#it’s so stupid of me really bc I do this ridiculous thing where I’ll Light Up when I feel like someone’s interested bc it’s nice! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

misconceptions

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader x bradley 'rooster' bradshaw (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“You know, on account of your whole aggressively heterosexual, toxically masculine, 'I'm God’s gift to women' thing.”

Only Hangman is shameless enough to be offended at something so obvious. “I’m not aggressively heterosexual.”

warnings- 18+ minors DNI, (& glen don't read this shit please i'm embarrassed), allusions to previous threesome (m/f/f), voyeurism, implied threesome (f/m/m), public teasing, you prob shouldn't fuck in cars while they're moving bc seat belts/safety but this is self indulgent so let me live, fingering, edging, crying, praise kink, oral (f receiving), soft dom bradley, not so soft (but not really mean) jake, light dumbification/ degradation/ something along those lines, brat tamer boys, established rooster x reader relationship

length- 3.7k idk why my pwp is like this god help me when i finish something that's more than banter & smut again it'll be a billion words

an- I WAS working on something that didn't have smut but then miles posted that fucking picture- blame him. so here we go again...I don't...know what this is and i actually kind of hate it but i need it out of my brain. I'm sure rooster x hangman x reader has been done to death but I made an allusion to it in up to no good and well. yeah. so technically this is a sequel to that but you don't need to read that first because any illusion of plot in this is just a means for smut. *hides and blushes like a slut*

I want to say the entire premise of this is crack but my guy friends have convos like this at the bar all the time so who knows. I mean it's still ridiculous but...idk also the working title of this was bob fucks even though he's not even it and I thought that was amusing

“Knockout, five o’clock,” Payback mutters, looking behind you and Jake. “Looks like she’s got her sights set on you, Seresin.”

Jake manages a quick look over his shoulder, smirking when he turns back around because she is, in fact, gorgeous and beelining straight for his side of the table.

He rolls his shoulders back and winks at the group. You make a fake gagging noise purely out of reflex and nothing else, you swear, contemplating going up to the bar for another drink just so you don’t have to bear witness to this. You’re about to get up when you catch a very feminine hand out of the corner of your eye, going to tap you lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey,” the girl says, sidling up to you and immediately turning her back to Jake. “Where’s Bradley?”

Oh.

“Still on base,” you reply, quickly smiling in recognition. “It’s good to see you, Ash, you look good.”

“I’ll say,” Ashley answers, eyeing you up and down. She raises an eyebrow when her gaze gets to the hem of your sundress that’s resting a little high on your thigh. “I’m in town for a few days, come find me later if he makes it up here tonight.”

You duck your head, fighting the blush rising up your neck. “Maybe, I’ll let you know.”

“Please do.” Ashley winks, running her hand down your arm to the inside of your wrist, just this side of too familiar. She gives you a quick squeeze with delicate fingers and you hope no one notices the goosebumps raising on your arms before she turns on her heel to disappear back into the crowd.

You stare decidedly at your beer after Ashley saunters away, feeling everyone’s eyes on you and wanting to avoid this conversation as long as possible.

When you finally look up Phoenix is clearly fighting back a giggle, but her eyes are directed to the right of you, at Hangman.

“What the fuck was that?” He finally croaks after a few beats of awkward silence, mouth dry.

Phoenix reaches over to smack him upside the head. “You can’t really be this stupid.”

Jake is pretty sure he isn’t but he’s also kind of thinks he might be having a stroke.

“Always thought you guys were so boring,” he says dumbly, mouth agape.

Phoenix sighs, like she can’t comprehend how she ended up surrounded by so little intelligence, leaning over again to close Jake’s jaw. “Don’t mind him, up until two minutes ago he thought you and Rooster only banged in missionary.”

You blink.

You can’t believe that just came out of her mouth so casually.

You’re going to kill Rooster for not being here to endure this with you.

“Why…have you been speculating about how Rooster and I fuck?” You ask finally, slowly, pretty sure you don’t want to know the answer. Lack of self-preservation makes you ask anyways.

“Well, there had to be some sort of explanation for why it’s so easy for you to rile him up,” Jake declares, voice going a little high.

Huh.

Terrible logic but you suppose that could’ve been worse.

Still. This is a discussion you have negative interest in having. In public. With all your friends right here. With Hangman, of all people.

“Can we talk about something else? Like, literally anything else?” You don't want to beg, but this entire conversation is making your leg twitch.

“Nope,” Payback answers immediately. “We need more information.”

“We have questions,” Fanboy concurs.

You want to crawl under the table.

“I have questions too,” you shoot back instead, figuring you'll try going on the offensive. “Why do you guys want to know about our sex life? Because I’ve heard way too much from your girlfriends and I now have to live with that horrifying knowledge for the rest of my life. Why would you want those details voluntarily?”

Phoenix hums in agreement and you’re overwhelmed with the urge to hug her.

“Is that right, sweets?” Jake grins, clearly having recovered somewhat.

“Not you, Jake," you shoot back. "Thank God you haven’t dated anyone long enough for me to become friends with her.”

You studiously do not mention that he’s probably the only one you might welcome salacious details about.

“Because the rest of us aren’t having threesomes,” Payback adds, ignoring the blonde. “We’re jealous.”

You cough, averting eye contact. “Well, some of you are.”

They’re all staring at you again and you shrug. “Look, Bob fucks, not my fault the rest of you don’t.”

Jake has hit Ctrl-Alt-Delete on his temporary recovery, chunked the laptop that operates his brain out the window, and is now definitely having a stroke.

“You…and Bob?”

You scrub your hand across your face, not sure how much more of this high-pitched Hangman you can handle tonight. It’s making you edgy. “Not with me. Keep it together, pretty boy.”

Normally, you’d rejoice in the slight pink tinge gracing Jake’s cheekbones when you call him pretty boy, in one upping Hangman for a second, even if you’re the only one that notices. Tonight, it only scatters anxiety through your bloodstream.

At this point you decide to just get up and leave the table. It’s probably for the best.

“Are you gonna make it?” Phoenix asks Jake after you’ve made your way to the bar.

“No,” he answers petulantly.

•••

Hangman looks decidedly more like his usual self lounging across from you and Rooster in the booth you've taken to hiding in and you're silently thanking the whiskey he's switched to for it.

He's a pain in the ass, sure, but when he's not bantering with you, you're not even sure what to do with him. Shrill is not a word you thought you'd ever have to use to describe him, you're practically trembling at the memory of it.

All that means you're smiling, a little wicked, while you lean into the warmth of Rooster’s body. “Don’t worry, Hang, no one expects you to have a threesome unless it’s with two other girls.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of his head and you bite back a snicker. Direct hit. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

When you’re pretty sure you’re not going to laugh directly in his face, you wave your hand dismissively, hoping the wild hand gesture captures Jake’s whole air. “You know, on account of your whole aggressively heterosexual, toxically masculine, ‘I’m God’s gift to women’ thing.”

Only Hangman is shameless enough to be offended at something so obvious. “I’m not aggressively heterosexual.”

“Twenty bucks your tongue is down some poor girls throat by the end of the night.”

“That’s called having game,” he retorts. “I’ll have you know I’m a very enlightened man. Good to know you pay so much attention to my conquests though, sweets.”

He winks and you immediately wonder why you were grateful for his mood shift.

“Conquests, seriously?” You fight back a gag. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Jake.”

You hope the use of his real name emphasizes your disappointment in him.

Rooster’s gaze is flitting back and forth between you two like he’s watching a tennis match, expression calculating. “I don’t know that I feel like calling Ashley tonight.”

Both of your mouths snap shut when you register what he just said.

Where did that come from?

“Well, that figures, little bird. I’m surprised you knew what to do with both of them the first time around.” Hangman grins around his glass before taking another sip of whiskey.

Rooster rolls his eyes, but otherwise waves off the dig. “I just think there’s something else princess might enjoy a little more.”

You immediately feel heat rising to your cheeks. That explains his abrupt timing.

“Rooster,” you manage to grit out, warning in your tone as you tighten your fingers on his thigh.

He ignores you, because he knows you. Knows what you secretly want, what you’re too embarrassed to say out loud, too proud to admit. If you weren't so busy being uncomfortable you'd have warmth spreading through your chest at the knowledge that he just wants to take care of you, give you what you need.

Rooster runs his hand up your bare thigh, playing with the hem of your dress, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you before immediately blowing a fuse in your willpower.

“Come on, baby," he murmurs. "Don’t you want to tell him what we talked about the other day? After the beach?”

Crimson is painting itself across your cheekbones, you’re sure of it.

Recognition crosses Hangman’s face and he clears his throat, which is suddenly dry.

“Talk about me a lot while you’re fucking your girl, Bradshaw?” He taunts, but there’s something thick in his voice, something rapidly glazing over his bright eyes.

“Rooster,” you say again, but this time it comes out a little whinier, a little more abashed.

“Baby, it’s okay,” Rooster soothes you, gentle and doting, because he always knows how to make you melt like butter. “I see how he looks at you.”

Hangman fiddles with the rim of his rocks glass, but he doesn’t deny it.

If you were more present in this moment, if you weren’t so distracted by the need suddenly, insistently thrumming through your body, by Rooster’s hand burning on your thigh; you might be amused at this role reversal, Rooster calm, collected and bordering on cocky, while Hangman shifts across from you, curiosity making him jumpy in his seat.

Rooster’s mustache tickles your cheek as he runs his mouth across you, mouth moving to latch onto the sensitive spot below your ear. Your lips part of their own accord as you feel him move his hand under the skirt of your dress, brushing his knuckles against where you’re already soaking through your panties.

Meeting the green eyes across from you feels hot like burning and you tuck your face into Rooster’s neck to hide from it, biting your lip to keep from letting out the truly obscene noise that’s bubbling in your chest. “Can we please go home, babe?”

He chuckles, hooking a finger under your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze, tilting his head in the direction of the man across from you. “That depends. Are you gonna be a good girl for him, baby?”

Well, Rooster certainly isn't waiting patiently on his perch tonight then, is he?

Your breath hitches, everything in your body going still for a moment when you hear him, before words come tumbling out of your mouth.

“Yes, yes, yes, I promise, Bradley, please,” you whine softly, fingers gripping the edge of his open shirt, looking for something, anything to keep you grounded.

“Jesus,” you hear faintly from the other side of the table. When you look up you catch Jake’s eyes, pupils blown so wide they’re practically black.

Your boyfriend’s lips twitch upwards, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s turned towards the blonde, while his fingers continue running up and down your clothed slit. “Gorgeous like this, isn’t she?”

“Christ, Bradshaw. Understatement of the year. What a nice surprise this is.”

“Only gets better the more you tease her,” he promises.

“I’m right here,” you protest, narrowing your eyes at the two men. You’re aiming for annoyed but you’re pretty sure the words come out petulant instead. If you were standing you might even stomp your foot.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Are you feeling a little ignored?” Bradley coos with a quick peck to your cheek, hint of condescension in his tone.

Jake shoots you a wicked grin, mischief lighting up his face. “Should’ve known you’d be a fuckin’ brat.”

“Bratty girls don’t deserve to get what they want, do they?” Bradley asks Jake, but his eyes are on you.

You pout, looking up at him and trying to look as cute as possible, hoping an innocent expression might get you out of this little predicament.

It usually works on Bradley, but Jake just snickers from his side of the booth.

“No, they don’t. Not sure they deserve to wear panties either.”

“The man makes a good point,” Bradley agrees, tearing his attention from your imploring eyes.

Distantly, you’re glad he’s angled his body to block you from the rest of the bar, because Bradley is working baby blue lace down your hips, lifting you slightly in the process, before settling you back down with your feet in Jake’s lap under the table.

Jake sends a cheeky wink your direction as his hand runs up the inside of your leg, squeezing your calf, then thigh in a way that could really only be described as affectionate, which sends shivers down your body right to your core. He pulls your panties the rest of the way down, letting you catch a glimpse of his fingers running over them before he puts them in his pocket.

“Drenched those, didn’t you darlin’?” He drawls, as he stares you dead in the eyes and licks your slick from his fingers.

Your mouth drops open of its own accord and before you even have a chance to recover you feel fingers pressing against your bundle of nerves. Thankfully, Bradley kisses you a moment later, swallowing the moan that leaves your lips. “Shh, we don’t want everyone to hear, do we?”

“Fuck, she’d probably like that, wouldn't she?”

You blink slowly, eyes struggling to focus as they move between the two men.

Bradley smirks. “Poor baby, lost your words already?”

Your brain has been wiped clean so you can only mewl quietly in response.

“Think she might be obedient enough to go, now,” Jake offers.

You’re pretty sure you look drunk as you stumble outside, Bradley supporting you with an arm around your waist, nearly carrying you out.

When you reach the car, he turns to deposit you into the other man's arms. “Just don’t let her come till we get home, yeah?”

Jake grins. “Sure thing, Bradshaw.”

The moment you’re in the back of the Bronco Jake is all over you, pulling you in for a rough kiss.

He manhandles you onto his lap, pulling your back against his front as his hand slides up to your jaw, forcing your attention to Bradley in the driver’s seat.

You meet Bradley’s stare in the rearview mirror, and he grins, clearly enjoying how debauched you look in Jake’s lap, as much as he can while driving, anyways. Your mouth parts as Jake trails his down the side of your neck, across your shoulder, leaving red bite marks as he goes.

You’re thinking about how powerful Jake looks behind you, completely unbothered by your boyfriend’s eyes constantly darting from the road to the mirror to watch you both, when his hand slides underneath your dress, bunching it up and out of his way, leaving you bare against his pants.

“Fuck,” Jake groans, fingers flicking expertly at your entrance. “You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but blush, head ducking down as you focus on the wispy material of your dress falling haphazardly off your chest, breaking your gaze from the front of the car.

“Jake,” you whimper, grinding back onto his lap.

He clucks a noise of disapproval and your stomach rolls unpleasantly at the idea that you’ve disappointed him already. “Let him watch your pretty mouth moan my name, sugar.”

You snap your head back up at his words, rushing to comply, rushing to be good, only to meet cheeky, dark eyes in the mirror. Your mouth drops open as Jake eases a finger into you, gaze fixed on Bradley as heat washes over you.

Jake adds another finger, and then twists, while his thumb rubs insistent figure eights along your aching clit. If you had any sense, you might be bashful at how your legs are already shaking where they’re bracketed around his.

You vaguely remember Bradley’s instructions before getting in the car, but you can’t help the pleading falling from your lips anyways.

“Wanna come, Jake, please, please, need it,” you whine, squirming in his lap, on his fingers, against the bruising hold his other hand has on your hip. You can’t get comfortable, can’t stop moving, it’s not enough, you need more.

He chuckles, the sound mocking, bordering on mean, and you can’t help but shudder at the way it shoots heat right through you.

“I could let you come all over my fingers,” he muses languidly, pressing slow circles on your clit, like you have all the time in the world in the back of Bradley’s bronco. The yes, please, is on the tip of your tongue when he continues, words hot in your ear. “Or I could edge you with my mouth until you cry.”

You and Bradley suck in simultaneous sharp breaths at Jake’s words and you can practically feel the amusement radiating from him.

“Sweetheart, you gonna tell me what you want?”

You’re biting your lip to keep the obscene noises threatening to tear from you muffled, teeth so tight on your swollen lip you’re surprised you haven’t drawn blood.

His fingers still after a few torturous seconds of you attempting to remember how to make decisions. You could do that, at one point in your life, you think.

“Asked you a question.”

Frustrated, your eyebrows knit together as you try to form words. “Jake.”

He grazes his teeth across your neck, and you can feel that infamous smirk against your skin. “As pretty as you sound saying it, my name is not the answer.”

“I…fuck, Jake, I don’t—” you mewl brokenly, hands going to his arms, pushing, gripping, hoping you can get him to move again, give you what you need.

“Seem to remember you promising you’d be good for me.” Jake continues, as if you haven’t spoken at all and there’s a steely edge in his tone that sends another wave of heat straight to your core.

“Sorry, sorry, Jake please, sorry, can be, I swear,” you babble. Your voice sounds foreign to you, high and whiny like it might crack and break if you don’t get his approval.

“Be a good girl and tell me what you want, then.”

You’re flushing with embarrassment at this, you know what you want, but it doesn’t make your cheeks flame any less to have to admit it. “Your mouth, please, Jake need your mouth on me…”

“Good choice, darlin’,” he murmurs, lifting you up and laying you down on your back as he bends to put your legs over his shoulders, kneeling impossibly in the backseat. “Knew a slutty little thing like you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were wrecked.”

He must be really flexible, you think helplessly, before his tongue licks a stripe up your slit and drives every other remaining thought from your body.

He works those thick fingers into you again, curling them at the same time he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

Your back arches involuntarily, stars suddenly dancing across your vision. Worked up as you are he brings you to the edge quickly, and you stupidly think he might actually let you go over.

Just as your whines are hitting their crescendo, just when you’re so close you can practically taste it—he pulls back, mouth suddenly moving down your hip, away from where you want him, fingers retreating to leave you clenching around nothing. The noise you make in response is obscenely close to a wail, bringing tears to your eyes.

You blink them back hard, determined not to let Jake win so quickly.

He nips the inside of your thigh, making you spasm in surprise. As soon as you’ve come down from the sheer disappointment and not a second later, he’s back on you, lips and fingers working determinedly to wind you up again.

Jake continues his little routine, one, two, three more times until you’re sobbing, unable to hold the tears back as they leak from the corners of your eyes. Your hands are tight in his hair, trying to keep his mouth on you, terrified of him stopping and leaving you frustrated and aching again.

Hazily, you’re aware that the car isn’t moving anymore, that if you turn your head a little to the left you can see Bradley biting his lips and white knuckling the steering wheel, eyes fixed on you in the mirror still. That there’s nonsense pouring from your mouth in between the cries, as you writhe against Jake’s face, I need, Jake please, please, I can’t, Jakejakejake, I—

“You can let go for him, baby.” You hear Bradley’s deep voice cutting through the fog in your mind.

His words tingle across your skin, at the tip of every nerve ending, as your muscles start contracting, giving in to what you’ve been begging for since you got in the car. It crashes into you, an avalanche rumbling through your body, back arching in a moment of pure perfection. And all that’s left is a glowing, fuzzy feeling, warmth spreading through your chest like you just finished a shot of whiskey.

“Jesus,” Jake whispers as you come down, mouth trailing softly up your stomach, your chest and across your jaw, to brush your lips. “Fuck, sweetheart, such a good girl for me.” His words are muffled as you taste the tang of yourself on his mouth and wrecked as you are you still preen at his praise.

The driver’s side door opens and shuts with a definitive thud, pulling you and Jake out of your stupor. He gives you one last peck before dragging your dress back down, although you suffer from no misconceptions that it’ll help you look any less debauched.

You let yourself be tugged out of the car and into Jake’s arms, limbs leaden and slow on your way to your front door as your brain catches up with your body. You list against him, eyes fluttering closed as Bradley digs around for his keys. Once he opens the door he turns to you, smirking at the dazed expression washed over your features, the lazy blinks as you try to focus your eyes.

“Aw, baby, you can’t be tired already,” Bradley coos, reaching up to hold your face and affectionately running his thumbs over your cheekbones, wiping away any errant tears. “We’re just getting started.”

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hendolish · 6 months

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Your ficlets are so amazing!!!!!

I wonder, do you have any headcanons for your ships (I'm sorry can't choose one) with engagement? Who's the one who propose, when it happens and reaction?

I'm sorry if i make it complicated!

proposal headcanons ♡

hendolish

hendo would totally be the one to propose and he’d definitely put in a lot of effort into making sure they have the best day together leading up to a fancy dinner; sleepy and loving morning sex (jack’s favourite kind) and taking skye on a walk along the beach together beforehand. however, jack being jack, doesn’t really catch on that he’s being proposed to until hendo’s literally down on one knee in front of him because hendo does nice things for him like, all the time, anyway.

honestly, he hasn’t much thought about marriage before. it has nothing to do with jordan or their relationship it just hasn’t ever crossed his mind, probably bc he’s the younger of the two. but then as soon as jack sees jordan lowering himself onto one knee and he finally catches on to what’s about to happen, he thinks about marrying jordan; spending the rest of their lives together, growing old and all that, and suddenly he’s never wanted anything more in his life. yes, he says almost too loudly, the words ripping from his lungs, yes, hendo… i— yes. of course i’ll marry you. and jordan kisses him before anything else stupid can come out of his mouth, both with huge grins digging into their cheeks.

stonesford

jordan proposes to john and he’s a sap deep down so he wants it to be romantic and perfect but knows john wouldn’t want much of a fuss so he tries to strike up a middle ground for them both by doing it all in the comfort of their own home. he tidies everything up and makes it look nice before john comes back from training. there’s no roses or anything but he does light a few candles because they have them anyway and never burn them and dims the lights slightly. when john arrives home he’s still in his training gear, which is perfect really, jordan thinks, because it’s so informal and normal and just them.

john shouts hello and jordan calls him to the lounge. when john enters, it’s with a reproachful eye and a sigh, ‘don’t tell me the power’s gone out again, we really should just—‘ he pauses when he catches jordan standing there in the middle of the room, probably looking more nervous than usual, and he’s never nervous, and fiddling with something inside his jacket pockets until he pulls out his hand to reveal a ring between his fingers . ‘you …no way...’ john stutters then, sounding like he doesn’t know what else to say. ‘yep,’ jordan quips back, grinning giddily but feeling like the ring might slip from his shaky grasp any minute, ‘only if you want, of course.’ john calls him an idiot before rushing over to kiss him senseless in answer.

benaaron

okay so, the obvious answer here is that aaron proposes to ben. he’d make it ridiculously romantic and sappy, whisking ben away on some romantic holiday where they get to live in their own little bubble for a week or two before he pops the question… which is why i love to imagine it happening in a completely different way where ben proposes to aaron before aaron has the chance.

it goes like this: they’re tucked up in bed together because it’s winter and the heating hasn’t kicked in yet, bathing in each other’s warmth as they watch the snow begin to fall outside talking about stuff, and ben just says something like, ‘dunno why everyone’s getting married abroad these days, i’d love for it to snow at our wedding’. and aaron’s hand abruptly stops combing through ben’s hair. our he’d said.

ben seems unfazed and completely aware of what he’s just said as well, cheek still pressed comfortably against aaron’s chest, so it wasn’t just a slip of the tongue. aaron hopes, anyway. ‘you want that?’ he checks, feeling a burning need to, ‘with me?’ ben cranes his neck to give him a look that most certainly conveys, ‘who tf else would i be marrying?’ and aaron rushes to lean down and kiss him because he feels like his heart is about to burst from his chest.

♡

#went with my main ships for this but v happy to fill requests for other pairings with this headcanon hehe 🫶🏻#england #england national team #england nt #england football #football #football rpf #hendolish #jack grealish #jordan henderson #stonesford #john stones #jordan pickford #benaaron #ben white #aaron ramsdale #headcanon #fics

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1moreoffkeyanthem · 3 months

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because i am sad, don't have my nina meds and have the personality of tissue paper rn, will you take pity on me, pretty girl, and pray tell what the locations look like in ur fics? like how you imagine south park looks, maybe stan and kyle's old bed rooms, the sp survivor haus? starks pond, the vibes and stuff -- you can be as hyper specific as you want i really like detail and visualizing things <3 also you

Melda Tâe I sincerely hope this is a bright spot in the Sadsack!!! This is such a great ask too like what does the HWB elven palace look like? The train station in WGSIES? The Broken Bottle Quartet apt complex? Heidi’s coffee shop in ATLCTS? The bistro where ojv Craig and Kyle have Nerd Boy Time? The TWITR bunkhouse?

And I’ve said on multiple occasions that I suck an unfathomable amount of ass at actually putting setting descriptions into my fics. Not because I’m picturing scenes playing out in a blank void, or bc I’m not picturing things clearly, but 1) I fully convince myself that no one wants to read my boring drawn out descriptions, which is stupid and I’m aware of that bc I LOVEEEEE vivid imagery when I’m reading 2) I often forget that no one is envisioning what I am without visual explanations lmfao it’s just so There to me I forget my readers don’t live in my cursed brain 3) I have such a habit of getting too into Witty Banter™️ and I’ll write so much dialogue with the occasional action and realize I haven’t said shit about what the setting looks like

But boy oh boy do I have specific pictures in mind! Especially regarding settings. (God I need to make a fuckin Pinterest omg the OJV board alone would go stupid)

I’m gonna be so fuckin fr right now, I have way too many AU’s and I will be unhinged abt a lot of them, so, below the cut!

So, as a surprise to absolutely no one, I’m starting with the OrangeJuiceVerse!

That bizarre town our kids grew up in is very typical suburbia, with neatly arranged near identical houses and blacktop roads that the snow plow goes through the same time every morning. Downtown holds the major businesses and across the tracks, not even a block over from the main neighborhoods, is the handful of “ghetto” houses, right by the woods. And through those woods, with a small single lane street that is far too narrow and winding to be safe? Stark’s Pond. The clearing in the tree canopy that the parking lot provides is the best stargazing spot, far enough away from the minimal light pollution that a tiny mountain town emits. It’s not just a pond, more of a park, with a field next to the water that’s a well traversed snowball fight battleground and a single bench under an ancient oak tree. The pond freezes and that’s how you know winter is truly underway. Kids slipping and sliding on the ice with no adult supervision is the standard here. In the summer, the water is still so cold, fed by mountain runoff. The surrounding shore is rocky and the m5 regularly compete to see who can find the coolest stone in the gravel.

There’s an elementary school, middle school, and high school, all in the same block and sharing a parking lot. Makes it easy for bus drivers and parents dropping off their kids. The high school is WAY bigger than is warranted for how small the town is, and there’s a separate building for band and av club. The football “stadium” isn’t much, the bleachers are only a few rows high and the field house is little more than a locker room, the concession stand is tiny and only run by student council members, and the cow painted into the turf over the 50 yrd line is lopsided. The gym where pep rallies and volleyball and basketball games are held has better seating, but football is a big damn deal in sp and the whole town is crowded around the track fence if they don’t get a seat, cheering on the hometown boys on cold October nights with nothing but fireball and ridiculous amounts of school spirit in their systems.

Stan and Kyle practically live at each others houses growing up. They each have a “Super Best Sleepover Drawer” in the others rooms and when they were younger and still the same size? No one could tell who actually owned what clothing. Like, y’all dear god you are more intertwined than your fingers holding hands. Stan’s room is a messsssss! Especially when he’s not doing well mentally. And he holds on to every stray item so his dusty shelves are cluttered as hell. His pillows are flat as shit. Nothing in his closet has been folded properly in years. The only organized thing in that room is the record collection, the sheet music folder, and the dnd character breakdown. Kyle has stress cleaned Stan’s room before. And (think You Belong With Me music video) THEIR WINDOWS FACE EACH OTHER!!! Kyle’s room has so much of the same kind of decor as Stan’s, with the posters and the figurines and the wall of nostalgic Polaroids, but he’s so much more organized. Both the boys have Kenny Paintings, (Stan is the one mentioned in this and Kyle’s is one of him as the elf king when they’d play as youngsters) and Kyle’s is hung level on the wall and Stan has his propped on his desk.

Ohhhh man the SP Survivor Safehouse, I described it some here and it really is such a College Kid House!!! They found the cheapest place to rent close to campus that would fit the 5, and it’s a SHITHOLE! It’s old as fuck and falling apart, the foundation is crooked, the blueprint must’ve been drawn by someone with severe distraction problems because for a place that’s not all that big, it’s labyrinthine in its random layout and the out of place way too high to reach ledges and the fireplace but no chimney and the ridiculousness of the narrow backyard, doing laundry in that house is a NIGHTMARE like the washer is downstairs and the dryer is in a separate room upstairs that logistically should be a bathroom. The kitchen tile is so old and cracked, and there’s this weird half wall facing the living room with a window? Also the walls are thin as hell and that staircase? Good god. Steep as fuck, tilted to the left, no railing, everyone has fallen on the Widowmakers multiple times. The garage door doesn’t work. The water heater is older than god. But this is their house, and they make it work.

I also want to describe the waterfall from How We Began, as specific and random as that is lmao. Think Multinoma Falls in Oregon, with a long trail to the top and no man made bridge over it. And it freezes like that one waterfall in narnia. Completely solid, snow and frosted trees on both sides at the summit, just the perfect place to meditate and reflect, because the reflection off the ice is like a rippled mirror. (Actually and so fr I need art of chapter 12 so bad rip) that place is BEAUTIFUL with the mountains in the background, the icicles refracting light, pine trees with needles dusted with snow, large rocks overlooking the edge of the cliff and the forest surrounding it!!!

Oh damn also the Big House in The Webs In The Rafters is the most eerie looking house of all time. At the end of that twisting gravel drive, to the left of the western pasture, sits this giant black mansion. It looks wayyyy too gothic to be on a ranch. And most of the rooms are unused, that place feels cold and dark even when the farmhands are in for dinner at that huge table in the dining room. The upstairs office has all these strange carvings in the wooden walls, Craig’s massive granite desk is right in front of the window that sees the whole front part of the land. And both that house and the bunkhouse are ancient as the “haven” itself. The walls have crawlspaces big enough for a full grown person to fit in. Like there’s a maze in the walls. The upper pasture isn’t visible from the master bedroom at the back of the top floor, and there’s a tree by the pond that Butters’ ducks live in that’s the first thing the morning light touches. That spot, where Ken and butters had their first kiss in chapter 16, is the only place that doesn’t feel stifling on the entire land.

Dude the haunted house in In The Truly Gruesome! It is legit the most cheesy haunted house of all time, set up in what is essentially a double wide trailer, no bathroom, no kitchen, barely a tiny breakroom at the back, the decor is the cheapest spirit Halloween shit imaginable and just lame shit like a bowl of peeled grapes that are supposed to feel like eyeballs in the mad scientist area. That front office with its plywood walls and plastic door is the most unromantic setting for a love confession, but Stan and Kyle made it work. The breakroom “furniture” is a random hodgepodge of booths from a closed McDonald’s and tables someone found on the side of the street. The mini fridge has nothing in there but a moldy jar of pizza sauce and a single half drank mellow yellow. This place is absurd. I love it.

AND I loved this ask! You always send me such great things my beloved omg never stop! <3

#this took longer than it should have #because I thought about Hades!Craig and got distracted reading WGSIES #and then i cried #because that fic is sad as hell #also I’m a pussy #but yeah #asks #south park #headcanon #fic writing #au’s #scene descriptions #my shit #OrangeJuiceVerse #other works #style #them

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cable-knit-sweater · 2 years

Note

Good morning, sweet man!

because you've been a real champ answering all these asks about what you love about yourself so beautifully, rightfully and wonderfully bubbie <3 (i'm so proud of you *sheds sweet tears of friendship*) imma switch it up like i always do and so When you get this you have to answer with 5 things you like about both Chris and Sebastian

scream loud, my love <3

Okay I told you this in your DMs but I saw this ask and I laughed and said out loud “oh my god I hate you” 😭 Because how do I pick 5 things I like about THEM? There are so many things and I feel like I’ll sound superficial or not do them justice at all, but for you my darling bubba? I shall do my best 💖😘

And I’m gonna do it under the cut bc it’s become a damn essay

Note: I’m now realizing you meant separately but I did them together because they just go together in everything in my mind 😂

1. Their kindness. To everyone, but fans in particular. It’s more obvious with Seb because he’s always interacted a little more, but godd does that man make me want to weep with how he treats everyone around him? He’s the most precious baby. And with Chris, it’s just obvious from his whole vibe, the way he always talks people up, the way he just radiates love, the way he so clearly expresses how much it all means to him. They’re so open minded and they rarely seem judgmental and I love them for that. 🥰🥰🥰

2. Their commitment & dedication & love for/ to their craft. Some actors do it for the money, for the fame, for idk what. But with both of them you just KNOW they do it because they love movies, they love the craft, they freaking CARE about their characters and put in the effort to translate what’s on the page to screen with so much emotion and dedication. It’s made my heart burst to hear them talk about this all too many times. 💛😭

3. Their passion & love - for a lot of things. Obviously they have space in common. I love love love that about them, the fact that they can become so incredibly dorky and excited talking about it, that they clearly invest time into learning about it more and more, and that they share those things with us. And for Chris, also playing piano or tap dancing or his interest in politics or his love for dogs. Whenever he talks about something (or someone - Dodger) he loves, this man just lights up and and it makes me feel so freaking warm and happy and I’m so happy that he, even if he’s such a private person, still shares those loves & interests with us so freely. And with Sebastian, it’s books & quotes and photography and his love for New York and the love he shows his friends. He’s honestly amazing and so passionate about so many things it makes me all soft and makes me sob. 💛💛💛

4. Their dorky nature. They have no problem being a little silly, act like little kids, do something a little stupid or make fun of themselves. They don’t take themselves too seriously (and they’re so freaking modest), but I love to see Seb do his ridiculous little dances or hear Chris rant about his favorite Disney movies or just see the dumb expressions they pull or listen to the stupid jokes they make bc they’ve not progressed beyond the age of 12 (in Chris’s words), and I love that so damn much.

5. Well I tried to not be superficial but I cannot possibly ignore the fact that they are not just beautiful on the inside, but freaking GORGEOUS on the outside too. I’d say I don’t know where to start, but it’s all in the eyes really 😭😭 I LOVE both Chris’s eyes and Seb’s eyes. So bright and so pretty and I just want to drown in them and I very often do. And I cry about them a lot because it’s just too freaking much for one person to deal with. And then then just, Sebastian’s freaking jawline and that cute little chin and his lanky but strong body and those handsss. And Chris’s arms and that ridiculous chest and that tiny little waist and those handsss. And the HAIR!! We’ve been living in fluffy hair heaven and I don’t ever want it to end. Yeah fuck they’re way to fucking gorgeous and I kinda hate them. 😤😤

6. Okay you said 5 but I cannot, I repeat, CAN NOT possibly leave out their laughs. Their LAUGHS give me so much freaking joy??? I can hear their laughs looking at a photo, and they’re both so freaking infectious, but smiles on these two faces are also so so incredibly beautiful? The eye crinkles & the nose scrunch Seb tends to do, god I’m weak for it. And Chris’s full belly laugh with the boob grab is just the best freaking thing in the world and I want to just see and hear it in person just one time so I can collapse and die happy. 🥺🥺💖💖

Okay I feel like I’ve left so many things out. Like their sheer talent. But I could write ESSAYS on the things I love about them, and I’m so disappointed with myself that I probably left out lots of things I really freaking love about them. Because I love them so much I don’t even know how to deal with it any more, and I think those thoughts are just crowding my brain so much I can’t eloquently express the best things about these boys, but believe me, there are so many things I know I want to add to this like right after I’ve posted this. But thank you for this impossible ask you lovely unhinged madwomen, my sweetest bubba, I love you a whole lot Oula 💕💖💖

#maya answers #chris evans #sebastian stan #i love them A LOT OKAY 😭😭💛💛💛#none of this will make sense bc I’m rambling like always

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sissiarte · 2 years

Note

No sé si esto es el ask box estoy extremadamente confundida pero!! Para el meme de los blorbos quiero preguntar pokemon pero as in bichos no personas porque me hace mucha más gracia así. Y nuestro dnd verse en plan todas las campañas que hemos hecho que no es un fandom así que no sé si está permitido??? Y genchin. Genchin importante.

Sorry que he tardado muchísimo madre mía

(loose translation: for the blorbos meme pokemon but as in creatures not people bc it's funnier. And our dnd verse like all our campaings. And Genshin, Genshin important.)

answers under the cut bc this is going to be /very/ long

Send me a fandom (Pokémon but like the actual Pokémon) and I’ll tell you my:

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most): Espeon!! Light of my life the most beautiful, the smartest, the best <3

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped): Azurill!!!!!!!!! Little bouncy ball of cuteness I want to squeeze it I love their little face their little ears their cute round tail their little feet!! they have no arms!!!

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave): I feel like Ampharos gets a lot of hate for some reason??? It's one of my all time favs (as you can see for most of these responses gen 2 my beloved) I think in general Pokémon that are prettier or cuter or not as tough or whatever get overlooked :(

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week): I have no idea who to consider and obscure pokemon tbh but maybe I'd say any legendary from gen 2?? like they are not obscure at all but when they show up in other gens I get very excited :)

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave): Mewtwo jkgfhasd

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason): Mr. Mime would be so funny. The Detective Pikachu movie proved that.

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell): hypno

that was easier than I expected tbh!! And also makes me look as if I only played gen 2 games but listen, the first game I ever played was Pokémon Gold and it stuck with me okay. The best games, you get TWO regions in one game. 16 gyms!!! And the legendaries are so cool and they introduced so many new things!!!

Anyways, onto genshin fhjsdk

Send me a fandom (Genshin Impact) and I’ll tell you my:

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most): The amount of time I spend thinking about Zhonlgi is embarrassing. WHERE ARE THOSE WHO SHARE THE MEMMORY ??? THEY ARE DEAD ;_____; AND HE IS SO SAD AND ALONE AND ;____; STILL HE ENJOYS BEING ALIVE AND THE LITTLE THINGS ;_____; like listening to that guy tell stories he knows are wrong because he was there, or taking Childe to dinner and having him pay bc he doesn't understand money, or talking about rocks bc he is a fucking nerd I love him so much stupid old man aaaAA.

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped): Kokomi, Gorou and Xinqiu: the three genders.

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave): Amber :(((( Listen I know archers are hard to play with but she gets so much hate for no reason. She saved my ass so many times in early game and is very sweet :((((

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week): DAINSLEIF not obscure I guess but I love him and he shows up once in a blue moon so

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave): Diluc hfkjash he is so ridiculous and I love him so much he takes everything so seriously

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason): Tartaglia.

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell): honestly??? I don't know?????

Boi that was long why did I write so much about Zhongli gjhakds. I'll do the dnd verse later bc I really need to think about it a lot that's going to be so hard

THANK YOU SO MUCH BABY THIS WAS SO FUN ILY SO MUCH kissing you + kissing you + kissing you + kissing you +kissing you + kissing you +kissing you + kissing you +kissing you + kissing you + I love you + <3

#pokemon #genshin impact #ask meme #ask game #blorbos #my asks #sissi rambles

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tiptapricot · 2 years

Text

Moon Knight Liveblog thoughts, The Friendly Type

I love this opening scene w Layla but who is the lady truly like

How did they get to know each other bc she sorta acts like a mom but also not rlly n also she isn’t credited as such

Marshmallows :-)

Layla ilysm

I wish this scene didn’t have music almost bc the asmr would b amazing

LAYLA DOES YHE FACE PICKY THING IRL NOT JUST AS A DUAT NURSE OGHGGHGG

HER STIMMMMINGHGGGGGGGH

She also works her lips a lot

THIS LOGO SONG YESSSSSSSS

Episode two w the boring ass normal music should step up

Marc Jumpy Guy Spector

The way he’s running so fast n then is just already late lol

“Owh shit :-/“

“Oh wow”

“Ooo we dancin we fightin what we gonna do”

The slap… THIS FIGHT FUCKS

Love the musicCCC GOD

The dynamic vibes slap so hard ahhHgGghh

Marc looks great disheveled too

Jake just stepping in like “lol sorry guys don’t go after me or I’ll kill you” *gets in a cab*

MARC USED STEVENS ACCENT I THINK WHEN HE ASKS WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME???

“Just let us go man 😟”

Marc Jumpy Guy Spector again

He looks so dumb when he runs

These poor bystanders

“Mahc… that’s enough”

Jake moment again woooooo!!!!

Also knowing the changes when the camera pans between Marc n reflections is practical n Oscar doing it in real time makes this ep even MORE FUCKING EPIC

The pause before “he’s just a kid” n then seeing Marc push all ot it away

God

We don’t talk enough about that moment jfc

Khonshu’s neck black hole lmao

“Anger them enough… and they will enact a hate crime on my fruity ass”

*Does a gay little eclipse that pisses you off*

Literally the limp wrist moment is the next scene

Also Khonshu is so stupid he’s so dumb he’s like “we gotta b perfect haha no I won’t tell you anything or prepare anything byyyye”

“Ohhh I’ll be there 😏”

Steven is… I love him “Oh my days” what if I kissed u huh??? On the nog?

YATZIIIIIILLLLL her voice is so nice

“Ok…. Cool” Marc interacting w ppl makes him sound so funny

“The only melody Khonshu enjoys is the sound of pain” Marc that’s…. Really funny

JUST TELL HIM HES GONNA B POSESSED DUDE STOP LEAVING HIM IN THE DARK

The trial scene makes me fucking feral

“We despise your garishness” STOP BEING HOMOPHOBIC

OSCARS ACTING IN THIS SCENE MARC LOOKING MORE AND MORE AWARE AND AFRAID OF WHATS HAPPENING GODDDD

THE TEAR

IM NOT OK IM NOT OK ALSO THE LIGHTING IS RLLY NICE

The little whispered “fuck” Marc I’m so sorrry I love you

Arthur Crunchy Feet Harrow coming out of the gate swinging w the ableism

Harrow shut up shut up shut up shut up

Marc’s poor body

Watching them blur here is ridiculous like they’re both being triggered but I think it’s Marc that breaks through n tries to punch harrow bc u hear him say stop n Khonshu say shut up

HARROW SHUT THE FUCK UP I WANNA KILL YOU

“We will not tolerate violence” oh I see tolerating ableism n verbal attacks but not physical ones I see I see also HARROW I HATE YOU

Marc…. Looks so fucking…. In disbelief and so wrecked and so sweaty and teary and vulnerable his voice cracking and he’s scared and he’s scared of harrow for te power he has over him god this fuvking scene I’m not ok

What other memories is this echoing what other experiences is this mirroring where he wasn’t believed and was yelling to listen but no one did bc he was written off for being seen as lesser

And Marc feels as if he’s lost after, as if not being normal cost him everything. His brain and his struggles and that being weapon used like always causing him to lose

THE MUSIC FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

He went back for his hat :-)

Marc failing at an interaction… felt

LAYLA YESSS

BOAT SCENE BOAT SCENE YESS

Layla u are glowing get his ASS

“Copy that” you military ass guy I love you

Layla finger fiddling again

SALKAAAAAA

I need to see their wedding

I’m getting goosebumps I love them the like emotional tension here n Layla has the power

“It… doesn’t matter” the way his voice breaks

AND HIS FINGERS AUTOMATICALLY OPEN WHEN LAYLA TAKES THEM N HE FIDDLES W THEM I LOVE YHEM I LOVE YHEM OK INLOVE THEM

The way he gives her her hands back n pats them like giving the affection back, returning it bc he doesn’t need it

Layla in a ponytail somehow almost changes her character to me she just looks like like she just looks she LOOKS SHE LOOKSSSS

What happened between Layla n Mogart I wanna see the drama

Marc fails a social interaction part 2, electric boogaloo

Layla just like “o baby no”

Marc just not knowing shit ab Egyptian stuff is so funny n then Steven’s like that one tik tok meme

“I receive: the body. You receive: the info you need”

“He’s praying” IS SUCH AN OVERLOOKED LINE

Steven n Marc bantering my loves

Let Marc say fuck

Mogart I hate you

The way Marc can’t act when harrow is there…. The trauma from the trial still so fresh and that power imbalance and uncomfortability freezing him

“You piece a shit..” real

Also w Marc being unable to act, it’s also after he starts turning Layla against him and it’s just the same and he just can’t he can’t you can see a shot of his face that almost looks identical to the trial

It’s like a silent panic attack

But then harrow leaves n he can breathe again

THIS FIGHT SCENE MY BELOVEDDDTGE CAPE IN A MOON SHAPE SHEILDING LAYLA

“Buy me some time” “I can do that :-)”

Also the music AGAIN

MARC RUNNING THROUGH THE FUCKING FENCE IS SO FUNNY HE DOESNT EVEN JUMP JUST ZOOP

Marc growling… baby you are neurodivergent ily

“Thas it… alright that’s it that’s it time out!”

“Take… the body… take the body take the body Marc”

Lol get stabbed

Imagine seeing ur husband get impaled

LAYLA W THE KNIFE NECKLACE I LOVE HER I LOVE HER

“LAYLAAA!!”

The grab n roll is sOOOO satisfyinGGGG

“Tik tok marc spector” shut UP

“Aigh… I really liked that jacket… o wel”

Marc in da car call that Carc

He has nice shoulders

Bologna :-)

Marc just breaking internally n pushing her away the scene where they’re driving makes me weep they’re just tearing at the seams n both so sad but also angry

Marc getting upset easily felt felt

Some of Khonshu’s neck tendrils r taught into his neck n some just dangle lol

THE AWITCH W THE CAR MIRROR that’s the scene that got me to watch actually I saw it on Instagram n was like ohhHh

Steven’s eyelashes n the way he looks at Layla adoringly

“Egyptians invented modern.. navigation” baby you are so cute

“It’s French” LAYLAS LAUGH

They’re both so pretty they need to kiss

Watching this scene after that one comic ab Layla not knowing why it’s not working hits diff I love her

Khonshu sad scene….

His voice is so deep and soft….

The stars r fucking beautiful

This scene gives me goosebumps

Layla has a scrape on her shoulder

THIS SCENE THIS SCENE THIS SCENE OF TURNING THE STARD BACK AGHGGGHHGGGGHHHHHGHHHHHGHHJJHHGGHHHHGGHJJHGGUHJHGGHHJJ

God it’s so pretty it’s so pretty I’m out of my mind it’s so pretty I’m in space I’m eating wood

Khonshu dying hurts why does it hurt the way he yells and crumples n the suit breaks away and the bones snap and shatter and he groans in pain and Steven can feel it and feel it leaving him and he reaches out to Khonshu as he dissolved into dust, desperate and scared and so sad and then just goes totally limp… the tie severed from the body for the first time in a decade and the immediate mystical biological whiplash

*ahem* Harrow…. I hate you. Also stop having crunchy toes.

This episode slaps so hard everyone else shut up yes I like it more than the tomb which comes next and it’s bc SO MUCH HAPPENS AND ITS PACED SO WELL

YESSSSSSS THIS ENDING THEME WHY DO ALL OF THEM FUCK SO HARD YESSSS

#the fruit is talking again #MK liveblog

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rose-lord-of-simps · 3 years

Text

When Mammon Finally Snapped.

Request: Could you do something with mammon snapping at his brothers Bc of their words *insert emojis this author can’t- oh wait I can copy and paste hold on-

Request: Could you do something with mammon snapping at his brothers Bc of their words 👉👈

@mammons-baby

First of all, just let me say, I too, am a slut for Mammon. Second of all, I got so excited at your request so thank you for sending it in!

Enjoy!

Warnings: Cursing! (remember if cursing bothers you but you want to read feel free to just ask me for a clean version!) Mammon’s brothers being super mean to him. And mentions of blood but nothing detailed. Mentions of his brothers punishments and ripping of nails.

It was an accident. 100% pure accident.

“Mammon what the hell did you do?”

“How come you always assume it was me!?”

“Who else besides you and Beel could manage this level of chaos in the kitchen?”

Mammon really didn’t mean to set the kitchen on fire! Again...

“This is getting expensive Mammon. You need to stop being a nuisance.”

“Hey guys, this smoke is not good for my complexion so can we figure out how to put it out already?”

“Don’t let Mammon do it, he’ll only make it worse, as always.”

“Hey!”

----

“Scummy Mammon. Go away and leave me alone!”

He just wanted to see his brother. Levi hadn’t left his room for nearly 3 days and Mammon was worried.

“No let me show you brotherly affection and play video games with you!”

“I don’t want to play video games with you! Go find something else to do!”

Ouch. Normally he’d play with anybody.

“Sorry.”

————

It was not Mammon’s day.

The witches had called on him a lot and his clothes were all torn.

It’s started raining on his way home but he didn’t have an umbrella.

And he was operating on barely two hours of sleep.

All Mammon wanted was to sleep, but of course even that’d be a challenge. As he walked into the HoL the first thing he noticed was Beel and Belphie in a blanket nest snuggled up together.

“That looks so comfy, can I join?”

Cuddles sounded so good right now.

“No stupid Mammon.”

“Sorry, he’s grouchy because Lucifer woke him up from a nap on accident. But maybe it’d be best if you didn’t join.”

He should have known. This wasn’t the celestial realm. His brothers didn’t want cuddles anymore.

Mammon made his way back to his room, nearly tripping on air on the way, but didn’t fail to pass by Asmodeous undetected.

“You look like shit.”

“Gee thanks.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you but I’m going out and don’t need whatever it is. So just... stay away. Okay?”

He really should be used to this by now.

He shouldn’t be crying silent tears by the time he gets to his room.

By the time he falls asleep he’s so exhausted he doesn’t get dinner.

————

It’d been four days.

Four days of no Mammon around the house.

He was never at dinner, seemingly always sleeping through.

He didn’t show at breakfast, already having left the house.

And none of the brothers had similar classes to their scummy second born.

Lucifer was the first to notice and tried to catch him when he came home but on the fifth day, Mammon just didn’t come home.

When someone finally pointed out that Mammon hadn’t been around recently and possibly could be in trouble, it of course was Beel.

“He doesn’t usually leave for this long though, what if he is in trouble?”

“Then why not just let him perish?”

“I agree with Levi. Let him wither wherever he is.”

“Enough everyone. Mammon’s been keeping a few crows in the aviary right? I’ll send one out and we can follow it, see if it leads us to him.”

“How do you know that’ll work?”

“It’s a dumb crow. They like Shiny things and his hair is a shiny thing.”

“Ya’ll are welcome for that, that shiny hair is because of me.”

————

When they finally found Mammon, it wasn’t pretty.

His normally white hair with almost purple iridescence was now a light brown, covered in dirt and what looked like soot.

His glasses were no where to be seen.

And his demon form was out, wings tied and possibly bleeding.

And the responsible demons were no other than the witches.

What hurt the brothers the most was seeing their normally lively sibling looking as if the life had been sucked out of him.

“Do you think this image will haunt them in their dreams?”

“Can I eat em?”

“What if we rip off their nails first.

“You underestimated us.”

“He May be a scummy demon and a terrible brother.”

“But he is our brother and we will not tolerate you harming him.”

For once, Mammon thought his brothers cared.

————

“What were you thinking Mammon!?”

He was wrong.

“This is disgraceful, you can’t keep getting in these situations. It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

“What would be a suitable punishment?”

Punishment?

For what?

Getting hurt?

If they were just gonna do this then why did they save him?

“If you were just going to punish me then why save me?”

“You’re our brother, you may be annoying but we care about you.”

“Since when did any of you care?”

“That’s not fair, we’ve always cared you’re just being dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? Lucifer makes an entire demon out of pure rage and I’m the dramatic one?”

“Mammon-“

“No! I practically raised all of you! I brought Lucifer meals when he missed dinner, I covered all of your heads on the fall down, I planned Lillith’s service without any help because you all were mourning, I was the one who cuddled all of you when you had nightmares, and how was I thanked?”

“Mammon you’re being ridiculous-“

“I got hung upside down from the ceiling for days on end, I have fucking scars that I don’t remember getting because my brain has repressed the memories, I’ve gotten called scummy and an idiot for giving into my sin when all of you are excused, I’ve nearly died on multiple occasions covering for your asses when you do something wrong so Lucifer doesn’t get you, and when I try to reach out I’m pushed away by my own family.”

“Stop being so serious you know we love-“

“Love me? Love me!? You never cared about me. It took you four days to realize I was gone. And when I was hurt and obviously traumatized I’m told that I’m getting punished for being a victim. For being an embarrassment. If you wanted me gone so badly then why have just let me die!?”

The worst part was they all knew he was right.

They knew they used him as a punching bag.

They knew he’d taken the blame for them on multiple occasions.

They knew he was the only one who got criticized for his sin.

They knew he raised them.

They knew that if it weren’t for Mammon then they wouldn’t know what to do.

Which is why it hurt when Mammon left and didn’t come back.

====

I don’t like how this turned out but I’ve been having a lot of writers block lately and I’m glad I was able to get something out. I may try and come back to this when my writers block isn’t so bad.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me mammom #oney me mammon #mammon headcanon #mammon angst #mammon avatar of greed #mammon x reader

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trensu · 3 years

Text

I had a thought about a vaguely Cupid-and-Psyche inspired crack!fic where Elias is a god of Love

(Jon: don't you mean Emotional Manipulation?

Elias: you say to-may-to, i say to-mah-to

Jon: ... I say to-mah-to, I'm not American, what does this have to do with anything?)

Jon is obviously Cupid. Elias took a shine to him and made him immortal against his will and keeps him as his servant or smth. Idk Elias is a douchebag, okay? ANYWAY, Elias is also a petty bitch and so he gave Jon Love arrows

(Jon: it's mind control.

Elias: they inspire passion, Jon. Just bc you don't experience it, doesn't mean--

Jon: No. Me being ace has nothing to do with it. They're mind control arrows. These people wouldn't have done all that if they weren't being influenced.

Elias: you have no romance in your soul

Jon: ...i find your interpretation of love and romance extremely suspect.)

Whenever Elias feels jealous or neglected or just plain bored tbh, he sends Jon out with to shoot whoever's caught his ire with one of those love arrows and has them make fools of themselves. Jon does it (he's bound to Elias for handwavey reasons so he can't really disobey) and it usually gets him in trouble. It's how he's gotten all those scars. (Jane Prentiss falling in love with worms and attacking Jon with them when he accidentally stepped on one while trying to make an exit was pretty tame in comparison to Jude Perry's reaction when she realized Jon struck Agnes with an arrow so she'd fall for some no-name mortal boy).

Such is Jon's life. Being immortal is not all it's cracked up to be when you can get injured and scarred. So when Elias started muttering about Peter's wandering eye, Jon knew it was only a matter of time before he'd send him out with those arrows again.

Peter, apparently, had been showing too much interest in a mortal boy named Martin, whose Loneliness tasted as bittersweet as dark chocolate (or so Peter claimed as he boasted during his dinner with Elias while Jon slowly sunk further into his chair the more irritated Elias's scowl grew).

"make him fall in love with something hideous and embarrassing," Elias had seethed at him, practically throwing the quiver at his head. At least two of the arrows pricked him so he was quite grateful that he was immune to their mind control (Elias: don't be ridiculous, Jon. Having you susceptible to the magic you're tasked to handle would be a stupid move on my part. You could get compromised and be completely useless to me!)

Grumbling, Jon set out to track down the mortal boy. He was not prepared for the the way the sunlight glinted off of Martin's light hair or his warm smile. He was not prepared for the twinge he felt in his heart when Martin's pale eyes glimmered with tears after receiving his mother's harsh words (the pain, worryingly, felt all too similar to the slice of the arrows he aimed at people).

He didn't want to shoot Martin with one of the mind control arrows. He wanted Martin to be happy. So he persuades his good friend Daisy to get her gf Basira to fake a prophecy. To her credit, she did a fantastic job delivering a fake prophecy. But there was some sort of miscommunication (or Martin's mother deliberately misunderstood; it could go either way). Instead of telling Martin's mother to marry off her son to a kind and handsome man with a gentle heart in order to avoid the wrath of the gods, the prophecy was somehow interpreted as sacrificing Martin's hand in marriage to some sort of hideous beast that lived at the peak of a nearby and treacherous mountain.

(Jon: how did she get that idea from your prophecy? what exactly did you tell her???

Basira: i can't fake a prophecy, Jon. and i'm not telling you what the prophecy was

Jon: What?? Why not???

Basira: it would violate the oracle-client confidentiality clause on the consent form we have them sign prior to a reading)

Jon was irritated by how quickly and eagerly Martin's mother was to dress up her son and dump him on the mountain. He was tempted to use the arrows on her, instead, but he figured Martin would be upset if something happened to his mother so he refrained. Jon fretted as Martin started his slow procession up the mountain. Martin wasn't made to endure such a harsh environment, and even if he had, he shouldn't have to!! Martin deserves to be loved and treated well and get given all the good things life could offer!!

So Jon constructs a luxurious enchanted castle using godly magic and more favors than he probably should've called in. He puts big obvious signage to Martin knew it would be his castle provided by his non-existent monster spouse.

(Daisy: he's gonna get suspicious when his monster spouse doesn't show up. he'll probably leave and try to find it. he seems like the self-sacrificing type and you know how those get.

Jon: i have a plan

Daisy: .... is this like all your other plans?

Jon: shut up, daisy)

So Jon pretends to be the hideous monster spouse Martin was expecting. Sort of. He only visits after dark, and informs Martin that he can not bring light into the room for if he sees his visage he'd be cursed (or something; Jon came up with something on the fly and was definitely not suave about it but Martin complied and that's all that mattered). He spends his nights with Martin, telling him stories and meekly asking permission to pet his hair and hold his hand while doing his best to ignore the pounding of his heart and the heat on his cheeks whenever Martin softly says yes. He didn't say yes the first time Jon asked, and Jon skittered away from where he had been creeping closer. He respected Martin's boundaries (he isn't Elias, after all) but as he and Martin spent more time together, Martin became less guarded and began to allow Jon close.

It got to the point where they would cuddle in bed and Jon was so content in Martin's arms that he occasionally dozed with him. Everything was great and Martin seemed genuinely happy to spend his days in the castle learning new hobbies and such while spending his nights with someone he couldn't see. Until one day Martin asked if he could have his mother visit. Jon wanted to say no, but the hesitant way Martin asked tasted too much of fear of rejection for Jon to deny him.

(Daisy: why do I have to guide her here?

Jon: bc you're my friend and if you don't Martin will be sad which means I'll be sad and you'll have to listen to me cry about it and you hate that

Daisy: damn it jon)

And because martin's mother is awful and bitter and spiteful, she tells Martin he should find out what his "captor" looked like. his spouse was a monster, after all, he should know what he's dealing with so he could defend himself and her if it should decide to attack them. so one night, shortly after his mother left, he waits until Jon has dozed off before quietly lighting a candle.

Jon wakes when he feels hot wax drip onto him and sees Martin staring a him with a shocked expression. Jon realizes what happened and flees in a panic. He knows what he looks like; short and skinny an riddled with scars of all kinds. Ofc Martin would be disgusted by him. He ends up licking his wounds at Elias's.

(Elias: my poor delicate darling precious boy

Jon: really, Elias?

Elias: can't a father worry about his child??

Jon: you're not my father!! you kidnapped me and immortalized me against my will!

Elias: details, details. anyway, you can stay here until you recover from your grievous injuries. byyyyee!

Jon: where are you going? elias? why's the door locked? elias?? LET ME OUT, YOU POMPOUS ASS)

When Jon recovers and finally manages to escape, he finds out that Martin had been trying to find him but Elias had given him impossible tasks to prove he's worthy of him. Thankfully, Daisy, Georgie and Basira all helped him out, much to elias's displeasure. Since Martin completed the tasks, Jon was able to reunite with him and they lived happily ever after~!

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #trensu tells stories #this is a purely self-indulgent not!fic in case you couldn't tell #its a little bday gift to me since it's been rolling around my head for awhile now #i've also been thinking about an almost phantom of the opera au but this one amused me more #because it's more ridiculous and cracky than the other #and these characters need more comedy XD

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phantomphangphucker · 3 years

Text

Phic Phight - The Weird Little Shit

For: @darks-ink

A class discussion held by Wes about Danny’s weirdness was never not going to be an absolute cluster fuck

Wes smacks the board, “alright, fuckers, thank you for coming-”.

“We’re only here because we lost a bet”.

“Shut up, Dash. You shouldn’t have to be strong-armed into learning the truth”. Everyone rolls their eyes at Wes pretty actively. “Anyway, since you all refuse to see or even listen to the truth of what Danny Fenton is. Instead, this. Weird shit about Danny Fenton one oh one”.

Dash snorts, “now this I can get behind, little shit weighs, like, ten pounds or some shit”. Wes points at him aggressively, “exactly”. Scribbling down ‘weighs less than a sack of potatoes' on the board. Star throwing in her two cents, “yeah and I’ve seen Sam just pick him up under her arm and run off”.

Brittney smacks her desk, “half the time he makes food directly in home ec it’s fucking cold, which ew, but also really weird”.

“Oh yeah he does that with his drinks too. He whole ass ‘drank’ a solid chunk of ice, major power move honestly”.

“And remember that snowball fight? I don’t think he ever actually made any snowballs, he just kept acquiring them”.

“Kid made for a great air conditioner when all the windows got stuck shut though; guy runs cold as fuck”.

Wes is just aggressively scribbling more down with a mildly manic grin.

“We should totally invite him to parties so he can keep the fucking beer cold”.

Dash laughs loudly and smacks Dale on the arm, “now there’s an idea!”, deadpanning, “still not inviting freaky Fenton though”. Dale chuckles very awkwardly.

“Well he’s an ice sculptor so that’s not surprising”.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘ice sculptor’? He clearly lifts weights in his spare time”.

“Oh yeah, he lowkey picked up the back end of my car once”.

“James, your car is a tiny little piece of shit. I could lift that damn thing”.

“Hey”.

“Anyway. Like I was saying, people who handle cold shit all the time, you know, like ice sculptors, usually have cold hands”.

“He lifts weights! Not ice sculpts!”.

“Here I though he was a painter”.

“Why the fuck would he be doing that?”.

“Well he’s always randomly splattered in green paint”.

Basically everyone pauses to look at Hanna. Kwan blinking, “the green is ectoplasm, duh”. Emilie shrugging and nodding, “everyone knows that”.

“Well I thought it was paint”.

“Well you’re clearly stupid”.

“Shut up”.

Dash waves everyone off, “so clearly not a painter or weight lifter, because have you seen his goddamn noodle arms?”.

“He lifts weights!”.

“No he doesn’t!”.

“Who cares! Have you seen his dad? Of course he’s a strong little shit! What really gets me is him getting out of locked rooms”.

“Oh he whole ass climbs out windows and shit”.

“All that ecto that gets on his skin makes his hands all sticky, hence why he can climb the side of buildings”.

“When the heck did you see him doing that?”.

“Oh I totally saw him showing off knife swallowing to some elementary kids”.

“I think he hangs out and does drugs or some shit on the roof”.

“So he climbs up the school building to do drugs? Why wouldn’t he just use the hidden steps like a normal person?”,

“I’m pretty sure the kitchen staff actually include him in their budget for missing utensils cause he eats so many of them”.

“Julie, no one’s saying Danny’s close to normal. Also kids got an iron stomach damn”.

Dash has to jump in there, “I totally made him eat my underwear once”. Earning him a round of judging glances. “What? I didn’t expect him to actually do it. I was planning to mock him for pussying out. But then the little fucker went and did it”.

“Power move”.

“Shut up”.

“You fed your underwear to a guy who builds guns?”.

“Excuse me but what?”.

“Maybe him doing so much dangerous shit is why his heartbeats all slow and stuff”.

“Again, excuse?”.

“Well we totally tested everyone’s heart rates and breathing and shit and he’s super low. He blamed his corn supper”.

“That’s stupid”.

“His corn supper had teeth, Todd”.

“Back to the gun making because what?”.

“FentonWorks is a weapon company what do you expect?”.

“James, he made a shotgun out of a pencil, two toothpicks, an elastic band, and a snapped in half penny. The thing was magically welded together”.

“You can’t weld a fucking pencil. It’s wood, moron”.

“Well it was goddamn wielded”.

Wes grumbles, “yeah he welded my binder zipper together once, stupid pyrokinesis”. Star glares at him, “I thought this wasn’t about your crazy conspiracy crap?”. Wes glares at her like she’s stupid.

“Ignoring Wes being crazy again. You guys do know he has laser beam lipstick right? He could totally weld stuff with that”.

“Didn’t he have a tail that one day?”.

“Huh?”.

“That lipstick of his is the plasma peach one right? Because girl I so need some, it makes amazing blush”.

“Oh no a dog just crawled under his shirt. I think he was trying to hide the treats or some shit?”.

“Fucking where? in his shoulder blades?!?”.

“Oh my god that’s right, he can totally pop all his joints out so probably yeah”.

“Since when could he do that? Better yet, why? Fucking ow”.

“His fingers also glow green when he cracks them”.

“Right Right I remember that! We also got him under a black light, totally wild”.

“I wish I could pop out my joints randomly”.

“He probably just eats glow sticks and they leaked into his joints and shit”.

“THAT MAKES NO SENSE”.

“Who cares, take him to a rave”.

“Oh my god yes he does amazing makeup”.

“Wait Fenton does makeup now too?”.

Wes points at Dash, “he’s got to cover up the dead parlour to his skin somehow”. With half the class shouting, “HE’S NOT DEAD”.

Emilie pursing her lips, “but what if he was, that would be hot”.

“EXCUSE ME!?!”.

“Oh get off your vanilla basic bitch high horse, Karen”.

Wes rubs his forehead, “not this shit again”. Smacking the board, “weird shit about Fenton, people! Not y’alls weird necrophilia fetish!”.

“Hey that’s just Emilie”.

Jesse looks genuinely offended, “bitch what? Have you seen a ghost? That glow? Mmmmmh yeah, daddy”.

Star chokes, “oh my god. I love our town”.

Wes sighs, “I should just start blocking you people from seeing ghosts at all. Cover those eyes until you stop BEING FUCKING BLIND”.

“Eyes never stop seeing, they just get covered”.

“NO! NO! BAD!“.

“That weirdly reminds me that Danny can totally walk with his eyes closed”.

“That’s weird how?”.

“How ‘bout you fucking try it then!”.

Dash shrugs, “well his eyes go glowy green all the time so no surprise he can just see through his eyelids”. More than a few people look to him, “why did you not add that to the weird list?”.

“Because it’s not weird”.

“Dash... do you know anyone with goddamn glowing eyes... besides ghosts”.

“Uhhh the entire Defect Quartet”.

“Excuse?!?”.

“Honestly him biting open pop-cans is weirder”.

“Oh god yeah, that’s horrible to hear”.

“He dead ass cut his lip up once doing that and just... kept doing it. There was blood all over his neck”.

“Why the heck didn’t anyone take an edgy aesthetic photo of that? Goddamn”.

“I feel like this is more an off-the-books class on discovering that Danny might actually be hot”.

“You wanna say Fenton’s hot again? I’ll goddamn choke you, motherfucker”.

“Do it you fake ass bear dom”.

A couple of people shuffle out of their desks and away when Dash actually throws a punch at Jasper.

“On a side note, once saw Danny sleeping in a trash can”.

“How is that weird”.

“How isn’t it? It’s a trashcan”.

“And he’s trash, your point”.

“YOU'RE GONNA HAVETA HIT HARDER IF YOU WANT TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION ON YOUR TWINK BOY! HE’S DURABLE AS FUCK!”.

“FUCK YOU!!!”.

“Huh, he did survive falling from the ceiling multiple times and that drowning once”.

“Fucker wasn’t drowned, he can breathe underwater”.

“Excuse me?”.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?!”.

Dash snapping his head around, “IM TEACHING HIM A LESSON!”. Jasper just smirks, “I DON’T NEED BREATH PLAY TIPS FROM YOU!”. Dash tries punching him again.

“This is ridiculous, I mean really, Danny would be the dom”. That silenced the entire room.

“What?”.

“Come on, he ate Skulker once ‘cause the guy was coping him an attitude”.

“DANNY EATS GHOSTS?!?”.

Wes turns around and slams his head on the board, “God fuck this is such a cluster fuck”.

“You’re hosting this and holding us hostage here”.

“YOU’RE NOT MY HOSTAGES! YALL LOST A BET!”.

“Oh suck my toes”.

“WHAT?!”.

“While Wes loses his mind for the fifth time this week, what we’ve got is he’s icy as shit, likes welding and makeup and ice sculptures and weight lifting, weighs fuck all, just vores goddamn everything, and climbs shit weirdly well?”.

“You’re forgetting all the glow shit”.

“HA! Glowing shit”.

“Fuck Todd, you are a dumbass”.

“IN SHORT LOCAL ELDRITCH TEEN BUT HE’S STILL NOT A GODDAMN GHOST WES!”

“FUCK YOU! IT’S SO GODDAMN OBVIOUS HOW ARE YOU PEOPLE LIKE THIS OHMYGOD!”.

Just then Danny Fenton opens up the door, the class going dead silent while he glances around slowly. Him looking to the whiteboard, then slowly back to his fellow teens, speaking “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no”, while slowly backing out and closing the door.

At first, no one says anything before Star snickers, “pffft”; the entire classroom bursting out into laughter directly afterwards.

Wes turning around and smacking his head on the board once again, “why. Just. Why me”.

END.

Prompt: Wacky reveals (ex: Danny drying up too quickly bc intangibility, Danny's drink stays cool way too long, people's electronic devices are always more charged when they've been near Danny, etc)

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harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

Fake Kisses

Synopsis: Weasley!Reader (same year as Ron but ten months younger) is dating Malfoy and her family is not on board. So, the twins take matters into their own hands and use polyjuice potion to transform into Draco and kiss Pansy. When reader sees, she breaks up with who she thinks is the real him. But the real Draco is very confused.

Warnings: Language, angst

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: I did my Pottermore quiz five years ago and got Slytherin and so for years now I’ve been telling people I was Slytherin. I just made a new account bc I forgot my old one and I’m now Gryffindor. my life has drastically changed.

Dating Draco Malfoy was hard. There was no beating around the bush, not for Y/N Weasley. She knew it’d be difficult, but she loved the platinum headed Slytherin prince, and she had for a lot longer than she’d care to admit, especially to her family.

Because they do not approve.

She had been dating Draco for about two weeks before finally telling Ginny, who she had hoped would be supportive and hold onto the secret, but she ended up turning around and telling all of their brothers, resulting in a good week of chaos. Ron didn't talk to her for about nearly ten days, and the twins gave Malfoy constant glares that were harsh enough to pierce glass.

They eventually came around to her after giving her the cold shoulder for what felt like weeks. She was their sister after all. But they still hated Malfoy and his entire family with fiery passion, and nothing was going to change that.

They had set ground rules — absolutely no forms of PDA while they were around to see, and no hanging out past curfew. Y/N found the rules ridiculous, she was her own person, and smart enough to make her own decisions, but she respected and loved her family enough to follow them.

“I’ll see you after Defense Against the Dark Arts, yeah?” Draco smiled at Y/N, his arm firm around her waist as the two made their way out of potions together.

“I don’t know why you’re skipping again,” Y/N smirked up at him, clutching her textbooks to her chest, “But yes, I’ll see you after class.”

Draco pressed a light kiss to her forehead and made his way through the crowded corridor, maneuvering his way around students until his blond hair was no longer visible. Y/N pushed her way through the chaos, trying her best to get to Defense class on time so she didn’t get any sort of detention or punishment from Umbridge herself.

She finally made it to class, only a minute to spare, and sat down next to a dark haired Ravenclaw girl who was chewing her gum with her mouth wide open. Y/N groaned to herself, hoping she wouldn’t have to deal with the ainfuriating sound all class.

Umbridge walked in, the clicking of her pink heels rendering the class silent as she made her way to the front, holding her wand in her evil little hands and smirking.

“Today we’ll be talking about our upcoming exams!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, taking out her quill and ready to take down notes.

Elsewhere in the castle, Fred and George were sitting in the Common Room, their other sister Ginny mindlessly levitating a feather as the two boys joked around and wrote down ideas for their upcoming joke shop.

“What if we made a chocolate bar that turned your burps into fire?” Fred asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

George nodded, “Oh, yeah, and we can call them… Bars of Fire.”

“That’s a stupid name.” Ginny dropped the feather, facing her siblings with her chin leaning in her hand. She wore an unimpressed expression, as if her mind was elsewhere.

“Bet you wouldn’t find it as stupid if we fed one to Malfoy.” George’s eyebrows wiggled as he looked between his two siblings. Fred’s eyes widened as a grin spread on his face, whereas Ginny just rolled her eyes.

“Drop it, just leave the two of them alone.” she stood up off of the chair, making her way up the stairs and into her room without another word. The twins looked at each other with the same confused expression, but brushed it off and went back to their plan. Ginny had been moody lately always now that she knew Harry and Cho were kind of a thing.

“No — seriously, what if we pranked Malfoy and made them break up?” George asked again, plotting the scenario in his head already.

“What kind of prank could we pull?” Fred asked, placing his fingers against his chin, “We should have her break up with him, because if it’s the other way around she might be really heartbroken and we don’t want that.”

George nodded, “You’re right. What if we made Y/N think Draco had done something completely awful?”

Fred’s head perked up, “Oh, so she’d be mad instead of sad. Very clever, Georgie.”

The two brothers tried to think of a way to get their sister to break up with her boyfriend without breaking her heart too much, but couldn’t come up with a solution.

“If only we could become Malfoy for like, ten minutes.” George pondered, tapping his finger against his nose.

“George, that’s it,” Fred stood up, arms in the air, “Polyjuice potion!”

As Y/N made her way out of Defense Against the Dark Arts, thanking the heavens that class ended early because she was about to snap at the gum-chewing girl next to her, she made her way to the courtyard where she knew Draco would be waiting for her.

She made her way through the crowd and landed in the opening, the sunlight hitting her skin and blinding her for a quick second before her eyes adjusted to the change in lighting.

She spotted the blond head sitting on a bench on the other side of the field and walked over, smiling at him from a distance. He noticed her and grinned, sliding over to one side of the bench so she could sit next to him.

“How was class?” he asked her, placing arm around around her and pulling her closer to him. She leaned into his touch, a smile ghosting on her lips.

“It was fine. I’ve got notes if ever you want to look over what we’ve done, mister I-Skip-Class-To-Tease-First-Years.” she poked his side, eyebrow raised.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “I deal with Umbridge enough to not want to go to class anymore. Besides, she loves Slytherin so I can do no wrong.” He puffed out his chest as if he were proud of his lack of care.

She pulled away, “Hm, is that so? Guess it’s unfortunate I’m just a lousy Gryffindor, huh?”

“It is unfortunate,” he smirked, “But it’s alright, I still like you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms playfully, “Like me? That’s it?”

He grinned, pulling her close once more, “Oh, you know I love you.” She felt a light kiss on her forehead, his arms wrapped around her as if to claim her as his. Students walked by, almost thrown off at Draco’s openly affectionate demeanour, he wasn’t exactly the most ‘caring’ person in the world towards others, but since him and Y/N started dating he had changed quite a bit. His bitter, rude remarks towards innocent students had started to go down (with the exception of teasing first year students who got lost, of course), and he even smiled around his friends. He had changed for the better because of her.

Y/N was about to turn around and place a kiss on his cheek, but a flash of red hair caught her eye. Fred and George were watching the two of them from behind a pillar. Once her eyes landed on them, they had scattered off as if they were just wandering aimlessly.

She squinted, watching them retreat down the hall and out of sight.

“What is it?” Draco asked her, turning his head to face the direction she was also facing.

“Oh — nothing,” she turned back to face him, her mind slightly distracted trying to figure out why her brothers might have been spying on her. She grinned up at him and opened her notebook, going over the things they had discussed in class that day, making sure to emphasize the importance of the exams they'd be having in three weeks’ time.

That night, after dinner, Y/N sat in the Common Room by the fire, her nose in a book and the crackling of the log being the only noise in the room. Most students had gone off to bed since tomorrow morning there was an early Quidditch game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, but Y/N had no intention of going. She had plans to go walk the grounds with Draco.

Sure, Y/N liked Quidditch, but she took all the alone time with her boyfriend that she could get — it was hard getting privacy at Hogwarts.

She found herself dozing off slightly, but was quickly startled awake as Fred and George crept into the room high-fiving each other.

“What’s got you two so thrilled?” Y/N slammed her book shut. The two boys’ smiled dropped as they looked towards their younger sister, who they really hoped wasn’t awake.

“We, uh, pranked Umbridge.” Fred said through gritted teeth, elbowing George in the side to make sure he lied along with him.

“Yeah — puking pastilles.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning forwards, “Why’d you spy on me today?”

Fred was speechless, but lucky for him, George stepped up, “I saw Angelina. You know how Fred fancies her. She was with a guy and we wanted to make sure it was only platonic. We didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah,” Fred spoke up, “Angelina. And then we saw you — and you saw us. So we ran.”

Y/N shook her head, “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you run when I saw you if you weren’t even looking at me in the first place?” The book fell to the floor as she uncrossed her legs, but she didn’t lean over to pick it up, keeping her eyes on the mischievous boys in front of her, the fire making all of their hair appear as if it were glowing.

“Come on, little sister,” Fred plopped down on the couch, wrapping his arm around her, “Why do you think so lowly of us? We’re not always doing something evil.”

Y/N felt a pinch on her shoulder but brushed it off, squinting at her brothers, “Fine.”

The two brothers sighed in relief, bidding her a goodnight and rushing off to their rooms. Once they were out of sight, Fred turned to George with a wicked grin.

“I got the hair off her robes.”

The next morning, Y/N woke up to an empty dorm room. Everyone had already left for the Quidditch game, so she could take her time getting up. She got out of bed and changed into a baggy sweatshirt and some leggings, also putting on a pair warm socks and her shoes. She tied her red hair back into a ponytail and made her way down to the Great Hall. There weren’t a lot of people around apart from the Slytherin and Hufflepuff houses, so Y/N had free range for all the leftover food on the Gryffindor table. She made her way over, smiling over at Draco, who didn’t even look up when she had walked in.

She brushed it off, sitting down and grabbing a plate. She ate some quick breakfast, saying hi to the other Gryffindors who also skipped the game — only seeing Fred (who said he was staying behind to ‘brainstorm’ which Y/N thought was weird as they usually did that together), and walked over to the Slytherin table. Her eyes scanned all along the benches, but couldn’t spot her boyfriend anywhere. It’s not like he blended in, exactly. His hair was enough to make him stand out in a crowd of a thousand. He must have taken off already.

She looked over and noticed that none of Draco’s friends were there either.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and made her way out to the courtyard, their usual meet up spot, and searched for him there. He wasn't on their usual bench, nor was he on the bridge.

I wonder where he could be, she pondered in her head, entering the bright corridors of the castle, the morning sunlight illuminating every archway and column as if she was in the most magical place in the world. Which she kind of was, actually.

She made her way down to the dungeons, hoping that maybe they’d be lurking around in their Slytherin territory. She came down the long staircase, hearing quiet voices and quickening her pace.

In the dark, Crabbe and Goyle stood whispering and waving their hands in an exaggerated manner not five feet from the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room.

“Hey!” Y/N called out to them, waving her hand, “Have you two seen Draco?”

Goyle seemed nervous as he answered her, “Uh, no — I think he’s in the Common Room.”

Y/N’s smile dropped, wondering why he was in there when he told her he’d spend the morning with her, “Oh, can you tell him I’m here?”

“You — uh…” Crabbe stuttered before being knocked over the back of the head by Goyle. The two boys shared a strange look, piquing Y/N’s curiosity even more.

“What is it?”

Before any of them could answer, the Slytherin portal swung open and two people wearing green robes walked out, so Y/N took her chance and walked over, attempting to sneak in despite the fact that she had the Gryffindor logo on her sweater — a gift from her mother in third year.

She snuck past them, ignoring Crabbe and Goyle following after her, and stopped dead in her tracks when her eyes landed on her boyfriend.

Not only her boyfriend, but his lips pressed up against those of pug-faced Pansy Parkinson.

Y/N’s heart dropped, bile rising in her throat as her eyes stayed glued on them. She felt frozen in her step, unable to move as her heart continued sinking further and further, along with her pride.

What the hell?

She could feel tears pricking at her eyes, but she was not going to let that show. Her anger was overcoming her sadness.

Coughing to alert him off her presence, she raised her hand, flipped him off, and stormed out of the Slytherin Common Room, shoving Crabbe and Goyle out of her way with decent force. As she quickened her pace out of the dungeons, she could feel the hot tears stinging her eyes and flowing down her hot cheeks.

She ducked her head down, ignoring the stares people were giving her as she continued rushing to the Gryffindor Common Room, the tears flowing nearly non-stop by now. She got to the Common Room painting, practically shouting the password, and rushed in, collapsing on the couch in a fit of shakes and tears.

‘How dare he? That selfish ass’ Y/N repeated to herself in her mind, her blood boiling. She was so certain he cared about her, that he loved her, but she just caught him cheating on her and acted like she was the one in the wrong.

She glared up at the ceiling, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her sweater, mad at herself for falling for his lies and deceit. Her family warned her over and over again that the Malfoys were dangerous, but did she listen?

No.

She fell for his charm, his smile, his striking eyes, and he pushed her aside like she was nothing. Just yesterday, the two were sitting out in the courtyard enjoying each other’s company — was he thinking of stupid Pansy? How long had the two of them been a… thing?

Y/N felt like puking out her breakfast at the thought of them doing more than just kissing.

“Merlin’s beard, who killed your spirit?” A cheerful voice broke her devastating silence. She wiped her tears quickly, hiding her face in a pillow.

“Go away, Ginny.” Y/N muttered, her voice probably not even sounding like words through the thick feathers of the pillow.

“It’s the Common Room, I’m allowed to be here,” Ginny sassed, shoving Y/N’s legs off of the couch and sitting in their place, “Now, spill.”

So, Y/N did. She told Ginny all about what she had just seen.

Ginny’s face was red in anger, “That foul little git. I knew he was no good but this proves it.”

Y/N felt herself wanting to defend him, but she knew she shouldn’t. He probably wouldn't if it were the other way around. Despite the bitterness in her chest, she still wanted to know why. Why wasn't she good enough? Why did he need someone else when she was right there? Did she deserve this?

“And then he said ‘NOT TODAY, RAVENCLAW’!” Ron’s howling voice burst through the portal, his cheeks painted red and yellow in honour of the match that had just happened. Y/N guessed by the fire of excitement in his eyes that Gryffindor had won.

“Blimey, Harry’s the best seeker!” Dean Thomas clapped his hands, almost knocking the giant lion head on his chest to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked, sitting on the couch next to Y/N, immediately placing his hand on her forehead to check her temperature.

“Malfoy.” Ginny sneered, “That rat kissed another girl.”

Ron’s eyes went dark, “He what?! Good for nothing Slytherin, he is.”

Y/N had had enough of her siblings trashing him, despite his horrible actions, and rose to her feet with her hands on her hips, “Listen up you two. I get it, you’re upset. So am I. But the two of you bitching about him isn’t going to make me feel any better. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to my room.”

Y/N stormed off to her room, noticing the silence in the room. She had shouted it much louder than intended, so now everyone knew that something was up. She brushed off the thought and approached her bed, grabbing the pillow and shoving her face in it, muffling her silent sobs.

She was lucky it was a Saturday because she sure as hell didn’t feel like going to class today.

That evening, after sulking in her room all day (but being comforted by Ginny and Hermione), Y/N worked up the courage to go down to the Great Hall for dinner. Not that she didn't want to be seen, but because she knew she’d see Draco. She wasn’t sure if he even saw her barging in this morning, so there was a chance he’d act like nothing was wrong.

On the way down, Ginny stuck by her side and cracked lame jokes, occasionally making a small smile appear on Y/N’s face.

The Great Hall was busy, chit chat becoming the only sound you could hear upon entering. Y/N avoided looking over at the Slytherin table and beelined for the patch of ginger hair, seating herself between Ginny and Harry.

“Congrats on the win, Harry.” Y/N smiled, wanting to talk about something other than her current situation. Harry shot her a smile, thanking her silently, before picking at the potatoes on his plate.

Y/N looked around, not noticing Fred or George anywhere, which was strange as any time food was involved they were very much present. She brushed it off, thinking nothing of it, and continued on putting food on her plate. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but knew that her health was much more important than how her heart was feeling.

She could hear Pansy’s shrill laugh over all the noise in the hall, probably laughing at one of Draco’s cute jokes.

No, no.

His stupid jokes. Stupid.

Dinner was uneventful, there wasn't a constant flow of conversation, but the distraction was what Y/N needed to get her shoulders to stop slouching and the tears to stop flowing. She made her way out of the hall later on with Ron and Harry, who were deep in conversation about the upcoming Herbology exam — Ron’s plan was to cheat off of Neville’s paper.

Right as she was about to step out and into freedom, she was cut off by the voice she didn’t want to hear.

“Hey, Y/N, why didn’t you show up to the courtyard this morning? I slept in a little later than expected but then I went down and you weren’t there.” Draco jogged over, intercepting her before she could leave. Y/N felt Ron tense up from beside her, but she placed her hand on his shoulder to let him know to keep his cool.

“I saw you with Pansy, you git.” she spoke through gritted teeth, not daring to look into his eyes because she knew he’d render her weak with his piercing stare.

“Me and Pansy? What did me and Pansy do? I barely even saw her today.” he crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed as he looked to Y/N, who was still avoiding his gaze.

“Just… leave me alone, Malfoy.”

Draco felt a twinge of hurt in his chest. She had only called him Malfoy when she was pissed off. He was called Malfoy by everyone else, and she was the only one who called him Draco — he loved it, it was her thing. Draco remained oblivious to what he had done, but the fire in her eyes was dangerous.

“No, Y/N —,” Draco tried to reach out and grab her arm, but she turned away and speed-walked down the corridor with Ron and Harry by her side, who both looked back and glared at him as they walked.

Draco shook his head, trying to figure out what he’d done. He made his way back to the Slytherin table, trying to think of what he had done with Pansy that could have pissed off his girlfriend so much. He sat down next to Crabbe and Goyle, who looked up sadly at him.

“What are you two looking at?” he snapped, crossing his arms on the table.

Goyle spoke up first, “Well — we’re, uh, sorry we weren't able to keep Y/N out of the Slytherin Common Room this morning.”

“Wait,” Draco waved his hand, “When was she in the common room?” he thought back to that morning when he woke up, rushed out of bed and waited in the courtyard for thirty minutes. He didn’t remember ever seeing her anywhere near the dungeons.

Crabbe’s face flushed, “U-Uh, when you… when you were… you know, with Pansy.” Crabbe avoided eye contact, staring at the cup in front of him.

Draco was even more confused, “When I was what with Pansy?”

As if she heard her name, Pansy herself came and sat next to Draco, slinging her arm around him as if claiming him as hers. Draco shuddered, pushing her away. He wouldn’t mind if it was Y/N, but Pansy’s obsession with him was weird enough, he didn't want physical contact with her.

“Draco, did you miss me? Haven’t seen you since this morning.” she whispered lowly, closer to his ear than he would have liked.

“I didn’t even see you this morning.” he waved his arms, “I don't get what’s happening. Is this a joke?”

Pansy chuckled, her obnoxious laugh sounding through the hall once more. Draco rolled his eyes, just wanting answers. None of this made sense, and now Y/N had stormed away from him.

“A prank? What do you mean? It didn’t feel like a prank, that was a good kiss.” Pansy grinned, twirling her hair as she thought back to this morning.

“A kiss?” Draco felt colour drain from his face, his hands immediately going cold, “Who kissed?”

“We did,” Pansy stated as if it were obvious, “In the common room. Merlin, if you can’t even remember, how many girls did you kiss today?”

Draco felt like throwing up, “But I didn’t kiss you, I didn’t kiss anyone.” He knew his face was showing complete disgust, but he didn’t care whether he insulted her or not. He did not kiss her.

“Not to step in,” Goyle spoke up, voice cracking, “You did tell us to stand guard of the Common Room incase Y/N showed up because you wanted to… have ‘alone’ time with Parkinson. And then she walked in and saw you two snogging on the couch.”

“I never said that, you bloody idiot,” Draco snapped, forcing his first down against the table, “I didn’t kiss her. Sorry, Pansy, but I’d never kiss you.”

Pansy gasped, placing her hand dramatically over her chest as if she had been hit with a curse, “But you did.”

Draco shook his head, pissed off at everyone in the room. He glared at the three people around him and stormed out of the room and down to the dungeons, trying to think of what the hell just happened. Y/N saw him kissing Pansy, but he didn’t kiss Pansy. Which made no sense, so what could she have seen? Why was everyone saying that this had happened?

In the Gryffindor Common Room, Y/N laid in her bed with her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Why Draco bothered denying the kiss was beyond her, but she saw it nonetheless. She hated thinking about how many times this had happened before.

No, don’t go there, her mind snapped at her.

“Does he think I’m stupid or something?” she asked to the two girls sitting the room with her.

“No — only an idiot would think you’re an idiot,” Hermione scoffed, sitting up suddenly, “Wait, maybe he does then.”

Y/N chuckled, tossing a little bouncy ball up and down, trying not to hit the drapes and topple the whole bed over.

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t come near you, don’t worry.” Ginny grinned at her sister, clutching a pillow to her chest.

Y/N, however devastated, felt lucky she had two supportive best friends to help her out. She knew that the next few weeks would be tough, especially having to see Draco in class and during meals, but she’d act strong enough to make it seem like he wasn’t affecting her.

The rest of the weekend had gone by slowly. Y/N was partially grateful for that since she didn’t have to face anyone in class, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her chest. She hadn’t seen Draco at any of the meals and although most of her siblings were supportive, Fred and George — who she could always rely on to cheer her up — had also practically vanished. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought they were avoiding her.

But when Monday rolled around, everything changed.

Y/N rushed down to have breakfast before anyone else was awake, enjoying the peaceful sunshine streaming in through the windows of the hall. She hadn’t slept much, it was hard not to shake the image of her boyfriend — ex boyfriend — and Pansy from her mind. She could feel the bags under her eyes which earned herself a concerned smile from McGonagall as she munched quietly on breakfast.

She was also the first one in Potions that morning, sitting near the front of the class so she wouldn’t have to stare at a platinum head of hair all class. Snape walked in, slightly startled by how early she was, but he went on and did his own thing, only looking up every time another student walked in.

“Is this seat taken?”

Y/N’s face dropped, looking up at the boy who singlehandedly crushed her heart. He didn’t look any better than she did, his eyes were darker and more sunken in than usual and he seemed even paler, if that was possible.

“Before you say no, I’m going to sit.” he pulled the chair back and sat down, not even adjusting his wrinkled robes.

“Look — I don’t know what you saw,” he placed a finger on her lip before she could scold him, “I never, ever kissed Pansy. Why would I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Y/N crossed her arms, “She’s been obsessed with you since first year. You’re an attention hog. You two go perfectly.” She wanted so hard to tell him off, yell at him until she had no more voice, but as she looked into his eyes she felt herself still clinging to his every word as if she believed him.

“Ok, never say her and I go perfectly ever again, I’d rather vomit and then eat it,” he held his hands up in defense, “Besides, why would I kiss someone else when I’ve got you? The best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, “I saw you, Malfoy. Nothing can take that back.”

“But it wasn’t me,” he pleaded, eyes practically begging her for forgiveness.

“Go sit elsewhere, please.” Y/N turned away from him, facing the front of the class where Snape stood, glaring at them for speaking even when class hadn't started.

“Y/N—,”

“Please, just go.”

Draco’s face fell, heart dropping, but he stood up slowly and walked to the back of the class, shoving Goyle out of his seat and installing himself next to Crabbe. Y/N didn’t look back at him, only moving her head when Hermione sat next to her.

“Did he try talking to you?” Hermione whispered, opening her book and preparing herself for class.

“Yep.” Y/N mumbled, leaning her head in her hand and nearly jumping out of her skin when Snape announced class had begun.

It went by surprisingly quickly, but Y/N stayed back to avoid rushing by Draco on the way out. She stared at him in confusion when instead of leaving class, he made his way over to Snape and started whispering about something secretive.

Y/N ignored it and walked out of the dusty room, Hermione by her side.

Days went by before Draco spoke to her again — he was losing his mind. After he hung back from potions class to ask Snape about missing ingredients for polyjuice potion and got a confirmation that someone had taken stuff from his inventory, he was on a mission to find out who had done it. Crabbe and Goyle couldn’t stand being around him, his patience wearing thin and his attitude being through the roof, so he dealt with it alone.

He couldn't go storming up to Y/N without proof that it was polyjuice potion, she'd just tell him to bugger off again. So he made it his life’s mission (of the past few days) to hunt the person down — unfortunately, to no avail.

Y/N on the other hand was trying her damn hardest to keep her mind off of him, occupying herself by reading, walking the entire castle, and spending more time than usual with her family. She had eventually found Fred and George, who told her the only reason they’d been avoiding her was because they knew they wouldn’t be able to hold back the rude comments about him and didn’t want to hurt her further.

So, it came as a major surprise to Y/N when Draco stormed up to her during dinner and shoved her out of the way, pointing his finger at the twins, “You two…. you two ruined everything.”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” George crossed his arms, “You’re the one who went off snogging someone else.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Draco sneered, “It was one of you two.”

Y/N stepped up, placing her hand on Draco’s chest and turning him to face her, “Uh, I think you’ve lost your mind.”

“Let me explain,” Draco didn’t look at her, instead keeping his eyes on the twins, “First of all, when everyone started accusing me of snogging someone who I hadn’t even seen that day, I knew something was off. Then, it hit me, so I asked Snape if any of the ingredients for polyjuice potion had been stolen from his office, and he said yes. So I did some digging. One, I tried to check who was in the castle at that time that would have something against me — against my relationship with Y/N. My first thought was her family.”

“What if someone just fancied Parkinson?” Fred asked, also crossing his arms, eyebrows raised as if he were standing off against Draco.

“Not possible,” Draco continued, “So, process of elimination. She mentioned to me the night before that Ginny and Ron were going to the quidditch game — leaving you two. When I was sitting out in the courtyard, you two just happened to walk by and give me the dirtiest of stares, as if you already knew I had done something wrong. How would you have known about the kiss if you hadn’t seen me, nor Y/N?”

Y/N felt her heart sink and she looked over at her brothers, not even focusing on the fact that so many people were staring at them. Draco wasn’t exactly being quiet, but she didn’t seem to pay attention to that, her eyes trained on her family around her.

“Is this — is this true?” Y/N’s voice cracked as she looked at her brothers, “Did you use polyjuice potion to look like Draco to kiss Pansy so him and I would break up?”

Fred and George looked down to their little sister, their faces filled with sorry. She had her answer. She sat down on the bench, her legs giving in underneath her. Her own brothers lied. They crushed her heart. She had never done anything to them, and they ruined her relationship, probably finding it funny in the process.

“Y/N, we’re so sorry,” Fred knelt down, looking her in the eye, his face scanning hers for any sign of forgiveness. She could feel the anger and betrayal bubbling in her chest. George placed his hand on her shoulder, gripping ever so tightly as if his actions were speaking louder than his words. Which, in the end, they did.

“You arse! Both of you! You’re unbelievable.” she stood up, giving her brothers a good shove, “I knew you wouldn’t be happy with Draco and I, but this is low. Incredibly low. Even for you two.”

She glared at them and stormed out of the hall, her heart shattered even more than it had been days ago. Draco chased after her, not caring about the rest of her family as he caught up to her.

“Y/N, hold up,” Draco grabbed her arm, twisting her around to face him. The tears were pouring down her face, and he could feel his heart break as he took in her expression. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, rubbing her back slowly as she cried. He shielded her away from onlookers, cornering her behind a wall so they could be in private.

“I can’t believe them.” she sobbed, pulling away from him and wiping her eyes on her sleeve, “My brothers. They’re my family, they’re supposed to support me, no?”

Draco didn’t really know much about family support — in his mind, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy weren’t exactly winning any ‘parent of the year’ awards — but even he knew how close the Weasley family was, and how much that meant to her.

He continued soothing her, placing kisses on her forehead every now and then.

“Draco — I’m so sorry,” she looked up at him, “I’ve been avoiding you for days and I didn’t hear you out when you told me it wasn’t you. I was just so crushed. I was selfish, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Draco shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I don’t blame you. You saw what you saw. You handled it way better than I would have if the tables had been turned.”

Y/N giggled, wrapping her arms around his waist, “Thanks for figuring it out. It sucks, but I’m glad you didn’t actually cheat.”

He placed one of his hands under her chin, tilting her head up in the slightest so he could lean down and press his lips on hers. She leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck and lacing her fingers through his hair. It was tender, passionate, and every ounce of love these two had for each other could be felt through their gentle movements.

Reluctantly, Draco pulled away, “C’mon, why don’t we go for a walk to take your mind off of everything.”

Y/N grinned, nodding her head and interlacing her hand with his, walking outside into the brisk night air, stars shining brightly up above them, with Draco by her side again. She knew she’d end up forgiving her idiot brothers eventually, they were her family after all, but right now, all she could focus on was the pure bliss she felt from having her boyfriend back.

“I love you,” she smiled up at him as they continued walking at a slow pace, enjoying one another’s company.

“And I love you,” he gave her nose a light poke, smiling his dazzling smile as they stared up at the stars.

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy one shots #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfics #harry potter masterlist

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

Text

Party Jitters

Pairing: Bakugou x anxious reader

Warnings: SWORE (also some anxiety but it’s not too intense. Maybe a bit of bullying, but it’s not really directly to y/n)

Author’s Note:

So this is the first request I’ve ever completed (🎉✨✨🎇) and I’m pretty proud of it! I started out having this go in a completely different direction and I got pretty far along until I decided it wasn’t really the vibe I was going for, so I stopped and started over. I might post the original later (either I’ll finish it up or just as the wip it is) but idk. Tell me if you want it, I guess? Idk, I might just post it anyway bc I do that sometimes.

Anyway, huge thank you to @bozowrites for sending in this request! I hope it fit something along the lines of what you were thinking!

Enjoy!

-Sugar

⋘ ────────── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ───────── ⋙

Oh, if only you knew how you had gotten yourself into this situation now

Except you did know, and it was all your own damn fault

You hated parties. You knew you hated parties; but in a moment of unjustified courage, you had convinced yourself that it was a good idea to get out there more

A friend from your middle school was throwing a get-together for your previous grade, and you thought it might be nice to see some of the kids you’d grown up with

You’d done yourself up with a different hair style and moderately more formal clothes than you wore normally, even convincing your boyfriend to come along with you

But oh, no. This was not good. The furthest thing from a good idea, if you asked your present self

It was as if only now you remembered that there weren’t many people there that you cared to see

You were at someone’s house, music blaring and lights dimmed

Katsuki had wandered off to get you both an age-appropriate beverage, and now you were standing alone in a corner

You spotted the group of kids who used to throw rude comments at you. To be honest, they were pretty rude to everyone, yet somehow they were still considered popular

That was all a whole year ago. We’re in different schools now, it doesn’t matter

Nevertheless, it felt like they wouldn’t stop looking over at you. You swore that one of the girls leaning over to whisper something in her friend’s ear was without a doubt talking about you

What could be wrong with you? You smoothed your top, wondering if you’d somehow magically changed into something else; something out of place and stupid

It felt like any minute they would come over and try to talk to you, even though you’d barely talked to anyone at all the entire time you were here

You felt like an outsider, which was ridiculous, since this was your old class

But no, there it was; the sick, nauseous feeling you were all too unpleasantly acquainted with

You wanted to run, but you’d made all the effort to come here. Where was Bakugou? You couldn’t ditch him

You tapped your fingers against your thigh to the rhythm of the music; a song you’d never heard before

This had been a mistake; a bad idea, and now your throat was starting to close up, the distant beginnings of tears prickling in the corners of your eyes

“Oi.”

Your eyes snapped up from the floor, fearing the worst for a moment

Theywerehere, theywouldtalktoyou, theywouldteaseyou—

Bakugou stood next to you, holding two cups of lemonade

“Here.” He handed you the plastic drink container, and you took it with shaking hands

“Something wrong?” Katsuki asked, noticing

You went to shake your head, but finally thought better of it

“I don’t think I want to be here,” you admitted, sipping at your overly sugary drink

Bakugou scanned your face, setting his cup down on the floor next to the wall beside him

“Did something happen?” he asked, cupping your face in one of his large, strong hands

“No, I just . . . I’m sorry I dragged you here. This isn’t what I thought it would be.”

Bakugou shrugged, pulling you closer into him. “I’m glad I came. Otherwise you’d be here alone.”

You simply nodded, taking a deep breath to right yourself. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

Katsuki slipped his hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Wanna get going?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll take you to my place and we can watch a movie or something. This party’s lame anyway.”

You chuckled. “That’s not very nice.”

“It’s the truth. Now let’s go.”

He pulled you to the center of the room, nearing the crowd of popular kids you’d been watching before

“Hey, is that Bakugou Katsuki?”

“The slime monster kid?”

“No, the one from the sports festival.”

“Same person, dipshit.”

Your boyfriend froze at the sound of his name, slowly turning to glare at your former peers

“What about me?” he questioned, gruff voice easily heard over the sound of the music

“Just wondering what you were doing here,” one of the girls said, giving him an overly pretty and practiced smile. “You didn’t go to this school.”

“No, I didn’t, but I’m leaving your dumb party anyway.”

He started to walk off again, but that was when they spotted you behind him

“(Y/N)?!”

“Did you bring him here?”

“Is he supposed to be your boyfriend or something?”

You swallowed heavily, averting your eyes and walking faster, only to bump into Katsuki’s back

He had stilled in his path, a shadow crossing his eyes. You knew that look, that dangerous expression on his face. Bakugou was little more than a ticking time bomb, and your former classmates had just set him off

He slowly turned again to face them, and you could feel the palm clutching yours growing hotter in its grasp

“Have a problem with her? Or do you have a problem with me?” he asked, voice too low, too quiet

The same girl scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “It’s just that someone like her? With someone like you? You know what I mean, right guys?”

She snickered, turning back to her friends, who had now turned their full attention to the both of you

You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen Katsuki so angry, which was saying a lot, since he was outraged about something nearly all the time

Trying to prevent him from doing something he’d regret, you tugged at his shirtsleeve

He glanced back at you, face softening the tiniest of fractions

Balling his opposite fist, he walked back to the girl who’d called him out, pointing a finger in her face

“(Y/N) is my girlfriend and I love her, got it? I don’t need the opinions of shitty extras like you on my goddamn relationship. Just get the fuck out of my way and don’t talk to us again.”

With that, he went back to walking out, pulling you behind him in tow. He easily cleared a path for the both of you, yelling when someone wouldn’t move out of the way fast enough

When you were finally outside, he started walking you to the train station so he could take you home

“Don’t listen to those extras,” he finally said. Bakugou slowed down his pace and relaxed his grip on your hand, letting you settle comfortably into step beside him

“We do make quite the couple,” you remarked

He looked over at you, letting his face fall into the smallest of smiles. “Maybe tonight was kind of a shitshow, but you best believe that it won’t last.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m the best boyfriend there ever was, and I know how to show my girlfriend a good time.”

You grinned, hugging him from the side as you walked. “You most certainly are.” Maybe it wasn’t always a good idea to inflate the blond’s ego, but you couldn’t help but be forever grateful for how he had impacted your life

When it came down to it, Katsuki would always show how much he cared, whether it was in your defense or simply getting you through a tough day

By the time you’d gotten off the train, all your worries had slipped from your mind, walking hand in hand in the moonlit darkness to spend the night at your boyfriend’s home

⋘ ────────── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ───────── ⋙

Taglist: @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @pyrofanatic @sokkasangel @xoxopam4

#bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou bnha #katsuki bakugou bnha #bakugou katsuki bnha #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou scenario #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #sugar scen

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redxblueihateloveyou · 3 years

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You know it's always really funny to me when mhs say that had it not been for swimming Haru and Rin would've never become friends bc I'm like, that's how relationships work???? You initially connect bc of something you have in common and go from there???? In that case you can also apply it to mh bc if Haru and Makoto had not been neighbors since they were young they probably would've never become friends either, but nobody wants to mention that bc then their argument crumbles lol

Anyways, your blog is literally the best and your rh (and general) takes are always so nice to read

I'm... same, I just do not understand what’s new about this? Like my mom and dad met while they were both working at school, if I started talking with a guy cause he told me that he liked my chibi Akashi bag and anime, is this not allowed? This in no way means that that’s all we like about each other or smth, this means this one thing brought us together.

This is the reason why I dislike mh fans so much. Because the majority of them instead of posting some canon facts and truthful arguments, they either twist some words into something unrecognizable, either try to change a rh moment into mh. I just always thought ppl ship things for what they are, not what they are not...

And the main problem in this happening and the error in their equation is Haru. Cause they’re trying so hard to sew him into that but with everything he says and do he constantly falls off and they end up with mako-haha. It’s like they say that Makoto is the reason that Haru walks into his future, which is hilarious tbh, and the next movie airs and what do you know Haru is yelling at Rin’s face how “he only walks towards the future and wants it bc of him”, they say that s2 relay teams are what they truly want which everyone knows ain’t true and boom drama airs and Haru and Rin are talking how it’s not the same if they’re not together on the team. They air all the birthday stories and oh no, Rin is special again. I remember how they were running around after that frfr! episode, where Rin tries to make Haru laugh and Makoto says he actually already heard it before and turns out it was kid Haru’s evil laugh in his sleep at school. Like what is so special about that? And how is this mh related? Haru was cutely laughing watching Rin sleep and just reading his text.. that’s yeah, that’s the reason to fuss.

Their problem is always Haru, he never fits their mh plan like ever. But do they listen to him? No. Because we have a moment IN THE ANIME, where Haru says “RIN, I WANT TO BE LIKE YOU, TOO.” meaning he wants to be as brave/daring/passionate, etc. cause Rin represents freedom for him. Okay, I’d get why some needed me to post an arguments list for “Rin doesn’t like Haru only for his swimming”, which is still hilarious to me, but okay, he does have a kink in books about Haru moving in the water and goes about it for several pages, but with Haru this is actually not the case.

I don’t know if anyone noticed it, but swimming is not what attracts Haru the most about Rin and never was. It’s his character and state of mind and the way he makes him feel aka free. It doesn’t matter what they do, like whether they eat their rolls or draw new years fortunes. Haru said his whole body is on fire just when he looks at Rin and he doesn’t even notice how he starts smiling when Rin talks to him. It’s just the way he makes him feel. And swimming has nothing to do with that. Sorry, guys lmao.

Did they seriously just erase this moment, when Rin writes how he wants swim as fast as Haru in his letter, but Haru looks at the sky and he has this kaleidoscope of Rin’s pic in his mind and what he says next is "Rin, I want to be like you, too.”

And he means what he says. It’s not about the swimming truly, he admires the fact that Rin follows his dreams with such passionate determination. Mind the fact that moments of Rin that flash before his eyes in this moment a) when Rin openly gushes about Haru’s swimming in front of everyone; b) when he yells in front of the whole class that if he wants a relay with Haru, he will bloody get it; c) his swimming; d) when he tells Haru that he’s a sight he never saw before he’s gonna show him the sight he’s never seen before. It’s about how what Rin wants, Rin fights for until he gets it. Haru is in love with his passion, always was, always will be.

Haru doesn’t want to “swim like Rin” although they did compliment each other by saying “I find your strength amazing” “but I find your stamina amazing”, and Haru always drools about the power behind Rin’s strokes, but Haru swims in his own beautiful way. And while he adores the way Rin swims, that’s still not his favorite thing about Rin and never was. Every time he talks about Rin it’s always about his personality and surprisingly... it’s rarely about swimming. When he thinks about Rin it’s always stuff like... how he is so colorful and intense and full of life and passionate about his dreams and how he stands out among everyone else to him, not about his swimming skills.

So this argument is dumb AF tbh. I’m like.. yeah, and Lan Zhan loves Wei Ying for his demonic cultivation skills. Not because of his strong character, daring heart and his incredible ability to tick him off and light his cold ass on fire.

P.S. Seriously tho this is the first shipping base I see who just always for some reason does this stupid thing with finding a crumb and actively trying to make it into a bread but then realise it’s realistically impossible so they just replace it with a plastic one and pretend it’s real. This in fact makes your ship ridiculous. You can’t try to push the line that Rin is abusive (thats still lol) and how Makoto is better for Haru, since Rin did everything to make Haru reach his dream and made him happy and he’s the only one who can help Haru, when he feels down like in s2 and then with Albert and etc. Makoto can’t. It’s the truth, just let it go. I know there are not much positives sides in mh relationships to be honest in my opinion, but there are still some (?). Why not base your arguments on truth? Like at least it’s gonna be mh, not some imaginary thing. Either love mh for mh or don’t. Like yeah, Haru doesn’t resiprocate, but maybe one-sided stuff is your kink, ok, explore this, fine, but don’t try to make Haru into somebody else. Then it’s not your ship anymore.

It’s just funny to me like that Rin here writes poems about Haru and openly flirts with him in restaurants and plans their future together and I don’t even need to exagerate anything, it’s just how it really is and meanwhile mh is like “remember how 7 years ago Utsumi said that Rin and Haru wouldn’t be friends if it wasn’t for swimming, so mh is the shit”.. like I’m sorry, but I think I’m allowed to laugh at this. Sometimes you just have to let it go, seriously. Or at least like idk think before you post (and I know that it has like 3 retweets and no one cares, but still 3 ppl agreed and it reached me somehow, so..). My policy is when I create posts about my ships is validation. Like my last Rinharu facts youtube post got 5K likes, I didn’t post my thoughts, just their moments and at the end I specifically said “I have links/translations to all of this, so name thing you want to read, I’ll link you” and I linked everyone whatever they wanted.

This is how you tell ppl a story of why you love this ship and make them fall in love with it, too. Not by making up lies about what’s not there and twisting someone’s words (like this person wrote “thats what she really meant *adds complete nonsense*). And I know mh do not have any of this stuff that rh have, but if you really ship mh, find something real and go from there. Seriously, it’s better if you have smth small, but real, than a huge lie.

Also I still think ship is about two people, not just one. Why mh don’t want to listen to anything Haru says or wants like at all? That’s just sad.

P.P.S. Thanks for liking my blog, this makes me so happy <3<3<3

#answered #anonymous #Free!#free #anime #rinharu #harurin #sharkbait #rin matsuoka #nanase haruka #Haru x Rin #free! iwatobi swim club

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lackadaisicalnereid · 2 years

Text

I posted 432 times in 2021

10 posts created (2%)

422 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 42.2 posts.

I added 145 tags in 2021

#deep space 9 - 20 posts

#poetry is life - 19 posts

#star trek - 18 posts

#doctor who - 16 posts

#fandom is a queendom is my new fandom tag - 15 posts

#dune - 15 posts

#capitalism is a nightmare - 11 posts

#fic fic fic - 11 posts

#i love lucy is my new lucy tag - 11 posts

#that show about a ot5 family of thieves - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i mean don't get me wrong me accomplishing to have some fun with a piece of media is in this case to my credit and not at all to the credit

My Top Posts in 2021

Yo does anyone out here think I could find an audiobook/drama version of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet with ~modernized language? A friend expressed interest in listening to sth like this, and I'm not sure where to locate such a Thing™?

3 notes • Posted 2021-01-18 10:49:32 GMT

queen of WIPs

So I was nudged by @bohemicns and @elasticella (thank you <3) to list my WIPs & here they are - at least of course, the ones I’ve at least thought about doing something with in the last few months. I’ll happily blabber more about any/all of them

1 my gossip girl dan/blair multichapter with dan/blair starting an affair in paris while he's married to serena (ikr?) which i’m having trouble deciding the direction of 2 my jeremy/elena/caroline as leia/luke/han star wars a new hope AU (what even?) 3 my started like 1+ year ago wicdiv luci/laura thing where cass somehow also budged in and now neither her nor i are sure if she wants to rescue laura from luci, rescue luci from laura, or just say 'fuck it' and join them 4 my veronica mars (first ever!) logan/veronica something where they stumble across each other at a gas station (ah, liminal spaces, amirite) 5 my (first ever!) riverdale reggie/veronica enemies & lovers something (thankyou @bohemicns for making me do this) also omg no idea who to tag plz tag yourself if you wanna play with me

4 notes • Posted 2021-10-07 08:03:38 GMT

There is not a WIP there I don't want to talk about, but let's focus on wicdiv & riverdale bc I want them soooo bad

Ok let us talk then:

Riverdale first!

I'm actually simultaneously really thrilled with this AND not sure what exactly to do with it? Though I never consider myself a writer whose problem is Too Many Ideas, here I think that might be actually troubling me? I want it to be noir and pulpy and for exchanges like this to take place:

Toni opens her mouth, but doesn't speak. She pours more of the whiskey into his glass. "Cheap whiskey for a cheap story?" Reggie asks. "I'll bring you some more, if the story's as good as you say."

However I maybe want to have basically a frame narrative with Reggie talking to Toni at the White Wyrm, but I also maybe want to alternate between Veronica and Reggie's POV? And do I want it to be noir-pulpy for all chapters? Do I want to show people (myself included) what's actually inside Reggie-boy's head, or just, you know, not, and keep the POV outside of his thoughts and let us get a feel for him in the dark, by the weak light of his actions? But I really like it! If you like this and, you know, wanna do a quick colab, maybe a bit of Lucy energy is what this needs :D I'm open to all advice & offers.

Also, I sorta want to make a proper Romantic (?) hero out of Reggie, which is a) ridiculous but also b) fitting?

if Reggie were more genre savvy, if he was Jughead, or maybe even Betty, he would have recognized what was going on. This is not to say Reggie is stupid, he decidedly is not. And anyway, who's to say he wouldn't have walked right into it anyway?

WicDiv second!

Ok, I sorta wanna do a darker (?) take on Luci/Laura (I mean darker than I think I usually do stuff?) and see what I can unveil esp re: Laura as she sorta maybe starts being a bit unhappy in their ~relationship?

Later that night, and later most nights, there's bruises on her. Marks of worship, or faith, or fucking something. But bruises heal quickly, or at least change colors, and right now there's a pantheon of colors traceable on Laura's skin, a gift from one goddess to another. Laura looks at herself sometimes in the mirror, and traces her bruised skin with her fingers, and thinks, this dark purple one, this is Baph, and the light sort of purple-greenish one, that is Baal. She thinks of the yellower one as Sakhmet. All her lovers written plainly on her skin. Luci the painter and all of her lovers at once. And Laura is what she's always been best at - a fan. Well. Mostly. Sometimes between the bruises and back-alley quickies, between coming and going and <i>fuck-you</i>s like guided missiles, something claws at the back of Laura's throat. It never quite makes it out. But, consider: She discusses her bruises with Luci, whispers in a sex-dishevelled bed. Laura whispers of past lovers and future ones, and says: <i>this bruise that claws at my throat, that one is you</i>, and Luci whispers of - nothing at all.

And I'm sorta fine with that! But! I don't know what to do with Cass. I wanna bring in Cass, but I'm not sure what she wants to do with Luci/Laura?

It's mostly this: Cassandra is a goddess who knows and no one believes her truths. It's also this: Lucifer is not a goddess of anything if she is not a goddess of lies. Looking at it from that angle, it's quite another thing entirely. "Laura's sleeping" Luci says. She gives Cass a good once-over, slow and indulgent, because sleeping with Laura more than once a week does not preclude her from having eyes, and for some reason it's important that Cass knows this. And anyway, she's worried she might be getting rusty. Seducing someone like Cass, well, a rusty goddess couldn't do that.

At least Luci is behaving aka wrecking havoc, as always, bless.

Now, gimme your thoughts! <3

5 notes • Posted 2021-10-07 10:50:55 GMT

A question for all Grisha-verse fans out there: for someone who liked SC and didn't like SAB, and read the first SAB book and both Crows books, is it okay to move on to King of Scars without reading the second and third Grisha books? Asking for a friend, honest.

10 notes • Posted 2021-05-09 13:37:35 GMT

anyone else feel like we're forgetting to thank misters kieron gillen and james mckelvie of the wicdiv for gwendolyne christie being cast as lucifer

30 notes • Posted 2021-01-29 10:49:02 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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bisou-doux · 3 years

Text

The Starving Games ft. Freddie Weasel: AKA Pt. 1 of my Hunger Games x Harry Potter crossover series (OC x Fred Weasley)

Warnings (None of these are really graphic, but feel free not to read if any of these things make you uncomfortable!!): Blood, knives, knife wound, character death(s), severe injury mention (lost limbs), dead animal mention?? (a rat)

This is the first fic I’ve ever written! I got the idea from a post I saw from @wand3ringr0s3 Comments and criticism are GREATLY appreciated and it’d be really cool to get some feedback on my writing style!!

a/n: Also if I do write more, this is gonna be an enemies to allies to lovers situation bc I <3 angst

Tagging my mutuals: @ourloveisforthelovely @darthwheezely @amrtxntia @anchoeritic @kellsslut @whizboingies @beiahadid

Darkness. Pure black. I hear noises coming from somewhere. Muffled. Echoing through the endless void around me. The noises become louder. Someone is talking. The more I listen, the louder and clearer they get. Clear enough that I can almost make out the words. Suddenly, everything goes deafeningly quiet. My ears start ringing. But then, a single voice echoes through the silence, “Seph?”. I recognize it immediately. “Maeve?” I call out. “Seph? Is that you?” she responds, her voice shaky with fear. “Yes, yes, Maeve, it’s me. Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” she responds, panic rising in her voice. “Seph, I’m scared.”

“I know. I know, kiddo,” I swallow hard, “Hey. Hey, listen, I’m gonna find you, okay? Just stay calm.”

My heart is racing. I look around for some sort of clue, but nothing but complete darkness surrounds me. I tentatively reach my hand out in front of me. My fingertips graze something. Something cold. I take a step forward and reach out again. My hand finds what feels like a thin chain. I roll it around in my fingers before pulling down on it. The space is immediately flooded with blinding white light. I blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness. I’m at home; a tiny one room flat that I share with my mother, sister, and our cat. Except it’s empty- no furniture, not even a door. I see my sister standing a few feet in front of me, her hands bound together by a thick rope. “Maeve!” I rush towards her. “Seph!” she cries. As I reach out to hug her I’m pushed back by an invisible force. I look up and there she is- standing inside a giant glass dome. I take a few steps back, trying to register what I’m seeing.

“Shall we draw the names?” I whip my head around to see a woman in a magenta frock standing on the other side of the room. Her dress is covered in so many frills and flounces that she takes up half the flat. On her head is a ridiculous blonde wig that must add at least two feet to her height. Her face is covered entirely in white powder, with her cheeks overly rouged, and her top lip painted magenta to match the dress. She looks like a very posh clown.

“I-I’m sorry what?”

She laughs airily, “The names, darling. Surely you remembered?”

“Remember what?”

She tsked then pulled out two smaller versions of the glass dome from the frills at the front of her dress. They each had a small slip of paper in them. “Go on. Pick one.” Her voice was incredibly high-pitched, and she spoke with a capitol accent. I stepped towards her and hesitantly reached into the bowl in her right hand. I unfolded the slip of paper, ‘Maeve Whitlock’. I stared at the name in confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

“Will you take her fate as your own?”

“What do you mean? What fate?”

The woman let out another laugh, this one high and cold, it echoed around the entire room and caused the floor to shake. Suddenly, I heard Maeve call out to me, “SEPH!” I looked back to where she was in the dome. There was a dark, shadowy figure standing behind her, holding a knife to her neck. Her hands and feet were bound to a small wooden chair, and her mouth was now gagged with a dishcloth. I ran towards the dome, panic rising further in my chest. “MAEVE!” I shouted desperately. She looked at me fearfully, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. I banged and kicked and rammed my body at the glass so hard, I should’ve shattered something. But it was no use. I looked back to where the woman had been standing, but she was gone. The shadowy figure stood still, holding the knife to my sister’s neck.

“LET GO OF HER YOU FREAK!” I cried, banging my fists against the dome. Maeve was panicking now, her chest rising and falling rapidly, tears running down her face, her muffled pleas penetrating through the glass. “MAEVE.” I cried out; my voice cracked as the salty tears streamed down my cheeks. But I was too late. The dark figure suddenly slashed the knife across her throat, her cries stopped and she slumped down into her seat, eyes still half open, blood now seeping into her blouse. “NO!” I screamed, sinking down to the ground. The glass squeaked as my hands dragged down over the exterior. I looked back up towards the shadowy figure, only to see it was no longer there. In its place I saw myself, a satisfied smile on my face. I heard the clownish woman’s disembodied laugh echo through the flat, “What a pity,” the voice said, “you could’ve saved her! But now, I’m afraid, you must face the consequences of your actions.” The clone slowly raised the hand still holding the knife, and pointed directly at me. Suddenly, I felt the cool touch of metal against my throat. The other me winked, and I felt the blade drag deep across my neck. I started to choke, the blood pooling into my airways. I instinctively brought my hand up to the wound. My vision started turning black around the edges. I looked down to see the front of my dress already soaked in red. The last thing I saw was my own hand, holding the knife, droplets of blood falling steadily from the tip of the blade. Then, everything went dark.

My eyes shot open. All I saw was fur, and something was blocking my breathing. I sat up quickly, and the ball of fluff leapt off my face. The cat looked up at me from his new place on my lap- those big amber eyes practically staring into my soul- and meowed loudly. I sighed in annoyance. “Stupid cat.” I grumbled as I lifted him up and let him jump to the floor. I rubbed my eyes and tried to slow my racing heartbeat. My body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. I looked down at the bed to see my sister still sleeping soundly beside me. I took a deep, shaky breath and stroked the top of her head, moving away some of the stray hairs lying across her face. I glanced over at the digital clock next to me, SUNDAY: JULY 4. 8:26 AM. Today was Reaping Day; no wonder I had that horrible nightmare. This would be my 4th year participating in the drawing, it was Maeve’s first. How unlucky it was that her twelfth birthday had only been three days prior. If she’d just been born a few days later, she could’ve been spared for another year.

I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My mother was already awake, sewing some buttons back onto Maeve’s school shirt. “Hi, mom.”

“Hi, sweetie. Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, just now.” I yawned.

“Is Maeve still asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 8:30. Should I wake her up?”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighed, “let her sleep some more. I’ll wake her up soon.” She held up the shirt to examine her work, “Still needs a few more stitches…” She held the needle between her teeth and reached down to her sewing basket to grab another spool of thread. I looked down as I felt the cat’s bushy tail brush past my ankles. I knelt down and scratched behind his ears.

“Did you feed Tulip yet?” I asked. The fluffy, tricolor, flat-faced cat was now sitting at my feet, purring contentedly.

“Didn’t have to; he caught his own breakfast. A huge rat, which he so lovingly dropped on my pillow this morning.” My mother replied.

I stifled a laugh.

“Since you’re already up, go ahead and shower. I’ve laid out your clothes for you on the kitchen table, so when you’re done, just change into them and come back here so I can do your hair. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She smiled at me then went back to her work. I grabbed some soap and a clean towel from the small shelf near the entrance and walked out. “Make sure you don’t use up all the hot water!” she called out as I closed the door behind me. “Don’t worry, I won’t!”.

We didn’t have our own bathroom- there was one toilet and one shower per floor, which could be shared by anywhere from 5 to 20 people. There were 5 apartments on each of the 4 floors- all one room- with one bed, a stove, a sink, a small table and chairs, and some shelves for storage. Each apartment had a heater and air conditioner, but they were never guaranteed to work when you needed them. Sometimes only one side of the building would have heating, or only certain floors had AC, or only specific apartments. Often, the whole building wouldn’t have either for days at a time. The same thing happened with the water and electricity. You could never fully rely on any of the appliances being in working order. As a result, we shared a lot with other apartments. If someone’s stove wasn’t working, they could just knock on a neighbor’s door and use theirs. If only one apartment on our floor had heating during the winter, there were no objections when everyone else would come over and make themselves at home. It made it feel like we were all one family, and it was customary to refer to many of your neighbors as your aunt or uncle. This was common throughout the District, as almost everyone aside from the mayor and peacekeepers lived in small, rundown tenements, expanding outwards from the city center, which was home to the Justice building. Here, in District 8, we produce textiles. There are 6 factories in total; one of which is entirely dedicated to making peacekeeper uniforms. We typically start in the factories at 14, splitting the day between school and work. We aren’t assigned specific jobs until we turn 18. Until then, those in charge of production make requests for certain numbers of workers, and we go wherever we’re needed. Once we finish school, we’re assigned permanent job positions based on both our aptitude tests and our performances in various factory tasks. The better you do on the aptitude test, the better (or at least safer) your job will be. Those with the highest scores tend to be assigned as desk jockeys- where the risk of dying on the job is fairly low. Those with the lowest scores are sent to work in the most dangerous parts of the factories; you can always tell who works there because chances are, they’ve lost some part of their limbs...or face...or they’re, you know, missing a hand...Then there’s those whose scores fall somewhere in the middle; if they have a specific skill, like baking, or perhaps healing, they’re assigned a job based on that. The rest are assigned mid-level factory jobs, which were still dangerous, but the chances of getting to keep all your fingers were significantly higher! (But not guaranteed).

When I turned on the shower, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was delightfully warm. It took everything in me not to keep standing there, enjoying the warmth, until the water would turn cold. I shivered as I stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped my towel around me. I walked swiftly down the hall and flung open the door to the apartment. I grabbed my outfit from the kitchen table. A white trapeze-line dress ending an inch or so above my knees, long billowy sleeves pulled tight at the wrists, and a mock turtleneck with tiny ruffles adorning the edge. My shoes sat on the floor next to it; dark blue suede ankle-boots with small square heels.They were a birthday present from my mother; most definitely from the black market. I got dressed and pulled up a stool in front of my mother’s chair. She combed through my curls as gently as she could, but I still winced when she pulled too hard at a knot. She braided four small plaits at the front and sides of my hair, pulling them into two larger braids that she twisted together and pinned to the back of my head. She handed me the mirror. I looked into it and smiled, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” I turned around and hugged her tightly. She smelled of soap and clean linen, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on- all I knew was that it was comforting and warm. I held on a little longer than usual. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She brought her hand up and gently stroked the back of my head. We both knew what could happen today...I tried my best not to think about it. Maeve soon came back from the shower and changed into a mod-style purple dress and black mary janes. My mother braided her hair in a similar style to mine, adding a small flower clip at the side. She looked us once over, nodded, then stood at the mirror and added a few pins to secure her own hairstyle. She sighed, “Ready?”

“Yeah.” “Yeah.” my sister and I said in unison.

My mother chuckled lightly as we stepped through the threshold.

We walked the few blocks over to the underground and boarded the train headed to the Justice building. The train car was packed. Everyone was dressed in their best (and most colorful) outfit. These types of clothes were only worn on special occasions; those above working age wore grey coveralls to work and school, and something drab and ill-fitting otherwise. As we exited the train car, I kept a tight grip on Maeve’s hand. As we emerged from the underground, our eyes were bombarded with light, and I squinted as the brightness flooded my vision. When my eyes adjusted, I spotted the registration table. I gave my mother a brief hug and went to join the girls’ line with Maeve. Soon, we’d reached the front. I looked down at Maeve, “You want me to go first, kiddo?”

She glanced up at me with wide eyes, then stared forward and shook her head.

“You sure?”

“Mhmm. I just wanna get it over with.”

“Okay.” I hunched over and whispered into her ear, “You’re gonna be fine, I promise. It’s not as bad as you think. I’ll see you in a few minutes, yeah?”

She nodded. I gave her hand a squeeze and watched her walk up to the table. I heard them speaking faintly and a few minutes later, she turned around to look at me, a nervous expression on her face. I gave her a reassuring nod then headed over there myself.

The woman at the table sat there with a bored expression. She looked to be in her 30’s, but the heavy dark circles under her eyes seemed to age her quite a few years.

“Last name?” She said. She didn’t bother to look up at me.

“Whitlock.”

“Whitlock…” she muttered, flipping through the pages, “Right, Whitlock. Persephone?”

“Yeah.”

She crossed my name off the list. “You’re sixteen?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she sighed, “Hold out your hand, please.” She took a small device next to her and clipped it onto my index finger. I winced when I felt the needle prick my skin. She unclipped the device then stamped my wrist with the capitol’s sigil.

“You can go join your age group, fourth line from the left.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

She paused, then looked up at me sympathetically, “And um, good luck.”

I nodded and gave her a curt smile before heading over to join my peers. We were arranged by age and gender, boys and girls separate, all standing in rows in front of the stage. I stood waiting, and mindlessly watched the rows slowly multiply. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but soon enough, I looked up at the stage to see a woman in a bright magenta pantsuit. The hem of her skirt was decorated with a flounce of fabric, and she wore a light pink blouse underneath her suit jacket. The front of it contained so many ruffles, you could hardly see her neck. Her hair was pale blonde, and styled in a way that made it look like a cloud sitting on top of her head. Her face was powdered white, save for her blushed cheeks and glossy lipstick. Her lips were absurdly over lined, both painted a shocking fuchsia that closely matched her outfit. She approached the podium with tiny steps and cleared her throat daintily, “Welcome, everyone, to the reaping ceremony for the 59th annual Hunger Games!” People remained silent; the only reaction being a cough from someone in the crowd. She cleared her throat once more, “As always, we shall begin by watching a special film from the capitol, telling us the history and origins of this unique tradition, and to remind us why we are all standing here today.”

At her words, the two televisions turned on to display the Capitol’s sigil. It faded out, and a film about the glorious history of Panem started rolling. I tuned out and stared blankly at the rows of people ahead of me. When the film concluded, Ms. magenta up at the podium clapped enthusiastically. She was the only one. “Oh, wasn’t that wonderful?” She exclaimed, “What a rich history this nation has.”

I scoffed, that’s one way to put it, I thought.

“Now, as always- ladies first.” She stuck her hand into the large glass bowl on the right side of the podium and shuffled her hand through the slips of paper before snatching one up. She gingerly unfolded the paper and held it delicately between her index finger and thumb.

She cleared her throat and read out the name, “Maeve Whitlock.”

I felt my heart stop in my chest.

No.

My eyes darted through the crowd and I saw people make way for her as she slowly walked to the stage, shaking with every step. Images from my dream flashed through my mind- most poignantly, the image of me watching helplessly, as a dark shadowy figure slashed a knife across my sister’s throat. Panic rose in my chest; my heart beat so loudly in my ears that I barely heard myself shout, “WAIT!” Everyone turned to look at me. My breathing sped up as I suddenly felt at a loss for air, “I volunteer.” I added, my voice cracking slightly, “I volunteer as tribute.” Maeve looked back at me with pleading eyes and shook her head furiously. I avoided her gaze and stared straight ahead as the crowd parted to allow me through to the stage. I paused to grab Maeve’s hand and squeeze it tightly. I cradled the back of her head and planted a kiss atop her forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as I shakily released her from my grasp and allowed the other girls in the crowd to place a comforting hand on her shoulders as they quietly pulled her away from me. I walked up to the stage and slowly climbed the short flight of steps to then take my place just behind the glass bowl from which my sister’s name was drawn. I can’t believe I’m about to be shepherded to my untimely death because of a stupid glass bowl. I felt my hands getting clammy, and I held to the hem of my dress to keep them from shaking. Ms. Magenta smiled and stepped towards me, “And what is your name, dear?”

“Persephone Whitlock.” I stated.

“And you are…?”

“Her sister.”

“Her sister! Oh, well, of course you are!” she remarked, “Well, that was a very brave thing you just did, Persephone. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that this was a truly inspiring moment! Well done! And may the odds be ever in your favor.” she smiled brightly and turned towards the crowd. There were a few measly claps, but they quickly fell silent. “And now, let us draw our male tribute.” She stepped over to the glass bowl on her left and repeated the process. I stared blankly past the rows of people; only when she read the name was my trance broken, “Frederick Weasley.” A tall, redheaded boy emerged from the crowd. I stared as he made his way up to the podium. I recognized him from school. I didn’t know him well, but I knew he had a twin brother- George, I think- who’d lost an ear in a factory accident a few years prior, and was thus ineligible to compete in the Games, as his injury would be an unfair advantage to the other tributes. Apparently, he’d been checking the cogs underneath a broken machine when it somehow turned on and cut his left ear clean off. It was formally reported as an accident, but it’s been rumored that he did it on purpose. There were no witnesses, so no one can say for sure, but if it was intentional, I can’t say I blame him for doing it. There are very few ways you can get out of the games if you’re under 18- something as extreme as losing an ear would certainly fall under that category. I stared at the redhead as he took his place behind the other glass bowl. He was tall, at least 6 foot 4, and seemed to tower over my own 5 foot 10 frame. I’d always thought I was fairly tall for my age, and was used to surpassing most adults in height; but standing next to him, I felt like a child. His entire body was long and lean, but I could tell from the way his shirt clung to him that he was not just skin and bone. He had a well-structured face. Round brown eyes, thin lips, a prominent, romanesque nose; his jaw was clenched as he stared straight ahead and refused to look at me. Him and his brother were known for pulling pranks and cracking jokes at school- there was a strange, impish quality to his features that unintentionally revealed his penchant for mischief. Every inch of his cool, pale skin was covered in freckles. Despite his pallid complexion, his cheeks always seemed to have a slight blush to them that made everything about him appear bright and lively. However, at the present moment, his face had been drained of all colour, save for a rather sickly green tinge. No wonder he doesn’t want to look at me- poor kid looks like he’s about to puke. Ms. Magenta finally stepped forward, “Excellent! We now have our two lovely tributes! Both of whom will now be escorted into the Justice building to await further instructions; Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” And with that, the Capitol’s sigil was once again displayed on the TVs, and its anthem blasted through the speakers. Suddenly, I felt four hands grab me by the arms and forcefully pull me backwards. I stumbled slightly, and looked up to see the two peacekeepers responsible. They continued to pull me across the stage before practically shoving me down the stairs and onto the cobblestone street. From the corner of my eye, I could see that my fellow tribute was receiving the same gentle treatment as they dragged- I’m sorry, escorted him- to the large, looming structure behind us. As they “escorted” me towards the building’s heavy brass doors, I looked back frantically, trying to spot my mother and sister. But the crowd had gotten rowdier, and they were all being jammed together as the peacekeepers continued to push them away from the stage. My breathing quickened, and I could feel the blood pumping through every vein in my body. When we reached the threshold, the brass doors opened to reveal a high-ceilinged marble hall, and a rush of cool air escaped them. So THIS is where all our air-conditioning goes, I thought to myself. Every sound echoed through the building’s marble interior. I craned my neck upwards and tried to take in every opulent detail as I was dragged down a hallway and shoved into a small room, where the peacekeepers finally released me from their vice grip. “Wait here,” one of them said. They both left and shut the door behind them. I massaged my sore upper arms. “You didn’t have to pull me so hard, you know!” I shouted at the door, “not like I was planning on going anywhere!”. I sighed and stepped back from the door. “Assholes,” I muttered to myself. I plopped down onto a green velvet armchair and examined my surroundings. The walls and ceilings were paneled in rich, mahogany wood. The square panels above me were covered in intricate carvings, complementing the elaborate crystal chandelier hanging in the center. While I assumed the floor was wood, it was hard to tell because of the heavy oriental rugs that adorned its surface. There were two large windows behind me, both framed by plush velvet curtains. They were the same emerald green as the chair, and were tied back with a thick, gold rope that had tassels on the end of it, so as to allow in natural light. There was not much furniture in the room aside from two armchairs- one of which I already occupied- a round, wooden coffee table between them, and two empty bookshelves inlaid in the wall on either side of the room. A thin blue vase containing a single white rose sat in the center of the coffee table. The smell of it was unnaturally overpowering. Something about it made me uneasy, so I carefully pushed it to the far side of the table and shifted away from it. I unconsciously started chewing on my lip. I couldn’t sit still. Sitting there shaking my leg, or playing with the hem of my dress, wasn’t helping. I let out a frustrated groan and jolted up from my seat. I continued to chew my lip as I restlessly paced back and forth across the room. The heavy rugs didn’t hide the creaking of the floorboards as I stomped across them. After what felt like hours, I heard the door creak open. I stopped in my tracks and ran to the door to greet my mother before she’d even entered the room. Her and my sister enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug which I eagerly returned. The peacekeeper standing behind them cleared his throat. We slowly let go of each other and turned to face him. “You have ten minutes to say goodbye- not a second more.” he said in a gruff voice. As my mother and sister stepped fully into the room, the peacekeeper roughly shut the door behind them and left.

END OF PART ONE

a/n: If you’ve made it this far, 1. Hi, I love you 2. Will I write more for this series? To quote John Mulaney, “Who’s to say?”.

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queenofallwitches · 3 years

Text

an update and primer:

so the last winter was weird. I had a complete breakdown, went into psychiatric hospital for 40 days in total. two seperate times.

learnt a heap of new things, met a tonne of cool people and had amazing conversations and few fights but overcome my own demons by that.

brain speaking-I have a scarred brain stem and neurological disorder is not a mental diagnosis, but a neurological disorder, proven by MRI scan, ADHD.

also damage to my basal ganglia, and prefrontal cortex.

neurological diagnosis means ADHD is not a "mental" health issue, as some believe, rather a neurodevelopment disorder caused by structural differences in the ADHD brain.

other neurodevelopment disorders include: Tourettes, Autism, Cerebal Palsy, Dyslexia and other Motor and Intellectual Disabilities. (Which recieve, in my view, a lot of insight, media information and stigma reduction by the advocacy networks surrounding these types of disability).

Over the last few years Autism has been over everything, I've seen mainstream media cover Tourettes and yet ADHD is still HUGELY misunderstood, misconceived and misrepresented in media, be in from the angle of documentaries, personal insight of a "typical" case, films, tv, and other media.

one of the first things my dr told me was "in females it rarely presents as hyperactive red-cordial OD child"

which is what my mother BELIEVES, that is because I have an adopted cousin with the ADHD dx who was that growing up, but the representation I'm told is also divergent for women with a higher IQ score than the average IQ. I come in around 142 and tested 123 at age 3 when I was unable to focus, pay attention and had severe trauma. I tested 142 in grade 8.

I'll share my experience as a female who is intellectually gifted, with higher IQ than average, and an adhd brain:

I've been told gifted and talented "genius" children are harder to diagnose because the symptoms present differently, we hide it better (camouflage) and our focusing can be "faked" by mediocre efforts of academic success.. this is true, I would do the assignment the Sunday night hours deadline, last minute, or have my parents half do it for me, plagiarise it (fuck I've killed my whole academic career now) copied but changed my words

from old 1970s encyclopaedias I KNEW they couldn't cross reference (I went through 15 years of school never studying doing homework or assignments and still had top grades).

I literally did not listen, and spent my classes planning the end of the world survival strategies with my GT friend who, basically helped me with my calculus and hard fucking maths, which was the ONLY 50 minutes of the day I put attention into my work.

now I'm going to be heading back to full-time study in the coming months, I get anxious as the pressure of a Bachelor level degree, and the pressure it takes me to perform, is enough to break me down. I've been advised it might be wise to start light (like a basic vet style diploma) and then build up, which is logical, but I keep thinking I'm meant to be doing my thesis by now. which is the kind of pressure one gets as a kid who is told repeatedly, "your intelligence is exceedingly the average and you can do ANYTHING you want"

I wanted to be an astronaut, a storm chaser, and an architect, a town planner and then a journalist. I always held to being a "FBI agent" or spy (I wonder why). so when I found psychology is really a blend of all these things, I kinda found a niche in a psych and social science double degree. but I'm thinking my academic career is LIFELONG, and due to the fact I also want to work in my field alongside my many written thesis coming, I'll be in academics for a long time. I may fail a few things, which I have to come to terms with. I do not fail easily, or readily, but I'm a perfectionist type-a academic who will put my whole life on the line to achieve "merit". I get exams, I get assessments, I read journals super-easy, I talk the talk and walk the walk so well psychologists who are at masters level compliment me on my "knowledge".

when it comes to mental health and trauma, I will always have the personal attachment, called lived experience, which will make failure and burnout, 100 percent realistic. I have to boundary up, bootstraps on, and prepare that yes, my personal "bias" will probably be entwined in this.

which is why I'm looking at the social science for the statistics and thesis writing side of things, and the counselling for the trained therapist side. either way, the degree of counselling requires so much self-insight, and then the social-science will back me away from personifying it. the other choice is criminology, which leads to forensic psychology, which is eternally fascinating. my main concern is the pro-pedophile content Ill be up against, which will look at the anatomy of a shoplifter akin to the devil, and leave the pedophile in the DSM-5 dx "paraphilia" box.

I'm not joining or jumping to anything.

either way I've got 2 year of credit, a heap of pathways and a lot of "academic momentum" from all my life being aimed to be "academic powerhouse". I went through my files and found a lot of awards I'd won in my high school, and top place in the competitions we would be entering in. I remember feeling so sad if I had a "credit" vs a distinction or high distinction, only to see now, a credit in university maths in year 9 is a skillset I don't have anymore so, good on me. or a credit in English, or Science at that age was pretty impressive, considering these tests were random and not studied for.

just a general skills assessment only the top 30 kids in the year were to take on a year by year basis and put out to vet from the top universities and taken by other kids in the same grade around the state.

it puts so much focus on my intelligence, because it's primed to be that way, I know that is true. I know I feel good being academically successful and it gives me a feeling of "achievement" but is it really for me?

I also found 2 letters from my local politicians offering me job placement, work experience and I was 1/4 kids in my 10th grade graduation tom get the letter, and due to my behaviour I pissed ALL the idiots who bullied me off. I was "too pretty to be a nerd" "too smart to be pOpUlAr".

so I made a group of misfits, who are all highly intelligent, creative and my group had the ONLY gay male in the school AND THIS IS BEFORE YOU FUCKING RETARDS MADE IT "COOL". he was bullied badly, so fuck you, you fucks claim "liberalism" but I bet you were the type of idiot who bullied guys like him in high school while you pretended to like my chemical romance and fake cut yourselves. I hate you all, forever.

my grade was full of idiots who were fake emo, who left the scene the moment the scene changed to dub-step and club music. I was there, watching you all, like sonny Moore, went from FFTL to that dubstep skrillex shit he started in 2009.

I dated you, hooked up with you and I went to your gigs. I know who was real and who was fake. I met some of you years later and realised the more emotive ones were the less "alternative appearing".

I can say 1/10000 emo guys from the 00s were genuinely Into the music and scene for the right reasons based on my dating history and this can and will be analysed statistically using SPSS one day to prove a lot. I've had too many relationships from each sub-culture and I have had 4-11 males at a time per public "output" of my energy pursue me over life.

I'm not being cocky when I say I have a long line of "suitors" and its banked back about 50 men. it's been a thing I've avoided as it seems to grow based on my body shape, attitude, appearance, so I am currently out of touch with dating scenes, no interest to try that ANYWAY, given the fact that I have had so many LONG TERM relationships ANYWAY. I can't see another one going well, and at this case, I'm living with an ex but we never went on conventional and now our families label this 3 things: "asexual", "polyamorous" and "open relationship". I'm also "bisexual" but this all to humans outside, looks ridiculous on paper. (wild orgies and lots of swinging or some stupid sex magick probably is what J brother literally thinks we do).

bc humans are intrinsically designed to need to label things they don't understand. we share a lease, not a relationship, and fucking polyamorous, I WISH. there are no girl-girl-guy 3 some, or orgies, or sex magic parties.

this has changed the attitude and perception of this "relation' which Is non-romantic, non-sexual. he can date and likely, will, as can I , and I likely won't date.

I would say 14/15 have had ADHD, or other mental illness and or trauma. which means to me, nothing at all.

I think this "open book" non romantic relationship style of "friends and roommates" not sexual.

attachment is misunderstood by others but works well fro my adhd, meaning I'm not expected to marry, or be a wife in any capacity. he is free to do what he wants, as I am, and open communication is a novel frontier I brought into this in the start, and stayed with for the duration. we fight, but I fight with a lot of people in my life over many petty things. also down to my adhd, I believe, I have rejection sensitive dysphoria, which makes me hypersensitive to rejection, perceived or real.

im not sure if this is trauma or adhd or both. but

I have used sexuality as a weapon in many relationships but it cannot or will not be used here, so I have had to resort to uncovering parts of myself which I never knew, which will stay with me even if he decided to marry and wife up in 5 years, which I'm okay and expecting him to do, and I would much rather that then be trapped in a situation where I cannot be that "wife/mother archetype" as I'm too "femme fatal/other-woman/sex-laced seductress and siren" a "FWB, unicorn, drug buddy, hook-up where im a therapist" or "intellectual and cognitive mind-bender work-study obsessed woman".

both at once and many types of human, including one who is a full-time ceremonial magician of 7 years. I will drink, drug, fuck, fight like males and still be more feminine and high maintenance than 89% of women. I grew up a tomboy and don't mind getting into fun, adventure based situations, like hiking, or anything adrenaline, I would only be reluctant to eat weird shit.

I also have many "neurological" issues including ADHD, and trauma which causes a rupture in the average human and I dating.

I'll tell you how many men have said "you are the unicorn" and then realised what that means, I went as far as canvasing the PUA world back in 2014 after reading the game, a book on PUA, which is essentially, pick up artistry, based on NLP and hypnosis. I did this after reading the copy my ex in 2008 handed me before we dated saying "I gave this up for you". it took me years to open the book, buy when I did I truly believed the only way I would fall in love again, was through PUA. that failed in so many ways but gave me a training foundation for men who were candidates for that, I have trained up J, and the way that sounds is BAD. I know, but I got a lot of value myself, I just don't see it how I wanted to see it.

but that was my original intent, and I achieved this he knows that, knew it was happening and evolved for the best self.

I am thinking we can modulate this into a business model for how I was operating in the BDSM world was mainly psychological, not physical.

I get told all of is incredibly intimidating (I am told) to women and men.

I don't really care anymore, because people have always seen this part of me in the wrong way ANYWAY, but I own who I am NOW. which is what I needed ANYWAY. so it cannot be stolen again, and sexual healing has come from abstinence ironically.

I also don't care what or who is trying to tear up my relations, toxic or not toxic, all people around me will be on a healing journey by default, or cut out of my life, for I am radiating that energy so brightly its impossible NOT to feel that pull.

I will drag your shadows into the light, and make your secrets spin from your lips into my consciousness. its not what I do but its what is design.

I make your weaknesses mountains to climb over. you cannot hide from these in my presence, I won't be this controlling or obsessive female who wants 24-7 attention as I have a life full of meaning without love or sex. I don't want to be wined, dined or expensively gifted, unless specially requested.

I don't want love letters or romantic declarations, this isn't some femnazi bullshit, but it triggers me. I appreciate the efforts and won't make you feel bad about your insecurities, for mine are probably 30 x more pronounced.

I appreciate small things, that most males won't or don't know how to do. like remembering things I've said and being thoughtful. or knowing my silence isn't personal, or a game, but a protective wall. I've had songs sung too me, guitars played, songs written, or things made in ways that are heartfelt. but I've always had them used against me too. so it is the context. I value time, energy, conversations of depth and reciprocal exchange. I also value trauma understanding, my alters and fragments being accepted and valued as me as a whole and a person who is not afraid, or scared of stupid stuff like sensitivity, emotions, feelings as raw as my own. men feel intensely too, lol.

but will only give oral sex 100 times before I don't recieve it, I can communicate now so that wouldn't happen.

but I won't be a bitch about this stuff. I am extremely feminine and care in ways other people, do not, I forget nothing people tell me, so it can be a reward or reverse uno card pull in a fight, but I am not evil or deviant in my relations. I react, depending on how you treat me. I don't need your money, or providing source of income to be okay as I am my own queen, however sharing resources is okay to build something. I don't need to be seduced, but will need to be shown a person is trustworthy.

few cross that.

that will always be time-endurance and testing. there are ground rules I don't play with, or play games. or like being forced or forged into something I'm not. I know abusive and I know safe, and I am a psychology expert, trained psychotherapist and study humans for fun, so I'll always be analysing things.

and I know red flags and I know ego, I know how to placate and please and pleasure, but will only do so, for a bigger and better reason than the mere act of seduction. which is without value and transactional to someone like me, I won't lie.

and I know every tactic in the book, for the book was written by someone like me, many lives ago, and my karma is being burnt for that book.

in terms of walls, I have many, may it be called a maze. or labrnyth.

I will teach you things you never thought you'd know, and change your life in ways you won't ever be able to go back to before. I will blow your mind, sexually, emotionally, intellectually, on all levels, and I'll make your friends and family love me.

I'll bring your walls down and you won't be able to understand this, because you don't understand me, and thats ok.

but I'll always understanding you and make your life better because thats what I do anyway, and people talk to me about things I will never share, as I keep secrets. I am jealous, of everything but, only because I am attached in a disorganised way, and working on that.(I won't even mention how man women or men don't know basic psychology of themselves). I also am a therapist , for my friends and family too.i should not be , but I am. I care, I listen, If you think I'm not listening, I'm still listening. sometimes I interrupt, because I have ADHD and I am horrible at resolute planning, or being "normal". but I don't want to be normal anyway. I need you to recognise and understand my shit, for that is what I do for everyone in my life, and I have helped more than I receive.

I'll probably accidentally give you therapy, but thats fine, because you will uncover your depths and find meaning in this. it's not something that goes bad unless you are fundamentally, evil, even the most abusive relationship I was in, was benefited from this process. yes he's still narcissistic, but he is self-aware. and did I benefit, never, just know the anatomy of self-proclaimed narc and I still can't hate him. will get my civil claim one day.

I will fuck your mind without meaning too. but thats because I fuck my own mind. but the meaning is made in the man- some find this highly offensive or personal (its not). I fuck minds by my own overthinking, or over perception on many levels of reality. so join the ride, or don't come along at all. because once the rollercoaster is in motion, I have no control of what may or may not happen. it's purely experimental.

I am experimental.

and the women who are judging me, are not any better.

look within, and shut the fuck up. self-improve and quit this jealous divide and conquer bitchiness. I HATE gossip, bitches, snitches and fakers.

I look to other women who are intellectually, physically and spiritually "individual". and find value in superior status to my own, which is something my narcissistic ex taught me.

I look for mentors, and teachers and people who will teach me how to improve myself, which I am fearful to reconnect after something is amazing and I can't give anything back of positive value. I am sorry I am working on that.

I won't devalue those below me, but I also need to be mutually benefiting from a relationship.

I dont drag people down, I may disappear if I feel I am doing this by mistake. I am flakey as fuck, and sorry for that. its anxiety and lack of perfectionism, so I am wrong and bad for this. I can change. will change.

if you can find value with my relation, personal professional or romantic, we can move into a symbiotic beneficial agreement based on mutual "terms". but many won't or cannot see this, nor do I impose my bullshit into the lives of randoms at this age.

I don't care if this is cruel, it's real.

I value loyalty, compassion, self-insight/awareness, someone who understands all parts-spirituality, metaphysics while still having intellectual & logical & analytical brain-sight.

I enjoy music, magick and learning new things.

I do not care about appearances I dont think ive dated based on one time. I do value connections and chemistry which is far-few between, I hate fakers. I smell insincerity miles away. but I do respect women who are well-presented, or beautiful, with hair beauty and makeup, I can't do this shit well, so I look up to those who are in professions who do it like art. I find them to be genius level queens who scare me.

I call out bad behaviour and make people uncomfortable if they are repressed. I will change you without even meaning too, I don't even need to date you. its just my presence, over time, amplified by the intensity of the dynamics.

I don't want simplicity, but I also don't need over complexity.

I value passion, independence, creativity, curiosity, problem-solving, deep-disscussions, shared adventures and some occasional risk-taking (lol), sensuality and sexuality for a common cause beyond physical pleasure. I like being taught but not micromanaged. I need my own independence, and need to be trusted with that. I hate being scolded for that like a child, or being pushed to change my ways to conform to societal values. which I will push back and refuse to do. which is not healthy. I don't adult like many others do, but I try to proceed in other ways. and learn to adult like normal people, accept me.

I also value myself, and how I can be celebrated, enhanced and improved vs. the opposite.

I give space, and have boundaries, and understand human psychology, sexuality and relationships in ways few others unless they are trained, can do.

I value MY time. so you can have space to value YOURS. I dont need to be in anyones pocket for a long time. I love being alone, and being around people who are stimulating, but draining people will be drained out of my life quicker than I intend. I am sorry for the people who felt I disappeared, when I was only trying to be 'fair', if I feel I'm a bad influence, I will work on myself until I'm not. I'm still working on it.

I also use this psychology awareness, to enhance communication, connection. you may or may not become an accidental guinea pig. I will be upfront that I am experimental, but that is part of the buy ticket and take the ride. lets work together. not apart.

I am coming from a place of love, and love is what I feel for my animals, which you will be adopting as children.which I want to stop experiments being done on. I love love, in all ways, but hate cruelty of animals and children, violence and suffering. I dont advocate justice, because I find life is fucking cruel, unfair and unjust. by default, so I focus on myself. what can be changed, and what I am able to do in my own locus on control. I will always find myself drawn to the outsiders, the misfits, the vagabonds, the misunderstood. I want to help people who are society, or socially, disadvantaged by trauma and mental illness, but only when I have ability to help myself.

it's a journey.

I will not date anyone who is cruel to animals, outside of specify magical sacrifice, there is not any place for that. nor will I date or fraternise with anything or anyone linked or associated with pedophilia. I won't judge anyone on anything that are outside animal cruelty and pedophilia. I don't and haven't. I keep on good terms with every ex, bar 1 whom I only apologised too this year. it felt good to do that. I change my behaviour.

I am open, but also highly attuned to both logical, factual, empirical , scientific worlds, and spiritual, intuitive, psychic and the "collective unconscious". I walk in both these realms, and I am "conventionally attractive". which puts a lot of pressure on me, to be "stupid". I am always dumbing myself down to fit into normality, but I look ridiculous if I do that so I peacock my intellect.

only to be misconceived.

I give up because I no longer care how anyone but MYSELF can see ME. I won't dumb myself down , but I can enhance you UP. prepare yourself for graded education, evolution and self-growth on mass scales.sorry not sorry.

that sucks for the people who want to be living vicariously through me, for making up to lost trauma years, for family who sold me out for the success I'd bring home, or fake trauma enmeshed friends, or whatever they want or need from me. I value my time and energy, and have given that in abundance, and if you want to be with nut only "one part of me that is alters". I can't provide that now. not sorry.

I have to work on something or not be in a dynamic at all.

I no longer can switch on demand to adapt for you, it will not be effective and that upsets a lot of people. especially now I'm sober. harder to handle this, as I see the world for its ways and why it is, more vividly. I haven't had alcohol for almost 2 months, although, I could drink, I haven't.

I can't do it, anymore. it, being, faking, my selves fronting to impress. I can't. I have no more left to give, and I'm expected by everyone to be a way I can't do it in the way they want.

I will go to another year long outpatient DBT, followed by 10 weeks of A-C-T therapy, and however many ECT OR TMS may or may not help. I'm told it won't (ect) work. but TMS, is something I am open too. but I am telling you, none of this psychotherapy, that will be based on dbt skills, day therapy, intensive skills training, recommencing my studying, and resuming "life worth living" will or can wipe the traumas I've "recovered" memories for.

I will also shut the fuck up, and tell nobody about this if you leave me alone, I told that to my family, and this is open letter to the watchers, stalkers and perps who read this openly as I track the hits on here and have 200+ visits a day every day for the last month. globally. no idea how or who you are but I think its the same people who called the police for the "ayreon song lyrics" seen to be a suicide not last October.

thanks for that wake up call, I have shut the fuck up, since December, more so now. I will burn the journals, or lock them up.

my recovery is not linear, not yet fully integrated and I trust nobody so I don't think my psychotherapy will be deep, I focus on things like ADHD AND my EDNOS. and dbt skills. I won't be talking about sexual traumas.

enjoy the update, and thanks for the "attention".

I have my goals, my work, my meaning and what my life should and could and will look like, but I will not share that with anyone. that means everyone right now.

I've been tested, traumatised and terrorised to the point of not-tolerant of anyone who may bring that back, and banish the fuck out of my sphere every moment I need.

take me as I am, or watch me as I go, which I will go, where I am not wanted I will remove myself, but I will find where I am celebrated because I create that.

I will rise up against all adversity every time but that is survival and that created a resilient and brave woman, in me. who will not be destroyed or decomposed by humans who are fundamentally fucking evil.

I gift you my truth, in progression, and give up the pain of the past.

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