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lahooozaherr · 6 months

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What Was I Made For?

Part 1

Please note: This blog stands with Palestine. If you are interacting with my account and TLOU related posts, I ask that you PLEASE visit these links. Be critical and mindful while partaking in TLOU content and be aware that creator Neil Druckmann is a Zionist.

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: Hypothermia??, soft!Joel, a pet name (sweetheart), Joel kinda goes to therapy, mention of child/loved one loss, I think that’s it but as always please let me know

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNTS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Chapter Summary: Joel and Tommy find you on their morning patrol, saving you from succumbing to hypothermia. You and Joel bond almost immediately, visiting you in your recovery. He takes your recommendation for a book you both relate to.

A/N: Howdy y’all, I’m so sorry I posted my Masterlist and lowkey ghosted :’D I went on vacation, my sweet bby cat passed away, life happened. But I finally got this edited where I want it and I hope I can keep those creative wheels turnings. Please comment and reblog if you end up liking it, it keeps me going!

Joel Vibes Playlist

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | My Taglist

It had been a long journey, but you think you’d finally made it as you trekked across the snowy landscape. It was barely before the crack of dawn, the sky still a deep blue with scattered stars. You did your best to travel here from your previous “home”, coming across a dead traveler’s map indicating the supposed safe place.

You were exhausted, cursing to yourself that you shouldn’t have pushed your body as much as you had. But you were desperate. And scared, so tired of being scared. Traveling alone was already risky, but with your body pushed to its limit, it was twice as much.

You find your way to a clearing with some trees and bushes when you collapse. Your body had quite literally given up on you, after everything you put it through. What a cruel irony that it would be just when you’d made it to your destination.

Consciousness was becoming harder and harder to hold onto as you laid there in the snow, body too worn out to even shiver. You get one last look of the night sky as everything fades to black.

—————————————————————————

Joel didn’t particularly care for patrol, he just simply did it because he was one of the most fit for the job. Settling in Jackson meant doing your part for the community, and this became his. But over time he appreciated the solitude it provided. Once in a while there had been trouble with a wandering Infected, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

An early horse ride through the quiet mountainside outside of the town just as the sun rises ended up being a soothing balm for his aches. He’d ride alongside Tommy, sometimes engaging in conversation, but most of the time the brothers rode on in a companionable silence.

There’s something healing about being able to spend time in nature without as much fear for impending danger or survival.

Tommy was midway through his explanation for plans to head straight to breakfast upon their return when he stopped, halting his horse underneath him. “Joel, look, do you see that?” He points ahead of him. Joel stops alongside him, following his pointer finger, squinting his eyes to see better. The sun had just started to rise and cast a bright light off of the snow.

Joel finally spots what Tommy is bringing attention to, what looks like a slumped-over body in the snow. He swiftly jumps off his horse, bringing his rifle over his shoulder to ready just in case of danger. He signs to Tommy for silence with a finger raised to his lips, quietly stalking towards the body. It doesn’t move.

When he approaches the body, seeing it’s you, he sighs and signs to Tommy that it’s safe. Tommy releases the breath he held in, “what is it?”

“A girl,” Joel kneels next to you and checks you over, bringing a hand to touch your face. You’re ice cold, enough for him to at first think you’re dead. But he knows better than to assume from just that, moving his fingers over your neck’s pulse point, then reaching for your wrist. He feels a pulse. Faint, but definitely there.

“She’s alive!” He shouts to Tommy, who jumps off his horse, reaching into the satchel on its side and pulls out a homemade quilt. After making a quick look for obvious wounds on your body, Joel makes quick work of removing his top coat and maneuvers you around to wrap you in it. It’s leather and thick, something that should hopefully trap any heat it can.

Tommy’s next to Joel’s side in an instant, handing him the blanket he also uses to wrap you in.

Joel shuffles on his knees to prepare himself to lift you, feeling a twinge in his lower back that makes him groan. Tommy holds his arms out, “here I got ‘er, don’t hurt your back.”

“Nah, nah it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah it’s ok, you take care of the horses. I’ got her, I don’t want to try to sling her over one though.”

“Alright.”

Tommy returns to the horses, connecting the leash of Joel’s to his. He mounts his and leads them after Joel.

Joel adjusts you in his arms, cautiously getting you into a proper position to carry you. His eyes dart all over your features, taking them in. His mind runs through all the ways they can take a shortcut back to the town and considers them. He doesn’t know how long you’ve been out here and has no idea how much time you could have.

He scrunches the hood of the blanket around your face, not completely covering it but just enough to start building some warmth. For the meantime, at least.

He stomps one foot before the other in the snow, breaking it apart with the large steps to get through. Him and Tommy head back down their trail.

—————————————————————————

You are frozen, you can definitely feel that. Your limbs feel stiff and threaten to tremble more than they could be if it weren’t for the all encompassing embrace you feel. When you start to hazily come to, you realize you’re wrapped and being carried.

Hold on. You’re being carried?

Before you can even process the entire thought, your heart rate starts to pick up. You hear your blood in your ears and bile rises at the back of your throat as panic starts to set in. Where are you being taken? Whose carrying you?”

When you open your eyes, you don’t even stop to take a look at who's holding you, you just do your damndest to wiggle out of their arms.

“Whoa, WHOA there!”

You hear a man cry out but you continue to jerk away. He fumbles his grip on you but still manages to keep you close. He kneels to set you on the ground, leaning against him.

“Hey. Heyyy, settle down now,” he says in a low voice, attempting to calm you down. With his hand that’s not underneath you, he uses it to cup the side of your face and bring your attention to him.

You stop fighting back as soon as you meet his eyes. Dark, brown eyes you become instantly lost in. They look concerned, and warm as he keeps them on yours. You start to calm down, only the sound of your ragged breathing between you.

“Hey now, it’s ok, you’re safe I promise,” he almost pleads to you, attempting further to coaxe you down. Not that you have much strength to fight back anyhow. But the look in his eyes, and the sincerity in his voice, breaks through to you. You could almost cry, it’s a miracle you were found.

“We’re taking you back to our town,” he explains, his southern accent peeking through the lilt in his tone. “We’ll fix ya up there, ok sweetheart?”

Before he can really finish what he’s saying, you’ve been pulled back into a deep sleep. You’re finally experiencing a sliver of safety since god knows when, and it’s enough for your body to relax and give in to the darkness.

—————————————————————————

When you come to, your body feels instantly thrusted into fight or flight. You open your eyes with a sharp inhale through your nose, hands clutching the bedding surrounding you. You feel a large hand quickly cover yours, holding and giving an intentional squeeze.

You look over to that side of you and see the man from earlier. He’s seated beside you, one hand over yours and the other rubbing your shoulder. It feels like he’s trying to help ground you, once again.

“Hey I’m here, it’s alright,” he practically cooes. The timbre of his voice is stern but smooth at the same time. The hand on your shoulder runs up and down your arm.

You stare back at him, speechless. Your breathing is rapid and hard to bring down, heart hammering in your chest.

“Here, just breathe with me, ok?” He starts to demonstrate to you a breathing technique, inhaling and exhaling from his nose as well, in timed increments. You do as he says and follow along, matching your breathing to his. He guides the hand he’s holding to sit flat on your belly, then reaches for your other hand to place on your chest. He gives a quick grunt of approval as he continues along with you.

After a few minutes, your rapid heartbeat and breathing subside. When he notices, one side of his mouth turns up into a grin.

You study his features as you come down, noticing his eyes once again. He looks like a gruff man on the surface, but his emotions shine bright through his eyes. His salt and pepper hair is fluffy and slightly tamed. Scruff that matches frames his jaw, save for a few bare patches. But that doesn’t take away from how handsome he is.

“There now, there ya go,” he encourages, giving your hand another intentional squeeze. “The so-called therapist in town taught me that. Helpful, huh?”

You can’t seem to muster a response despite the thousands of questions that flood your mind. You look around at your surroundings and do your best to soak it all in. You’re in a normal bedroom, in a very normal bed covered with quilts. A normalcy you haven’t seen in so long.

You notice to the side of him is a pair of reading glasses on top of a book. When your eyes meet him again, he grins cautiously as he removes his hands and leans back. You already miss the safety of his touch.

“Did you….stay with me?” You finally stutter out a question. He sits straight in his seat and nods, you can see the flex of his shoulders from how tight his plaid shirt stretches across them.

“I figured you’d want to wake up to a somewhat familiar face,” he answers with a chuckle. “You’re in Jackson, by the way.”

You lean back against the pillows, releasing a sigh of relief. You made it, you really made it. And this man saved you, almost in more ways than one already.

“Name’s Joel,” he offers. In return, you share your name as well.

His gaze on you feels comforting, the most you’ve felt from a man in ages. It’s very hard to come by that in this world.

A knock on the door startles you, causing you to reflexively grab for Joel’s hand. He allows you, wrapping your hand in his. The door opens and a woman approaches from the other side, “hey there, heard some commotion. Is our girl finally awake?”

“She sure is,” Joel responds to her. She nods in acknowledgement to him and approaches your other side, “I’m one of the town doctors, Elaina.” You snap out of your daze and respond with your name again and she smiles.

“Joel got you here just in the nick of time, any longer and you would have been in serious trouble. Mild hypothermia. After a week or so of rest and recovery, you should be just fine. Apologies for the change in clothes, I had to check for wounds. I’m sure you understand.”

“H-how long was I out?”

“Not too long since I found you,” Joel interjects. “But at least been a day.”

The more you’ve sat at attention, the more you can feel the stiff soreness throughout your limbs. You slump back into the bed and release a breathy exhale. It definitely feels like it will be some time before you’re back up and running.

Joel pats your hand and stands, “I’ll be right back.” When he rises to stand, you reach out to grab his hand back. But halfway through you realize how strange that might seem and stop yourself. But he seems to notice, and gives you a reassuring smile, “I’m grabbing you some food, I won’t be long.” You concede, “ok.”

After he leaves, the doctor places a stethoscope across your back and chest. You do as she directs so she can check you over. She tells you to give yourself about a week or so before any activity, stay in bed, etc. and to not worry.

“Now that you’re in Jackson, you’re a part of the community, the details can be worried about later,” she affirms to you. Relief washes over you. You feel so grateful to have ended up here. To have been saved. Especially to be saved by Joel.

—————————————————————————

Later, Joel returns with a tray of food. Something light, for the time being. You can’t overdo it in this state. You thank him before promptly digging in.

He sits back in the chair he occupied before, bringing his book and glasses back to his lap.

“Is that what you were doing while you waited for me?” You query, as he responds with an amused huff, hanging the reading glasses in the front pocket of his flannel shirt.

“Yeah, had to pass the time somehow,” he mutters as he takes a quick shuffle through the book pages. “Been pretty caught up in this one lately.”

He holds it for you to see the name: No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy. The name seems familiar, maybe you’ve read something of his. It’ll probably come to you later.

You stop eating your food for a moment, processing the situation some more. “Thank you,” you begin to say.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replies in a voice almost mournful. Haggard from years of living in this kind of world.

“Well, I am,” you state.

You stare into each other's eyes for a few moments, not budging. His expression seems conflicted, like he doesn’t know how to receive thanks in the first place. He pats both of his legs before standing, picking up his book from your side table. “Well I best be lettin’ you rest.”

You wish you could ask him to stay, but prevent yourself from that as well. You’ve only just met the man, but even then, after only just meeting, he’s made you feel the most security you’ve had in so long. Maybe it’s the abandonment issues but your heart screams for him to stay.

You’re not sure how to respond with this whirlwind in your chest crying out for comfort. You settle with a nod to him on his way out. He stops in the doorway to give you a wave goodbye and pauses, eyes lingering on you before he finally turns to leave.

The doctor, Elaina, checks on you a few more times before leaving you to rest for the night. As much as you feel lonely, you also feel content. It’s hard to resist the real mattress and blankets that surround you. The silence is comfortable as you drift back into a proper slumber.

—————————————————————————

He returns the next morning, to your surprise again. He finds you sitting upright in bed, just after Elaina had done her morning check on you. She gives him a small smile in acknowledgment passing him on her way out of the door.

“You came back?” You questioned. He lingers in the doorway with a tray of food, eyes searching yours for silent permission to enter.

He looks down at the tray and back to you, “I figured I’d stop by after my patrol….bring you some proper breakfast.”

You’re stunned and start to become very aware of how obvious that emotion is displayed in your expression. It’s such a kind gesture, from someone who just barely met (saved) you yesterday. Worry laces his features subtly, when you notice you smile, “thank you.” His face brightens slightly, trading the worrisome facade for one of relief.

He gingerly sets the tray upon your lap and returns to the same seat beside you. A sigh of relief escapes his lips, you’re not sure if it’s from his busy morning or that he’s attained your approval. You don’t mind either way.

“How’re ya feelin’ today?” He asks, adjusting himself in his seat, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“Already so much better,” you respond as you situate the tray of food on your lap. “I keep thinking it’s a dream. I haven’t been met with kindness like this in so long.”

His face is stoic but his eyes speak volumes, full of empathy. You can tell he understands the feeling without saying it. He leans back and folds his arms across his chest as he watches you take bites of your food.

“Where are ya from?”

“Denver QZ. I came across a map with notes about here. Figured I had nothing to lose.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah. I’ve been alone for a while.”

The conversation grows grim, nearing a tender spot. A spot Joel is very familiar with.

“That’s very dangerous, travelin’ by yourself,” he states, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It was. I’ve learned to be quiet and lie low. But I know I’m just lucky,” you sigh. You were very aware of how bad it could have gone. But self preservation is thin when you’re isolated and desperate. You don’t feel like you have to explain yourself much more in regards to that. He seems to accept it, though.

“Well…” he begins, taking your finished tray and setting it to the side. “You’ve come to the right place. Tommy’ll figure out the details.”

“Tommy?”

“My brother. He an’ I found you together, he’ll come see you himself eventually,” he continues.

“But you just worry about resting, leave to rest to us and Elaina. We’ll help you get settled in.”

You nod slowly, absorbing the new information. It’s been such a relief to have others to rely on, to finally find a community. You can’t wait for this fresh start.

You look around him, “didn’t bring your book today?”

“Ah, it’s at home. I thought about bringing it up but I didn’t know if you were going to talk my ear off or not,” he teases, giving you a half-grin.

You feel heat rushing to your cheeks, “been a long time since I’ve done that, too.” You chuckle under your breath.

But as you relax back into the bed, stomach full, you feel like you could sleep forever. The satisfied feeling tempts you back to sleep, but you’re too interested in your new friendship with Joel. You wonder why such an intimidating man like himself chooses to stick by you.

“I was thinking about where I’d seen that author before, from the book you’re reading,” you tell him. “It’s been a very long time but I’ve read his book called ‘The Road’.”

You think back to when you had read the book, finding it in a pile in an abandoned library you’d stumbled into years ago. It was one of the few you’d taken.

“‘The Road’, huh?” He rubs at the scruff on his chin with his knuckles. “What’s it about?”

You give him a shrug, “well, a father and son in the apocalypse. Although a bit of a hard read, nowadays.”

Joel’s interest peaked, “father and son?”

You nod with a yawn, “But it’s honestly good, I still enjoyed it….” Your voice starts to trail off, growing more tired.

“Is that so?” He ponders for a moment, genuinely. “If I see it I’ll grab it.”

You nuzzle into your pillow with a sleepy grin as you close your eyes, “if you do…..we can talk about it….”

Joel watches you fall asleep, exhaustion finally winning over. He smiles to himself.

—————————————————————————

Joel does find the book, pretty quickly actually. When he left you to rest, he sought out the makeshift library in town. By a stroke of luck, the selection had plenty of that author. Even doubles of some of his titles. But Joel sifted through until he finally came across a copy of ‘The Road’.

He gives it a look over on his walk home, reading through the synopsis on the back.

A father and his son walk alone through burned America. Nothing moves in the ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind.

It makes him think of Ellie and Sarah. The world as it is now. He remarks on how ironic it feels to have this recommended to him, by someone who barely knows him.

He starts on it that night.

—————————————————————————

“You’re back,” you state, your eyes meeting Joel’s as he lingers in your doorway. Again, with a tray of food in his hands.

“I didn’t have patrol today,” is his only explanation he offers. You accept that, because you’ve been secretly hoping to see him again anyways.

He sets the tray in front of you as you murmur a thank you. He settles back into the seat next to you, “how are you feeling this morning?”

“Much better,” you explain. “I slept for so long, Elaina had to wake me up to eat dinner.”

“Good, I’m sure your body needs it.”

Heat threatens to cross your cheeks from that statement until you tamp it down, “do you eat?”

Joel quirks an eyebrow in response, you immediately realize how poorly the question sounded.

“I-I’m sorry, I mean, you’ve been bringing me food. I hope you’ve also been eating?”

“I do,” he shrugs. “But, it’s hard to, sometimes.”

The expression on his face is somber, something you find harder to read. But based on your personal experience, feelings like anxiety and stress can certainly do that to someone. You feel it’s best to not press further.

He reaches into his inner coat pocket and pulls out a book, laying it next to your legs, “I found you some readin’ material.”

A soft gasp escapes your lips, followed by a smile. You pick up the copy of ‘The Road’, turning it in your hands. It’s been too long since you last held a book that wasn’t at least falling apart or being eaten by mold.

You flip through the pages, marveling at the condition. It’s not brand new by any means, but it’s at least cared for. Adorned with the regular wear and tear of readers' in the past.

“I’m almost done with it,” he notes. Your heart swells in your chest. He was so quick to find and read it. You see where he’s bookmarked it, just a couple of pages from the end. There’s just nothing like the feeling of someone taking your recommendation for a book and actually reading it.

“That was so fast!” You exclaim, opening the book where he last was.

“I couldn’t put it down, to be honest.”

“You must have really like it?”

“I do, very much,” he grins. “I saw some of myself in there.”

“I love when that happens, even if it’s sad.”

You start to skim through, looking for something. He watches you intently as your fingers slide through the pages. The look on your face is satisfying to him, a twinkle returning to your eyes.

“Ah, here, one of my favorite quotes,” you begin to read the passage out loud.

‘You have to carry the fire.

I don’t know how to.

Yes, you do.

Is the fire real? The fire?

Yes it is.

Where is it? I don’t know where it is.

Yes you do. It’s inside you. It always was there. I can see it.’

You lift your head to meet Joel’s gaze, warm with a hint of sorrow. Your emotions probably match his own, in some capacity.

“It made me think of my daughter,” he admits quietly. Your smile drops, he gestures for you to hand him the book. When he takes it, he turns through it until he finds what he’s looking for. He reads the passage.

‘Each the other’s world entire.’

You remember that line. You’ve thought about that a lot. The meaning of it. You used to have others in your life like that. Loved ones lost to the beginning of the end of the world as you knew it.

He stares down at the page, caressing it with his thumb. His chest expands with a deep breath. When he looks back up to you, his eyes are glazed over. Your eyebrows turn upward in concern for him.

He jerks his chin towards your tray, “you should eat.”

You and almost entirely forgot about the food, too caught up in the moment to even feel your stomach rumble. You bring the tray closer to begin your meal, “your daughter?”

He doesn’t respond right away, which sends your stomach into a somersault. You feel insensitive for asking like that. For something so obviously personal and distressing.

“I-I’m sorry, I keep getting ahead of myself,” you stammered, launching into damage control mode. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart,” he reassures you, his voice is tender and low. The nickname would be music to your ears if it weren’t accompanied with such sadness. But you’re so empathetic to this, you know how hard it can be to find the words. He doesn’t seem offended, at least.

Your meal is spent listening to him explain what happened, to your surprise. You’d half expect someone in his position to keep that closed off. A wound that still feels open and fresh.

But he tells what happened that day everything changed. How his daughter was ripped away from him so suddenly, her life slipped away as he held her in his arms. Cradled her long after she was gone, closer to his chest than the day she was born.

He also tells you about Ellie, how that relationship came to be. He’s more vague with this story, but you feel like you have a mutual understanding of that. You feel honored enough that he was willing to share with you. You’re happy he’s found purpose again. No one could ever replace Sarah, but Ellie became the lighthouse in the dark that he desperately needed, much to his own surprise.

It’s extremely hard to move on from something like that. It’s frightening to find new love and always fear of losing it again. It’s scary to be vulnerable in an apocalyptic world that seeks to stamp down any semblance of safety and consistency.

Food tray long since finished and set to the side, you bring the book back to your lap as you listen to him finish his story. You thumb through the pages until you find a line that came to your mind as he spoke about Sarah and Ellie. You read it out loud.

‘You have my whole heart. You always did.’

He smiles softly, cupping his hand over yours to give you a small affectionate squeeze as you hold the book. You return the gesture, opening your palm for him. His hands are large, warm and calloused. The warmth of his hand in yours is soothing.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” you comfort him.

“I don’t usually do that,” he murmurs as he brings a sleeve up to dab at the tears that say at the ends of his eyes. “Must be special.”

You smile bashfully, your eyes drawn down to your lap to avoid his gaze. You hear a low chuckle rumble from his chest.

“I regularly ask myself….if I couldn’t save my baby, the one most precious to me, what was I made for?”

You meet his eyes with tears pricking at the ends of yours, you try to convey as much empathy and compassion as possible in your eyes. Let him read them.

“You were made to love, and be loved,” you tell him, matter of factly.

His lips part in awe, rendered speechless. You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if he had only simply forgotten this fact.

Not him, not with his past, not with the blood on his hands, is what he almost says. You had both alluded to each other at times that you’ve both had to do things to survive this world. Most have. But you were still somehow loving, kind and compassionate. Even to someone like him. He knows how he comes across to people in town, and it’s hard to adjust and unlearn that survival habit to be brooding and formidable. But it’s also what’s comfortable, what he’s used to. It’s carried him this far in life.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes.

Divider by @saradika (I usually make sure to reblog your dividers but I wasn’t sure if I got this one so I’m tagging you here. I usually get my dividers from you but I don’t want to spam you with my fics so I wanted to let you know here at least ;3;)

#joel miller x reader #Joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller

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lovemari · 4 months

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IMPORTANT: Hello! My old account, Lovemari, got deleted. Therefore, I had to make a new one. I'm honestly pretty upset about this so I'll take some time to recover! Thankfully, all my posts are saved as I write them in google docs before posting. Please like and reblog so I can reach my old followers and potentially new ones!

Scaramouche - Forbidden Love

Reminder: I'm not an experienced writer so construction criticism is always welcome! Also, I write for fun. I just wanted to share my work around the world!

The balladeer has quite the special relationship with you. It definitely caused a great commotion in the Fatui. Though, it's no surprise at all. Absolutely no one would guess that Lord Scaramouche would show kindness and respect to one of his very own subordinates.

Those who knew Scaramouche’s personality or him on a personal level, were the most shocked. Scaramouche has never once had a conversation with his soldiers without any sort of yelling or abuse.

Some said that maybe the 6th had a crush on you. Others were quick to dismiss it. There was no way someone as cold as Scaramouche would even think about love.

A group theorized that you were possibly someone who knew Scaramouche before he became one of the almighty harbingers.

It was exactly one week later since news got around of Scaramouche's sudden kindness. Since then, you've been hiding in your tent, going as far as avoiding your duties.

You didn't want to be seen. Actually, you didn't want to be in the fatui. You're only here because your father sold you to the evil organization, for his own personal gain.

You were in your sleeping bag. You pretended to be asleep so no one would disturb you. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from hearing the tent zip open.

You turned away, hiding in the pillow. You wanted the intruder to get the message that you were “asleep” so they could go back to whatever they were doing before.

That was until you were grabbed and forced to face none other than Scaramouche. You felt your body shake in fear. You knew exactly why he was here and you didn't like it.

The balladeer didn't look like he was about to kill, though. In fact, he looked remorseful, “I know what it's like.” He began, his voice somewhat undertone, “To be thrown away like your nothing.” You didn't get what he was trying to imply. You tilted your head, clearly confused, but curious of his words.

Scaramouche wasn't used to sharing his past, so he decided to exclude that. His eyes were looking at yours, “Your father sent you here for money, right?” He checked, making sure the rumors were true. Your face went low, you didn't want to talk about this. It was too much. It hurt.

Scaramouche noticed your expression, knowing that he was right and the rumors were true. Scaramouche didn't know what else to say so he just hugged you.

He felt your body tense at his sudden action but he didn't let go. He also felt that he also needed a hug too.

You squirmed, making Scaramouche let go. The balladeer looked down, “I just thought you needed one.” He knew he was being soft. He hated that. But he also found someone that was kinda like him and he wanted to make an effort to make a new relationship.

Scaramouche got up and walked away, embarrassed by the whole situation. He knew that was unlikely of him. He started regretting everything. Why did he hug you?!

All of his thoughts vanished when he heard your voice, and your smile. “Thank you.” You hummed, “For the hug and all. We should talk again.” Your voice was friendly and welcoming, but Scaramouche sensed the caution as well.

Scaramouche just nodded before sprinting away, knowing full well that the blush on his face was clearly visible.

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topgunreacts · 7 months

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Ayo! Greetings! I hope you are doing pretty well! I’m really sorry for asking this as I’m truly in dire need of help. My cat needs some immediate help for her surgery so I’m trying to raise some funds for her. If you have some spare time, please check it out the post that I have pinned for her, and if you feel it in your heart to help, please do us the favor by boosting the post or share it! Even if you cannot donate, spreading the word is definitely more than enough. Thank you for your kindness, and so sorry again for being this direct! <33

THIS IS A SCAMMER

But how do I know? And shouldn’t I reblog it just in case? It’s a valid concern. Fortunately, there are a few quick steps anyone can take to assess the validity of a charity request. Because at the end of the day, spreading a just-in-case message can have real negative consequences as other people continue to spread the scam on a just-in-case basis.

A sense of urgency (sickness, eminent surgery, etc)

They ask you directly to give them something

Familiarity, such as calling you “dear” or “hun”

Comments turned off

New account with few if any posts

Direct messages that ask for privacy in the matter

Use of pets, children, irrelevant mention of demographics (please help a disabled queer single parent feed their sick cat, etc)

No response to requests for more information

Copy and paste message that gets sent to numerous people

Photos that do not match up with the origin as found through reverse image search

Lack of creativity: you receive a similarly or identically worded request from a random account

Melodramatic backstory--we rescued this cat from an alligator attack that almost took the cat's eye!

Donation account linked to a country at high risk for hosting scam operations

And others. These are not ironclad rules, nor do they always show up in every scam post. Maybe they ARE a disabled queer single parent who can't afford to feed their sick cat. But these elements are patterns you can look for in order to make an informed judgment call. There is at least one popular tumblr account here that will not post any donation links unless the asker fills out a form allowing the account holder to independently prove their identity and issue. If a person is truly desperate and actually needs help, they will fill out that form. Asking for more information is always a good idea, as is doing a reverse image search to see where else the photos might have been posted. Checking keywords on tumblr is also a good bet. Remember: posting lies is quick and easy. Providing proof is not. And that’s critical if money is involved.

Scammers suck. But some of them are very good at what they do. They are masters of using people’s guilt and empathy against them.

Let's dig deeper.

First, let's check out that melodramatic backstory. It's a doozy!

It was actually her Birthday yesterday….well her gotcha Birthday! We found her on our balcony 4 years ago after an awful noise was heard and I still don’t know if she jumped up scared from something or if she was thrown on there 😔 She wasn’t chipped. Vet said it looked like she hadn’t long had kittens and looked about 3 years old herself. Couldn’t find her owners, so she joined our family. (Oh I looked for kittens believe me) She is the sweetest girl we ever met. She even purrs when she sleeps 😻we so love her. We just very recently lost our cat Mimi. She had cancer sadly but we fought so hard to help her but in the end it won. We have an elderly dog called Billa who just two weeks ago turned 20!!!! Any day now we could lose her, she’s feeling her age 😔 I mention those two because it’s just too overwhelming and feels like Maggie is the only one I can help now. Upon an annual vet visit recently with Maggie….so I could get flea meds for her and her brother Milow that they were due to have…the vet found she had two masses….or tumors. One at the bottom of her back next to her tail (I don’t know how I didn’t see it before I’m so ashamed) and when she pressed on her stomach, my loving Maggie started growling which I can honestly say in the time we’ve had her she’s never done that. We did an X-ray and she found a mass in her stomach 😔 we also did a biopsy. This is just so unexpected and so overwhelming after losing Mimi and knowing we will be losing Billa soon…just can’t lose Maggie also. I hate being in this position. I really pay forward as much as I can. I’ve helped out a couple of women with bags and cases of food for the cat colony’s they feed. One woman with food who has a lot of fosters who needed help with food. I think it’s 3 different pet surgeries I’ve helped contribute to for their treatment. It sucks to be on this side now but I’m really praying somehow it might be my turn to get some help to help Maggie get her ct scan so they can figure out the surgery route to remove the tumor from her stomach. I wish I was in a better situation at this moment to not need any help. We’ve always been there to help our babies no matter what they’ve needed, you have to try at least to help them.. And we’ve been able to pay for it ourselves until now. Now I’m able to work here, it can help set us up for future pet issues….I mean, we do everything for these guys including going to work lol but I’ve literally only had my permanent status the last few days instead of visas and it’s all been on my hubby until now who has been amazing, but after paying for Mimi’s help and then end of life, my flight to and from England for my immigration and all those fees and just paying for everything on his own…there’s a lack of funds now. I just want Maggie to get some help and will somehow have to make this happen for her, so please if you have the means to, you can donate to my paypal which is linked down below

Come on, dude. At least be creative. Please make note of the highlights: dramatic injury, insistence (with evidence!) that the scammer is a Good Person Who Gives Back, Cancer Cat & Old Dog supporting characters, immigration drama regarding visas, sick cat had kittens that were never found, etc.

[speculation incoming] Also, laws regarding the importation of pet animals from other countries are strict, and always involve a vet visit. I doubt a vet would clear a cat with tumors to fly out of the country. Even if they did, the timeline here is weird. This vet clinic is in California. [speculation over]

Okay now let's look at these photos. (PSSST I instantly knew this person was a scammer because I've seen these exact x-rays and screenshots on other posts with different cat images. That's something else to look for. Scammers want to expend as little energy as possible in their hunt for your money.)

Where is the scam coming from?

Hovering over the Paypal link, I see the account is located in the Philippines, a country with a high risk of scam hosting. Red flags on red flags.

How to Reverse Image Search

Find a search engine that will let you search by image. This is Google Images on a Firefox browser on PC. Clicking the little camera gives me the option to upload, paste, or give the URL to a photo.

This time, the photo search wasn't helpful. There were no identical matches that Google picked up right away. But I'm including how to do this anyway because it's good to know.

Search Tumblr

We all know tumblr search sucks, but after looking up "cat scam" in the search bar, I found Everything.

Wait a minute.

SHIT THEY GOT MAVERICK POST CANCELED

@kyra45 appears to have amassed some good resources for finding and documenting these scams.

Be aware, be smart, report scam accounts for spam, block them, and do not post donation links "just in case."

#scams #ask #tumblr scams #scam #cat scam #long post

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purplenidoqueen · 2 months

Note

why did you read “let’s hold transmisogynistic trans mascs accountable and not humor their bigotry” as “i hate trans men”? come now. the post only criticizes transmascs who engage in transmisogyny. nowhere does it say that transmascs are a threat or danger to trans women, just that they’re capable of being shitty to us and shouldn’t. you have to learn to read trans women in good faith.

Sorry for the wait! I have too little free time and too much to say on any given topic.

The reblog that garnered these messages can be found here.

Since this was split into two messages I'll have to respond in two parts, so bear with me. While I don't have much of an audience, it's important to me to head this off, so I'd appreciate it if anyone who reads this and agrees with my stances here also walks away with the message of patience and solidarity, and doesn't send messages her way for whatever reason. This isn't a callout and I don't believe in callouts; this is just how the inbox function works.

Anyway! First:

I can understand your rush to send off these messages, considering the amount of pushback you seem to have gotten, but as I said at the end of my reblog, I'm a trans woman myself; I've been out and proud with my she/they pronouns for over a decade. It's not about learning to understand trans women, is it? It's about the communication of ideas in the midst of a disagreement, itself in the midst of one of the most volatile and socially violent moments in our corner of the platform.

First, and perhaps most confrontationally, you didn't start with transmisogynistic trans mascs. You started with how this is our fight, and this isn't about them. That's the bit I take issue with. You say we have to stop excusing this behavior, and stop getting defensive and generalizing this shit, and that we cant be afraid to recognize their bigotry just because they’re also trans, but you are the one who started generalizing, and this is me recognizing it. You're lumping the guys who said "this is why we have to care about trans people, listen to trans siblings" in with the trans mascs -- including those which are profiles worn by the dedicated terf brigade that has been antagonizing Rita and other trans women for years -- who are spreading callouts and being part of the problem. We can't go into this acting defensive against our allies. I'll double down on this: You're playing the game the terfs want you to play.

To clarify a related point, this isn't about whether or not you hate men. I'll admit that I did check your reblogs, and that I give a little nervous side-eye toward some of the content you've posted, but that's honestly not my business and it wasn't the point. The point is that, whether you hate men or love them, whether you're helping to sow discontent among the community intentionally or unintentionally… you're still playing the game the terfs want you to play. This isn't about feelings; it's about the results.

"Nowhere does it say that transmascs are a threat or danger to trans women, just that they’re capable of being shitty to us and shouldn’t"…

Sure, but it does say

"it’s kind of fucking annoying as hell seeing transmascs watch all the insane recent transmisogyny and go “this is why we have to care about trans people, listen to trans siblings” no. this is about trans women."

And isn't that the point? This isn't just about trans women. This is about the BLM protest, and all the black bloggers who got called russian bots and were terminated. This is about every sex worker who straddled the line of post-porn-ban TOS as best they could and still got banned for presenting wrong, from trans women posting their faces to trans men posting their nipples. This is about every voice that has consistently been eradicated from Tumblr, and Rita's is the latest and the loudest explosion heard but hers is not the only one we should be talking about, and her situation and ours is not the only one that matters.

I did read the rest of the post before I responded, and I'll give the same note here that I give when "journalists" front-load their articles with falsehoods because they know that the first few sentences are the most important ones: if you don't want your work to be adversarial, don't start it adversarially.

Part two here, and since we're on to the second message I promise it's less about personal presentation of the message and more about the greater topics.

#inclusivity #intersectional feminism #transgender #trans pride #transphobia #transmisogyny #tma #tme

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curatoroffiction · 2 years

Text

Masterlist/Rules

You can find all of my big stories at: 1) My AO3 2) My Wattpad

Everything else on this blog is drabbles and one-offs and random inspiration stories or fandom reblogs.

Fandoms I write for:

- Twisted Wonderland - Obey Me! Shall We Date? - Ikemen: Villains - I also write blurbs and musings not specific to fandoms, so even if you don't see a fandom you like here, you might enjoy something in that section.

Rules:

This section will probably get bigger as I understand the rules and parameters that I need to set. I’m new to hosting a blog for writing, so check back before sending in any requests! 1) Be respectful and kind. This is a feel-good space where I’m just sharing my writing because I wanted to participate in fandom stuff. While I might take on requests, first and foremost this is a space where I’m sharing my work with you. It is a gift from me to you. So please don’t expect me to cater to you. 2) This is a zero pressure content blog! This means that you don't need to engage with my content to enjoy it! You don't need to feel guilty about not reblogging! You absolutely can just vibe. I don't care if you spam my notifications with likes, because I'm just glad ya'll are enjoying my work. This also means that I'm not looking for criticism on my writing, so please understand that I probably just won't respond or give any attention to criticisms sent in. It's zero-pressure in both directions. You have zero pressure to engage, and I have zero pressure to curate my content to your interests. 3) This is a non-sexual writing account. So please understand that any sexual scenarios that get sent in will be ignored.

Tags:

This section has all of the tags I use so you can block or keep an eye out at your interest. 1) #CuratorReblogs - This is the tag I use to reblog my own content. 2) #CuratorReblogsFromOthers - This is the tag I use to reblog other people's content. 3) #CuratorPersonalEndeavors - This is the tag I use to reblog content that is completely non-fandom related. Like art I make that's not fandom related. 2) #CuratorArt - This is the tag I use to tag my art, because now I guess I make art, lmfaooo

Requests:

Requests are currently open. You can see more details about that here. A quick reminder about them though; I won't get to every request, since I can't promise I'll be able to have any creative thoughts on the concepts ya'll send in, but I'm excited to share if I do! Sending in requests will be more of a roulette of “Will this spark their muse?” than a formal “Hey, can you write this?” lmfao.

Masterlist:

Key: ✨ = Friendship/Non-Romantic Relationships (This means that the work's focus is not explicitly romantic in nature.) 💕 = Romantic (This specifically means that there is an explicitly stated/established romantic relationship between the characters) 😈 = Angst (This means it's definitely not feel-good and may end on a sad/scary/bittersweet note) 💟 = Romance Adjacent (This means that it's a little too flirty to be "Just Friends" but there's no established relationships) 🚫 = Extremely Dark (This will be content which will feature A LOT of content warnings and trauma triggers, so please PLEASE be careful when reading this content from me. Always check my content warnings thoroughly at the beginnings of the chapters.)

Twisted Wonderland: - Perplexing Potions Ch. 1 (Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) (Ch. 4) ✨ - Mugs The Ramshackle Prefect Definitely Owns - A Pain In The- - Vil Meets A Writer ✨ - What You've Hidden Part 1 Part 2 ✨ - Art Therapy Part 1 Part 2 ✨ - Sleep Troubles Part 1 Part 2 ✨ - Azul Touch-Starved Fluff Part 1 Part 2 💟

Twisted Wonderland With Original Characters: - Ramshackle's New Student Ch. 1 ✨

Obey Me!: - Resolutions In Broken Memories😈 - Mugs The Exchange Student Definitely Owns - Seductive Speechcraft Midterms - Ch.2 (Satan's Seduction) - Ch.3 (Mammon's Magnetism) - Ch.4 Belphegor's Beguilement 💟 - Belphegor The Human Expert (Drabble) - MC Is A "God"(Fun little mini-fic based off another person's post) - Mammon Tends To AFAB MC During Period💟 (Requested Fic, Ungendered MC) - MC Is A Chaos Gremlin Part 1 Part 2 ✨ - Beauty Standards ✨ - Overprotective Part 1 Part 2 😈 ✨ - Lucifer NB Angst Drabble 😈 💟 💕 Obey Me!/Twisted Wonderland Crossover: - Deja Vu Ch.1 ✨ - Deja Vu Alternate Reality Overblot Scene Part 1 Part 2 Ikemen Villains: - Trick of the Eye [Harrison Fic] 💟 - The Curse of Alice Chapter 1 [Future Reader AU] Part 2 💟 😈 🚫 Non-fandom Specific Musings: - Strong/Short MCs - MC's "Never Saw It Coming" Sleeptalk - Chill MC Gets A Nasty Head Injury - Short MC Gets Drunk Off Of Tallness In Bodyswap - MC Has To Get An Organ Removed - MC Likes To Make Bad Cooks Worse - Young MC Is Different From Older MC - MC That's Softly Affectionate - MC Has Allergies/Physical Intolerances But Is Chill About It - MC Loves Exploding Stuff - MC Has Super Bad Eczema - MC Messes With The Linguistic Nerds - MC Loves Cyphers/Coding - MC Who Can’t Sleep Well When Excited About Something - MC Who Has Undergone Extensive Physical Therapy

#Masterlist

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cumbunnywitch · 1 year

Text

Hey Friendos. I'm gonna impart a little bit of knowledge on everyone about some scams that go around every few months, and that I've seen more than once on Tumblr so far.

Basic Premise: Someone messages you, sends you an ask, or otherwise shows up on your radar with a story. Often it's a believable story, like their cat is in need of surgery or they need to pay rent because they got kicked out or some kind of sob story and they're requesting you boost them or contribute if you can. A lot of the the time these things are scams. Like most of the time.

How to Tell if it's a scam: This can be easy. Look at their profile, look at when they followed you and sent an ask, and how many things they've reblogged, and check if they've made any posts on their own.

Here's some quick ones I see:

Everything they've done is all at the same time or from the same day. For example, every RB is from 8h ago. Maybe if the've done it before there's another day with like 50 posts all in a row. No one sets up their queue like that.

The follow and within a minute you have an ask/dm from them and they've never liked/rb'd from you.

They're using PayPal. PayPal is one of the most widely used money-sending tool for scammers as it's easy to get hold of someone else's account and perform further scams using it without leaving a trail.

Their cry for help is a single pinned post with very few reblogs and no verification.

They don't have any posts of their own, especially text posts.

Scammers don't like to use things like CashApp or GoFundMe because it's a lot easier to track scams, and payouts usually require ID verification. If someone is being legit, they'll probably have multiple avenues of receiving money. I'd use cashapp, set up a GFM, post about it constantly, and have my mutuals RB the shit out of my post by asking them directly for help.

Most of these are set up by bots in droves. They're a little more sophisticated, and are using the lessons learned from all those blank bot accounts you see come up as new followers. They've also been training you; "those random accounts are clearly bots and I'm talking to you like a normal person! I'm totally real and you can trust that because I'm using real words!" That sob story is meant to make you drop your guard. To make you consider that no one would actually try to scam people out of money with such a sad story.

Well there are people that shitty. There are scammers all over that have been manipulating your grandparents out of their retirement savings because they think you need to get bailed out of jail. Before that there were Nigerian Princes trying to give people money if only they could pay for the wire transfer.

Wire forwarding. Fake checks. Western Union scams. All of these things prey on our gullibility. Our sense of honor or curiosity or that someone made us feel special or wants to make us rich! Or our empathy and sympathetic nature, our desire to be helpful and get someone out of a bad situation.

I'm not saying you should think all of these requests are scams. I'm asking you to employ critical thinking, to look for warning signs and make a judgment call.

And if you're ever unsure, hit me up. I am more than happy to take a deep look at these things and give you my best opinion, free of cynicism. I've gotten hit by 4 of these in the last month, so I've got a decent eye on what to see.

#paypal scam

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paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 · 2 years

Text

Visiting a Sick Little Bird

The following takes places in a sort of AU in which Tim is staying with his biological mother Janet, who is a good parent. This One-hot I dedicate to my very good friend @thattimdrakeguy who has a great blog with especially great analyses of the character of Tim Drake I highly recommend you check out. Likes, Replies and/or especially Reblogs are greatly appreciated and if you ave any constructive criticisms, Please feel free to voice them. I am willing to hear suggestions. Otherwise, please enjoy this little meh-sterpiece of mine.

I finally reached the street I was looking for, stepping out of the bus that got me from school all the way to here instead of my place. Finally, since it was Friday and I told my folks beforehand, I begin my stroll towards my partner’s place. Poor elf got himself a bad flu since yesterday, reason why he couldn’t make it to our classes, lucky him, but hey no hard feelings about that, he needs someone to keep a good watch for him. His mom, Senator of the state just an FYI, is gonna be gone all night so when I made the offer to be the guy to watch over him, well, thank Lord almighty Momma dearest and I are on good terms since she said ‘a-okay’ and well here I am, making my way there...just maybe two more house to my left and then....

Hold up...right forgot about intros...my bad. I thought you might need a little bit to know about yours truly before you can move on with this silly account. The name’s Dowd, Bernard Dowd. You can me Bern for short. You’re looking at the best Robin truther right here. I got the know-hows and outs about our favorite Boy Wonder and who’s under that Robin Hood mask. Also, I know you ladies are probably thinking about locks and these shredded biceps of mine and you’re just drooling ain’t ya? Well, I really like the fondness and heart eyes but I am very sorry,I got a date already. A date I should be close to now that I stand outside of a familiar house on the preppy side of Gotham.

Right underneath the address number was some tiles with letters on it that allow me to double check it clearly, ‘Drake’. Yep, this is the place. Stepping onto the doorway patio, one press on the fancy doorbell followed by a very nicely ring I gotta tell ya, next thing you know, there’s my date’s Mom, the Senator herself answering the door for me.

Almost instantly, a smile propped up on her face and she stretched out her hand to shake mine. ��Oh Hello, Bernard! I am quite glad were you able to make it.”

Grinning both out of friendliness and to make sure I don’t get on her bad side, cause then it’ll be really bad, I shake her hand in turn. “Oh please, Mrs. Drake, it’s just like an awesome like honor to be drop by.”

Soon enough, Mrs. Drake lets me step right into her frankly gorgeous mansion of a place and before I can probably do a bit of snooping around and sightseeing, she quickly and thankfully leads to the main reason I’m here. After going up to about two floors on the stairs and after a little walk down to my left to a certain bedroom door, A certain sign with a ‘T D’ on it is all the more apparent on who’s dwells in here.

“ACHOO”

That sneeze from inside had that familiar squeak and pitch I know and love. Yep, my date, Tiny Tim’s in there. Boy though did that sneeze sound loud. Good thing though I had a flu but got better from it around two days earlier. Less chance of me coming down with anything so hey that’s a plus.

Mrs. Darke and I step into the room, I see the things I usually see here; Superman poster on the right wall, old school TV box on a dresser next to the left one, his bed scooted up next to his window, glass doors for his closet and right on the mentioned bed, there he....

(snickers) I’m sorry but...(snickers) Teddy Bear Robin Imprinted PJs? I mean it was a flannel shirt and pants meant for his size so there’s that...but (snickers) really?

And I thought Ives was the spoiled one between us. Thankfully, I kept the my laughter at such a fuzzy outfit to myself as Mrs. Drake makes her way next to her little man, placing one of her hands through his sweaty, slick, black hair. And already, I can see the little guy getting a noticeable blush on his face that’s not fever related. Frankly, if my Mom tried being...well, all Momma ish on me right in front of my crush, I’d blush too, hard.

“Felling a bit better, Little Timmy”, Mrs. Janet asks in that type of cutesy voice like how Moms talk to babies. Rightly did the Timster’s blushing darken a bit.

“(Cough) Mom”, he whines a bit, “Not in front of him.”

Mrs. Drake had a sweet giggle that I can hear clearly out of response, so much so I even started a bit of lightly chuckling myself. Poor fella’s been going through this for about an entire day and a half by now so maybe I should hold it in. Or least I tried cause then my boyfriend turns his gaze towards yours truly and lets me know right away that he heard that.

“Dude, seriously?” Well, yeah, seriously.

Though I gave it a quick thought for a reasonable answer. “Hey Timmers, I’d bet you’d feel the same if my Mom did that for me.”

Before saying anything, my boyfriend paused in his try for a comeback, pondering a bit before finally breathing out, slumping back on his pillows and shrugging with his shoulders. “Yeah, good point.”

Mrs. Drake and I had a good laugh at that before she then whispered a sweet nothing or two to her little boy’s ear, gave him a quick kiss on his forehead, pulled up his Bat-blanket up to his shoulders and finally began to make her way to the door, not before wanting to chat with me.

“Thank you so very much for volunteering to watch Timmy today, Mr. Dowd. It’s very appreciated.” I cannot help but now blush in turn. Don’t if it was being very much taking in Mrs. Drake’s compliments or just the stuffiness int his room, but I was blushing. Maybe it was the first one since I was also rubbing the back of my head.

“Um”, I briefly tried thinking of anything to say back cause to be frank, it was out of nowhere, “pleasure’s all mine, Ma’am.”

She then gave me a nice pat on the back with a firm nod before opening her mouth once more.

“Okay then, within two hours, Timmy’s morning dose of his medicine should be wearing off so you’ll need to give him another daytime dose of it. It’s the bottle with the orange stuff. The green one is the one for four hours after that, that’s for nighttime. Also, I have made some soup for you both which is in the big pot in the kitchen stove. And Finally, make sure that he gets some good sleep later tonight, it’ll help him get better much faster. Now as for your bed...”

Boy, I can tell Mrs. Drake really had this all sorted out with each and every small thing she’s letting out for me to hear all at once. Then again, I tend to drone on and on about my totally correct and accurate theories about who can Robin be so frankly, who I am to say anything about this. That said, I get the basics: my boyfriend’s medicine taking, where the spare blankets and pillows are at when it’s time to crash, the soup, no wild parties while she’s gone (Well...yeah, I get it but still sorry Ives, sorry Darla) and also she might be at that place all night so she’ll be like ultra late or the like.

I nod as she wraps up all that and more. “You can count on me for all that. Miss.” Thankfully I didn’t need to bluff cause it was true to a large extent. Mrs. Drake nodded a-okay in turn. “Thank you, oh so very much.”

With that, Mrs. Drake takes her purse that was hanging from the edge of the bedroom door on her way out and to her appointed big gov thing. She gives my boyfriend an....admittedly...adorable air kiss before giving a standard “Love you, sweetie” before finally closing the door.

Now it was me and my teddy PJs wearing boyfriend. So I guess it was time to actually point out said Robin Teddies on his sleepwear.

“So...Dude...you got that thing you wearing from a Build-a-Bear and ordered life size or something? No offense, just asking.” Jeez, that came out wrong did it. Yeah, now that the guy I get heart eyes over now starts blushing again while looking at himself, oh yeah, that was just something a bit not cool.

To my deep down surprise, he did answer that; “Well...kinda a bit”, he says while rubbing the back of his head, “I mean, either I wore this all day or like....maybe Mom getting like footies like I had when I was really little. Believe me, I mean when I was very, very little”

As he finished explaining himself, I make my way to his bedside, taking a seat on a spot close enough for just lightly bump an elbow before slinging my arms around my doofus of a boyfriend. “It’s fine, Teddy Tim. You gotta believe me, I’ve seen more cutesy than I can count all at once compared to that.”

The blushing on the Timster’s face toned down a bit and he let out a good laugh at that. Quick save, Dowd, crisis averted. Too bad, that sweet laugh of his got cut short by a sudden fit of coughing. As he finishes said coughing, I noticed a tall plastic glass of water on his nightstand, take it in my hands and offer him to take a sip, trust me, post cough spitballs and such are just nasty in more ways than one and good ol H2O helps big time with that. Thankfully, he takes a good sip from the plastic glass before I put it back where it goes and allow him to get comfy again.

My boyfriend had a pouting look on his face. “This sucks.”

I shrugged my shoulders cause he was right. “Yeah, tell me about it.” Though hey given how long my battle with flu lasted before I got totally better; “But hey, maybe this thing can blow over by tomorrow or even tonight, Dude.” That seems nice to say as a small smile goes up on Tim’s lips.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Bernard.”

With that arm around his shoulder, I bring him a bit closer to me in a one arm hug. Hey, come on, whatcha expect?

“So I guess, I’ll be your doctor for today then”, I say with my usual ‘sarcastically quirky jokester’ voice, only to him to again give a small laugh at that.

“That’s funny; I thought Mom was doctor and you’re the nurse.” Oh very well played, pal. Well, too bad for you, you’re dating the undisputed universal champion of snark and joke city....rough neighborhood.

I snort out a small laugh before bringing my boyfriend’s face facing mine and giving something on my mind in response. “Yeah, but let’s face it, at least my jacket showcasing”, I buff up my right free arm, showing off its biceps, “these rocks and I don’t have to wear any outfit for the ‘HELLLOOOO Nurse’ crowds.”

Again, that very sweet laugh by boyfriend has...it just gets my heart pumping a but faster ya know?

“Yeah Man, I hear ya.”

I take my arm off his shoulder and smack my hands in a clap for preparation. “So...um, need anything right now Tim-Tam?”

About twenty minutes later......

I try my best right here; two hot bowls are chicken broth and mixed vegetable goodness, the smell making nose all sorts of joyful, said bowls on a bigger wooden tray, me trying to climb up the last for steps before finally, I reach the top and quickly find my way back to Timster’s room. Upon seeing me, Tim sits up on his bed and straightens his calves underneath the Bat-blanket for his own bowl. Whew! After trial and error beforehand, I finally managed to get a bowl on Tim’s lap, spoon included. Almost immediately the little guy lightly blows with his breath and slurps up whatever broth and vegetables he got on said spoon. Now don’t get the idea that my last tries with got the wooden stairs wet or anything. But yeah, at least at the end of the day, even the best of best like yours truly can get clumsy. But I did wipe up anything that could’ve spilled so no harm no foul.

Sure enough, I too dig in for my bowl. Time to see how Mrs. Janet makes this classic dish.

Nearly Seven Hours later....

Well, this is it. After some soup drinking, me explaining once again my tonally correct theory on who Robin is (SPOILERS....he’s obviously Ives, come on, how’s the blond hair and his own glasses not a dead giveaway for a disguise), jamming to some White Album, and basically a whole of things him and I did today, only now is the smaller guy between us after so long, it’s about darn time this guy passed out. Well not that I knocked him out or anything but most certainly that green medicine Mrs. Janet told me about sure did.

After such a day for me, now clad in a spare white T and black bike shorts and having just give a good scrub and brush to my pearly whites, I guess best thing I can do is go on the opposite of Tim on his bed, looks like plenty of room. As I was about to do so, and thankfully for me, Tim-Tam rolled over to his left side; Goody, there’s my space, now just to get under the Bat-blanket and start lay down on the....

Suddenly, I felt my boyfriend’s feet slightly on my socks under the blankets, man are those things warm. But hey, bet it was much worse yesterday. As I set my head down on the pillow and pull up my spare blanket to cover me further...I just gotta wonder....why him?

Do I ever regret my feelings for him...never, and anyone who says otherwise can get a pass from me for listening to their drabble. But out of everyone I could’ve found myself with all these....spikes in my heartbeat...this sense of closeness....something I don’t think I ever gotten from standing next to Darla or my earlier attempts for a date. Nope, it’s him, the very fella right next to me on this soft bed. Why though? What is it about Timothy Jackson Drake that makes me....feel something?

My questions get interrupted as Teddy Tim rolls over so that his lightly snoring face was on my right side. Dang...it’s...just...wow. I have never seen such a sight this up close and...peaceful. I don’t know the exact answer but upon me giving this guy a kiss on his cheek, wrapping my arms around him and holding him close to me...I’m sure it’s there.

So yeah, bottom line before it’s off to dreamland for me....I love this doofus alright....I just do.

#tim drake #bernard dowd #janet drake #fanfic #lgbtq #my posts #timbern

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cafalla · 4 months

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Care Bears: The Mystery of the Missing Dreams (1986) Book Scans

I found this book at a thrift store, which was a nice surprise because I haven’t had much luck finding picture books older than the late 90s/early 2000s (at the thrift stores near me, anyways).

It seems this book originally would have come with a cassette tape so you could read along with the recording.

I had to edit the front cover a bit because two names were written on it in permanent marker. One name was on the grey cloud and the other name was written above the Dream Thief.

Truthfully, one of my favorite parts of the book is in the front inside cover.

It's so old school. Do children's books still have an index of info for you to fill out in case you lose it?

It reminds me of being in grade school and having to fill out the front of your textbooks with your name, class number, and year. Do they still do that in school? I don't have children, and am not close to anyone who has children, so I have no idea what the textbook loaning procedure is like nowadays.

Do children even have textbooks anymore in grade school? They must…but I have no idea how digital classrooms have gotten in recent years.

Okay, I'm getting too off topic! Anyways.

The basic story of this book is that the Care Bears’ dreams suddenly go missing. With the help from the stars (the Care Bear Buddies), they find the dreams locked behind a door after having been stolen by the Dream Thief. The Care Bears befriend the Dream Thief and he unlocks the door, giving them their dreams back. The Dream Thief then becomes the Dream Detective, an assistant to the Care Bears. He now helps locate and return missing dreams, using his powers for good instead of evil.

It’s a cute little picture book. The story isn't anything intricate, I think the "conflict" happens for all of one page. And even then, it's just an "Aw darnit, you're right. Being evil is bad, so I'll be good now!"

It is a children's book though, I can't think too critically about its short, simple story.

The real draw of this book (for me) is the artwork. Here are a few pages that are just a pleasure to my eyes. The Care Bears are so cute!! I love their chubby cheeks, heart-shaped noses, and fluffy little tails.

Here are a couple two page art spreads from the book as well.

I uploaded the book to my Internet Archive account, so feel free to go read it for yourself! Even if you don’t want to read it for the story, the book is a charming flip-through of vintage Care Bears artwork.

I also have uploaded the above images on my nostaliga photoblog, so feel free to check that out too if you like just reblogging the images!

Thanks for reading!

#txt #scans #my scans #books #book scans #care bears #vintage #1986 #80s #nostalgia #long post

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swamp-world · 6 months

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"When you vote for a politician you give them assent to do whatever they want with the power of their role" manifestly untrue? i know i've reblogged some things from other people with the sentiment that "anyone telling you not to vote or that voting is worthless is trying to dissuade you from voting at all" and i don't actually agree with that either because turns out, being critical of electoralism is not the same as spreading right-wing propaganda, and claiming any time you see someone criticising electoral politics and voting (particularly in the US) that obviously they are actively contributing to and seeking republican wins is uhhhh...not good. surprise.

the above statement is a particularly wild one to me though, because that is explicitly the opposite of what voting is, in intent. perhaps i'm being overly critical because it's about US politics and i'm not from there. but uh. "democracy doesn't end at the ballot box." there is a very legitimate idea occurring within the first statement, because it was also quite clearly in response to the biden administration's actions in gaza. voting for someone whose policy is pro-israel and then being shocked or angered when they continue to support israel is willful ignorance, and some self-examination and accountability are probably not a bad idea. but the idea that casting a ballot is synonymous with uncritical and unqualified support for all of a politician's actions and policies across the board is pretty bullshit.

voting is the easy part of politics. it's the box that you tick once every few years, locally, regionally, nationally. it doesn't take sustained effort, it doesn't take personal sacrifice. All that it demands of you is ideally some research in the first place, showing up at a place (and yes, voter suppression methods including exorbitantly long wait times exist) and checking a few boxes off.

and the thing about voting is that your support for the politician you vote for starts and ends at the ballot box. a vote means that you think a politician or party is the least-worst option for your goals. After that, you have no connection to that vote. No one can tie it to you. You are not obligated to stand by it.

In fact, we are all responsible to keep an eye on things and respond to them. That doesn't mean we always can or that it's practical, but this is the actual element of democracy. The democratic process doesn't just involve but necessitates political participation from people outside of voting. you can vote for one person and then in a week turn around and do your best to campaign against them, join the opposite political party, donate to a third group, blow up a bank, and attend three protests against the person you voted for. that's what democratic participation means. it means that you know and understand that casting a ballot is only one part of the process, and it is a responsibility we all carry to monitor and respond to the politics which occur as a result of that.

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wolfkitty42 · 6 months

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I saw a post of AI generated propaganda for Israel. Fun!

So... I guess we should talk about how to recognize ai generated images like this. First off, one thing we know is NOT TO TRUST THIS ACCOUNT! If you see an account include more than one (or honestly just one) fake image, it is an unreliable source. Do not trust accounts like this for news!

Within the photo itself, a quick way to figure out if it's real or not is to look at the flag. A lot of the flags here seem pretty mangled.

The other way is to check the general scope of the image. The first image shows a very large rally- Large enough that it would have articles written about it if it was real, or posts showing other angles of it. If you aren't sure whether a political image is ai generated or not, try using reverse image search on google to see if you can find an article it was sourced from!

Remember to think critically about what you see. AI has made it incredibly easy to generate photos that look realistic at a glance. It's up to you to keep an eye out for fake news. (Or up to your government to put regulations on AI generated imagery, although I personally don't know if that will happen.) If you have any corrections to this post, please reblog with them.

#israel #palestine #israel palestine conflict #ai image #propaganda #public service announcement #public service broadcasting

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bisexualalexmercer · 2 years

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how would you feel if i told you the person who made the "i don't check peoples accounts" post IS a terf?

I WOULD FEEL irritated because it was a funny and relatable post but thankful that you let me know. truly i have accidentally reblogged from terfs before in this same manner

i checked their blog myself to verify and yep, they’re a terf, but it was interesting because i was almost thrown off the scent (stench) by the most recent post on their blog.

it was a criticism of radical feminists partaking in the “nature vs. nurture” debate. talking about how agab-based socialization starts at fetushood, because people will talk to a pregnant belly differently based on what a sonogram looks like.

but in an earlier post, this same blog responds to being called a terf by saying shit like “just because i know that biological sex is real and affects our lives people call me a terf, so whatever i’m a terf.”

it’s just fascinating. you would think that very thought about nature vs. nurture when it comes to gender would open one’s eyes to the socially-constructed nature of gendered expectations and would weaken the association that vag = woman (oppressed) and peen = man (oppressor). but no, apparently you can believe that social norms are imposed on BABIES for no real reason, but also believe that those babies are intrinsically ✨wombyn✨

it’s almost like terfs cherry pick their ideologies to deliberately oppress trans people or something

#ask fearingtugboat

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tittyblade · 3 years

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tumblr etiquette 101

a list that is nowhere near exhaustive, from yours truly.

First off, welcome! Whether you’re a twitter veteran looking for anything but whatever twitter is, or a new user just done signing up, glad to see you in our ranks beloveds! Welcome home. Refer to this quick tour to make sure your fandom experience (or tumblr experience in general) is a positive one!

Disclaimer: I know it’s long, but please try to read or skim through til the end if you’re new here! This is by no means meant to be a rule book (for the most part lol), only a guide to help you get settled easier!

1) Your blog

This is where people will see and interact with you, so put some effort into it!

Try to choose a name (url) that’s simple. You can see it as your brand, it’s how people will perceive you and remember you. If you’d like to interact with other users here (and not use the site just for the content) it’s better to have something short and sweet, preferably without spaces. (Of course, these are only suggestions.) Rest assured, you can change it literally any time you want.

Have a theme. Utilize the tool that lets you edit your blog’s color or the font of your bio! You can make it match your profile picture, or your blog if it has a theme of its own. Make it feel homey :]

Fill in your bio. People will be checking out your profile probably more often than you think. Don’t leave it empty! Put in any information you’re comfortable with sharing and isn’t too personal (like your age if you’re a minor, or other TMI that can be found on other people’s carrds). It’s always better to add a name/nickname people can use to refer to you by, but feel free to use your blog description to shitpost still.

You can have an intro post. More often than not, you’ll see a blog have a pinned post, a post permanently appearing at the top of a blog until you pin another post or unpin it. You can make one of those, if you’d like to introduce yourself in more length, link any other socials or a carrd, and show others visiting your blog how you tag things so it’ll be easy for them to navigate. Not an obligation.

Keep your anonymity and your safety. It should go without saying, but there’s no harm in repeating it just in case. Your comfort, privacy and safety has the utmost importance. Don’t share any information you don’t want to. Don’t share your age if you’re a minor, or any other incredibly personal info. I’d encourage you to go by a nickname that’s not your real name, (blog name, your brand, remember?) since there’s safety in anonymity, and that’s lowkey one of the big deals of tumblr, but that’s up to you still.

Choose what you want to be visible. Your liked posts and who you follow are all things you can set to keep to yourself and hide from the publics eye, how handy! You should go through all the setting while you’re at it, set it to your comfort.

Side blogs are a thing. You can have multiple blogs that you can use for different things (see: different fandoms, art blog, etc) to keep them organized or away from your followers. Just remember that the replies and off-anon asks you send will be from your main blog, as well as where you follow other blogs from.

2) Interacting with others

You’ve set up your account, now comes the fun part!

Follow to your heart’s desire. If you care about others seeing who you follow, fear not! In tumblr, usually only two types of blogs keep their following visible to others: newbies, and big blogs using it to point people on other good blogs’ direction. Just turn it off, and go ham following people.

Customize your dashboard. Gonna mention just two things here: this is another reason why it’s really important that you follow blogs without sparing, your dash will collect dust otherwise; and you should turn off “best stuff first” in your dashboard settings, to have a better community here and all.

Follow tags. You can set it in your settings that posts with your followed tags appear on your dashboard.

You can check the og post for edits and context. When you see a reblogged post you don’t understand the context of (or don’t recognize the character in case of fanarts), click on the profile so it will take you to the original post. From there you can check the original poster’s tags to get the context, or see if there have been any edits made to the post, since when you edit a post it doesn’t update any past reblogs.

Send people asks... This is how you make mutuals, people! Do it off-anon if you’d like them to know your blog, or anon if you’d rather not! (You can still end your messages with a signature to show you’re the same person, -[name] is one example.) Send them nice messages, ask their opinion on something, discuss things, or just straight up shitpost lol. Go wild. The sky’s your limit and it’s definitely more than 280 characters.

...and let them ask you! You can set your preference in the settings, do it on desktop tumblr to access more settings tho! What you can customize on mobile is limited (like letting people ask you things anonymously, that’s only on desktop settings). In my personal opinion, it’s always better to tag their username (or a nickname you give them, if they’re a friend) on that post, since you wouldn’t want your interactions with your friends to get buried in your blog forever.

Comment on posts. If you have something to say but don’t want the post to appear on your blog you can add a comment. The owner of the post will get a notif for it, but for anyone else you need to tag them.

For the love of god, reblog. People will only see your liked posts if you have it visible to public and they specifically go on your blog to look at them. You like something? You reblog. It’s already hard for posts to circulate properly, if you don’t reblog them literally no one will see them. If not for anything do it for the artists. Just hold and drag on mobile to fast rb.

3) Your Posts

Finally here! Don’t be a lurker, post and engage!

Make use of “read more”. If your post is long, add it. That’s what you clicked on earlier to expand this post. On desktop leave an empty line and you’ll see three dots appear, and on mobile type :readmore: on that empty line.

Draft a post to come back to it later. Pretty self explanatory.

Queue your post. Whether it’s your own post or you’re reblogging, make use of the queue feature to a) not spam reblog and fill up the dashboard of people following you and b) keep your blog active while you’re gone. Mess around in the settings, it’s fairly easy to set up.

Schedule your post. Same as queueing, the only difference is you get to choose the exact time your post will go up. Handy if you want to schedule a post for certain dates like april fools, or 5 years in the future for some reason.

Format your texts. You can do all kinds of fancy stuff here (that’s a link, try pressing on it). Twitter doesn’t have this, make use of it. Changes depending on whether you’re on mobile or desktop. (Desktop has less features.)

Check your stats. If you’re trying to understand the algorithm better or want to look at some pretty graphs you can get your data on that on desktop tumblr.

@ people in comments. You’ll get all the notifs when people comment on your posts but they won’t see your reply unless you tag them in your message.

4) Tags, and tagging a post

This is where my earlier statement “this isn’t a rule book” stops being applicable. It’s not a war crime to go against these, I won’t come chasing you (don’t take my word for this) but you’ll work up a bad rep. Just saying lol.

Do NOT crosstag posts. It’s really tempting to add unrelated tags to increase your posts’ interaction, I know, but that’s not what tumblr is about. Don’t be a dick and make other communities’ experience worse for them.

Always tag your posts with “crit/critical/discourse/etc” if it calls for it. There’s no exceptions to it. This is the reason you see people migrating to tumblr. Let people enjoy things.

Don’t main tag a critical/negative post. If your crit post is about “Thing”, you add the “Thing critical” tag, but not the “Thing” tag. People block crit tags if they don’t want to see it, don’t shove it in their faces by main tagging it.

If you don’t want to see something, just block it. Another reason why people are able to survive on tumblr. You don’t start discourse, you don’t make call-outs, you block. You can find something for every community you can think of if you go looking for it. The worst of the worst probably won’t ever appear on your dash, but if you’re worried or feel the need for it, you know where the block button is.

Feel free to shitpost or ramble. More often than not you’ll see people rb a post with a comment, and their elaboration will be in the tags. The tags are only visible on your profile and the notifications of the owner of the og blog. Just a thing people do.

Reblog artists’ posts with nice comments in the tags! Commenting on a drawing is usually done through the tags (Not an obligation, again, just a thing people do. Feel free to add your comment on the rb itself if you’d want other people to see it tho!) and leave nice messages for the artists! It’s a win-win for everyone involved.

If you have more than a single follower, always use the common tw warning tags. You don’t need to tw everything, but tw’ing some common things is the bare minimum human decency. Keep it safe for others.

Tag a post “long post” if it’s really long. Pretty self explanatory. Don’t make people scroll through all that please lol.

You can use them to organize your blog. This is more of a pro tip, if you’d like to not miss a post in your blog, cause they will start pilin’ up soon enough.

#Liveblogging is pretty fun. If you’d like to talk to people during streams, don’t forget to add the relevant tags still! Again, you won’t show up on people’s dash otherwise.

Whew! That got out of hand. Hopefully I didn’t bore you too much. Check out blogs like @heritageposts and @hellsite-hall-of-fame to honor our past o7. @mcytblr-hall-of-fame too maybe :eyes:. Anyways, don’t forget the most important rule of them all:

Enjoy your stay! You’re meant to have fun on here while also making friends (if that’s your thing). Just be kind and respectful of others, you’ll get the hang of the rest! <3

#mcyttwt #mcytblr #dream team #dream smp #mcyt #dsmp #tumblr #how to tumblr #gonna tag ppl now so more users will see it lol #dreamwasteken #georgenotfound #karl jacobs #technoblade #sbi #twitter #twitter discourse #sbitwt #sleepytwt #sleepy bois inc #HOLY shit this took so long omg my back literally hurts rn #the fuckin lengths i go to make sure tumblr doesnt get tainted w twt LMAO #anyways if youre seeing this you should follow me look at how sexy i am i spent the last 2+ hours typing this goddamn list out #also: ignore how i literally sound like its 2014 at some parts here lol i tried my best #also ignore how wack the paragraph breaks are tumblrs formatting hates me and its 4 am im too tired for this #third also: some bits here are supposed to be ironic keep that in mind pls #rolan.txt #long post #save #yes im tagging my own post as save what about it

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tswaney17 · 3 years

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Secret Sessions - Part 2: The Mission

This is based off of @wingedblooms headcanon: “Elain is doing a bunch of training on the side - and tracking down Bryaxis would be part of that - and she’s caught by someone.”

Thank you for letting me take this idea and run with it! I’m very excited with out this turned out. 🥰💙

I’m not doing a tag list anymore because they’re really more trouble than their worth. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Check out Part 1: The Scry here.

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💙💜💚

Trigger warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,689

Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta were waiting for Elain in the entryway of the River Estate. After his encounter with Elain yesterday at the townhouse, Azriel went straight to Rhys with the information she had found. It irked him that his brother’s first question was why he and Elain were alone together.

He had to bite his tongue—hard enough to draw blood—to keep himself from launching at his so-called brother. Az had hoped that with Nyx born and healthy, and Nesta saving Feyre during the birth, that Rhys would’ve let up on his order to stay away from Elain. Had hoped that it was the stress of his mate and child dying that made him question his intentions.

But just as every remotely good thing in his life, that hope was ripped away yet again. Azriel was beginning to wonder if he had any hope left in him at this point.

Cassian clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

He was always the best at schooling his features of the three of them. But when he got too far in his head, he knew his shadows acted out. They swarmed him in both protection from others and comfort. “I’m fine,” he gritted out.

At his brother’s raised eyebrow, he knew he didn’t believe him.

Nesta clearly didn’t either, but her stormy blue eyes were drawn to the person coming down the stairs.

Az didn’t have to turn to know it was Elain. Her lovely jasmine and honey scent floated down to his nostrils just to torment him. It opened up that ache in his chest. The one that became particularly brutal whenever her mate was in the same room as her. He slowly pivoted to face her, and nearly fell to his knees.

Gone were her beautiful gowns and flowing hair. No, Elain had replaced her usual attire with a pair of Illyrian leathers, likely one of Feyre’s if the tightness of them was anything to go by. It hugged every curve and asset on her body like a second layer of skin. Her slender waist, the arc of her hips—he didn’t even want her to turn around to see her ass. He likely would’ve dropped to his knees right there in front of everyone and begged her if she had.

Her hair was tied back, revealing her long, elegant neck. He could still feel her creamy, soft skin when she rotated into his touch. How his thumb stroked the column of her throat. And then her intoxicating scent intertwined with her arousal hit him, and he had never smelt anything as exquisite as that in his over 500 years of life.

Elain strolled over to them, her eyes catching his before quickly looking away.

Azriel swallowed hard.

“Nesta, I didn’t realize you would be joining us,” she said in greeting, smiling.

Clearly, the sisters had mended their relationship from the previous year. He wouldn’t forget the way Nesta had said those harsh words to her that had even his shadows preparing to defend the female. He had never seen them act out like that for anyone other than himself.

“Az thought it might be good to have a third warrior with us, just in case.” She laid a hand on the hilt of Ataraxia. “And I’ve been to the Bog before, I know what to expect so I can help you in any way you may need.” She reached out to squeeze Elain’s forearm.

Those beautiful doe eyes brightened. “Glad to have you with us.” She turned her gaze onto him and his brother. “How are we getting there?”

Azriel cleared his throat. “I’ll shadow-walk us near the Bog and then we’ll fly in.” Which meant he would have to carry her because there was no way he could ask Cassian and Nesta to switch without having to explain everything.

Elain seemed to come to the same conclusion and looked at him, offering him a grim smile.

Fuck, he hated being the reason she looked like that. But that was not something they had time to sort through now. She had made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t interested in hearing his excuses and he wouldn’t force them on her. Elain already questioned her right to choose for herself—he didn’t want to give her any more reason to be upset about it.

Azriel stepped forward and pulled a dagger from his belt. It was the one she had been using during her scrying attempts. He spent a good portion of the night before sharpening it alongside Truth Teller. It wasn’t anything special, but if she had procured it from somewhere, she at least felt comfortable enough to handle it. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. “Just in case you need it.”

Elain took the blade from his outstretched hand, their fingers brushing. It sent a jolt of electricity through him and it was only his centuries of stealth training that kept him from shivering from the touch.

“I sharpened it last night, so be careful,” he added. The blade itself was in desperate need of it. Sharper edges cut cleaner and tended to be less painful on shallow wounds, such as a slice to her palm. The blade’s dullness told him it likely must’ve hurt her when she cut her palm with it.

The thought didn’t sit right with him.

Her eyes glanced up at his, then trailed down his body to his thigh where Truth Teller sat. He locked up, not daring to breathe to risk her gaze going somewhere else. She studied it for a second more before she twisted and slipped the dagger into her thigh holster—like how his sat—murmuring a quiet “Thank you.”

Something pressed against the mental shields of his mind and he looked up to the top of the stairs to see Rhys glaring down at him. He lowered his shields just enough to let his brother’s darkness sweep in.

You’re panting, he warned.

Fuck you, he snarled back, shoving his brother from his mind and shooting his shields back up into place.

Azriel’s gaze returned to Elain’s, finding her watching him very closely, head cocked. Her brows were furrowed together and to his utter horror, she looked over her shoulder at Rhys.

The High Lord couldn’t mask his face in time to avoid the Seer’s detection.

When she looked back at him, her honey-brown eyes had softened a fraction. Like she knew what had just occurred.

Shit.

Azriel cleared his throat, taking a healthy step backward. “Shall we?”

The four of them moved to the front of the River Estate, past the wards that Rhys had formed since Nyx’s birth to prevent any accidental winnowing in or out of the house. Though the heir of the Night Court was still a baby, with both of his parent’s magic likely flowing through his veins, it was better to take precaution than risk him accidentally winnowing away.

They also knew it was a protection barrier from any outside attacks. Rhys and Helion had formed it together—the High Lord of Day more than willing to help if it meant he got to see the new baby.

Azriel had never heard Helion squeal until the moment Feyre came into the room carrying Nyx. His ears rang for a solid hour afterward.

Once they passed through the protective barrier, they turned back to face their High Lord. Violet eyes were glued to his as he said, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched at the taunt. It was obvious enough that even Cassian and Nesta were looking between the two of them curiously. He scooped Elain into his arms, his brother following suit with his mate. Elain’s one arm went around his neck, the other clasping her sister’s as he prepared to winnow. Shadows erupted around him, but he held off for a split second longer as he said to Rhys, “Can’t do anything stupid when you’re keeping it all here.”

The High Lord’s answering snarl faded into a distant echo as his shadows carried the four of them to the Bog of Oorid.

He dropped them off high in the air, letting them freefall until he and Cassian’ snapped their wings open and soared.

Elain yelped, both arms clutching around his neck until he banked.

“Sorry,” he breathed, letting his wings flap to send them forward. He tightened his grip on her, blue siphons glowing to block the chill of the morning air. Cassian and Nesta were angled off behind him, but he could feel their gaze on the two of them—likely still pondering over that little episode at the Estate.

Elain’s body curled inward towards him, her scent assaulting his senses before being whisked away as they flew. She surveyed the side of his face. “What’s going on with you and Rhys?”

His hazel eyes found hers briefly, then watched her brown hair whip to the side. “Just a spat,” he lied. It was definitely more than that. There was a rift between him and his brother that he wasn’t sure would ever mend.

Her brows furrowed again like she didn’t believe him.

As she shouldn’t, his mind so helpfully reminded him.

“It’s about me, isn’t it?”

Fuck, she was too intuitive.

Azriel banked again, flying towards the ground to land near the lake. “It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t feel like nothing,” she stated a bit tersely. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He hated the hurt sound in her voice, knowing it was because of him. Landing smoothly, he gently set her back on her feet and faced her. “You asked me to respect you enough to not force you to listen to my excuses. Please, let me do that.” It was enough of the truth that she could likely guess. But before she could retort, his brother and Nesta landed beside them.

“So,” Nesta began, coming out of Cassian’s arms. “How do we find this thing?”

“Wait for it to come out to kill you.”

Elain glared at the other Illyrian, not in the least intimidated by their size difference. “That’s not helpful, Cass. Bryaxis isn’t our enemy. If we show it we mean not to harm it, it will do the same.”

“Does your vision show it not killing all of us, or just you?” he asked, tone a bit short.

Azriel’s wings flared slightly at the attitude. “Watch it,” he snapped.

Elain set a hand on his chest to appease him, but her eyes remained fixed on the general. “I know you’re not fond of Bryaxis, Cassian, but I can sense it wants me to find it. I can feel it in my very bones. It’s an asset we need on our side.”

He wasn’t sure if Cassian had even heard Elain—he was too busy gaping at how she had settled the Night Court’s deadly Shadowsinger with a simple touch to his chest.

Elain seemed to notice this too because she removed her hand from the front of his leathers. He immediately missed the feeling but kept his face carefully blank. Too much had already been revealed today. Azriel didn’t like the idea of scrambling to pick up the pieces when things eventually went to shit. It always did.

The unnatural stillness of the Bog sent a shiver running down his spine. He always hated this place—it was one he could honestly say he feared. The idea of Elain being here made some deeply rooted instincts come roaring to the surface. Protect, defend they screamed at him. He choked it in a vice-like grip.

Elain was not his mate. He was not courting her and should not feel such things about her, he reminded himself.

Something deep in his chest stirred at the words. It was warm and beautiful—precious even.

A thing of secret, lovely, beauty.

But whatever it was that he felt, it did not like how he degraded his feelings. It pulsed once in reprimand.

Elain let out a small gasp, her hand on her chest as she whirled around to look at him, her eyes going wide.

Did she just—

But as quickly as she turned around, her eyes darted to the other side of the small lake. She pointed. “There, that’s where I saw it,” she announced, hand still gripping the front of her leathers

Azriel spun to look in the direction she pointed. The other side of the lake was cloaked in eerie darkness, hanging low beneath the tree canopy. He checked his weapons at his belt, Truth Teller on his thigh before turning to Cassian. “Let’s do an aerial view first to scope it out, then come back and collect them.”

The general nodded in agreement.

He met her gaze briefly. “Stay together and alert,” he told the two sisters and waited for their confirmations before he and his brother shot into the sky. They flapped their way across the lake, keeping high in the air to get a better visual of the land. It wasn’t too long ago that they were here, battling it out with Eris’s possessed soldiers when that kelpie had snagged Nesta into the murky waters below.

Azriel could still smell Cassian’s panic when he realized Nesta was missing.

They flew through the mist toward the coping of trees. He sent his shadows searching for the thing that was fear itself when an ancient power rumbled from beneath them.

Both he and his brother halted in midair, wings fluttering to keep them afloat.

“What the fuck was that?” Cassian said, red siphons flaring.

But Azriel knew exactly where that magic came from—had felt its presence the day before at the townhouse. His eyes scanned the small flat of land they left Elain and Nesta on. He knew what that kind of power surge would attract. “Elain!” he shouted shooting towards her, his brother seconds behind him.

His pulse spiked as he watched her glow—fucking glow with ancient magic—as she sent out another wave, likely in search of Bryaxis. To announce her presence to it. That kernel of light inside his chest flickered in fear as he screamed her name again.

She had just turned her head to look up at him when a long, scaled creature broke through the surface of the black water, shooting upwards.

The Illyrians, once again, froze in midair.

It was an Ottoia—an ancient beast that fed on life itself—one that Azriel thought had long since been extinct.

Its vertical jaw, lined with claw-like appendages to capture its prey, opened revealing several sets of razor-sharp teeth. Sharpened spikes ran in two lines down its spine. It was like the water version of the Midgard Worm, only far deadlier.

“Holy, fucking gods,” Cassian breathed.

Azriel’s siphons guttered in blind panic as he realized what the Ottoia would be looking for. The female that was living and breathing with life.

He saw Nesta’s eyes go wide as she unsheathed Ataraxia from behind her, taking an involuntary step back.

But instead of running towards her sister, Elain pulled that pathetically small dagger from her thigh holster, planted her back foot, and threw it with all of her Fae strength.

Pride and horror sliced through him as the dagger imbedded itself in the slender body of the creature. The beast roared, the sounds bouncing off the stagnantly quiet Bog, and then surged toward her.

Azriel shot forward, blue siphons blazing like a star arcing across the sky. But there was nothing he could do to stop as the Ottoia wrapped its body around Elain’s form and dragged her into the murky waters, muffling her screams.

No, no, no! Fear, unlike anything he had ever felt before, opened a chasm inside him. Unlocked that glowing light that connected him to her.

“Azriel!” Cassian screamed from behind, trying to catch his brother before he did something so recklessly and incredibly stupid. “Azriel, don’t!”

But Azriel was only thinking about Elain.

Elain. Elain. Elain.

He blocked the wave of magic Cassian sent towards him as he snapped his wings in tight, and dove straight into depthless waters below.

~~~~~~

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Text

The One Where No One Is Ready

~Notes: I’m reposting this because I deleted the series off of AO3 <3<3

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Their is T minus forty-five minutes until James is expected to enter the arena for this year’s Espy awards, where he— a longterm representative of the UK’s top athletes, with a social media following that can rival a B list celebrity’s— will be presenting the award for the best international football player, and rumor has it that Ludo fucking Bagman is going to win. This is a dream come true— more than that even! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! And it was thanks to his mentor, Minerva McGonagall, that he even can do something that he’s dreamt of doing since his days playing in the child leagues as a lad. It’s going to be one of the best nights of his bloody life. So it only makes sense that his sodding best friends aren’t even taking this with an ounce of seriousness. In fact, instead of doing the decent thing and getting ready as efficiently as possible, those pricks are lounging over the breakfast table goading Sirius into drinking the fat from the icebox that Lily stored for whichever cooking masterpiece she is sure to whip up later this week. Not a one of them even showered.

Bloody blunders.

“Oi, Moons,” Sirius crows loudly, grinning wolfishly down at him with a glint in his steely eyes and a smirk on his face. “Promise if I chug this down you’ll give us a little kiss.”

James feels a migraine coming on.

“In your dreams Black,” Remus retorts, wrinkling his nose disapprovingly, while Marlene only guffaws and James feels his head literally beginning to pulse with pure exasperation.

Absolute pricks..

“You gits, we’ve got less than an hour till we have to call the cabs. Will you all just get dressed for Christ’s sake.”

“No need for the snappy tone Prongs.” Sirius says with a cluck to his tongue.

“It’ll take us only a tick to get ready,” Remus says, waving him off airily. And James really regrets the fact that he’s moved in with Sirius now that James and Lily are in marital bliss. Sirius’s a bad influence on him, and James should’ve predicted as much.

“Besides, ’s not my fault your wife’s hogging the bathroom,” Marlene tacks on— having dashed over here after her shift at the same firm as James, still dressed in her slacks and leather jacket.

“Well Marls, you don’t have to get your hair done now that you’ve chopped it off as short as your ears,” Lily defends herself as she steps out the aforementioned bathroom in James’s powder blue robe, thankfully her makeup is set and hair is pulled back into an artful bun and she’s as beautiful as ever. James can’t help but feel his insides go all goopy and his stomach begins to tumble every time she even looks his way, especially when she smiles that private little grin that she only uses on him.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph does he love her to his very core, tells her as much once kissing her softly amidst the groans of the other three. “You are my angel.”

“I know,” Lily preens, green eyes bright and dimples in full effect. “Now I’ve just got to pick out what to wear and we can go.”

James thanks her profusely before pivoting back around to Marlene, begs her to get on with it already.

“Alright, alright potter. God you men only like to rush, no time for foreplay.”

“I like foreplay,” Remus contends as he sits on the loveseat and begins flipping through a magazine Lily’s left laying around, which makes it so Sirius’s face goes wrecked and pale and very nearly makes the cup of fat in his hand fall to the ground— is only saved by James’s old footie reflexes.

“Get it the fuck together man,” James hisses with a glower. But then quickly amends, “But not tonight. Tonight just get dressed for fuck’s sake.” There is absolutely no time to deal with this melodrama between Sirius and Remus that basically amounts to heady glances and licked lips and sexual tension that’s frankly obscene.

Sirius swallows down, hard, and gives a perfunctory nod, but instead of walking across the hall to bloody change already, he only sits besides Remus and grins at him in a very scary, very intense way. James is almost convinced that poor Moony will end up naked and swaddled in saran wrap— Dexter style— by the end of the night. But he can’t warn him considering that there’s a knock to the door and he finds Dorcas—

beautiful and elegant in a pale yellow dress that contrasts in a lovely way against her dark brown skin— on the other side. “You look fantastic.” James breathes out, worshipingly.

“I know,” Dorcas beams as she struts in, helping herself to the pita crisps and hummus left out. “But don’t let Marls hear you else she gets all pouty.”

“Do not!” Marlene yells from the loo, to which Dorcas only silently mouths, does so, over James’s shoulder to a snickering Sirius.

“Right, well seeing as the ladies are all accounted for, we’re just waiting for Wormtail and you berks,” he points angrily at the pair now arguing over the remote.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Minnie can be left waiting,” Sirius snorts.

“Our table is at the very front Pads! She’ll see us walking in late! And then they might give my slot to that prick Mulciber!”

“A travesty,” Sirius intones.

“He might be on to something Pads,” Remus points out. “It takes an hour just for you to primp your hair.”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day Moony!”

“Are you implying that your hair is as extravagant as Rome? Because I think you might be seriously over estimating yourself.” Remus leers, and Sirius only gapes at the lip. God, if James has to watch them dancing around each other for another day he’s going to go rudding gray at the temples.

“You are a plonker Lupin!” Remus narrowly avoids Sirius’s punch aimed for his shoulder, and scurries off across the hall, Sirius’s gaze never leaving his arse all the while.

“That’s lewd,” Dorcas tells him.

“Pitiful from where I’m looking at it.” James snorts.

Sirius only glowers and tosses them the bird. “Come off it.”

“I bet you’d like to come off with’m.” Dorcas sneers, and James actually let’s himself laugh at the increasingly reddening face Sirius has just pulled in retort. Thankfully, none of his curses have a chance to spill out because of Peter strolling in— clad in a suit that’s a little short on the legs and a little tight in the middle. But he looks presentable at least, which is more than what Sirius could say.

“What’s wrong Pete?” Dorcas asks him as she perches on the armrest of the sofa.

“What do you mean what’s wrong? He’s dressed. He’s brilliant!” James beams, clapping him on the shoulder, noticing a beat too late how Peter’s acting a bit dodgy— hands rinsing in front of him and eyes darting every which way.

“I messaged Marry.”

“Oh Pete.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Why the fuck would you do that!”

The three of them chorus in various tones of disappointment.

“She, erm. Well She posted this picture of her at home with her puppy and I saw a sweater.”

“A sweater?” Sirius repeats, wry as all get out.

“A man’s sweater I mean.”

Dorcas rolls her eyes at him now. “Sweaters don’t have genders Peter.”

“Well this one did!” Peter fumes indignantly.

James raises his hands, as if he’s calming a spooked animal. “All right, all right. It was a man’s sweater. What did you message her bout it?”

Peter ducks his head once more, flushing pink. “I asked if her new boyfriend is as allergic to Pippa as I was.” Queue another round of discontent moaning.

“You bloody imbecile.” Sirius groans.

“It all just happened so quickly!”

“Things Sirius’s conquests say on their walk of shame for a thousand Alex,” Remus snickers as he steps back inside, fitted in an admittedly fetching, charcoal suit and a different colored tie in each of his hands. “Oh, you all look shifty.”

“Don’t ever criticize my shagging prowess again Lupin!”

“Peter made a mess of things with Marry,” Dorcas says before Sirius can get on one of his tangents.

“Oh Pete.”

“It happened so quickly,” he tries to explain once more.

Remus only shakes his head and pats his shoulder agreeably. “Sure it did.”

“Well did she read it yet?” Dorcas asks.

“Erm, she was online when I sent her the snap.”

“Oh Peter,” they all groan.

“I need a minute.” He says before retreating to the balcony.

James checks his watch, exactly a half an hour until they all have to go. No time for Peter’s dramatics. Maybe tomorrow James’ll buy him a pint and let him cry over it but they really need to get on with things already.

“C’mon pads, get up.” Remus instructs, trying to tug him off the couch, to which Sirius only smirks.

“You forfeited when you got up Lupin.”

“Oi! I got up to get dressed so James wouldn’t go barmy on us!”

“And I thank you Remus my sweet.” James pipes in while handing Marlene her bag of clothes she had left by the table.

“Pshaw, doesn’t matter. You left it.”

“I left for like five bloody minutes you arse!” Remus shouts.

“So you agree then,” Sirius counters with a cocked brow. “You left it.”

James has to deftly pull Remus away before he pounces on him. “Padfoot don’t be a wanker and just get up and get dressed, won’t you.”

Sirius eyes them both before a look James can’t decipher passes across his face, leaving behind a grim determination. “Righto mates.” He leaps up right then, snatching the cushions up with him, and swaggering off.

“Oi! What the hell Padfoot!”

“I gave you the seat Lupin.”

“But— But—“ Remus sputters. “You took the cushions! That’s the entire ruddy essence of the seat!”

“That’s right Lupin!” Sirius glows with far too much smugness for the situation at hand. “I took your essence!”

Remus is left balking after him and James promptly chugs down a handful of Ibuprofen.

“All right boys?” Marlene asks as she strolls out the bathroom in her black dress and heals, pecking Dorcas hello..

“I’m going to murder Sirius bloody Black with my bare hands,” Remus answers, fists tight around his ties and his face scrunched up mulishly.

“I’ll help!” Dorcas crows, before beaming at Lily who’s just clambered in— half dressed with a shawl in one hand and a different blouse entirely in the other.

“Do you guys reckon I should wear this with my purple pumps, or those new flats I got with a nice pair of slacks.”

“Lily, my love, the angel of my heart, the stars of my night,” James begins, a hand against his chest. “We’ve got twenty-seven minutes till we have to be downstairs.”

“Oh I know love, I just want to look nice for you and your big night,” she says poutingly, kisses his cheek before glancing over at the girls. “Wotcher Dorcas, you and Marlene look lovely.”

“I know,” Dorcas preens.”

“You’re in a jaunty mood?”

“She’s helping Lupin murder Black later tonight,” Marlene explains, lips curled with laughter.

“Oh lovely.”

“I’ll show him essence,” Remus growls from where he’s still holding vigil to the shut door.

James rolls back his head now, eyes alone definitely not cutting it anymore. “Damn everything.”

“Oh Re you look so smart in that suit,” Lily crows, walking over to him, but begins to cluck her tongue. “But neither of those ties match.”

Sirius used the rest of my ties to use as a rope for his halloween costume last month.”

“Of course he did.”

“He’s dead Lily.”

Lily smooths back his hair dotingly. “Sure he is darling, now c’mon. James has got a wonderful velvet tie that would look ravishing with this fit.” Remus lets Lily drag him away while Still muttering about Sirius and essences and the god forsaken guillotine of all things.

“There’s a video!” Peter shouts as he rushes back inside— blonde hair mussed and cheeks reddening as bright as Lily’s hair.

“Bloody hell Peter!” Marlene scolds, hand pressed to her chest. “Don’t be a git and scare us like that.”

Peter only repeats the fact that there’s a video— of what? James does not know nor does he want to find out. God he just wants them to act mentally sound for one damn night.

“A video!”

“Settle yourself Peter,” Dorcas scolds, a hand on her hip and a scowl twisting her pretty face. James reckons that if she were his history teacher in secondary school he might’ve actually been scared enough not to fall asleep. “Now explain yourself.”

“Mary posted a video of Pippa rolling over and there was a bloke in the background laughing along!”

“You saw a random bloke?” Marlene asks.

“No but I heard’m! Clear as day.”

Dorcas sighs, clamping a hand over his shoulder in solace. “Eh, think logically Peter, you lot only split up a couple weeks ago. I seriously doubt Mary’s gone off and shagged someone else so soon.”

“But I heard’m! Maybe she finally realized she could do better.”

“Oh none of that bollocks Peter Pettigrew.” Marlene bellows, joining her girlfriend to stand in front of him now. “Oi, wasn’t she close with that younger brother of her’s?”

Before Marlene’ even finished asking the question, Peter’s worried expression melts away, brightening ten fold and beginning to grin like an absolute lune. “Oi McKinnon! You bloody genius! Your right! It’s Marcus! It’s definitely Marcus!”

“Brilliant!” James hurriedly interjects, the time ticking down to only twenty minutes left. “It was obviously, certainly Marcus this entire time. Now why don’t you be a doll Peter and call us the cabs, I don’t want to risk not grabbing one in time. Especially in this miserable weather.”

Peter nods cheerily, picking up his mobile and idly noting that he’s begun to feel a bit peckish.

“There’s some fat in the fridge if you want,” Marlene calls after him, her snickering dining down once the front door to the flat swings open to a harried looking Sirius. James is about ready to row considering that the only notable differences seem to be the fact he’s no longer wearing his DR Martens and his hair’s even more disheveled than before.

“Where is Lupin!”

“Oi, Black! Not the bloody time for your little lovers quarrel.” James snaps.

“He took my pants!”

“Pardon?” Dorcas wheezes with pure delight.

“That sodding little slag stole my pants!”

“You stole my essence!” Remus bellows, storming back into the main room, shirtless and heated. James almost feels bad for Sirius who’s gone all flushed and blotchy at the sight.

“Remus! No, no, no! Why are you getting undressed! We want you all to be fully damn clothed!”

“Oh, that was my doing,” Lily pipes in, thankfully clad in a lovely, green number that brings out her eyes. “I thought that if Remus changed into one of your white undershirts that it’ll help accentuate the purple tie.”

James really wishes he could stay properly angry at Lily for longer than a second at a time so that he can rebuke them for this little dress up game. But alas, he simply can not, so he’s only left to nod like a daft idiot at her explanation.

“And then I smelt rubbish and so I knew Sirius had returned.” Remus snarls.

“I smell like a fucking field of daisies!”

“Bet your trousers won’t smell that way after an entire night pantsless,” Remus sneers, and James silently reminds himself never to cross the scrappy bugger, (It’s always the quiet ones indeed).

“That’s not on Moony! I don’t want to have my bits out for show, everyone will be focussed on their magnificence over poor Jem and his little presenting gig.”

Heatedly, James tosses him the bird.

“Then give me back the essence!” Remus retorts caustically.

“Fine Lupin, you want to play it this way. Game on!” With one final, haughty harumph, Sirius dashes over to his own apartment and Remus only scoffs as he rounds back to the bedroom.

“What does that even mean! Absolutely nothing that’s what! Damn arse!” Remus grumbles to himself, slamming the door shut after Lily follows, still barefoot herself.

Discretely, James checks his watch once more, feeling a looming sense of dread once realizing that there’s only fifteen minutes left until they have to be out the door.

“Hiya Marcus,” James swings his head up so quickly that he swears he’s got vertigo, but at least Dorcas and Marlene look just as concerned from where they’re also gawking at Peter. “I just wanted to see if you were in town— Oh yeah, yeah. I thought I heard you on the back of that last video Mary posted.”

“Hang up Pettigrew!” Marlene hisses, trying to grab for the phone and is elbowed out the way for her trouble.

“Oh yeah, she did block e after the whole snag with me running over her cat. But you know how it is, making a fake account— Oh, erm I didn’t think it was that weird really.”

“Hang up Peter!” James yells, feeling absolutely hopeless. “Hang up the damn mobile!”

“I know plenty of people who do that! No need to get all shirty!” Peter hisses at Marcus, the color slowly draining out of his face. “No, no you don’t need to tell Maz, ’s not that serious!”

“I need a bloody shot.” Dorcas moans.

“What’s happened?” Remus asks from where he and Lily stroll out the bedroom, fully dressed thank god and both glancing over at a sweating Peter with concern.

“Mary’s surely going to getting a restraining order,” Marlene says with no context, shrinking back when the flat’s door opens once more to Sirius.

“You mad wanker,” James breathes out, not even having enough wits about him to shout. Sirius is standing there, absolutely drowning in countless sweaters pulled up over one another and sweat pants over sweat pants.

“What the bloody hell are you doing!” Remus screams.

“You take my pants, and I wear all your clothes Lupin,” Sirius grins glowingly, eyes glinting with pure mischief.

“You’re going to stretch them all out you absolute beast!”

“I’ve got to say Moons, your sweats are real comfortable without any pants, nice and soft.” Sirius does a forward lunge right then, wiggling around for good measure. So James really shouldn’t be surprised when Remus actually pounces, knocking him over to the ground.

“My money’s on Lupin, the scrappy bugger,” Marlene cackles.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Peter groans, slamming his head against the table, while Sirius and Remus continue to writhe on the ground like a pair of bloody mutts in heat.

“Get it together you plonkers! We need to leave in ten minutes!”

“He, oof, he took my essence!”

Sirius beams victoriously when he finally gets Remus beneath him and pulls up for breath, “You took my pants before I ever did that Lupin.”

“Because you’re a insufferable berk!” Remus hisses, wiggling around and canting forwards, both his and Sirius’s faces going suddenly red, and James shutters to think of what might’ve slid up against each other to elicit that response. Though his imagination is buoyed when Sirius suddenly rocks forwards in a very deliberate way, his head dipping down closer to Remus and it’s like instinct when their lips devour one another’s smolderingly, Remus’s hands fisted in Sirius’s hair, and Sirius’s own sliding around to cup his arse cheeks.

“Oh for bloody hell,” James snarls, absolutely fed up. He grabs the cup of discarded fat and pours it on the pair of them, making it so they both jump apart in a flash— panting breaths and flushed cheeked and both of the sporting obvious hard ons— even through the layers that Sirius has got on.

“You lot have got eight minutes and thirty five seconds to get it the bloody hell together, change into something respectable and then meet me downstairs,” James instructs, seething and brooking no arguments. “Now disperse damn it!”

They end up fifteen minutes late, and McGonagall just gives James a cool glance above her flute of wine as they scramble to the table, but it’s fine, because James gets to shake Ludo Bagman’s hand and everything while up on stage— Even if Remus and Sirius make a conspicuous retreat to the gents the moment he sits back down and don’t meet up with everyone until after the ceremony ends.

James repeats, bloody blunders.

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