I feel in the moment a-and what I was thinking and then when she asks what was going through my mind I can’t tell her and then I feel worse and like a failure and I think I’m supposed to be getting better because I go to therapy and I take meds and—” Evan cuts himself off to take a deep breath. “It takes time,” Evan says softly. “It takes time. It takes time and it’ll get better it just—”

“Takes time?” Connor asks.

Evan smiles at him weakly. “Y-yeah.”

The bell rings, slightly muffled. Evan goes tense.

Connor thinks about his calculus teacher. She probably won’t be thrilled that he skipped out on the rest of class, but whatever. Maybe he’ll do homework for once and try to get back on her disinterested side.

“Your mom is working right now, isn’t she?” Connor asks slowly.

Evan nods. “Yeah, she’s a-always working. Pretty much.”

“We’ve still got three classes to get through.” Connor bumps their knees together. “Can you hide out in the nurse’s office or something? I’d say just leave, but…” Evan shakes his head. “Yeah, exactly. I don’t know shit about doing things the ‘right’ way.”

“I’ll…be okay,” Evan says.

Connor stares at him.

“It’s-it’s really fine,” Evan insists.

“Ev—”

“I’ve done it before, it’s not a big… I’ll just— it’s okay, really.”

“You aren’t taking the bus home today,” Connor says. He gets to his feet and takes the Windex off of his phone. “Light warning.” Evan covers his eyes. Connor flicks the light on and winces in the brightness before shutting off his flashlight. He slides his phone into his pocket and offers Evan his hand.

Evan takes it and lets Connor haul him to his feet. “Y-you don’t have to—”

“Fuck the bus,” Connor interrupts. “Zoe has a perfectly good car.”

Evan blinks. “Doesn’t she have rehearsal today?”

“How do you know my sister’s schedule better than I do?” Connor opens the door of the closet and peers out into the hallway. They have to be careful, because high school is fucking hell. Most people won’t give a shit and don’t pay attention to shit, but all it takes is one person assuming something. When no one is looking, he steps out of the closet and pulls Evan along, walking away from the closet quickly and melting into the thinning crowd. “So what if we have to wait for her to get out, just hang around with me for a little bit.”

As soon as Connor says it, his stomach twists. “I don’t have any today but—”

Evan stops walking, yanking Connor back a bit. They’re still holding hands. Connor pulls his away and puts his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“D-don’t,” Evan says.

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You’re already— you’re doing me a favor by…by driving me home. So you don’t have to…” Evan gestures with his hands. “Debt paid. It’s— you’re fine.” Connor stares at him. “I— okay.”

Evan takes a step back. “I have to… I have class. I’ll see you after.” He spins on his heel and walks down the hallway, dodging other students before disappearing around a corner.

—«·»—

Connor drops into his seat in the back of AP Literature and puts his head down on his desk.

He needs to think about something — anything — other than Evan. Evan is supposed to be the one who thinks himself into an anxious spiral, not Connor. And Connor can’t help but feel like something is horribly wrong.

But, fuck, he wouldn’t stop their arrangement for anything. He’ll keep paying Evan to put up with him in the halls for as long as he possibly can, just to see Evan smile.

He wants to see Evan smile today. Anything other than the empty expression he had on his face when he walked away from Connor earlier.

Alana sits down next to Connor. Sometimes Connor forgets him and Alana talk now, even if it’s only because she’s Evan’s friend and probably thinks this is a good way to keep tabs on Evan. All she’s ever wanted from Connor is information, anyway.

Connor stares out the window at the icy field hockey field spread out in front of the school as the teacher starts the lesson. Something about the essay they have due in a few days at midnight.

Alana hands over her essay, printed and typed, five pages long double spaced and stapled in the corner. “It’s just a rough draft,” she says.

Connor blinks at the paper. “Uh…were we supposed to…”

She shakes her head. “No, we just needed to have an outline today.” She adjusts her glasses and opens a notebook. “But if you didn’t—”

“I did,” Connor says quickly. He actually did for once. “Here.” He pulls out his notebook and flips through pages and pages of shitty sketches to the section where he just stuffs any loose papers he’s handed. He pulls out the outline and smooths it out a little. “Don’t expect anything.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Alana says as she takes it from him.

Connor squints at her. “I did this while high so it’s either a brilliant disaster or just a fucking mess.”

Alana grins. “I hope it’s a brilliant disaster.”

“Probably not.”

She just shrugs and pulls out a pen, tapping it on her notebook as she skims over the outline. Connor turns to Alana’s essay and starts reading. Alana likes words and complex sentences. She’s good at backing up her points with evidence from the text, and doesn’t dance around her conclusions. She has a structure and logic to her essay that Connor’s never been able to achieve. He just sort of says words until he feels like he’s done.

He reads her fourth paragraph a few times, picking at his nail polish as he does so. He glances over to Alana and then reads it again.

She’s scribbling on his outline when he looks back to her. She meets his eyes. “Something wrong?”

Connor’s eyes flick from her to her essay. “Uh…no.”

Alana rolls her eyes and hands him her pen. “Fix it. Whatever it is. That’s the entire point of peer review.”

“I could be wrong—” Connor starts, but Alana holds up a hand to stop him.

“I’ll decide what to do with your feedback. Just do it.”

Connor nods slowly and hesitates with the pen hovering over the paper. “What are you doing, by the way?”

“Translating.”

“What?”

Alana pulls another pen from her backpack and uncaps it. “Your outline is good, you have some really good ideas in here, it’s just lost in the typos and grammar.”

“I can figure it out,” Connor says. “You don’t have to do that shit.”

Alana raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Connor blinks. “…not anymore?”

She nods firmly. “Exactly. You edit mine, I’ll edit yours. You won’t hurt my feelings, please, feel free to rip it to shreds.”

Connor exhales slowly. “Okay, Beck. Whatever.” He strikes out a sentence. “Whatever you say.”    

—«·»—

Connor meets Evan by Evan’s locker. They lock eyes and for a second everything feels weird. And then Jared shows up.

Connor has never been relieved to see Jared Kleinman before.

“What’s up?” Jared asks, clapping a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “My…main bros.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, crossing that off the list.” Jared gives Evan a look and Evan shrugs. Connor looks between them and shifts his weight to his other foot. “Anyway, you free on Saturday?” he asks Evan.

Evan blinks. “Y-yes?”

“My moms wanted you over for dinner. They’re going to try to harass Heidi into coming too but,” Jared shrugs, “we know how that is.”

Evan smiles and ducks his head. “I-I mean— yeah that’d be…that’d be nice. Um, I can…ask my mom?”

“Nice.” Jared holds his fist out for a fist bump. Evan rolls his eyes and knocks their knuckles together. “Okay, text me, cause if she’s working, I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

Evan nods. “O-okay, I will.”

“Sweet, got to dash or I’ll never get out of here.” Jared shoots finger guns at Connor. “See, ya Murph,” he says before sprinting down the hallway.

Connor lifts a hand to wave goodbye as jealousy twists in his stomach. It makes him feel gross. He swallows it and turns to Evan. “So, uh…we can probably hide in a practice room until Zoe’s done.”

Evan pulls on the straps of his backpack. “A-are they, um, open? Because I know, I mean I’ve heard because sometimes the band kids in my classes complain about this, that they lock? Or get locked? So…”

“We can…check?” Connor suggests.

Evan nods. “That’s…probably a good idea.”

Connor leads Evan down to the music wing. The first two practice rooms are locked, but the third that they try is unlocked. Connor raises his eyebrows at Evan and pushes the door open. The lights flicker on automatically and Evan closes the door behind them.

All four of the practice rooms are the same in Connor’s experience, a keyboard and bench, a trash, and maybe a stand or chair that someone has dragged in. Except one, that for some reason, has two pianos. They lucked out and that is exactly the room they’re in. Less room, but it doesn’t really matter.

Evan puts his bag down on one of the piano benches and then sits on the floor in the space between the end of the piano and the wall.

Connor coughs. “Uh…are you…okay?” He winces. Yikes.

“Tired,” Evan says softly.

Connor glances to the light switch before pressing the button to turn off the lights. There’s still a decent amount of light from the window in the door, but it’s darker. Connor puts down his bag and joins Evan on the floor. Evan looks up at him.

“Take a nap,” Connor suggests.

Evan blinks at him.

Connor sighs. “Scoot over.”

Evan moves so he’s as close to the piano as he can get. Connor squeezes into the space between Evan and the wall. There’s way more space in these practice rooms than it seems, the pianos make them look small.

Connor pulls on the sleeve of Evan’s sweatshirt. “Just lean on me. More comfortable than the wall, probably, though I’m basically all bone.”

“Y-you sure?”

Connor rolls his eyes because it feels right. “I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t. Close your eyes, Ev.”

“Okay,” Evan whispers. He rests his head on Connor’s shoulder. “Wake me up if your arm falls asleep.”

“Sure,” Connor lies.

A few minutes later, Evan’s breathing starts to even out. When Connor is sure that he’s asleep, he carefully pulls his phone out of his pocket.

From: C To: Z      waiting in practice room c      evans napping so dont come in just knock or some shit

Once he’s sent the texts, he puts his phone down and turns his attention back to Evan. Connor turns his head to look down at Evan, and when his nose brushes Evan’s hair, his heart goes into double time.

Fuck.

—«·»—

Connor thinks he’s drifted off when Zoe finally knocks on the door. He inhales sharply and sits up straighter, eyes wide. He leans forward to see Zoe standing in front of the door with her guitar on her back and her saxophone in hand.

He leans back and sighs. Okay.

Connor shakes Evan’s shoulder. “Ev, Ev wake up. Zoe’s done.”

Evan groans and blinks blearily. “Huh?”

Connor’s breath catches in his throat. He finds himself lost in Evan’s sleepy eyes for a moment too long and hopes Evan’s still too asleep to notice. “Zoe,” he says. “We can go home now.”

“Oh.” Evan pulls himself to his feet using the piano. About halfway up, he grabs Connor’s arm and pulls Connor up as well.

They grab their bags and open the door.

“Sleep well?” Zoe asks with a smirk.

Connor flips her off behind Evan.

Evan shrugs. “I-it was the floor.”

Connor takes Zoe’s saxophone from her. “Let’s go. I have an essay to write.”

Zoe blinks. “You do?”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles.

The parking lot is blissfully empty when they step outside. The air is bitter and cold, and Connor wishes that it would just snow more than half an inch so the burning cold is worth it. He grabs Evan’s arm when Evan slips on ice and Zoe makes an offhanded comment about driving and black ice.

“You know?” she says to Evan.

Evan blinks. “N-no, I don’t— I don’t drive?”

Zoe frowns. “Do you take the bus?”

Evan turns pink, and Connor wonders if he’s redder because of the cold or not. “Yeah, it’s…yeah.”

Zoe looks to Connor.

“What?” Connor asks.

“What time does the bus pick you up?” Zoe asks.

“Uh…” Evan slows his walk. “I— around like…6:35?”

Zoe purses her lips. “Okay. Monday? We can swing by and pick you up.” She twirls her car keys around her finger. “Unless you hate my music choices as much as Connor does.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Evan says quickly.

“Too late,” Zoe sing songs. She unlocks the car and pops the trunk open. She puts her guitar in and then takes her saxophone from Connor. “We’d be happy to, right Connor?”

“Duh,” Connor says. “The bus is bullshit.”

“Good for the environment,” Evan says. “P-public transport!”

“We’re already using this car.” Zoe slams the trunk shut. “So it doesn’t actually matter. No additional cars on the road, just one less Evan the a bus.”

“Uh…”

“Sleep on it.” She rubs her arms. “Let’s go before I freeze.” She glances to Connor as she moves to the driver’s side. “How are you alive?”

Connor shrugs and pulls open the car door. He slides into the backseat next to Evan. “Can’t feel cold if you’re dead inside.”

Zoe twists around in her seat to glare at him before shutting the door. She turns on the car, blasts the heat even though it’s just air at the moment, and plugs her phone in. “Today we’re listening to Billy Joel,” she announces. “Get over it Connor.”

Connor just leans his forehead against the cold window as Uptown Girl plays from the speakers.

Zoe asks for directions a few times, but for the most part, they drive in silence aside from the Billy Joel in the slowly warming car.

Connor sits up when they arrive at Evan’s. “I’ll text you,” he says.

Evan gives him a smile. “Y-yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

“I’ll see you Monday at 6:40!” Zoe calls out before he shuts the door. She turns to look at Connor. “You moving up?”

“I guess.” Connor unbuckles and climbs over the center consul to get into the passenger seat. He buckles back in and Zoe backs out of the driveway.

“So…” she says slowly. “You and Evan.”

“What about us?” Connor asks flatly.

Zoe glances to him. “Anything…up?”

“Do you want me to say it?”

“No, but I can’t stop you from doing shit.”

“The sky.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Great, now that that’s out of the way—”

“Nothing,” Connor interrupts. “Can’t two people be friends?”

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Zoe taps on the steering wheel. “You just seem like more than that.”

Connor scoffs. More like barely that. “We aren’t.”

“Do you want to be?”

Connor stares at the road. “The light is green.”

Connor spends most of his Saturday writing his paper. Because Alana had written all over his outline and now he feels obligated to make something half decent out of the genius she turned his bullshit into. Also, she shared her essay with him on google docs the night before for him to edit — he does not know why the fuck she did that and hates the fact that school emails are standardized so she didn’t even have to ask for his email — and offered to edit his in return. He’s not going to give up that opportunity. He’s doing fine in english but another solid essay grade can get his parents to calm down for at least a day.

He texts Evan and draws when he’s not writing. The other weekend, Cynthia dragged him off to the store with her, so he threw a cheap set of kids’ watercolors in the cart. And a box of Capri sun. He sits on his floor and drinks a Capri sun while he waits for a painting to dry. Evan is making lunch right now, so it’ll be a few minutes before he responds. Evan doesn’t usually text Connor while he’s making food, apparently the risk of fire is higher than normal, and that’s not just Evan’s anxiety talking.

Evan had texted him the night before thanking him for the ride home. Connor had replied ‘what are friends for’ and then threw his phone across the room so he didn’t have to read Evan’s response. It didn’t end up mattering, because Evan’s next text wasn’t sent until this morning, and it was a frantic apology because he fell asleep before responding.

Connor just said it was fine and changed the subject as fast as he could.

Connor sighs and gets to his feet. As he waits for the painting to dry, he’s really fucking impatient, he takes pictures of some of his least shitty doodles from class and posts them on a randomass tumblr he made after Evan suggested posting his art online. Mostly Connor did it out of curiosity, he didn’t really use the site otherwise, just posts drawings and then vanishes for a few days, but it’s also good because it means he has somewhere where all his art was stored digitally. He might’ve accidentally spilt a mug of coffee all over a notebook the other day. And he distinctly remembers setting a few sketchbooks on fire back in middle school.

From: Ev To: Connor      Back ! ANd I didnt evne burn anything

Connor smiles to himself and leans against his bed.

From: Connor To: Ev      congrats you now have the cooking skills of a 12 year old

From: Ev To: Connor      :((

Connor hesitates before typing out his next message. He really shouldn’t ask — it’s a fucking terrible idea on so many levels — but it’s been slowly eating away at him. Which doesn’t make sense. But whatever.

From: Connor To: Ev      doesnt matter though i mean youre having dinner tonight wth jared right??

He puts his phone on his desk and goes back to painting and tries not to think about it for a few minutes. It’s not fair of him to get jealous. Because Jared is trying to get better. He’s still a dick but there’s an attempt there.

Connor hasn’t changed anything.

He sits on the floor and works on the painting. Now that he has slightly less shitty watercolors, they’re still pretty garbage but they aren’t old and mostly gone, he uses way too much purple again.

Whatever.

He doesn’t check his phone again until he has to wait for more paint to dry. He’s tempted to grab a sketchbook and keep ignoring it, but that’s not fair to Evan.

From: Ev To: Connor      Oh  y eah      We used to ha ve dinner a lot togethe r when ew wer elittle      All oru moms were friends      Kinda weird that were doing it again but… NIce?? Hopefull y ?      My mom s ocming which is nice      She hasnt been home ofr a few nights so yeah

Connor takes a slow breath before replying.

From: Connor To: Ev      thats pretty cool      i hope its fun and the food doesnt suck

Evan replies almost immediately, even though Connor took almost twenty minutes to respond.

From: Ev To: Connor      Thnk you!!!      Jareds moms are really good cook sso itll be good I think      I hope dinner goes ok for you tonight !! Good luck :)

Connor stares at the smiley face and falls on his bed with a groan.

—«·»—

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Evan lately,” Larry says, pushing quino around his plate.

Connor resists the urge to roll his eyes. They never really talked about that. Sometimes, when Zoe goes over a friend’s house or has a friend over, Connor will give Larry a very pointed look and Larry will find something on his phone fascinating. An amazing double standard.

And, like? Of course he spends time with Evan. They’re best friends— pretending to be best friends. Connor doesn’t know how to get that through Larry’s thick skull.

Evan is Connor’s best friend.

“Well yeah,” Connor says, stabbing a piece of kale with his fork. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Wait, shit— 

Zoe chokes on her drink.

“What?!” Larry practically shouts, silverware hitting the table.

Connor opens his mouth to explain that technically, no, they aren’t boyfriends, though they are friends who are boys, even if sometimes Evan looks at him and makes Connor feel like he’s turning to putty. But they aren’t actually—

He glances to his mom with wide eyes. “Mom? Are you okay?”

Cynthia smiles, eyes watering. “I’m just so happy for you, sweetie!”

Connor slowly looks around the table. His mother crying tears of joy, his father staring at him in shock, his sister trying to bite back a smile.

Connor needs to talk to Evan immediately.

They’re fucked.

—«·»—

Connor grabs Zoe’s before she can disappear into her bedroom. She stiffens and he pulls his hand away. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.” She crosses her arms. “I thought you told me nothing was going on between you and Evan.” She raises her eyebrows.

Connor grimaces. “I— don’t tell Evan.”

Zoe tilts her head. “Don’t tell Evan…you’re dating?”

Fuck. “No, no, fuck.” Connor frantically searches his mind. “I, uh, we weren’t going to…tell people? Yet? And I…fucked that up. So don’t— don’t mention it to him until like he says something or whatever, okay?”

Zoe mimes zipping her lips. “Secret’s safe with me. But also, I fucking knew it.”

Connor forces a laugh and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah. You did.”

Zoe goes back into her room and Connor grabs his phone and goes down to the basement. He wonders if he can get his door back for Hanukkah, but for now, this is the only private place he’s got. He would lock himself in the bathroom, but that’s still way too close to the rest of his family members for comfort.

He flicks on the light as he heads down the stairs and grabs a blanket off the back of one of the chairs. The basement is about half finished and has been since Connor was in middle school. One of those projects that Larry never got around to finishing. Now they mostly use it for storage and hanging out when it gets too hot in the summer and even central air isn’t working well enough. Him and Zoe used to camp out for weeks in the basement on air mattresses and stay up way past their bedtimes giggling.

Now it’s December. He hasn’t been down here since he punched the far wall when everyone else was asleep. Him and Zoe haven’t spent time together in here in years. They haven’t done much together in years.

Connor wraps himself in a blanket and sits down in one of the old oversized chairs. They’re only down here because the went out of style and were deemed unworthy for the living room.

He unlocks his phone, scrolls through his contacts, and presses call. Then he listens to the phone ring and hopes that they’re done with dinner at the Kleinmans’ while he waits for the call to be answered.

“Hello?”

Connor grits his teeth. “Hi. I…might need help.”

“Is it about Evan?”

Connor frowns. “Why do you assume it’s about Evan?” It is but—

Jared laughs. “Dude, we aren’t friends. The only reason you talk to me is because of Evan. What’s up?”

Connor blinks. He’s just gotten so used to having Jared constantly around that it’s like they’re basically friends. But not. Because Connor doesn’t have any real friends.  

“I,” Connor clears his throat, “my family now thinks Evan and I are dating.”

There’s a long pause. Connor waits for Jared to start cackling, but Jared just whispers, “Holy shit.”

“Say whatever shit you want to now,” Connor mutters. “Get it out.”

“Holy shit,” Jared repeats. Connor rolls his eyes. “Murphy, what the fuck.”

“Yeah, I know, I fucked up.”

“What are you going to do?” Jared sounds almost amazed.

Connor frowns at the phone. This is not how he thought this conversation would go. “Pay Evan two hundred dollars? I know you meant that as a joke but—”

“Fucking shit, my dude. What the hell!”

Connor drags his hand through his hair. “Kleinman, my mom started crying when I said Evan was my boyfriend, okay? I can’t— fuck. I don’t know.”

Jared whistles.

Connor picks at his nailpolish. “Would Evan…go along with it? Do you think?”  

“I think that’s a question for Evan.”

“I’m asking you.”

Jared snorts. “Okay, fine. I think he’ll go along with it.” It almost feels like Jared is going to say something more, but he doesn’t. “You got two hundred bucks lying around?”

“No,” Connor admits. He has an idea. It’s a terrible idea that could backfire, but it’s an idea.

“So…how are you going to get it?” Jared gasps. “Oh shit! Are we going to rob a bank?”

Connor frowns. “No? Why is that the first thing you came up with? Why would you rob a bank for two hundred dollars? Wouldn’t fucking…normal robbery be easier?”

“Fuck off. Are we doing that?”

“No.”

“Well we both know you’re not getting a job—”

“Fuck you.”

“—and that would probably take too long. Are we going to sell weed?”

“What? No,” Connor says. “Also how long did you restrain yourself before asking that?”

“Too long for that boring answer and reaction,” Jared admits. “Give me something to work with, stoner kid. We could just steal it. I know you said no, but—”

“Jared what the fuck,” Connor interrupts.

“Dude, you aren’t offering any ideas here, I’m just trying to help out.”

Connor rubs the bridge of his nose. “Fucking— do you know how PayPal works?”

“Yeah sure,” Jared says. “Super easy, why?”

Connor sighs. “Would you be willing to help me set one up?”

“Ten bucks.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah sure, you wanted some help on calc anyway. Do you have info on your bank account, by the way?”

“I…can find it,” Connor says slowly. “Does tomorrow work? My house?”

“Yeah sure, my man. Shoot me an address and a time. I expect snacks.”

 Jared shows up on the doorstep ten minutes earlier than Connor expected with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a Starbucks drink in his left hand. “Sup.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “You’re early.”

“Fashionably.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Whatever.”  

Zoe leans out of the dining room. “Who’s here?”

Connor steps aside to let Jared in. Jared waves at Zoe.

Zoe squints. “What are you doing here?”

“So nice to see you again too, Smaller Murphy,” Jared says. He kicks his shoes off and puts them next to Zoe’s converse.

“Calc,” Connor says. “I’m…not doing great.”

“But you aren’t failing yet,” Jared says. “So we’re just going to keep you from not doing that. What are you learning again?”

Connor shrugs. “Something implicit. I’ll show you the homework.”

Jared nods. “Chill, chill.”

“Aren’t you friends with Alana?” Zoe asks.

“I…guess?” Connor frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“She’s the valedictorian, isn’t she? Why didn’t you ask her for help?”

“Uh…” Connor looks to Jared.

Jared takes a sip of his drink. “I’m genuinely offended, by the way. I’m no Alana Beck but I am passing AP Calc BC, which is more than you can say for seventy percent of our class. Don’t take it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Zoe assures him. “Just didn’t tutoring was your…thing.”

“Alana tutors,” Jared says.

“I know, that’s my point.”

“Ha ha very funny. She tutors a lot of people so it makes sense that I take someone off her workload.” Jared points to Connor. “As her friend, Connor understands.”

“Right.” Connor nods. “That.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t judging you or anything I was just wondering. Have fun. Don’t set the house on fire, I’m going over Pippa’s to work on our history project, and Mom and Dad are out shopping or something.”

“I’ll keep Jared away from anything breakable,” Connor promises.

“I remind you I’m doing you a favor,” Jared says.

“You’re making me pay you.”

“Shit you’re right.”

—«·»—

“This is easy shit,” Jared says, looking up from Connor’s textbooks. “Really easy.”

Connor flips him off.

“I’ll explain it!” Jared promises. “This makes my job easier, probably. So back to real reason I’m here—”

“You are here to help me with math.” Connor reaches for his laptop. “I’m going to open commissions.”

Jared stares at him with a blank expression.

“Commissions,” Connor repeats slowly.

Jared blinks. “Since when do you draw?”

“Do you actually know anything about me?” Connor asks.

Jared looks away. “Valid. How can I help?”

“Mostly just need help with PayPal. And maybe wording the post? I don’t know shit about talking to people.” Connor opens his laptop and logs in. He closes a few tabs and opens up tumblr. He hesitates and then opens his blog. “Here.”

“Your theme is awful,” Jared says flatly.

“Did I ask you?”

“Didn’t have to.” Jared clicks a few times. “Dude, if you want to be selling your art, you need a theme that isn’t painful to look at.” Connor opens his mouth to protest, but Jared holds up a hand. “I’m doing you a favor here. Give me like ten minutes. I will change your world.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Jared pushes away in the desk chair. “Too late, I’m not helping if we don’t change this ugly ass theme. Doodle or something while I do this. Make a commissions banner, I don’t fucking know.” Jared hunches over the laptop and starts typing.

Connor stares at him. Hopefully Jared isn’t going to charge him for this too.

Forty minutes later, Connor is putting aside a random drawing and Jared is looking up from the laptop.

“Bam, motherfucker,” Jared announces spinning the laptop around. “A picture heavy theme with easy navigation, readable text, and colors that don’t make me want to stab my eyes out.” Connor leans forward to see it. It actually looks pretty decent. And pretty professional. Jared has also added a few links, including one to Connor’s still nonexistent PayPal and a commissions page. “By the way, your art is pretty rad.”

Connor blinks. “Thanks. Did you want that bank account information?”

“Yeah sure.”

Connor gets up from the floor. “Let’s break into my dad’s office.”

Jared sets aside the laptop. “Sweet.”

—«·»—

Connor sits down in the chair in Larry’s office. He pulls open one of the lower drawers in the desk and flips through the the hanging folders until he finds one with his name.

“Don’t steal my identity or anything,” he says to Jared as he hands him one of the folders. “But see if anything in there is what you need.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jared starts flipping through the papers. “Your identity is too lame to steal.”

“Thanks.”

Connor skims over various forms and papers with his name all over them. So weird that he’s attached to all of these things but doesn’t understand any of them. That might be concerning. Is he supposed to know what these mean? He squints at something that looks like it has something to do with money.

“I can’t believe you’re going through with this,” Jared mutters.

Connor looks up. “With?”

“This fake dating shit.” Jared puts a stack of papers down on the desk. “I thought this was convoluted before.”

“You helped.”

“So you two keep reminding me.” Jared flips a piece of paper over. “I think this is it.”

“Cool.” Connor puts his folder away and Jared puts Connor’s laptop on the desk. Connor fills out what he can and Jared helps with the rest.

“And you have a PayPal,” Jared announces, finishing the form. “If you click this you can transfer money to your bank account, which is how you’ll get the money off the internet and into Evan’s hands.”

Connor nods. “Makes sense.” He grabs the papers and puts them back into the folder. He puts it back in the bottom drawer and makes sure everything is just how Larry left it before he gets up from the chair.

“I genuinely didn’t think either of you would get invested in this shit,” Jared says as they stop in the kitchen to grab a bag of chips.

Connor shrugged. “I fucked up, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Jared gives him a flat look before biting into a chip. “Let’s just finish this shit so I can teach you how implicit differentiation works.”

Connor wrinkles his nose. “Fine.”

They bring the bag of chips up to Connor’s bedroom and sit on the floor with Connor’s laptop in front of them. Between handfuls of chips, Jared sentences to the post.

“We can’t call it ‘I’m Gay Give Me Money’,” Connor protests.

“Why not?” Jared asks. “It’s tumblr.”

“What’s your point?”

Jared pulls the laptop closer and starts typing. “We just say like… ‘I’m trying to meet my boyfriend’, we stay vague on the details no one wants to know the complexity of this shit and also it’s weird as fuck, ‘so I’m opening commissions’. Blah blah blah here are details…” Jared looks up at Connor. “Any suggestions for prices?”

Connor shrugs.

“You are the least helpful person,” Jared mutters. “Okay…going on what I saw on your blog…” He types rapidly for a few minutes. “And posted.”

“What?!” Connor grabs the laptop from Jared. “Why did you do that?!”

“You weren’t going to have anything to say so fuck it, it’s posted.” Jared pops another chip in his mouth. “Chill the fuck out.”

Connor reloads the page to check the post. He doesn’t have any idea if the prices are reasonable, but Jared put up Connor’s email and a link to his PayPal and tagged the post with a few tags that make sense and a few that don’t.

Connor groans. “If you fucked this up for me—”

“I didn’t,” Jared says. “I am doing you so many solids right now. And now I’m about to try to teach you calculus. I am literally a god.”  

Connor resists the urge to slam his head against the keyboard.  

#connor murphy #evan hansen #convan #tree bros #deh fanfic #my fics #to have a friend #hi im dy ign

[curriebelle]

“DID YOU PUT YOUR NAME IN THE GOBLET OF FIRE?!”

I reblogged a post earlier today talking about how some movies are actually much better than the books they are derived from, and it got me thinking about this infamous moment from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Now, I really love thinking about media, and one of my pet projects is the translation of stories from one medium to another.

One of my pet peeves is when people sink into that “the books are better” mentality, often condemning the movies simply because they changed things from the books

This line is a great example of this mentality in action. It’s one of those things that bothers people immensely about the Goblet of Fire movie. People don’t like this particular line for one simple reason. In the book, the scene goes like this:

“Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” Dumbledore asked calmly.” (pg 242, GoF)

While in the movie, Michael Gambon grabs Harry by the shoulder, asks him the question quite angrily - almost shouting - and shakes him as he does. Here’s the scene and its lead-up so you know I’m not trying to misrepresent it.

Fans like to hold this moment up as emblematic of how the Harry Potter movies don’t understand the characters - e.g., they think Dumbledore is angry and panicky while he’s much calmer in the books. I think this moment is emblematic of how people don’t understand how adaptations work.

To be clear, I’m not defending the adaptation of GoF as a whole. Some things they changed were, in fact, very stupid. Beauxbatons’ entrance (and the fact that they are suddenly all girls) is stupid. I cannot think about the magical sighing butterfly ballet-run without cringing. 

What are you DOING.

But that moment would have been cringey even if this movie hadn’t been an adaptation. So, GoF is neither my favourite book nor my favourite movie in the series. It is, however, this line from that book and that movie that concerns me, because it’s specifically this line that Got Meme’d On

This gif is from an article whining about the differences between the book and the movie, by the way. It starts out trying to conjure some reasons as to why the differences are bad and then gives up halfway through, saying “Neville gives Harry the Gillyweed and not Dobby!!” and not explaining why that is bad. (As if that’s not a great way to nod to Neville’s fascination with herbology, a good way to avoid the complicated and foreshadowy question of how Dobby comes back to Hogwarts with Gillyweed at just the right time, which was stupid, and it’s also an excuse for one of the funniest moments of the movie when Neville goes “OH MY GOD I’VE KILLED HARRY POTTER”, which the article includes as a clip without realizing how much it undermines its own argument.)

Anyway, what I’m trying to prove is that people are so adamant about accuracy from book-to-movie that they’ll get pissed about directors neglecting a single adverb, without realizing that the new version makes more sense.

So here are some reasons why the scene not only makes sense in the film context, but also might be better than the original scene. These reasons also connect to some larger thoughts about adaptations and why people need to rethink how they watch them.

1) Movies build tension (and represent time) differently from books.

Books have an odd relationship with time. There’s basically no correlation between reading a sentence and the length of the action the sentence represents. Reading “Barty Crouch spent a year slowly bleeding out in a magical cabinet” does not cause a year of real time to pass. Movies, meanwhile, have a predominantly one-to-one relationship with time: what you see on the screen takes about as much time as it “really” would, and when it doesn’t (like when there’s a jump cut, a slow-mo moment, or what we call “overcrank” to make the footage look sped up) it’s quite jarring. Depicting a significant time jump in films is often difficult, and must be obviously signified by weather changes, costume changes, or even words on the screen (Targoviste, Wallachia, 1475....)

Another important thing to keep in mind is that books let us see into the main character’s head, particularly in Harry Potter where we get a lot of Harry’s inner thoughts. Movies can’t do that as well without voiceover narration or really stellar directing, which Harry’s movies don’t have (the directing is like a solid 7/10 throughout the series). This allows books to build internal tension much more easily: a character can build tension simply through the escalating anxiety in their thoughts.

Because suspense and tension are things that build up in relation to time (think of a bomb counter ticking down; the lower it goes, the higher tension builds), tension can be built differently in books and movies. It’s hard to describe abstractly, so I’ll show you what I mean.

In the book, the tension of these scenes builds across two chapters. The first chapter, “The Goblet of Fire”, ends with Harry’s name coming out of the goblet in the hall. The last words of the chapter are literally Dumbledore reading the name “Harry Potter” (238). The next chapter, “The Four Champions”, spends about seven or eight pages on the description of Harry climbing the stairs, entering the office, being mistaken for a messenger by the other champs (lol), and the sequence of the teachers discussing what to do about Harry where Dumbledore drops the line ever so “calmly”. The chapter ends with Ron refusing to believe that Harry didn’t put his name in the Goblet - the last words describe “the dark red velvet curtains...hiding one of the few people he had been sure would believe him.” (252)

The first chapter builds tension in a movie-ish way, describing action after action without too much fluff or reflection. The names come out of the goblet, one after the other - that’s our bomb ticking down, as the champions are selected. J.K. ends the chapter on the words “Harry Potter” because that’s the bomb going off. HOLY SHIT HE’S A TRIWIZARD CHAMPION I DID NOT EXPECT THIS BY LOOKING AT THE BOOK COVER (I’m being facetious: that’s actually perfectly fine writing and a reasonable surprise for a first-time reader.)

So the bomb goes off. Chapter ends! Blank space for you to go “oh crap!” Next chapter.

The next chapter begins in the very next moment, with Harry’s reaction to that plot- explosion. Whereas the previous chapter was a tiny bit more objective, reporting the actions as they happened, this chapter puts us way deeper in Harry’s head almost the whole way through. He immediately describes “feeling” stunned and numb, and later spends about a page reflecting on whether someone wants him dead. Because this chapter is focused on Harry’s feelings, it follows that source of tension-building instead. Harry has questions!! Frustrations abound! There are possible traitor-murderers!! There’s also a thread of people not believing Harry’s words, underestimating him, or insulting him - like when Fleur assumes he’s a messenger, not a champion. That’s why the chapter ends with Ron snubbing Harry: because that’s the "bomb” that chapter builds up to. Someone is out to get Harry, and nobody believes him, and he’s alone.

So, we’ve got two chapters that lead up to two bombs, both built up in very different ways. In this context, it makes sense for Dumbledore to ask the question “calmly”. The scene is still emotionally driven, showcasing a variety of reactions, including the other champions, Maxine, Karkaroff, Moody, and Snape. There’s even another character in this book scene, Ludo Bagman, who’s excited about Harry joining the tournament. This scene gives a bit of exposition about the tournament and tells us more about all the characters involved, but the key contribution to the suspense of the chapter is that despite this showcasing of variety, none of them believe Harry.

Meanwhile, the movie. The movie actually follows the book quite strictly in the Goblet scene: they even keep Harry’s extremely uncomfortable walk up to the Goblet and into the office. But notice that they’ve already had to shift the build of suspense a little bit. While it’s still pretty dramatic, the announcement of “Harry Potter” can’t quite be the mic-drop it is in the book, both because everybody knows he’ll be champ by now (it’s in the trailer and statistically speaking like 170% of the universe had read the book) and because the scene, unlike the chapter, needs to continue. Harry’s gotta walk up to the front and into the office.

So the movie creates a hilarious lingering feeling of “what the fuck???” while Harry walks up the hall. The music gets all muted. Hagrid is horrified (”no...no!!!”), there’s a Suspicious Zoom on Ron that sets up his later jealousy, and I particularly love how Maggie Smith pats Harry on the shoulder like she’s comforting him over his imminent death. The champions are silent when Harry shows up this time. Then we hear the teachers shouting in the hall, and all the children are looking at each other like the dramatic gopher. If you’ve ever been a kid and heard an adult shouting match on the other side of a closed door, you’ll recognize the confusion and fear.

Ok well Krum just looks Grumpy but Fleur does a great shifty-eye thing and Cedric there looks like his agent just said the words “Stephanie Meyer liked your callback.”

Then Dumbley-dorr bursts in and we get his infamous line read. The scene goes on, and pretty much everybody (Dumbles included) acts very shouty about it. There’s a moment where the shouting stops and Moody points out that it’s more likely a Dark Wizard tampered with the goblet than lil Harry Potter the 14-year-old. The penultimate shot shows Barty Crouch saying Potter is now legally bound to compete, and the last shot is Harry, surrounded by all these old silvery trophies, holding his slip of paper, all by himself.

There’s actually some pretty nice 7/10 directing going on here. Look how this shot in particular is looking down on all the adults present, making them look small and helpless. This scene builds to, and ends on, Crouch’s line, which is a horribly sinister fact that the book actually glosses over quite a bit:

“The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mr. Potter has no choice. He is, as of tonight, a Triwizard Champion.”

He has no choice. JK’s vague on this and so is the movie, but for me the implication is either Harry competes or he dies, as if the Goblet is similar to an Unbreakable Vow. Either that or he like...lacks the free will to do otherwise so he’ll just show up at each test and....idk compete as an independent like he’s Jill Stein or something.

Every other part of this scene - Dumbledore’s anger, the surprise and confusion in the other champions, and the brief pause where Moody suggests that a dark wizard had something to do with Harry’s name being chosen - creates a suspenseful question that leads to an answer-bomb. The question is, “why is everyone so freaked out?” The answer is, “because somebody extremely powerful manipulated a magical artifact into binding Harry Potter into a competition that will potentially kill him.” While the book chapter focuses on Harry’s own loneliness and frustration, the movie scene focuses on the fact that someone at Hogwarts is orchestrating a murder plot for a fourteen-year-old. And it’s not a straightforward murder plot - Harry might not necessarily die - which means that something else might be going on, something nobody in the room can guess at. 

And they’re right to be paranoid, because in case you all forgot the direct consequence of this scene is the resurrection of Voldemort. So yeah, oh fuck. I’ll repeat that this is a neat new highlighting of an aspect that JK glosses over - there’s something really fucked up going on here and someone really fucked up behind the scenes.

But when some people went into the theatre (Goblet of Fire books open on their laps to follow along, I imagine), they didn’t see the new facet of this scene that the movie brought to light, or how these directing choices cleverly streamline and underline the mystery of the goblet sabotage. 

They saw one. adverb. Calmly.

2) Gambon’s Dumbledore is already different from book Dumbledore

So you might argue that this re-interpretation of the scene is fine, but maybe it didn’t need Gambon’s aggressive line read to make it work. I’d still disagree, and I’ll explain why.

I remember really liking the first Harry Potter movie, probably because I was....uh......eight or nine when it came out, so I was still a kid and a Harry Potter Nut. One of the things I remember the most vividly is a trifecta of castings that were so perfect it felt like the characters had just manifested straight out of the book. Discounting the adorable eleven-year-old golden trio, you might be able to guess them: Alan Rickman, Maggie Smith, and Richard Harris (and honourable mention to Robbie Coltrane who is great but who I won’t return to in the arguments later spoilers spoilers).

Bonus Professor Sprout cuz I’m too lazy to find another group image.

This casting is stupidly perfect. Every word out of their mouths feels like it has been ordained by the god of Rowling. Even so many years later I’m stunned by it.

Tragically, Richard Harris died before the third movie could be filmed. (RIP Dumbledad, you were a magnificent actor and did you know he starred in a Jaws ripoff about a murderous Orca holy shit I have mad respect for him now).

If Richard Harris had survived to play Dumbledore in films three and four, perhaps the scene would have stuck more to the original “calmly” line read, because Richard Harris delivered every single one of his lines like he was reading a bedtime story about unicorns to eight-year-old children - which in many ways, he was.

But the scene wouldn’t have been as good. 

I am of the generation that grew up with Harry Potter, and it really was an experience of growing up, all the terrible parts included. The first two books and the first two movies - despite having some really dark moments in them, see: murdersnake - exist in this pre-adolescent haze of dreamy childhood fantasy. That’s exactly the place you want a dreamy grandpa Dumbledore.

By the time the fourth movie came out, we were all waiting on the seventh book. Cedric had died. Sirius had died. Dumbledore had died, both in the books and in real life (seriously if you make the mistake of thinking this argument is an anti-Richard Harris one you can go get bit by a murdersnake). The world was still full of magic but also a lot more complicated, and we were starting to realize that by the time the first dark-ish movie - The Prisoner of Azkaban  - needed to cast a new Dumbledore.

So yeah, Gambon’s Dumbledore had less of a dreamy wizard-dad quality to him - a bit more kookiness on the one hand, a bit more rage and emotion on the other. But Harry Potter had moved in that way too, and we also learned that Dumbledore could be a scheming bastard at times. I’m not saying “BRING ME EDGY METAL DUMBLEDORE”, unless I am proposing that you read My Immortal, which now that I think about it is something I am definitely doing.

What I am actually saying is that this angry moment is just a different choice for a different Dumbledore, which makes sense for the actor playing him. He’s not as kind and magical, but he’s way more unpredictable and intimidating. And this Dumbledore doesn’t exactly resemble the Calmly Book Dumbledore, but he does resemble the Dumbledore that is always implied, the one we never really meet - the one who was friends with a dark wizard before defeating him, and who is prepared to sacrifice a teenager for the greater god.

Related to this point, while we have our Perfect McGonagall Smiths and our Severus Snape Incarnates (and our Kenneth Branaghs playing Lockhart afjdkslfjdsklfjsd), a few of the casting choices in later films actually added some intrigue to smaller characters by making them more distinctive. I think this works great with evil characters. Wormtail and Lucius Malfoy are good examples of characters who were meh to me in the books but vivid as hell in the films, but the best example is actually again from Goblet of Fire. It’s the Doctor!

Barty Crouch Jr. was a nothing entity in Goblet of Fire The Book Version You Love So Much. He was a plot device at best and I envisioned an empty shadow where a character should have been. On the contrary, David Tennant is a stellar actor who makes a plot-device villain unforgettable. I completely understand people who might watch Doctor Who just for him (even though I’ve only seen a handful of episodes from different seasons myself) because he actually is that good. I remember that little tongue flick more than I remember the entire dragon fight in the Goblet of Fire movie. No exaggeration. If you asked me to point to one way in which this movie was definitively better than the book I would literally just link you to this gif.

My point in bringing up Barty, and in contrasting Richard Harris and Michael Gambon, is that sometimes adherence to the book characters is great. That’s what gives us Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore V.1. But it also doesn’t hurt to reinterpret, because sometimes you stumble upon something really brilliant. Gambon!Dumbledore isn’t a Motherfuckin’ Scene-Stealer like Doctor Jr there, but he is, in my view, a necessary re-interpretation of a character who would eventually have to film this fucking scene. 

Although thinking about this in hindsight, fuck would I have given anything to see Richard Harris’s take on that. And also to watch him fight an Orca, but luckily I can probably just stream that one illegally somewhere.

3) It makes way more sense for Dumbledore to be upset in context.

This one is kind of a short and very meta point. The Half-Blood Prince actually changes a lot about Dumbledore, sad-drunk Horcrux scene aside. The big thing is that we understand his motivations after putting pieces from OOTP and HBP together. He needs to keep Harry alive because there’s a prophecy that dictates he’s the only one who can kill Voldemort - perhaps he suspects or even knows this is because of the Horcruxes, and because Harry is one. Fans figured this last part out, too - or speculated as much.

In the original Goblet of Fire, when we were all still young and innocent and Dumbledad was still kind of Richard-Harris-y in most of our minds, yes, he would say did-you-put-your-name-in-the-goblet-of-fire calmly. But we all knew more about Dumbledore by then. And since we did, we can re-contextualize why he’s so upset in asking that question, and if you think about it without being glued to your citations it makes so much more sense.

Harry must live long enough to beat Voldemort, or nobody will beat Voldemort. Dumbledore knows this. And in this scene, one of two things has just happened. One, Harry has somehow been clever enough to bypass the Age Line, drawing a crazy amount of attention to himself and volunteering for a potentially lethal tournament. Not only is that terrible because now even Harry is trying to kill Harry, but also if he did pass the Age Line Harry would be secretly brilliant, and remember the last time Dumbledore quasi-mentored an insanely creative and curious and talented Parseltongue-speaking wizard O H W A IT. Still, even worse than that option is the potential that someone has infiltrated Hogwarts with the explicit purpose of killing Harry. Yeah, Harry’s life has been in danger before, but usually because Harry’s stupid and seeks it out (see: Philosopher’s Stone) or gets in the way of evil plans that are targeting other people (see: Chamber of Murdersnake). This is the first time the threat is so direct, and the first time Dumbledore’s so powerless to stop it, because the Goblet is magically binding. This could seriously fuck Dumbledore’s plans, and by now, the audience is aware of this, because so many of them have read the books.

I think, when Dumbles asks if Harry put his name in, he's hoping for a yes. Then, at least, there wouldn’t be a dark wizard potentially looking to murder Harry running loose in the school. And no it’s not the nicest thing to do but he’s probably trying to scare Harry into that yes. You better damn well just be a stupid, egotistical kid, Harry, and not a PAWN IN THE RESURRECTION OF A DARK LORD 

or I guess....maybe you could be both.

you can keep your Very Potter Musical b/c The Mysterious Ticking Noise is still the best HP song ever written and that’s my professional serious academic onion.

4) The most memorable parts of the entire film series are moments when the films surprise us by being different from the books.

So, the last point is a bit more of a subjective one, and it may sound like a cheap “gotcha” take, but it’s still important. I told you that I remember nothing about the dragon fight and that was honestly true. I remember the lake test because it’s a bit weirder and more striking. And you, and I, and the internet, remember DIDJAPUTYERNAMEINHTEGABLAT because it caught people off guard and fucked with their citations.

It’s been a long, long time since even the last Harry Potter film came out. Six years since it disappointed us by keeping that disappointing epilogue. If you asked me now what moments I remember the most vividly from the series, they come in two varieties. Half of them are moments where I thought “wow, this is exactly what I pictured, this is incredible, I’m having a nostalgia.” Mostly these are from the earlier movies, so you have things like the first boat approach to Hogwarts, the Patronus scenes in the third movie, and Ms. Norris hanging petrified from the torch (Chamber of Secrets is actually my favourite of all the books, by the way).

But the moments I remember from the later movies are things that definitely weren’t in the books. This is partly because the later books feature less vivid imagery, since they’re in a world that’s already concretely established, but also because these moments were some of the few surprises left in a franchise that the world had been obsessed with for literally my entire life - or at least as far back as I could remember.

This is where I’m going to bring back Jean Brodie and Hans Gruber, like I promised I would. Yes, Snape and McGonagall are picture-perfect to how I saw them in the books, but the moments I associate with each of them most strongly are not. For Maggie, it’s when she pulls out all the CGI stops and goes Dark Souls Boss on us by animating a bunch of statues, and then says:

Obviously that’s a huge scene and quite memorable regardless. But for Alan, it’s literally just this reaction in the Half-Blood Prince, straight from the Handbook of Vax’ildan’s Foolproof Conversation Strategies:

Despite coming from the two most book-adherent performances, these moments are not in the books (to my knowledge). They’re surprising, funny, in-character, and while arguments can be made either way as to whether they’re ‘quality cinema’ (I stand by my solid 7/10) the fact remains that they are memorable. There is nothing more “Snape” than the tempo of that pause, the perfect idgaf expression on Alan Rickman’s face, and the exact pace at which he buggers off because he has better things to do. And that scene is what I picture when I picture Snape, and I will never, never forget it. (RIP to you too, sir. Alan Rickman’s is the best performance in the entire series....memes and all..........)

You might disagree. You might remember something entirely different from the books, because memory, love, and nostalgia are all different for different people.

But I think my fond memories also come from the fact that I don’t look at the films the same way people who document literally every difference do - the same way that people upset about GOBLETOFFAGAAGH do. They are looking for a direct translation, book to movie - which is not only often impossible, but very often boring. 

When you get mad about a single line read because it defies a single adverb in order to make a better scene, you need to lift your eyes from the page and look a little more closely at what the screen is doing. Sometimes it is doing incredible, expansive things to the story you love. It might seem hypocritical for me to say this, since I wrote an essay for like three hours about why this single moment doesn’t bother me, but I am doing so particularly because I’m using it to represent a larger problem that emerges from fans focusing so closely on tiny changes. 

(And no, I’m not railing against people who are upset about things like how Ron’s character was interpreted poorly across the movies. That’s a fine thing to criticize because it makes the movies worse too.)

No, Michael Gambon getting angrier in one line is not an example of an earth-shattering reinterpretation of Harry Potter, but it is a good reinterpretation, and far from an earth-shattering mistake. Sometimes the movies are only doing slightly more hilarious or memorable or logical things to the stories you love, and that’s also worth appreciating. That’s really what it comes down to - an appreciation for how things can change, how they should change, and how they do change. I think you can learn more by understanding the difference between the two media, and thinking more critically about what changes and why, and I guarantee you will enjoy movies more by letting them do their thing.

And in conclusion, if you do wanna talk about a stupid line read from the films....there’s always this gem:

“AYYYYE CAN......TOUCH U.....NAO.”

Now I eagerly await your thousand-word essay on why this line is also really great :D I’m not even kidding, feel free!

#harry potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire #hp #gof #I NEED TO CHILL but also #I found this weirdly relaxing

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

1-100

…are you joking

no one on this earth wants to know that much about me 

you asked for it:

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1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

The intention is always more cereal than milk, and yet… it always ends up being the opposite. 

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2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

…as an Australian, NO

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3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

Heh, what DON’t I use? 

Receipts, assignments, old documents, letters, other books, string, anything i can lean it against and hold it open with, etc.

even the odd obliging cat’s paw for a few minutes

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4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

~I drink neither, I am boring like that~

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5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

Yeah, I’m aware of how fucking ridiculous I look when I smile, and my non-perfect teeth.

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6: do you keep plants?

not currently, but I used to have sunflowers and such

7: do you name your plants?

not usually, which is odd bc i name literally everything else

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8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

~writing~

words are easy

have tried painting and drawing but i’m just so shithouse at it

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9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

Y~E~S

all the time

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10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

All, depends on the day really.

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11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends?

Well, a few years back for some reason some irl friends and I would randomly start singing the Narwhals Narwhals song, or reply ‘the dirt is gone!’ after anyone said ‘Bam!’

but recently? online? uhhhhhhh… well, i send shitty mouse-drawn-in-Paint pics to the ever-patient camiluna27 and she finds polite things to say about them… which is our little joke

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12: what’s your favorite planet?

Like my favourite Sailor Scout, it’s Jupiter.

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13: what’s something that made you smile today?

Our foster puppy is coming today

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14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

it wouldn’t matter what it looked like, we’d make it work even if our only furniture was a minifridge and a beanbag… sharing the chores, watching stupid shit at night, complaining or joking with each other, etc.

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15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

It takes 230 million years for our solar system to make a single orbit around the Milky Way.

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16: what’s your favorite pasta dish?

Tuna Mornay (? never been sure how it’s spelled tbh)

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17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

BLUE

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18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

my brain is blanking, and yet last night i know i was recalling something really stupid…

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19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

Nah, i just shitpost my angst or delight onto this site… 

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20: what’s your favourite eye color?

I have no preference for eye colour.

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21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

Oh, I got this shoulder bag thing from The Harry Potter Experience when it came to Australia… it’s half-covered in an ever-changing bunch of badges (keep losing and finding them/getting new ones). it’s been left in the sun, saturated, pelted with hail as i ran for cover, etc. 

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22: are you a morning person?

I never used to be… but since the antidepressants, i’m finding mornings way easier.

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23: what’s your favourite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

mess about on the computer, usually

video games or writing something, or chatting with people i can no longer see physically/it would be super expensive to meet irl

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24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

yeah, a few

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25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into?

???? who in the hell is breaking into enough places to have a top ten list?

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26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

Heh, I just have a handful of cheap-ass shoes I got from Big W a few years ago and I get cheap insert things to keep them alive. I randomly put on any pair i can find, whether they match the outfit or not… what other choice do you have with big lady feet and soft skin?

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27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor?

Fruity

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28: sunrise or sunset?

Sunset. 

Sunrise means I’ve been awake too long and have Fucked Up ™

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29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

not to bring her up consistently, but camiluna27 literally drew fanart of one of my fanfics (the first ever??? holy shit) and I was so goddamn flattered I almost couldn’t believe it… someone liked my trash and DREW SOMETHING?

such talent. much love. so excite. wow.

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30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

Pfft, yeah, probably. 

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31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

Socks are good.

I am making a sock right now, in viking fashion, it looks ridiculous.

Sleep? In winter, sometimes.

MISMATCHED SOCKS WERE A GODDAMN FASHION STATEMENT AT SCHOOL HELL YEAH

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32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

Well there were two funny things.

the first one was this massive sleepover party, and the minute the lights went off with all these adolescents sardined on the floor (teens but like, everyone was just chilling nothing nsfw happening), the marshmallow war began

it’s 3am and people are being PELTED with the goddamn things in the dark it was chaos.

the other time, i’d gone to a party thing, put up a tent to stay over like the others and this other girl at the party i’d just befriended (along with her highly anxious friend i managed to calm down) was not sure how to get home and i’m like… stay in my tent i have space it’s chill

we’re sleeping in jeans bc that seemed like a good idea at the time (it was NOT)

everyone’s STARVING. like, no real FOOD was at this party (New Years party?) we had chips and softdrink and that was it… and i dunno if you know this, but no amount of like, chicken-flavoured chips will fill up the aching hollow in your stomach for Real Food

so we’re talking bc we’re awake, relative strangers who are starving together in a tent they’re intending to share the night in, and we get on to SUPERNATURAL

i loved the show still it wasn’t the disaster it became, yet… and she admits that the S1 episode with the Wendigo freaked her out… and i’m like, hah, yeah, glad we’re not in a tent with woods around, huh? bc i am an asshole… that was pretty much where we were

and around the same time, the free-roaming chickens on the property are slowly moving past and making satanic noises, freaking her out more so i changed the topic to calm things down… but then, later on (waaaaaaaaay too early in the morning bc some of us had to pee early and it was Effort™ ) i get back to the tent to find a Chicken. In. The Tent.

looking at me like *I* was being the asshole here for intruding on her rest.

the other chick-a-dee is sleeping and im thinking ‘well fuck she’ll freak if the chicken’s randomly there when she wakes… and i try to subtly get the chicken out, and if you know chickens… you can understand how i failed

it was hilarious, and disastrous. 

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33: what’s your fave pastry?

don’t know, really

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34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

Oh! I still have them.

There’s two, one called (creatively) Teddy, who wore a yellow onesie the Parental Unit made for him. My fondest memory of him was this time in kindy where we took our teddies in bc it was ‘Teddy Bear Picnic Day’, and during naptime, the teachers took the teddies and hid them around the playground…

We had to find them when we woke up.

Teddy had one foot in the top of the fence and looked like he was trying to leave/escape… i told the Parental Unit this story a thousand times over the years, the poor bugger.

The other one was made for me, after Parental Unit had a dream i’d be a girl. Her name is Heidi (you know, after the song? ‘Heidi, Heidi, Heidi ho, the elephant walks oh so slow’), she’s a pink elephant in a tutu and lovely and she and ted are hella safe for now.

-

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

I do like them, and when i get a special pen i use it for EVERYTHING, then flounder to find a basic pen when it runs dry

-

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now?

I don’t know, i’m not really feeling anything.

What’s that song that’s just 3 minutes of silence?

-

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

>.> Messy

When it’s clean, it’s Clean ™

But when it’s messy… >.>

-

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

*unfurls list*

people who stand in the way and block entire corridors to chat with someone and there’s a public bench RIGHT THERE

capitalism

i can’t remember any others right now but i know there’s LOTS… 

-

39: what colour do you wear the most?

Most of my outfits have black in them. We can pretend it’s slimming.

-

40: think of a piece of jewellery you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you?

I have a dragon ring, my estranged godmother bought it for me from this massive local market we once went to, back in like 2007/2008? 

I love it so much for some reason (not so much th godmother tbh, she’s a pain) and it’s mass-produced, but i love it… wear it almost everywhere

-

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving?

Out of the Black Land by Kerry Greenwood

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42: do you have a favourite coffee shop? describe it!

~nope~

-

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

Well, I looked up at them on the way inside the other night and pointed them out to the Parental Unit. They’re pretty stunning here, without city lights to obscure them.

-

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

??????????????????? that’s a thing?

-

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

Perpetually, always. 

-

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

I can’t, you’ll punish me.

-

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

that mayonnaise-peas pizza thing i just saw, WHY

-

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

I feared the wild animals in the dark when i was locked outside, and also feared Huntsman Spiders.

Today? the spiders and anything in the dark can square the fuck up, and fight my fear of disappointing everyone/failing

-

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

used to, but the CD player in the car broke… so now i just use the ipod/itunes

-

50: what’s an odd thing you collect?

…monster high dolls, hardy boys books, comic books

-

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh mind blank

-

52: what are your favourite memes of the year so far?

Cask of Amontillado and Joe Biden memes have been awesome

-

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

Rocky Horror? Good, interesting.

heathers? pulp fiction? no

beetlejuice? seemed a lot more exciting when i was little

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54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

our puppy

she’s learned the exact sad face to make when she wants someone to go outside and play ball

-

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point?

can’t think of anything overtly, honestly

unless you count ‘yeah i can use a swivel chair instead of a ladder’ and the inevitable falling through a bookcase

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56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

Honesty, Humour, Excitement and Communication/Connection, Creativity

When they energise, not drain

-

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

it has always been interesting, and it makes you feel dramatic… 

i can neither confirm nor deny…

-

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?

no idea

-

59: what’s your favourite myth?

define myth

like ‘mermaids are a thing’, or ‘that time a god did _____’ or like, ‘swimming right after eating can give you stomach cramps’?

-

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

used to

-

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received?

uhhhhhhhh literally any fanfic i give as a gift, is stupid

i got two little plastic dicks as a joke gift from someone as a secret santa thing (another time i got a $2 piece of trash bag thing the size of my hand that broke the second i touched it, and i was rather upset)

-

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

no, but my fave juice is apple blackcurrant or tropical

-

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

well, depends, i try to keep the series together and stuff, but mostly it’s ‘if it fits, it sits’ in the bookshelf

-

64: what colour is the sky where you are right now?

obscenely blue, like, you’d think it was computer generated blue

-

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with?

Yeah

-

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

…something with blue flowers, but let’s be real, the chance to wear a flower crown would be amazing even if they were all corpse flowers

-

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

they are otherworldy and beautiful, they have a different energy to sunny days 

-

68: what’s winter like where you live?

Cold. Stubbornly wearing shorts and tank tops claiming you’re not cold. putting four layers on the bed bc what. the. FUCK.

-

69: what are your favourite board games?

Cluedo, Monopoly

-

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

Nah, that seems like a terrible idea. I refuse to be That White Girl™ who invites demons in…

-

71: what’s your favourite kind of tea?

Mortali-tea

Nah, none, i don’t drink tea or coffee, i am BORING. 

I am the Beige of people, beverage-wise.

-

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it?

Sometimes. Esp. recently, I find noting it down helps, but usually I remember more than i assume i will.

-

73: what are some of your worst habits?

Lazy/procrastinate, eats stupid shit I SHOULD NOT BC I AM FAT AS FUCK, overthinks, boring.

-

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

amazingly talented, fun, incredibly aesthetically pleasing, open, understanding, brilliant and a pleasure to interact with.

-

75: tell us about your pets!

Okay, so we have four cats and a doggo.

The two oldest cats are sisters, aged 11; very loving but also tiny murder machines so they’re inside mostly.

Two youngest half-siblings, aged 7; one is the perpetual kitten who loves affection, the other is a slinky boi who comes to you if he wants love, and not before (adores my sibling tho, their bond is strong).

Doggo is the baby, she’s 3 i think? Always energetic.

+ a foster puppy we just got today, just now, and she’s fuckin’ adorable but like, a massive ball of energy.

-

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?

cleaning

-

77: pink or yellow lemonade?

PINK hell yeah

-

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

HATE

i will fight ALL of them to the DEATH

-

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

Listened to me complaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain

Also drew me art for no reason i mean, c’mon that’s so cute

-

80: what colour are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

Light blue, yep. loved it, and also it went with the underwater theme the family did

-

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

Amazing as orbs go.

-

82: are/were you good in school?

generally, shit at chemistry though (but then, if an entire class fails an exam, you don’t ask the students whose fault it is)

-

83: what’s some of your favorite album art?

uhhhh not sure

-

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

maybe dunno

-

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?

my dude, so many.

Batman, Nightwing, Wonder Woman, Teen Titans, The Titans, ElfQuest, Avengers, New Avengers, Saga, Hawkeye, uhhhhhhhhh, like, i have HEAPS...

-

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

i have no idea what that is

-

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

St Trinians, love that movie...

AVATAR

-

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

...good question, i have no idea what you’re asking

-

89: are you close to your parents?

The Parental Unit literally knows every facet of my being bc i can discuss anything with them. Even if we clash on ideologies or whatevs.

The Other One’s a violent stalker, so no, not that one.

-

90: talk about your one of you favourite cities.

I have been to like, Brisbane and Sydney... not a huge pool of cities to compare from. Uh, I like that there are so many comic book shops in brisbane tbh...

-

91: where do you plan on travelling this year?

Probs Brisbane.

-

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

Depends on the type of pasta, really.

-

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most?

Plaits. Keeps it out of the way.

-

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

Sibling. I went all out with their gifts and am barely making it to monday... but it was worth it.

-

95: what are your plans for this weekend?

>get foster puppy

>chill/be boring bc you are the human equivalent of the colour beige

-

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

Procrastinate, mostly. ‘Restart required’ lol nope, you can wait...

-

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

ENTP, Gemini, Gryffindor

-

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

oh god no. Grade 9 they had this youth action program... sent us orienteering in the bush... up a mountain, down a moutain, through the fucking lantana six times because the boys in the class have the map and can��t fucking read it right but ‘girls can’t read maps so why would we give it to you’...

it was a goddamn disaster, but we survived. hated it, so much

-

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

Sia’s ‘The Greatest’, ‘Move Your Body’ and ‘Unstoppable’

‘This is Gospel’,  ‘Emperor’s New Clothes’, ‘Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time’, and ‘Golden Days’ by Panic! at the Disco

‘Never Coming Back to Earth’ by Steve Aoki & Fall Out Boy

Most of the songs by Lindsey Stirling

‘Heroes’ by Generdyn

‘I Hope You Die In A Fire’

‘Wait For It’ and ‘History Has Its Eyes On You’ from HAMILTON

‘Assassin, Murder, Monster’ and ‘Chase the Morning’ from REPO! the Genetic Opera

‘The Beauty Underneath’ from Love Never Dies

-

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

I’d slam both at once and launch myself into a temporal paradox so i simultaneously never existed and also always existed therefore becoming a GOD...

#Anonymous

[punkscowardschampions]

Ro & Ali

Ro: …---… Ro: Mayday mayday Ali: This is AlleyCat, roger your mayday, position is our bedroom, how can I be of assistance? Ro: That was a very efficient response Ro: What would your ETA be for reaching the fantasy section of the library? Ali: Constant vigilance, Rosaline Ali: 15 minutes ish providing the hairy-footed hobbits aren't too thick a crowd to cut through Ali: What's the danger? Ro: Let me preface by saying that I could burn a forest of cedar and do not believe I'd be adequately protected Ro: Now that you're forewarned, I'll explain Ro: Kayne is here because his dear sister is having a party at which he is unwelcome Ro: As if her birthday wasn't already cause for lack of celebration enough, I can now not escape his attentions Ali: Yikes! Not to mention the environmental damage too, and if it's not gonna work, we're defs best to avoid Ali: Also the Librarian would probably think you were blazing up back there and using pages of an old Jilly Cooper as roaches and who wants to be tarred with the same brush as Donovan O'Reilly? Ali: Gross, skip the protection spells and the like and go straight for a swift kick in the balls Ali: How is it he's ALMOST as delusional as his sister? Not in this galaxy or one far, far away, honey, c'mon Ro: Precisely Ro: Not to mention of all days today I chose not to wear black and I don't need the ash blow back to ruin this outfit Ro: He's in no way worth that damage either Ro: Hm! I couldn't possibly do that, though I have pondered long and hard enough to suggest telling him that we'd (providing you and Carly would be willing to tag along, that is) crash the party, only to leave him there and make our escape Ro: Perhaps I'm being delusional myself to create a narrative whereby Laoise isn't hyper alert to our presence upon all occasions Ali: That's what it is, you've let your cover down and he's taken it as an invite! Ali: Though sure, you could probably wear a potato sack and he'd still be mooning Ali: Ha, that would be hilarious though! Rock up with a card and a bottle like, hey babes Ali: Least we could leg it, only a few doors to safety, after-all Ro: Oh Ali! I don't know what he sees in me and frankly do not wish to know Ro: What would be proper attire for a soiree at your nemesis' house? Ro: I'm certain she'd love to see me a potato sack even more so than her brother would, so I'll assume not that Ro: Exactly, why would she ever be hesitate to drink anything we offered or read anything we'd scribbled on a piece of paper which may or may not be a curse?! Ro: Very amusing. Unlike the conversational loop I am currently stuck in Ro: To use the term conversation very loosely, of course Ali: DUH, you're beautiful AND smart, not like other girls! Gag Ali: [Sends multiple options with are a lot of black silk, lace, fake fur and leather moments] Ali: Right? We're the perfect party guests Ali: Been ages since we tried anything dark sided, don't let the chic looks fool ya Ali: Oh Lord, what is he even? Last time I got stopped by him on my way to the post office he was prattling on about some online game and I should join and Ali: I'd feel bad for him but he's also intensely dislikeable and entitled with it all so Ro: Oh god, you're not actually considering putting my pretend party crashing into action, are you? Ro: I'm as tempted right now as I've ever been to dabble in dark arts, but that's solely for his benefit, and my own in ending this interaction, not hers Ro: He's offering to tutor me right now, which I neither need nor believe to be his real intentions in asking Ro: I know I'm not as scholarly as you, but that's why I'd turn to you if I needed assistance, not someone whose scores are not even on a par with my lesser subjects Ali: Of course I am Ali: She knows she misses us, you know I know that you need saving Ali: Win win on many different levels Ali: 😂 Nice try, bud Ali: How cliche, taking too many lessons from bad porn and worse romcoms himself, like Ro: Please no Ro: If you bring an invisibility cloak I may consider it, but otherwise Ro: As for Kayne, I almost miss the days he used to put slugs in my hair Ro: He had the excuse of childhood to blame his cliches on and we had some new pets into the bargain Ali: It all comes down to who you'd rather be fighting off, him or her Ali: Pets, or INGREDIENTS, eh, Leesh? Ro: I just snorted, so score one for appearing unattractive, thank you Ro: If I take off my glasses will that likely add or deduct a point? Ro: But to answer your query, the way I see it, Carly's owed a rematch so maybe we should go to the party Ro: Birthday beatings are a time honored tradition, no? Ali: Welcome, if he gives us room to pull of an anti-makeover I bet I can get that score in the minuses Ali: He's defs into the glasses vibe, makes him think he gives a shit about what's on the inside and your brain, as if you aren't the epitome of beauty still Ali: Ooh, true, true, many scores to settle, rights to wrong...I'll see if she's down or wants her own training montage to counteract yours Ali: Now you're sounding like a McKenna! Ro: But even if I switched to contacts, dyed my sister's hair and went shopping for an entirely new wardrobe, he'd still take my personality as an invitation Ro: As though I crafted any of this to appeal to him, or indeed to repel his sister Ro: Just trying not to lose my own voice here as he mansplains the plot of the novel I was faux browsing Ro: I may take a swing for him if this continues for much longer however, and thank Fearghal later for the lessons Ali: You mean its not him, him its all for him? Shocker Ali: You got two options way I see it (still on the peace path, your soul can thank ME later) Ali: Either outwit him and pick a book he so won't understand and show him up with your superior intellect, easy or hard mode, act infuriatingly dumb 'cos that would dead put him off his ideal of you Ali: like Shakespeare who? Is that the Leo movie? Ro: Both excellent suggestions Ro: And I could indeed wax lyrical about how gorgeous Leo was in that movie until the library closes so Ali: Honestly, proof of angels Ro: Thank you, yes! Ro: Not that it's needed, but if people insist upon being ignorant, there you are everyone Ro: He'd never talk down to me about Trolls and Orcs Ali: Seriously Ali: If our teachers ever got creative with the assignments, then I could too, dissertation READY on how this dirty world of ours has tainted him Ali: not quite fallen angel level of dark deeds but he's certainly aging into a Nicholson and not a Caravaggio Ro: If you keep discussing his visual decline I'll have no need for an escape route because I'll simply burst into loud and dramatic tears Ali: Oh God, don't Ali: He'll want to comfort you Ro: Oh Ro: I never thought of that and I hope the mental image never crosses my mind again Ali: Yeah, that's his shit, worst type Ali: as bad as the boys making you cry, that's right Kayne, I said it Ro: I don't understand why he likes me when you exist Ro: Surely you're his type, as you are the bad boys around here, as well Ro: Sorry Tess Ali: Nah, I'm not as nice as you Ali: thus not worthy of his lurve Ali: Devastated, of course Ro: You're nicer than me, as Carly can attest Ali: Only to those who deserve it Ali: He gotta know that Ro: He believes he is one of the chosen though Ali: As far as I know he's neither Jewish nor Harry Potter so Ali: not that those are MY parameters 😂 Ro: He's proud of not having read any of the Harry Potter books as far as I know Ro: And to think we could ever be together! No no Ali: 'Course he is Ali: HATING POPULAR THINGS ISN'T A PERSONALITY TRAIT, NOR IS IT INTERESTING OR ENDEARING TO PEOPLE Ali: Shouting so he can hopefully hear Ro: I would tell him but I'm so embarrassed by everything he's already spoken aloud that I can barely speak Ro: I have to get out of here Ali: Run baby run Ali: I can do a stellar Ma impression Ali: out of the realm you'd be in trouble but I can ring you with drama like Ali: FUCKING HELL, GET HOME NOW, ROCKY'S ON THE ROOF AND THE CHICKEN'S BURNING AND ALI IS NO HELP AT ALL AHH Ro: Please do Ro: I didn't expect to be asking for an invocation of your mother to get me out of trouble but I gladly shall Ro: And owe you one too Ro: I've been on and off my phone so he can't appear as if it'd be out of the blue Ro: Oh and now I'm rhyming... Ali: Find yourself in times of trouble, Mother Tessie comes to thee, speaking words of wisdom, let it be Ali: On it Ali: Scouse don't fail me now Ro: If you keep making me laugh this plan is going to fall apart Ro: If in doubt, speak angry Gaeilge, he doesn't so he'll never know what you're talking about Ali: Into it

[nox-writings-blog]

modern, muggle headcanons

[wolfstar and jily/jegulily, 1,5523]

 Remus

oversized sweaters and button downs all day everyday

ink stained hands

collects old books - Most have torn pages and faded ink from constant rereading.

has too many half written stories all featuring the same characters he’s overly attached to (an: oh shit its actually me)

somehow always carries chocolate or knows the nearest place he can get some.

works in a book store (an: I just love this au too much ik its cliché as hell)

WELSH ACCENT

can and will fall asleep anywhere

all his clothes have rips in them or are extremely worn - not on purpose like Padfoot however (’MOONY ITS PUNK ROCK SHUT UP AND GIMME THE SCISSORS’)

enjoys the rain a lot - lucky they stay in Scotland then

Amber eyes and golden hair that lightly curls with his love of the rain (James gets jealous bc hes the ‘curly haired friend’)

always carries a notebook, of which he has wayyyyy too many

knows too many constellations which he doodles in all of his notebooks and always keeps track of the moon phases, hence the nickname

his sleep schedule is beyond screwed - probably caused by “ nope I cant sleep without reading Pads,” and then getting completely transfixed by a fictional world

always sketching people around him, he could happily sit in a café all day and draw everyone there, maybe he has an entire notebook of Padfoot sketches, maybe he does not, who knows

can’t function without coffee

very trustworthy of his friends almost too trusting, but can barely talk to a person outside of their group

almost too pale, couldn’t tan if he tried all that the sun does is give him a light dusting of freckles and chases away his beloved rain

loves living in the attic of their huge shared home (curtesy of James’ insanely large inheritance and Sirius’ uncle Alphaard) it has wooden walls and an obscene amount of plants, his favourite part is a large window on the ceiling that he enjoys climbing out especially when its drizzling when the others join him

usually the subject of Padfoot’s (favourite) polaroids

probably the only guy there that thinks of the consequences of a situation before they become a reality

the responsible one

can read & write music

pianist

Lily & Peter read all of his stories - annoyed they aren’t finished

loves animals, still pretends to be annoyed when James brings home stray dogs

gets sick constantly and secretly finds it hilarious when Sirius freaks out and acts like his nurse

Sirius

constantly painting, drawing and creating awesome art pieces

photography nerd - has a huge collection of polaroids & pinholes in his ‘dark room’ (a cupboard under the stairs that has a red light)

owns a motorbike that he is constantly repairing and is attempting to convince James to get one too “prongs we’ll look awesome c’mon do it or the aesthetic” James can’t ride a damn bicycle

always stealing Remus’ sweaters, even thought they are all about 10 sizes too big

has at least 15 leather jackets.(Wears one bc Moony got him patches for it years ago)

Long black hair that is always falling into tired grey eyes - Walburga has threatened to chop it off too many times

works in an art gallery, occasionally slips in his own work (the manager knows but she loves his work)

angsty as hell

always listening to music - preferably on vinyls  “I don’t care how expensive it is Wormtail, it sounds far better (also it’s not my credit card its my cousin Bellatrix’s so???)

Smoker (probably for the aesthetic tbh) “yeah right Moons it makes me punk rock as shit,”

wears his biker boots all day everyday

plays guitar (secretly acoustic is his favourite)

all his clothes are ripped as heck

very very protective of his friends, has given out and received his fair share of black eyes for this “its for a noble cause also it makes me look pun-”        “ Padfoot for god sake we get it you’re punk rock!”

terrible at showing negative emotions but has learned to when it comes to Prongs and Moony - he’s getting there with some of the others

obsessive in his love for dogs and is genuinely offended when Lily gets a cat, the day he found out  James bought it the word ‘betrayal’ is genuinely used, even more offended when Regulus began playing with the cats “ Sirius I'm named after a star in the LEO constellation???”

such a drama queen (speaking of Queen imagine him & Bohemian Rhapsody?)

tries to hide his aristocratic background, though his mannerisms show it off quite often

fluent in French he has a slight French accent

Lives on Tumblr (surprisingly this was never meant on this site) & Netflix

also memorises the moon phases ( just to impress Remus honestly)

makes awful puns constantly “I'm serious”       “nah I'm Sirius you’re James”         “ugh are you fucking serious”         “nah I'm fucking Moony” *atrocious wink*

ripped skinny jeans - Wormtail still calls him emo for it

James

super athletic

Loves photography claims to use the best equipment but still constantly invades Sirius’ excuse for a dark room

plays drums

somehow the only one who can cheer up Regulus instantly

only has 1 pair of glasses even though he is horrendously clumsy, Lily is assuming he is just seeing how much tape he can build up before they are entirely useless

obsessed over football - he manages a small team that he is way too enthusiastic about

still surprised Lily even talks to him “James we’ve been dating for 5 years stop being a prat”

plans out the biggest pranks and somehow manages to get everyone involved, if he doesn't they turn to shit but that's a ‘secret’ everybody knows

only shoes he actually ones are trainers & football boots “James you are not wearing Nikes to Alice and Franks bloody wedding!”

really copetitive

obsessively plays Xbox and has weekly gaming nights with everyone (Sirius always rage quits) Wormtail is the only one who is still playing with him after 30 minutes

goes on tones of unplanned road trips with Lily

tries a weird new diet practically every week, sort of a health freak

way too much house pride - his whole room is decorated red and gold

has an old pickup truck he prides too much even though he is almost needing to fix it as much as Sirius and his ancient motorbike

the ‘mom friend’ always looking after everyone

Peter

actually the only reason they don’t all eat fast food & take aways 24/7 - he’s a great cook

proof reads all of Remus’ stories for him before they get posted

works as a barista in a grunge as hell café across the road - the others always hang out there when he’s working

secretly enjoys the challenge of James’ strange dieting (gluten free+ vegan month was definitely a challenge though)

owns 2 pet rats - is scared shitless that Regulus’ pet snake is going to eat them at one point

really good at giving gifts because he’s great at listening to people

has a massive collection of hoodies for no apparent reason

always third wheeling because of Wolfstar and Jily, it’s better now that Regulus has move in though

really good at video games - occasionally lets James win because he gets too moody otherwise

bassist

only listens to indie & grunge music - secretly loves Sirius' obsession with vinyls

Lily

not super feminine but always has the latest fashion trends - usually fairly alternative (known to sport the jeans + fishnets thing that looks bomb as hell)

reads almost as much as Remus and is always hanging out in the book shop he works at

really enjoys playing football with James - finds it hilarious when he gets competitive

super long ginger hair + green eyes

loves tattoos, has handpoked a few of her own (mainly gets them done professionally, her friend Marlene is a tattoo artist) & Sirius let her do a moon on his wrist

doesn’t know that James reads all the books she talks about until she finds 3 of them hidden on his side of them wardrobe and interrogates him

super spontaneous really enjoys the constant unplanned road trips 

does a lot of digital art, usually draws characters from books most often the characters Remus will never let go of in his stories

can ride a motorbike and occasionally takes Sirius’ for a spin

just a badass tbh

everyone takes their problems to her because she somehow has a solution for everything

wants to get into interior design and when they move in she helps everyone decorate their rooms, constantly adding to their home paints a different wall every week

literally friends with everyone - nobody dislikes her and probably couldn't if they tried

has a weird skill for knitting, likely the source of 90% of Remus’ holy sweaters

obsessed with ‘retro’ things, favourite things tend to be from the 80s/90s

always helping Wormtail when he is baking, as long as she gets the first taste

an: this was just a random thing I wrote in a notebook at school, the next time we get a cover teacher I’ll probably add some secondary characters (Regulus, Alice, Frank etc)

#the marauders #modern marauders #moony #remus lupin #remus x sirius #Sirius x remus #remus john lupin #professor lupin #muggle au #padfoot #Sirius black #sirius orion black #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #writers on tumblr #prongs #james potter #james fleamont potter #jily #james x lily #jegulus #jegulily #lily evans #lily potter #regulus black #regulus #harry potter #hp fandom #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic

[deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts]

Awkward encounters - Davin x reader (The Stag)

AN: I came up with this cute little idea after rewatching the stag last weekend. Here you go :) I’m not tagging anyone from my forever tag list as I’m unsure who’s actually seen this movie. 

Summary: You’re one of Davin’s students and you stumble upon them in the woods.

Word count: 1,150

Warnings: Strong language, teacher/student relationship?, spoilers I guess.

It was meant to be an early morning walk, clear your head, walk your sister’s dog. You didn't expect to find your english lecturer butt naked with five other men in the middle of the Irish country side. 

You always had a crush on your english lecturer, he was young, fairly (and by fairly, you meant really) good looking and the way he spoke just transfixed you. He was your favourite part of the day although you’d never admit that. 

The past couple lectures you had noticed that he had a couple friends coming to visit him, including a very beautiful woman which almost made you jealous. That is until you found out through the grape vine that the woman was actually his best friend’s fiancé. 

Not that any of this mattered though because he was your teacher and he barely knew who you were. 

Back to the forest. 

You wouldn't normally track this far but you had to house sit for your sister this weekend and you had to walk her small dog everyday. 

You had been walking along the road, on the way back to your car, when you saw them. 

Six completely naked men. 

“Oh shit.” You heard one say from a distance. 

“What? What is it?” The tallest and most macho looking one asked.

“I know her, she’s, oh my god, she’s...she’s one of my students.” The first man tried to hide awkwardly behind the machine of a man but failed because that’s when you recognised him. Dark hair, bright eyes. It was your English lecturer. 

“She’s one of your students?! You’re kidding right? Have you fucked her yet?” The machine asked, obviously checking you out.

Davin turned bright red as he covered his face with his hands at the machine’s inappropriate comment.

“Sir?” You asked as you eyed the naked men that were now only a couple metres in front of you. 

“He...Hey...(Y/n)...” David folded his arms across his chest awkwardly and stared down at your feet. 

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter for a few seconds. 

“What on earth are you doing?” You asked as you struggled to regain your composure.

“It’s a long story.” The hairier man out of them all told you. 

“You happen to have a car, do you?” One of the other men asked you. 

“Um... I do but it’s a two seater and quite a while away from here. What the hell happened to all of you?” You asked, you couldn’t help but check out your english professor. A string of dirty thoughts entering your mind. You were surprised your face hadn't gone red yet.

“We’re...uh...we’re kind of on a stag.” The youngest looking lad told you. 

“Well, it must be one hell of a stag. I’m sure, Davin will fill me in another time but maybe we should get you some clothes?” You suggested, pulling off your scarf and handing it to Davin. 

“We actually have clothes but we kind of lost them. You wouldn't happen to know where the bothy is out here?” Davin’s best friend, you recognised from a lecture the other day, asked you. 

“Well, I don’t actually live up here, my sister does but I’m sure I can ask someone.” You told them, keeping an eye on the machine who was petting your dog. 

You watched a wave of relief wash over them all. 

“Look, (Y/n), do you mind not mentioning this to anyone. Ever.” Davin neared you with a quiet voice. You chuckled softly, and nodded your head. 

“Sure. No problem. As long as I get an explanation later.” 

“God, of course, of course.” Davin assured you. 

There was a moment of silence as you and Davin watched each other as you smiled, you couldn’t believe he knew your name, most of your teachers didn't. 

That’s when one of the men cleared their throats. 

“Um...right.” You awkwardly chucked and averted your eyes, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat up. “So if you, uh, continue walking down the road, you'll hit the town. I’ll get on those bags for ya.” You gesture behind you at the road. 

“Thank you.” Davin’s best friend thanked you and they all started walking. Davin told you where they were staying so you could get the bags there and then left. You watched them all walk away and decided that Davin definitely has the best bum. 

It didn't take long to find a local who knew where the bothy was and sent the bags to the guys. 

You didn't see the men again until a few days later as you had to take the dog back to your sister’s house and pick your sister up from the train station.

Back at home, you were on a hike, it was early for you. Usually you preferred to go once week after the sun had risen, but you had woken up early and couldnt sleep so you thought why not. 

You looked out over your small town and exhaled deeply. 

“Damn it. Someone’s beat me.” You heard a familiar voice come up behind you. 

“Davin?” You smiled, turning on your heels to face the man who was smiling back at you.

“I didn't see you again after you helped us. You didn't give me any time to explain.” Davin chuckled, standing beside you to watch the sunrise. 

“Six completely naked men in the middle of rural Ireland. Didn't need to ask.” you teased. Davin laughed at that and ran his hand over his face. 

“We thought we saw a lake, we were high and thought it was a great idea to go for a late night swim. That is why we were naked. We couldn’t find the lake and then we couldn’t find our way back.” Davin informed you. You laughed, shaking your head at him. 

“That’s hilarious. Don't worry, I’ve heard worse.” You winked at the man. 

“Okay, well I have to hear some of those stories sometime.” Davin laughed again, “Oh, I almost forgot. I kind of ruined your scarf by wearing it so here.” Davin removed his scarf and handed it to you. 

You hesitated to take it at first. 

“Thank you.” You grinned brightly up at the man. Davin stared back down at you with a goofy lopsided smile back. His eyes ran over your face as you went back to looking at the view. 

“Do you.. Do you want to go to a wedding?” Davin asked out of the blue. 

Your head snapped round, you furrowed your eyebrows at the odd question. 

“What?”

Davin then realised what he had just asked randomly. 

“I just mean, I need plus one and it’d give everyone a chance to thank you and I don’t know, it was just an idea...” Davin rambled. You wrapped the scarf around your neck, it smelt strongly of Davin. 

“I’d love to.” 

Like I said I’m not tagging in this one as I don’t know who’s seen the Stag and who hasn't.

#the stag #davin #davin x reader #andrew scott #andrew scott imagines #jim moriarity #jim moriarty imagine #jim moriarty x reader #moriarty x reader #moriarty imagines #moriarty #the bachelor weekend #davin imagines #imagines #imagine #one shot #drabble

[twistednuns]

October 2018

Being so busy that I can hardly keep up with these lists anymore.

A fat, fluffy red cat keeping up with a running girl on the other side of the fence.

Working with clay.

Applying for an international education programme in Canada.

The evening at Oktoberfest with my colleagues. Dancing in front of Hexenschaukel as usual, right before going home.

An incredibly soft, bright red pencil. Japanese brush pens from Arket. Drawing. I never know that I miss it until I start scribbling again.

Spending the evening with Manu, Martin and Indian food. Playing SingStar. Laughing way more than we should about a set of 400 Chuck Norris jokes. Falling asleep with my head resting on Manu's shoulder. A weird half-conscious flashback, different places and childhood memories accompanied by calm, happy piano music.

Rosie Leizrowice: „When I find myself overwhelmed or in a stressful situation, I try to imagine myself from above, then pan backwards until I see the whole street, the city, the county, the country, Europe, this blue planet — then let it fade into darkness (this is also a meditation technique.) It works every time. Because once you visualise yourself as an insignificant speck, you realise how inconsequential just about everything is. And although that can be paralysing, it can also be liberating.”

Jonah Hill's role as the Icelander Snorri in episode 9 of Maniac's first season. But Emma Stone as a drunk elf is hilarious as well!

The fact that Google Maps now shows Earth as an actual globe. Makes exploring feel much more real!

A visit from Bibi on a Sunday evening. Looking for mushrooms in the forest, walking over the fields, petting a cat, visiting Tom at work. Perfect against Sunday blues.

KARAOKE!! Especially performing Tenacious D's Fuck Her Gently on stage with Manu.

Spending a lot of time with Doris during the preparations for the school anniversary. We're on really good terms at the moment. / Climbing onto the school's roof with Mr L. so we could apply the banner from above. Great view. / Founding a choir.

Going to bed on a Friday afternoon after the anniversary party. Finally I didn't have to stress anymore and spent the whole weekend in bed (because I got sick, yeehaa).

Meeting Franzi for drinks at Gärtnerplatz. She's going to be a mum next year, at the same time as Meghan Markle! I'm happy for her.

Satin headbands (hello, Blair Waldorf!) / dainty gold rings / huge, soft scarves / matte nail polish, still / dyke couture (lumberjack shirt)

Attending a workshop on English literature where a director from Residenztheater's youth department showed us how to teach Hamlet to our students. I had a lot of fun with the different kinds of games and acting in our own scenes. My favourite part was playing Hamlet's thoughts. Yep, that's a role, too.

Singing along to songs from Once More With Feeling, the best Buffy episode ever made. Finding out that Manu knows most of the lyrics by heart was fantastic, I didn't know that episode had more than one die-hard fan (=me).

Jumping on the trampolines at Maxx Arena with my class. Beating everyone at American Gladiator (boxing them off the beam into the foam cubes). Jumping down from a trapeze. Scary and my muscles were very sore the next day but it was a lot of fun.

Benedict Wells' reading his own short stories in Munich. He still has a very Southern German rolling r-sound going on. Charming!

My brother gave me Michael Greger's book How Not to Die and even though I started out very sceptic it gave me the last push I needed to go back to vegetarianism / semi-veganism. I'm probably not going to stop eating a little bit of yoghurt and cheese any time soon but meat, fish and eggs absolutely have to go. Yuck. I always have unsweetened almond milk at home - the perfect substitute for milk. And I love apple slices and a few almonds as a sweet snack.

Kurt Vile's Jesus Fever live in concert. Drifting off during the show, thinking about possible outcomes of my trip to Scotland. Meeting Ralf! / Related: Kurt Vile in conversation.

Realising that I can actually spend up to a third of a year travelling. Apparently the universe knew better then me when it created all those coincidences that made me become a teacher.

Doing sun salutations at home. Just because I had some extra energy that Friday evening.

Reading English magazine articles out loud to myself, in a posh voice. Feeling like a literary ASMR-tist.

Especially reading something about Australia which often seems like a forgotten country to me - that is the reason why stories about Australia, for example The Sunburnt Country in Believer Magazine, sometimes take on a fairytale-like character for me.

This is 18 - through photographs girls show what it is like to turn 18 in the year 2018.

I'm grateful for people who let me join their family occasionally. It's always both strange and nice since I'm not used to a family dynamic at all. Especially experiencing the presence of a father is so unfamiliar for me. Markus let me harvest honey with his parents in the summer and Manu asked his father to teach us woodcarving at his workshop. We ended up staying with his family until very late, drinking liqueur and playing board games.

Marzipan and buttered soft pretzels. Geez, I'm addicted.

Waking up from a very real nightmare in which I suddenly had a cat and a baby who I both neglected. Scary.

Colouring (IKEA's 'city overrun by monsters' drawing sheet).

Crystal encrusted hoop earrings from &otherstories.

A Star Is Born - this movie made me fall in love with Bradley Cooper AND Lady Gaga. Also, I'm obsessed with the song Shallow and the red leather boots Ally is wearing on the motorcycle.

Compliments from my art students - they compared my respect level to that of our principal. Woah.

Going to Scotland for the first time! Things I liked in no particular order: staying at Erika and Brendon's apartment - she is a lovely Bolivian and he is a co-author of the Rough Guide to Scotland; he told me about his favourite book by Sebald, a German author, and urged me to read it / Gatuso, the fluffiest cat / early mornings in the empty backyard, watching Gatuso strolling through the sunshine, seeing the white frost on the plants / Waitrose supermarkets / the Scottish accent / doing a walking tour with Stefanie, she was quite entertaining / trying 16-year-old smokey Scotch whiskey / going out with Rasmus and his friends, drinking at Banshee Labyrinth (the most haunted pub in Scotland apparently), admiring the costumes at the gay bar / a free impro comedy show on a lazy Sunday / old libraries / Banoffee Pie at Stockbridge Market / Greyfriar's kirkyard - the most beautiful graveyard with a very nostalgic, gothic atmosphere; maybe because you can see the grey buildings of the old town surrounding it and because of all the spooky stories / speaking of stories: there is so much folklore... about Maggie Dickson, Greyfriar's Bobby, the places that inspired the Harry Potter novels. Love it. / Blackwell's bookstore / my tour through the Highlands - gorgeous weather and autumn colours, such a spectacular landscape / rainbows over Edinburgh / My magic brings Voldemort to the yard and damn right it's hurting my scar / The old town, the quirky old-timey store fronts, the dark walls, architecture, little alleys. / the entrance hall of the National Scottish Portrait Gallery //

#things i love #present perfect #personal #october #2018 #october 2018