2literbottleofmess

[2literbottleofmess]

Ok one more theatre post. You can now watch the proshot of the donmar warehouse next to normal revival on PBS through the end of June. Thought provoking, Pulitzer winning etc etc definitely worth the watch even if you’re a casual musical theatre enjoyer

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desperately need a 911 Next to normal au - like imagine Buck grows up like Natalie with Margaret as Diana constantly hallucinating Daniel.

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like honestly. for real. if i was on my 49th hour of knowing i was bisexual. and on my first ever date with someone of the same sex. and that person publicly called me out for being in the closet and gave me shit about it in front of my best friend. and then (despite knowing ahead of time that i was just now figuring myself out, and also knowing that i had a super weird relationship with that friend, and also knowing that i was really nervous but excited to try things out) left me on the curb in front of a restaurant. after calling an uber and waiting until the car was literally pulling up outside to say oh - no actually this car is just for me; you can find your own way home. and then didn’t call me at all until my best friend who was panicking about his own relationship and who i had just come out to for the first time told me to call the guy so i called him and invited him to coffee to beg him to give me another chance. despite the fact that i never even did anything wrong in the first place. and i have a known history for sublimating my own identity in relationships that are wrong for me because of my anxious attachment trauma. and then i spend six months dating this person only to later find out that he dated my first love for years and strung her along to the point of being engaged. and then essentially left her at the altar when her mom was dying. and then called her crazy for dating me. and then dumped me. and then hooked up with me on a rebound and then said he was glad my best friend moved away because the competition was finally gone. like for real if I found out that people were rooting for me to end up with this guy……….. i would burn my own house down in real life.

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Fic Masterlist

Hello!! I’m pansiesandposies (formerly pansys_goth_gf) and this is my fic masterlist! I’m currently writing 9-1-1 and The Pitt fanfics under this username over on AO3! Feel free to say hi or chat with me about fics, sorry if it takes me literally forever to respond 😭 I also am going to do my best to keep a running list of my WIPS at the end of this (no promises though lmao)

9-1-1 Fics:

Buddie <50k

You’ve Got A 9-5 (So I’ll Take The Night Shift)

Where Did I Go Wrong (I Lost A Friend)

Buddie >50k

Dinner and Diatribes

Merry / Bright

She Said She’d Do It Again

3am

Cliffhanger

Gay or European (Dumb Edition)

My Brother’s Keeper

Oh Brother, I Confess (There Is Little Of Me Left)

Three Weddings (And An Anniversary)

While You Two Get Along

Soothes The Soul

Before (Or At All)

Someone Take Me Home

Aftershocks

Henren Week Fics:

Heart Attached

I’ll Be There For You

The Voice of Rage and Ruin

Élégie

In Laughter, In Strife

Nothing In Her Room But An Empty Crib

That Funny Little Girl

Whumptober Fics

Whumptober 2023

Whumptober 2024

Buddie Week:

Monday (You Could Fall Apart)

Tuesday (Break My Heart)

Wednesday (Heart Attack)

Wednesday (Stay in Bed)

Thursday (I Don’t Care About You)

Friday (Never Hesitates)

Friday (I’m In Love)

Saturday (Wait)

Sunday (Always Comes Too Late)

The Pitt Fics:

Kingdon:

Tightrope Walker

En Pointe

Spinning Plates

Trapeze Artists

Too Messy

WIPS:

Kingdon Week (June 2-8)

Unnamed Buddie Fic (~90k)

Kingdon Bridgerton AU

McDiaz Fic (Cassie McKay x Mateo Diaz)

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“We’ve crushed fascism before and we’ll crush it again.” A 98-year-old WWII veteran demolishes a Tesla with a Sherman tank. (Love the replays from several camera angles.)

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wait professor remus…… elle you opened the Gates

hehehehehe.... 😈 big shout out to @maladaptiveescapism for daydreaming and yapping about this with me - some of the 'ratings' are courtesy of her!

Professor!Remus Lupin x Professor!reader: 5/5 chilli peppers [1.7k words]

CW: fem!reader, flirty/sexual comments made about both professors by students [indirectly], suggestive content but nothing explicit and SFW

You were sitting cross legged on Remus’ desk; heels discarded on the floor as you used one hand to scroll through your phone whilst the other brought your glass of wine to your lips. 

Remus probably shouldn’t think you look adorable, but Remus thought you looked adorable.

You hummed excitedly as you quickly swallowed your sip and pointed at your phone. “Listen to this one!” You enthused, clearing your throat and sitting up straighter as though you were about to deliver one of your lectures. “Professor Lupin should be banned from wearing those khaki slacks - you know the ones - how can anyone pay attention to the migration of Germanic peoples through Western Europe when that perfect arse is *right there*?” 

Remus’ face felt like it was probably five shades darker on account of his furious blush as he topped up his own glass of wine and let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan.

“They’re just trousers!” 

“Oh but they are so not.” You drawled salaciously, smirking into your glass. 

“Knock it off, you minx.”

“Shan’t.” You replied as you squinted at your phone again. “Oh! This one’s good: when he starts rolling up his sleeves and then leans on the desk, it’s suddenly worth waking up at seven AM for a morning class.”

“Stop-”

“And someone responded with ‘I didn't believe in god when I was forced to take an eight AM lecture, but I did believe in god when she blessed us with Professor Lupin as an apology’. You’re a hit, Lupin.” 

“I’m horrified.”

“You’re an icon.”

“Did these student’s even learn anything in my classes?” Remus let out with a laugh.

“Sure.” You agreed quickly. “This one says you guys spoke about Freud?”

“I- what?” Remus asked, wondering when the hell Freud came up during his Early Medieval Europe course. 

“‘We were discussing Freud and made a daddy joke. Professor Daddy.’” 

“Alright.” Remus gruffed as repositioned himself on the loveseat in the office. “That’s enough out of you.”

“Hey,” You placated, raising your hands - still holding your phone and a glass of wine - in mock surrender, “I’m just the messenger.”

“What is this site called again?” He asked as he pulled out his own phone.

“Rate my professor. Oh, this one’s boring.”

“What’s it say?” He asked with a snort.

“Says you’re a harsh grader but fair, and you allow people to resubmit their assignments to bring their grades up.”

“Finally, an accurate and reasonable review.”

“All in all, you’ve gotten 5/5 chilli peppers.” You sing-songed, looking up and smirking at him. “My my; do office hours run long, Professor Lupin?” 

Remus swallowed thickly and ignored the subtle tightening of his pants. “You think mine are bad?” 

“No, I think yours are great.” You corrected. 

Remus hummed as he smirked at you before reading from his screen. “Took the class because it was the only one available and now I’m wondering if I can retake it because this might be the hottest woman I have ever seen. BRB booking an appointment to change my major.”

“No way!” You squealed with laughter; Remus’ smile grew exponentially as a result.

“Did Plato come up this semester?” He asked you then; you nodded your head yes. “I don’t know why she thinks I can focus on platonic ideals of things when she is in the room? Platonic ideal of hot.”

“Oh my god!” 

“This one simply reads ‘someone call Victoria’s Secret. One of their angels is posing as a university professor.”

You shook your head and looked up at the ceiling at that one.

“Looks like you’ve got 5/5 chilli peppers too, Professor.” He quipped.

“That’s just because I’m only one of two Professors at this university under 50 years old.” You chuckled, Remus cocking an unimpressed brow in response.

“Wouldn’t that be my excuse too?”

You quickly hummed in the negative.

“No?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Uhm…because you’re hot, Remus.” 

“Is that so?”

“That is my professional, academic opinion, yes.” You agreed resolutely. 

“I think there might be some flaws in your assessment, dove.” 

“Is that so?” You drawled slowly, parroting his earlier comment earning you a challenging hum of affirmation.

Remus watched your eyes narrow slightly before you lifted your phone back up.

“You did receive one ⅘ rating.” You commented solemnly.

“Bastard.” Remus scoffed with no real heat, running his tongue along his teeth as you repositioned yourself on his desk; shifting closer to the edge and leaning over your own legs as though trying to subconsciously inch closer to Remus. “I hope they failed my course.” 

You let out a roaring laugh, throwing your head back into it and exposing the length of your neck. 

“They said,” you continued loudly once you collected yourself as though scolding him for having interrupted you, “minus one chilli because I’m pretty sure he’s shagging that other hot professor in the department.”

“Now why would they think that?” He asked innocently, though he knew exactly why they would think that. 

The two of you were new to the university faculty this year; you were close in age, by far the youngest professors on the payroll, and both part of the history department. The two of you had picked up a quasi-antagonistic yet relatively genial relationship; rumours that the department would be letting go of one professor at the end of the school year what with the two of you being the lowest in terms of seniority didn’t bode well, resulting in a slight rivalry that saw no real animosity. 

But regardless of the semi-competitive nature of your relationship, the two of you were the youngest professors at the school, meaning you weren’t always taken very seriously and were often each other’s only allies. 

This meant the two of you became fast frenemies. 

It started in the first term when he went to reserve a book for the class, only to find you had put it on hold first. 

“Oh? Did you need this book, Lupin? Sorry about that….you’ll have to be faster next time.” You’d offered him with nothing more than a wink, leaving him standing there, gaping in your office as you walked away. 

Then it turned into him letting himself into the lecture room 26 minutes past the hour whilst your class was finishing up even though your class only finished 25 minutes past the hour and his class didn’t start until 35 minutes past the hour, just so he could enjoy the way your nose scrunched up in frustration as your students started giggling through your concluding remarks. 

You showed up to one of his lectures once - he’d somehow missed you sneaking in and taking a seat in the back row - when you began volleying questions in an attempt to fluster him. You’d teased him once about his need for structure and scripts for his classes, and you’d gone to prove him right by asking him hard hitting questions slightly beyond the scope of this particular class that he was not prepared to have to answer. The class ended with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up as he scowled at you and you smiled sweetly at him. 

Once he had fucked around with your powerpoint lecture without your knowledge, so as you opened up the first slide, everyone read: blimey, sorry to everyone stuck with Professor Y/N for the next hour or so. You really ought to try one of Professor Lupin’s courses instead - they’re way better!

You sticky-noted his entire office for that one. 

Friendly and not so friendly comments were passed in the corridors as the two of you passed one another, some heard by students and others not. Remus had guest lectured for a course of yours and you had offered a talk in one of his. 

Ultimately, the school had seen the two of you interacting. Remus probably should have been more mindful of the way his gaze often lingered on you. 

But it couldn’t be helped, really. You were maddeningly intelligent, engaging in the way you spoke in an academic sense and a personal sense, you were funny and quick, and fuck him if you weren’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.

So yeah, he knew exactly where those rumours had come from. He’d probably been caught a few too many times ogling you. 

Much like he was being caught ogling you now, though you were the only one present to catch him in his faux pas.

Your eyes were glassy from the amount of wine the two of you had shared to celebrate the official end of exam season, the top few buttons of your blouse seem to have come undone at some point in the evening exposing a beautiful expanse of skin, if you asked Remus. He noticed you swallow thickly as your legs fell over the edge of the desk, bare feet dangling well above the carpeted floor as you watched him watch you. 

“Beats me.” You murmured in response to his question.

“We’ve been drinking.” He commented, seemingly apropos of nothing.

“We have.”

“And we’re technically at work.” He continued.

“We are.” 

“One of us could be getting let go.”

“We could.” You agreed again. 

The two of you stared at one another as you teetered this liminal space between friendly and decidedly not, between professional and inappropriate, between surrendering and resisting.

And then the corner of your mouth turned up in a smirk.

“Fuck it.” Remus let out with an exhale, and in two quick strides he was standing between your legs, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you soundly as you hummed into the kiss and fisted the back of his shirt with an iron grip.

He couldn’t believe he’d waited an entire academic year to do this. 

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

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[2literbottleofmess]

I feel like a kid who didn't watch superwholock or something what the fuck is the pitt. who is evan buckley. They're making shows nobodies ever watched before and I'm watching them slowly take my mutuals like a disease

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nowhere to go but up he says - then they have to edit in a negative value...

The good news is, there's nowhere to go but up. I love that attitude for you.

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Madney + Buck

Wolfstar and Regulus

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the comedic timing in this tumblr post of why is buck there and then cutting to the characters who look like they're thinking the same thing.

also buck looks like his parents are having a fancy dinner after his bedtime and he needed a cup of water so he had to interrupt the grown ups

Hen Wilson 8x13 🤔

Ok... so, am I the only one who noticed Hen is NOT wearing her uniform I'm these BTS pics?

Also, it appears Henren and Bathena are celebrating something. I wonder what the balloons are for?

Furthermore, why is Buck there?

In the past, he wasn't there with them when the four of them hung out.

Interesting!

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ITS FINE I WANTED TO CRY ANYWAYS-

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where's that graph of all the times buddie say each others names? because buck is doing overtime

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Who's That Girl?

summary: after Peter moves out due to unspecified reasons suddenly, the marauders have a room to fill. Luckily, you've just arrived in the UK and are happy to sign the lease

cw: modern au, reader has a mother/maternal figure

platonic!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

“Okay, mom.” You rub your eyes, arm still sore from lugging your suitcase around half of London. “No, I really don’t think so. It’d be a pretty elaborate scheme just to kill me. Our names are all together on the lease, there’d be a paper trail.” 

There’s a quiet snicker from the doorway. You look over to find James, one of your new roommates, standing in the threshold of your room. You grimace, miming waving your mother’s concerns away. 

“Seriously, you don’t have to worry, I—fine, here. Listen.” You put your hand over the speaker. “I’m so sorry about this,” you tell James. “Can you tell her you’re not going to murder me, please?” 

“Why would we murder you?” he asks in an easy, jovial voice. It’s the sort of voice moms love, which is perfect for what you need right now. “We need you alive to pay rent, and anyway we’ve nowhere to hide a body. They started being rather vigilant about the Thames some time ago.” 

“He’s joking,��� you say quickly into the phone. “Yeah, I’m sure. They do that here, too. Now will you please go to sleep? I’m good, I promise. Okay, call you later. Love you.” 

You click the button to hang up with a sigh, dropping back onto your mattress. 

“Your mum?” James asks sympathetically. 

You hum. “Yeah, sorry. It’s four in the morning for her right now, and she’s all wound up. I appreciate the help.” 

Despite your best efforts, you can’t seem to convince your body it’s not four in the morning for you right now. You thought taking the red eye to London would help you adjust quickly to the time change, but a sleepless flight has only made you weary and disoriented. You screwed up the route from the airport to your new flat, realizing only around Richmond that you’d gone the complete wrong direction on the wrong tube line. It took you a solid hour longer to get to your flat than you planned. When you saw Sirius, who’d posted the flat in an online roommates group, waiting on the other side of the door you nearly collapsed into his arms in teary gratitude. 

With the haze of fatigue still clouding your thinking, it takes you a few moments to wonder why James has come to stand in your room. 

“Did you need something?” 

“I was just wondering if you might like breakfast,” he says. His big frame fills the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame like it’s a familiar stance. 

You try to hide your wariness, your mind filling with images of black pudding and beans smeared on toast. “What are you having?” 

“Omelets.” 

“Yes, please.” You hop out of bed. It’s less bouncy than lurching, but you’re trying to affect vivacity in the hopes you eventually start to feel it. 

James leads you towards the kitchen. Your room, you discovered when you arrived, is even duller than the pictures online. The previous tenant either hadn’t decorated at all or had moved out in a hurry, leaving only a bed and some trash on the floor. The room is small, with peeling white paint and a tiny window situated oddly in the corner, the scraggly tree outside eclipsing half of the view. 

The rest of the flat is a different thing entirely. The common spaces are mostly open; you can see the kitchen from the living room, with everything lit by two large windows looking out onto the street. There’s a funny mishmash of decorations, some pieces hinting at unity and others not so the way it all comes together seems almost like a happy accident. A nice, plush couch sits next to a chair that looks like it was dragged in off the street; there are books stacked against walls and album covers being used for coasters; a collection of vinyl records sits on the mantle next to a bluetooth speaker and above stockings seemingly left out since Christmas. It’s definitely a space decorated by boys, but you like it. It feels homey. 

“My mum would be in a right state if I up and moved continents,” says James, walking into the kitchen. He takes up position behind the stove, next to where Remus is making tea. “Is it the city she’s worried about?” 

“It’s everything,” you admit, lingering awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen. You don’t want to be in the way. “It’s the city, it’s the male roommates, it’s the Facebook post she saw about muggings…” 

“Flatmates,” Sirius corrects you from the kitchen table. “We’re not roommates, we don’t share a room. Maybe you ought to clarify that, might calm her down a bit.” 

“Flatmates,” you amend. “She does not like that I have guy flatmates. Can I help?” 

“Don’t,” says Sirius. “Remus is a control freak in the kitchen. Real finicky.” 

“I’m not finicky.” Somehow, you can tell Remus is rolling his eyes even without him turning it around. 

“You nearly took my head off over the way I cook chicken last week.” 

“The way you cook chicken nearly burned down the flat.” 

“Y/n,” Sirius says, seriously, “do as I do.” He pats the seat next to him at the table. 

You glance at James hesitantly, but he waves you off. When you join Sirius in sitting down, you forget to suppress the sigh that collapses out of you. 

Sirius tuts. “Jet lagged?” 

Lag feels too kind a word for what your body is doing to you. “Yeah. Think I’m gonna take a nap after this.” 

“Oh, don’t do that,” he says. “I’ve done the whole international travel thing—” 

“You’ve been to France,” says Remus drolly. “The time difference is an hour.” 

“—and it really is best to just push through,” Sirius finishes as though the interruption went unheard. “You’ll only make matters worse for yourself if you sleep now and then can’t tonight.” 

You hate how sound his logic seems. The idea of waiting at least ten hours to put your head to a pillow makes you want to cry. 

“So,” James says brightly, “what doesn’t your mum like about you having guys for flatmates?” 

Perhaps it can be chalked up to exhaustion that you have so little control over the expression that crosses your face. Luckily, James is too concentrated on his omelet to see it, but Remus isn’t; he grins at you. 

“She doesn’t really love the idea of me having roommates at all. Flatmates,” you correct yourself when Sirius gives you a look. “I think because you’re guys, she just sees it as even less safe. Don’t take it personally. Oh, thank you.” 

You accept the mug of tea Remus sets in front of you. Sirius has one already half drunk in front of him, and Remus sits down with his own, taking a long sip like it’s the most relished part of his morning. You look into the brown, half-opaque liquid skeptically. 

“Has she been this upset since you decided to live with us?” Remus asks. 

“Oh, um.” You bob your teabag aimlessly, twisting the string around your finger. “I…sort of assumed she would be. That’s why I didn’t tell her until now.” 

You don’t have to take your attention off your tea to feel the stares of all three boys snap to you. 

“You didn’t tell her?” James asks, incredulous. 

“I didn’t want to give her the chance to argue with me about it.” 

“Asking for forgiveness instead of permission.” Sirius nods approvingly, picking up his mug for a sip. “Knew I liked you.” 

James appears in distress. “Your mum’s gonna hate us!” 

“Don’t mind him,” says Remus. “He’s used to all mothers fawning over him.” 

“Not mine,” Sirius objects happily. 

“She’s across the ocean, if that helps,” you tell James. 

“I can feel her hatred crossing borders,” he say, expression growing increasingly fretful. 

“Well, all you have to do is not murder me,” you offer, “and she’ll see that she’s wrong.” 

Sirius gives an insouciant shrug. “Pay your rent on time, and we ought to be fine there. No promises, of course.”

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nothing could've prepared me for this

Song: Taste by Sabrina Carpenter

[2literbottleofmess]

this is fred, the dot.

fred wants to grow into a beautiful tree, but sadly has no branches

reblog to give fred a branch

i will post fred status updates as he grows