#I keep churning out art and IDK why

[megamixter]

Underrated little homies

[Image ID: a digital drawing of two characters from the Fantastic Adventures of Unico. The left character, Katy, is a black cat with white paws, chest, tail tip, and face. She has a red bow behind her head and is holding a broom between her front paws as she looks at it excitedly. The right character, Unico, is a white unicorn with yellowish brown hooves and pink hair on his head. His tail is white and his eyes are blue, and he is sitting with one hoof up to his chin. He is looking off to the side in a coy manner. The background is swirls of purple and pink colors. /. End ID]

[littlecrittereli]

Okay I gotta say your art + story have gotten my fanfic engines a churning and now I'm picturing AU with the bros starting out in the wildlife game but with Martin as an 18-19 year old and Chris as this 14 year old and it's more "panicked older brother trying to keep his baby bro safe" while they encounter poachers/dangers.

OKOK HEAR ME OUT....

Martin has legal guardianship over Chris (uhh parents gotta die for this i am so sorry mom and dad kratt but it's for the fanfiction so please forgive me) Which is why a 14 year old is able to join their research team. Martin is technically "homeschooling" him, (i mean technically he's learning on creature adventures so...)

Martin was offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to join the Tortuga research program and Chris didn't want to be the reason that Martin held back on his dreams. So, Chris was basically like take me with you, I'll be good and stay out of trouble I promise. So basically Martin is trying to do his job while simultaneously juggling the responsibility of raising Chris. And the rest of the team helps out as well so they all become a little family and go on these adventures.

The rest of the team would step into older sibling roles as well: Aviva would teach Chris about programming and engineering, Koki would show him how the Tortuga runs and how to make small tune-ups, and Jimmy would teach him how to bake and play video games with him. JUST IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES

I don't think Aviva would make a CPS for him, Martin would lose his mind if she did. Chris was already a handful, he does NOT need to be running around as a gecko. Maybe she could make a less extreme version of the suit for him? Like a partial creature power suit, where it can give him traits of animals. Instead of turning into the whole leopard, it just gives him leopard claw gloves and a tail for balance. So a little kiddy version of the CPS. IDk it's just an idea.

[iamnmbr3]

Cursed Child rant? as a treat? 👉👈

Oh god. Where to even start. Listen, I know some people enjoy CC and I say more power to you. I'm not here to be the fun police and say what people can and can't like or write fic about or derive meaning from or whatever. But for me, personally, Cursed Child is an absolute mess of the worst kind that irritates me on a profound level.

First off, it's completely inconsistent with the canon characterizations and established rules of world building (and JKR didn't even do that much world building so there wasn't that much to keep track of and yet, they couldn't even bother to do that). I mean, Cedric, who tried to give the Triwizard Cup to Harry doesn't win and that somehow causes him to become a Death Eater??? Huh? It's not just ooc. It's bad storytelling. I mean, even if he was a hugely sore loser why would losing a tournament cause him to join an extremist blood purist paramilitary group? That has nothing to do with him losing. It's stupid and childish and nonsensical and SO bad.

And really? That's the best you can come up with? If the point of that whole thing was the tired trope of 'time travel goes wrong and makes things worse' they could've just had the gang expose Crouch earlier but instead of Voldemort not returning he just ends up returning but not using Harry's blood which allows him to do his original plan of growing his power in secret. And idk. Maybe then he takes over and he kills Harry and Harry doesn't come back. I didn't even put any effort into that. It's a bit dumb and inelegant but it gets the job done without wild character assassination and a lack of logic so profound it would insult the reasoning abilities of a fungus.

But ok, let's judge it as its own vaguely Harry Potter inspired thing rather than as an actual sequel to the canon series. You know what the result is? IT'S STILL BAD. It's just. SO BAD. I don't understand how it's a real thing.

It's like a parody of a bad play. It can't possibly be real. Harry suddenly has a phobia of pigeons? Why??? It's so...stupid. And I'm supposed to take that seriously? What? And the dialogue. The dialogue. "Bad" doesn't even cover it. The fact that "Wow. Squeak. My geekness is a-quivering" is a real actual line in the actual play causes me physical pain. WHO WRITES THAT?! AND THEN LEAVES IT IN THE FINAL DRAFT?!?!?

And Delphi. WHAT EVEN?! She's literally like a parody of a bad fanfic Mary Sue. Down to the blue streak in her hair. But we're supposed to take her seriously? As a villain? Tf? She's like a bad Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way knockoff. The whole play is like an unfunny parody of bad writing. But it's not supposed to be. It actually pretends to be a genuine drama. Which is so much worse. I truly think My Immortal is better. And way funnier.

No effort at all went into the story construction. Characters act incredibly childishly and unrealistically and simplistically. The story doesn't feel like it was written by adults. There's no feeling or depth or emotion. It's all plot contrivances and nauseatingly simplistic writing. It isn't a story. It's just some stuff that happens. Because the writers were just like 'eh it's Harry Potter it'll sell.' And that's not art. That's just churned out content. And it bothers me on such a profound level that they did it and got away with it.

I would be embarrassed to write that for myself, let alone to turn that in as a professional writer. It's so inconsistent with the original story that I legitimately think the 2 guys who wrote it didn't even read the books. They just glanced at the wiki and decided they were good to go. Despite being PAID to do this. How sloppy is that? Not to mention Harry Potter meant so much to so many people who were ecstatic to get more content yet the two clowns who wrote this just skimmed the wiki and then vomited out some of the worst lines ever penned in history and called it a day.

[louroth]

Well, well, well. Would you look at what the cat dragged in. (it's me, Lou!)

The time is here, and oh man, do I have a lot to say! Ever since this post was posted on my personal tumblr, on the fifth of may, I have been working like a machine on all things OUROBOROS. I had originally planned for this to just be a progress report/ announcement on what I will be working on now that I am free of the shackles of work, but, somehow, I managed to finish all bullet points, and more. So, let's get into it!

First off, the title.  Ouroboros becomes all capitalized OUROBOROS. Idk. It's neat. Next!

Art. Whew. I didn't think I could draw like this anymore- drawing has been more of a struggle than writing has been, forever, always- it was something I really strived to become good at, for a time. And I gave up. Only to pick it up again when I started ouro, and ever since I released that pressure, something just clicked and I have been churning out art like never before. I don't know if this is a fluke, a stroke of luck or if all that hard work I once did slaving away with menial art practice… but I'm grateful nonetheless. (A note on official RO art: I lost my ipad pencil somewhere on the lawn, lmao. I haven't been able to get a new one yet, so there is a slight delay here.) I am hoping that I get to make some commissions too, in the near future. Visit the forum to see some works in progress (amongst them, Yor's RO portrait!)

Onto the hellscape that is coding! I have been growing more proficient with CSS and html with the help of the ones that run so that we can walk; I have studied and researched and tested and tinkered until my eyes crossed, finding my way into this medium with the incredible guidance of the giants of whose shoulders I stand on. I will talk about this in detail on a later date. So I think it's finally time to reveal that yes, I am working on a twine version of ouro. I will develop it in tandem with choicescript; the porting over from one to the other isn't the herculean task I thought it would be.

Why am I doing this? Because I need to have a save system. I am continuing to write the whole alpha draft in choicescript in hopes that CoG will announce the ability to have a native save/checkpoint system, but if that doesn’t happen, I can’t publish this story without one. Unfortunately, I am not willing to code in a savesystem in choicescript myself, because this will be a large game, with far too many variables for that to be sustainable. Trust me, no one is more disappointed by that fact than me. If it comes to the point that twine publishing will be what I do, I will set my sights on writing a smaller game for hosted games. 

Now the meatier announcements!

New Socials!

Tumblr: You are looking at it!  This is the new, exclusively OUROBOROS blog where I will share all announcements and sneak-peeks, and future updates. I worked together with the dev of the theme and made it oh, so pretty and functional. Please check out their portfolio here, if you are ever in the market for sprucing up your (desktop version) of tumblr. They were a pleasure to work with. Amongst other things, it has a gorgeous header (again, only if you visit on web and not mobile) where I am showcasing fanart and official art. Go check it out! This month, I am showcasing a truly breathtaking art from KAIRELART, and you can find the full art here, or follow the links in the “FEATURED ARTIST” tab in the top bar.

I hope you enjoy this new haven for OUROBOROS! I will be answering questions once a week (saturday) and ramping up as I adapt to this new schedule, more on that further below.

My old tumblr, honeypeabrain, will revert back to being my personal blog. Feel free to keep following me there, but know that it will be inundated with shitposts, crass humor and the occasional poetry dump and personal post. You’ve been warned!

Discord!

By the good graces, this was ROUGH to set up. Working with discord bots is akin to wrangling code, and it was well and truly, a war. But with the help of many, it is finally all done and ready for anyone to join and talk to me and others about OUROBOROS and anything else between heaven and earth. 

I will also greatly appreciate if any future bugs and feedback are submitted through here, so I can keep easier track of it. Come join us! (18+ ONLY.)

Patreon & Ko-Fi

Yep! Ko-fi is just a place to toss me a coin if you wish to help me towards the goal of new PC parts to make testing easier, or to just show appreciation for those that have it to spare. Patreon however, already has a multitude of posts and will be a hub for exclusive NSFW sidestories that you get to vote on, loredives and extensive sneak peeks, Q&A’s, polls and weekly dev logs. 

Right now, there are only two tiers, but I expect it to grow as my story does. I have many plans, but I am going at a steady pace. 

Amongst tiered content, there is a (free) NSFW story with female MC and Idren to read there right now, if you want to check it out! I am mgoing to post it on tumblr and the adult thread here over the weekend.

NOTE: I stupidly didn't realize that patreon had a review process after I pressed launch, which I did just a few minutes ago. Sigh. I am going to post the short on tumblr and the adult forum thread as soon as I get to it.

It is not mandatory by any means, so if you do choose to support me, you have my eternal gratitude as these places will be the sole source of income for me.

Onto writing:

The best news out of this whole bunch is that I have worked so hard on editing and writing, that in the past month I have all but finished a two chapter update! I have a chunk of about 5-6 thousand words left to write, and I am going to buckle down over the weekend to see it through. I wanted to have it done so badly for today, but I lost three days of writing time last week due to still being weighed down with work. I hope it isn’t too disappointing to have to wait until monday for the demo update! I am going to post a link to an as-I-write updated demo on Patreon and Discord, if you want to see the ugly face of raw wip drafts. Otherwise I will post the demo update here on Monday with a comprehensive post!

And now!  the biggest news is… from now on, I am writing full time!

This is what I have been tossing and turning about every night ever since Easter. It started as a silly idea while talking to some friends and family about how I was looking for a change in career. And then, little by little, that idea whittled down to a plan, carefully carved by my partner and his whispers of a happy future, a finished dream project, and something to be proud of until the day I wither and die. 

Somewhere between then and now, I grasped a tiny sliver of bravery and held on for dear life. 

I quit my job as a teacher, and instead of accepting a cushy office job, I started behaving as if OUROBOROS and writing was my work (for all the moments I could afford). I have researched and tried different methods from week to week, and although I was still tired from work, I felt like I was onto something that could build into a sustainable future. 

I have no doubts that this journey will be bumpy and long, but sometimes all it takes is to take that first step, and do it with determination. It might all crash and burn and fail in a spectacular way, or with a whimper, but then I will know that I have tried. I will know that I gave myself the chance to be who I want to be, work on what means so much to me. 

And that’s it. I think the hardest part of formulating this post (I’ve written about 50 versions of it!) is getting to the point; the kernel of what makes it so special to me. So, in my heart of hearts, what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm gonna give it my all- and while I know the road to having a sustainable career in writing is rough and ever winding, I do know for sure that I am ready for a challenge, to pour my heart and soul into it until the day I rush out of the office screaming IT IS DONE. IT IS DOOOOONE!!! 

If you decide to join me, I will treasure your company like a lantern in the dark. Hand in lovable hand, let’s fucking go.

[prismatoxic]

"don't ever call your art content! don't devalue your work by implying it's just being churned out for a content mill!"

shut your mouth for a second. listen to me.

"content" used to be a neutral word. fandom goers used it all the time to quickly refer to all possible transformative creations. "content creators" and influencers and shit did co-opt it, yes. and i fully agree that you should never, ever think of the things you make as products to be peddled to an audience unless that's literally your job.

but listen to me.

i am not doing that. i do not see my art as Content™. i do not need you to protect me from the word. using the word, which i do not associate inherently with content mills anyway, isn't somehow subconsciously reinforcing the idea that my work is meaningless. it's a very useful word when referring to several kinds of creative works at once, or just the abstract of making things.

"then just say art!"

yeah that's a nice solution in theory. in practice, most people think of "art" as drawings/paintings specifically. and if you think no one is capable of grasping nuance for the word "content" then i'm not entirely sure why you expect people to understand "art" as an umbrella term. it's a lot easier for me to lump my art, writing, and meta under a word one of them doesn't already share.

and this isn't something i'm facing right this second, but i have faced it many times before, so i promise i'm not strawmanning. i've seen the posts. i've had people tell me to my face to change my language. i keep thinking about it, and at the end of the day, i think my stance is that it's a useful word and i'm not devaluing myself by using it just because some people use it in such a context. and also, like, you should respect your creations, but you can also call them whatever the fuck you want.

idk, this stance is so prevalent and i never see anyone disagreeing with it (maybe i'm looking in the wrong places). it's not like the word is a slur or associated with fascism or something. why are we just refusing to use it when it used to be a very neutral term? why are we just letting content mills monopolize the definition of it?

there's a difference between content (neutral descriptor) and content (derogatory), and i'm not going to try and change my language to avoid using the first one, tbh. you do you, if you hate the word then by all means never use it for your own work. i, however, am a big boy and will do it because i want to and because i'm tired of trying to come up with an alternative mid-sentence

[chaos-wizard-nyehehe]

ooc: how do i do rp & how do i write an interesting intro post? i really think my guy has potential to be really cool but idk how to use it properly. my "intro post" was mid-conversation and now in my bio i just have "scroll down, you'll find it" help please

it's annoying bc i have this guy fleshed out in my mind and i know how their magic works and what they look like and how they act but i don't know how to word it into a proper post, and so instead i just came up with another guy and the same thing happened to them (it's @wizard-council-wizard-council) and i just made a brand new guy (@fish-master i don't have any posts yet)(idk why the @ doesn't work while typing but it should be clickable hopefully) but i know the same thing will happen to him, and i don't see this happening with anyone else and like ??? how do you guys keep your accounts active, it's like magic (hehe), you just churn out creativity and churn out jokes and art and worldbuilding and i don't get it

[streaminn]

Okie, so I was in bed, totally about to turn off my phone in a few minutes and get them eepies, but then I made the mistake of opening up your Ortegaverse tag and doom-scrolled... oopsies

Anyway, while scrolling, I came across an old comment from our good friend @theogm-art from a few days ago. Unfortunately, I don't have a screenshot but basically, it was about Wednesday finding Enid with May and taking them back to the Addams Mansion. And of course, my brain took it as a challenge lol.

And so, blah blah my interpretation blah blah blah (forgive me, I'm tired lol)

"You live here?" Wednesday asked, trying not to sound disgusted. The apartment that Enid took the trio to wasn't too awful, but it certainly wasn't going in any magazines. The whole place was small and as far as Wednesday could tell, the was only one bedroom, definitely far too small for an entire family to live in.

"Yeah, it isn't a mansion but... it's home," Enid sighed before turning to her daughter, "Hey pup! Whataya want for lunch?"

"PB&J PWEASE! And in twiangles!" May shouted, making Enid chuckle fondly. Her daughter, just like Enid at seven, is still unable to pronounce her L's and R's. "Alright, pup! One PB&J in triangles, coming up!" Enid turned back to the raven standing dumbfounded by the front door, "You want anything, Wends? I don't have much, but I'm told I make a mean PB&J?"

Wednesday finds herself about to make some remark about the gluttonous nature of the sandwich, but quickly bites her tongue, "I suppose I stomach a single sandwich."

(idk, time skip 30 mins)

"Enid."

"Yeah? What's up Wends?"

"I couldn't help but notice, this apartment is incredibly small. I assume you aren't doing well financially?"

Enid sighs in response and instead looks to May, "Hey pup? Mama needs to talk with her friend, can you go play in our room?" May nods happily and runs off to their bedroom, leaving the adults alone. "No, I'm honestly just barely keeping up with the bills. It's surprisingly hard raising a seven-year-old all on your own," the wolf jokes, but receives no sign of humor from the other woman.

Instead, Wednesday's eyes widen in shock, "On your own?" The dark-haired woman stares in disbelief for another moment before finding her voice again, though lightly laced with anger, "Where is her other mother? Is she absentee?"

Enid laughs flatly, but her face quickly turns dark as the trauma from seven years ago returns with a vengeance, "No, she um... She's not with us anymore. She was a normie and... well," Enid doesn't finish her sentence but she doesn't need to, Wednesday quickly connects the dots.

"Oh, I am sorry for your loss..." Wednesday pauses before adding, "And I apologize for jumping to conclusions. I'm left to assume she was quite the attentive partner, seeing as she bore your child."

Enid snorted out a laugh, "Yeah... yeah, she was amazing." Enid fidgets helplessly with the ring adorning her left-hand finger. A silence settles over the room for a while. It's not tense, but it's not exactly comfortable either. Wednesday's mind churns through all the new information she's been given over the last hour.

Eventually, Wednesday breaks the silence, "Come back with me to the mansion."

"Wh- what? Why?"

"Your daughter deserves a safe and loving environment to grow up. And you too deserve the same, Enid. I must admit, I do not know much about taking care of a child, but I'm sure my parents would be honored to help you," Wednesday speaks plainly as if she isn't offering everything, "You'd be given a well-deserved break."

Enid, for her part, is left shocked. Finally, she picks her jaw back up from the floor to speak. "Wednesday," the wolf whispers in awe, "You'd really take me back there? After what I did?"

"Of course, Enid. As I said, I have already forgiven you. I..." An uneasiness overwhelms the raven as the need to offer vulnerability to Enid crashes over her, but she quickly powers through, "I searched for you everywhere. I never once stopped looking. I- I couldn't bear being so far away for so long, Enid."

Enid is once again taken aback. For so long, Enid thought herself to be unforgivable as the endless traumas and heartbreak throughout the last two decades tore her soul apart, time and again until all she was left with was broken memories and a little girl who relied on her for everything. But now, she's not only been so easily forgiven by one of the only people she's ever sought it from but she's also being given a second chance at life. It feels like another ploy by the universe. Surely, this is just another in a long line of tricks to lead her into that dreaded false sense of security.

But no. As Enid stares into those dark eyes, she sees nothing but truth. It's a breath of fresh air and Enid takes it in greedily. "Okay, I'll go with you. Thank you, Wends," Enid accepts, then speaks softly, "We really do work, don't we?"

And for the first time Enid's ever seen it, Wednesday smiles. Just barely, but it's there. "We shouldn't," the brunette replies, "But we do."

Okie, time to pass out lol

However Enid's face turns cold, a steel of ice in those blue eyes as her smile falls.

"but I won't accept charity."

Wednesday stares. "this isn't charity-"

Enid waves her hand in a no no gesture as she sighs. It's then that Wednesday begins to be too aware of the lines of stress that lines her past roommates face. There's eyebags lying under her eyes, not so noticeable when she's smiling but all too seen when not.

"it is to me," Enid says before she gives a smile, shaky and not as true. It looks like a compromise. "so please let me help out around the house."

Wednesday swallow the No that was so ready to spill from her lips. She grits back the words of you deserve so much more, deserve to be pampered and cared for.

Wednesday nods and she stares at the way Enid smiles, her finger playing with the ring on her hand.

[grossestjay]

Things I'd like to know about other writers!

I was tagged by @coreene , which is so nice thank you! (apparently i count as a writer now, nice)

not going to tag anyone this time as i am being shy

Last book I read: I am giving Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson another go. I never finished it the last time. It has it's flaws big time, and it is very of its era but it is kind of charming honestly. Last book i finished was Vile Affections by Caitlín R. Kiernan. I LOVE her short stories.

Greatest literary inspirations: honestly i have no idea. I read a variety of things, but I've never sat down and thought about it like i have with art, as i'm still new to writing as a hobby honestly. (I'm sure you can tell by my inconsistent grammar)

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write: . . . some really intense Abdirak BDSM with emphasis on the SM like, in a Loviatar worshiping dungeon. (maybe the House of Scarlet Hooks just because i like the name. [maybe i will be writing this after all])

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: See above lmao. I also want to write some off the walls Gale stuff one day.

You can recognise my writing by: my partner says "you can tell you read a lot of murder mysteries growing up." so perhaps that. Also the uh, the kink. heaps of it

My most controversial take (current fandom): oof idk, there's a lot of interesting ideas in the BG3 fandom. I think i'll keep that to myself for now.

Top three favorite tropes: I love a good loyal body guard falling in love. Penetration (violent) as a metaphor for penetration (sexual). I am a sucker for the one bed thing it's a classic for a reason. Oh how will you handle when you're forced to share a space, hmm?

What’s your current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut): maybe 3. Life has been chaotic lately honestly

Share a random frustration: Why have my headaches been such an issue lately? rude

[young--cheeseburger]

So I had this insane idea to go back and read Powerpuff Girls Doujinshi and liveblog about it then condense them into youtube videos.

This all started because I was watching one of Rebeltaxi's videos and idk how but the gears aligned in my brain and was like:

"bro remember that edgy ass Powerpuff Girls Comic"

And I was SHOOK so I went to go check it out because I was genuinely curious and ITS. STILL. ONGOING. This fuckin dude Bleedman still churning this out almost 20 years later.

I started reading it when I was like 9-10 I wanna say. I watched Powerpuff Girls Z on youtube and got recommended a Blossom x Dexter AMV and was so confused as to who made the art and why there were ship videos so I looked up the comic and BOOM my child brain thought it was peak fiction and Bleedman was "SUCH A COOL ARTIST XP." I remember keeping up with it until around 2013-14 and slowly weened off of it. Even worse is that I also read Grim Tales (if you thought PPGD was edgy holy fucking shit this is a whole new level) and Invader Zim: Manifest Doom along with it.

(Ah the consequences of being a kid on the internet with no parental supervision...good times. /s)

And I'm sure people do remember it but I looked on youtube to find a retrospective of it and nothing showed up so I was like: "maybe I could do that."

So join me dear reader as I dive back into the absolute mess that is PPGD.

Imma officially start the reading in 2024 to mentally prep myself for something that has NOT aged well.

[star-shard]

Thoughts on: Elvis: The Early Years (2005)

It stars Johnathan Rhys Meyers as Elvis, the first episode covers the 50s, and the second covers the 60s. Each episode is around an hour 30 and at the time of writing are available on Freevee.

So the first episode covers the basics, a lot of whats covered in most Elvis properties being how he got started. It's road well tread so I'm going to keep it short and sweet that it's pretty accurate to the events, thats good.

Meyers is a talented actor but it's hard to see him as Elvis, imo. He does the raised lip thing which looks pretty weird rather than natural. And in a majority of songs, they dub him with Elvis's voice. And I'm sorry dude, you don't sound enough like him for that to work. It came off as jarring. That being said he's a fine actor, no doubt about that at all. But, idk, I didn't feel a whole lot of love in his performance. Hard to describe. (AKA Austin Butler has ruined all other EP performances for me lol)

The second episode is what's usually breezed by in depiction of Elvis: The 60s. Even Elvis (2022) does a montage for the early/mid 60s. That's the unique bit of this particular series. Involving his relationship with Pricilla, Ann Margret, and a surprise showing of Larry Gellar. It's a time of his life less shown in media, lets talk about that.

So the 60s were seen as the dark ages for Elvis Presley (if we're to call the 68 special a renaissance). He was making movies he didn't believe in and music that was churned out fast, even for a couple of hits that were found in there (Little Less Conversation, c'mon now), theres just as much throwaway.

I for one really like his 60s era. Idk even if his movies are far from high art I get a lot of enjoyment out of them, and it's an interesting era to know about, one a lot of people ignore.

So any media willing to show it, I encourage that.

So how they'd do?

Well I'm glad they addressed his relationship to Pricilla head on. They didn't skirt it, she was 14 when they met and they say it out loud. I am ALSO glad they made it clear they didn't have sex until she was an adult, also a fact. And it was Elvis's decision, he wanted to wait (they could have just taken the provocative route but they stayed true to reality) As well as his at times turbulent relationship, EP's controlling nature. Loving as he could be, he wasn't the best husband at all.

I wish they showed more of Ann Margret in a positive light. Y'all, the actress for her was so... terrible. Idk why they gave her a sexed up babydoll voice like. No. Sure she was the 'other woman', but she was also an uber talented actress with her own story. And from everything I've read her and Elvis were legit soulmates. I understand why it didn't work out, (EP preferred traditional relationships, thats a roadblock) But I wish they showed more of their souls here. Rather than it being a fling. They were friends for years after, c'mon now.

They were transparent on his drug use, spending habits, how it negatively affected those around him. A rare violent moment when he was drugged up and injured a woman with a pool cue. And also on how Tom Parker held his career back for money. Truths.

Elvis's interest in spirituality was also shown but... in a very negative light. Now, I won't pretend I know exactly what happened. If my friend ran up preaching at random hours maybe I'd be concerned too. But it's always rubbed me the wrong way that it's depicted like a drug fueled weird detour in his life.

To my understanding Elvis was unhappy with where his work had been going, and what his place was. When you're unhappy, you look for answers. He was already an avid reader so of course he'd look into finding religion. Maybe Larry Gellar had other motives, I don't know, but his inner circle forcing him to burn his books comes off as... ugly. It truly did happen, which makes it even worse.

The scene tries to paint Elvis as a lost kind of person going off the rails but it just ended up with me kind of hating the Memphis Mafia. Dude, if your friend/employer is starting to rave about the meaning of life and what he's here for, maybe thats an INDICATION that he needs a different kind of support than he's gotten and it's not be joked about. Burn the drugs, not the books.

#ElvisNeededTherapy

Religion was the least of his problems, that's all I'm saying.

And they show the whole 'Elvis wasn't recognized on Hollywood Blvd.' story which, is unconfirmed let's face it. It's a good indication on where he was in life, but this miniseries is going for more realism so idk thats a weird moment (yeah his movies weren't doing great but ur telling me NOBODY recognized him? Not buying that one)

The more I watch other depictions of Elvis, the more I can see why Elvis (2022) is praised. So many of these series paint post-50s Elvis in a depressing light, like he was never happy and a has-been always ten feet away from relevancy. It comes off as so dark.

(Side note something I noticed is: Most people that hate his post 50s career seem to be specifically music artists that were inspired by him. They wanted him to be everything and were angry that he couldn't be that.)

It's important to address his flaws but, I just really feel tired after depictions like this. And not in a way like I got to know him. Movies that strictly take after Elvis: What Happened, and Elvis and Me, I always take with a grain of salt. (Written by scorned parties, there were true stories that were written fast and both pools of writers have regretted/taken back parts of their books)

Yeah, I just appreciate Elvis (2022) so much now. It showed both his darker sides while still maintaining his humanity. It showed his teeth and also explained why they'd gotten so sharp. It explained WHY he lashed out, why he felt the way he did. Rather than taking the sides of people that would gain from writing a tell all book for the fourth time.

[gir-posting]

pls rant about tim burton, i gots to know

@y-lisse

(casually vibrates) my god what a rant you're gonna get

i was raised by two giant horror nerds so naturally i was pretty much raised on tim burton. so full disclosure this is coming from a place of disenchantment and sincere disappointment

i think the second i went to see ms peregrine's home for peculiar children is the exact second i got disenchanted with his stupid gimmick that hasn't worked for over 20 years now. because in the first five minutes they change exactly one word from the book that ruins the entire rest of the movie: very suspiciously they decided to make the protagonist polish instead of jewish! which is interesting! because ms. peregrine's is an entire story about the proliferation of antisemitism in the modern day which becomes completely pointless when you remove the jewish context from the story. and i know exactly why they did it too: they knew that they had to keep in something about world war 2, because IT IS A VERY BIG TOPIC IN THE STORY. but ohhhh nooo we can't make our protag a jew :( i know :) we'll make him polish instead the polish were oppressed by the nazis too :)) it immediately put a bad taste in my mouth and ive never been the fucking same with tim burton's bullshit since. (and that's not even getting into the fact that they made the only black character in the story one of the flesh eating monsters :/ which apparently aren't the nazis anymore because ohhh we can't discuss antisemitism actually sorry so where does that leave us. huh.)

speaking of antiblackness, did you know that in his willy wonka movie, he BROUGHT BACK the racist backstory for the oompa-loompas? the one that THEY FULLY CUT OUT in the 70s because of the civil rights movements going on? and all this combined with his comment that black people don't "fit his aesthetic" really just makes me want to bury him alive. lol!!

SPEAKING of his aesthetic: IT JUST FUCKING SUCKS. FOR TWENTY YEARS THIS "AESTHETIC" HES BEEN LEANING ON SO HARD HAS BEEN GARBAGE FROM A TOILET THAT'S ONLY EVER WORKED A SINGLE TIME. i hate the dim washed out gray tones with ~just a little pop of color~ because 9 times out of 10 he does NOTHING with it. it's just ugly! the only time i can genuinely think of where it was used in an actually interesting way was sleepy hollow cuz in that one apparently they made the fucked up blood in that tree bright orange to make it pop more. which is cool! IT HAS NEVER BEEN INTERESTING SINCE.

and the thing is i know he has the capability to make good interesting movies! unless beetlejuice was a fluke! which is a very likely chance! i can't understand how the man who made beetlejuice could possibly end up becoming the man who just KEEPS CHURNING OUT THE SAME SCHLOCK OVER AND OVER.

idk how to properly transition into this but i have to rant about this too: you know how people constantly have to correct others on who actually directed nightmare before christmas? how henry selick did literally all of the heavy lifting only for tim burton to slap his name on it and get all the credit, so that even today people still think it is Tim Burton's movie? well i watched a documentary on it (the movies that made us) and it actually gets so much worse than that! IT GETS WORSE!

not only did tim burton not actually direct the movie (complications with directing his batman movie which lead to him not Having Time for it i guess,) the only times he ever actually showed up for the production was to YELL AT PEOPLE. TO THROW AN ACTUAL FIT. during the documentary they went into how apparently a background artist showed up to give him some concept art and burton just...... threw all his work in the trash...... because the art wasn't as angular and colorless as he was imagining. IN THE TRASH.

the only other time he interacted with the crew was near the end of production where they showed him the ending they had worked on. in his stead the ending they wrote up was that the mad scientist was actually oogie boogie all along. is that kind of a weak ending? sure, i really don't like it myself, it doesn't make sense and kind of takes away from the other shit he does in the movie. do you know what i wouldn't do if i was presented with that kind of ending?

KICK

a FUCKING

HOLE

IN THE WALL

BECAUSE IT WASN'T EXACTLY WHAT I WAS PICTURING. do you know how this kind of direction could have been prevented? huh timmy? do you want my two cents? IF YOU HAD ACTUALLY HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE MOVIE TO BEGIN WITH, maybe this WOULDN'T BE HAPPENING. YOU CANNOT GET ANGRY AT PEOPLE FOR DOING SOMETHING THAT YOU DIDN'T LIKE WHEN YOU WERE NOT THERE TO GIVE THAT GUIDANCE THE ENTIRE REST OF THE TIME. ARE YOU INSANE?

and either way i still reaaaaally don't think what he came up with was all that great either!

like maybe this is just my opinion, but the tone in this clip isn't present in ANY OTHER part of the movie. oogie boogie dissolving into thousands of disgusting bugs feels completely detached from the silly kind of uncanny musical ft danny elfman as a sad skeleton man. it's almost like..... the person who wrote it...... wasn't actually involved in the entire rest of the movie................ :///

needless to say the news about him getting his stupid hands on the addams family devastated me and i will not be touching that shit with a 30 foot pole. cool gomez! i don't trust you to treat him properly given your stupid racist history!

tldr: not only is tim burton a racist antisemitic uncreative artist i think the fact that he is this much of a bitch to work with just really puts a cherry on top of the whole thing. my god what a shitshow.

[avatar-of-procrastination]

Heyy- so idk if it works like that- kinda new to tumblr and this is my first ever request/ask for anything on here- so sorry if i'm doing smth stupid rn. But if you have time- i would like to request a paul atreides x gn reader can be platonic or romantic- where the reader is from like- another important house and their houses have like a get together of some sorts? Like a ball or meeting- and the reader has to be there aswell but is like super bored bc they hate that kind of stuff- and paul and them kinda sneak away? Also the reader is like sarcastic all the way about everything which is not appriciated i think that would be so funny. Please don't feel pressured if you don't have time rn or just don't feel like it- you are an amazing writer and i'm hoping to see more of you in the future ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

((so nervous rn ngl ✋💀))

ESCAPE THE NIGHT

A.N : heya! Tysm for the ask! I didn't exactly follow the plotline i'm so sorry!

(English is not my first language. Please pardon any spelling / grammatical errors)

*gifs not mine*

(Also i made up a random book name.)

Being a child of a Duke meant being exposed to a lot of things. You were exposed to the art of war, literature and courtship. While those were enjoyable, being a descendant of a Duke meant you also had to attend mind-numbing events such as this one.

It was another high -end ball thrown for the great houses in the ballroom of House Atreides and you despised every minute of it. You attended because your father wanted to show off his prodigy for potential suitors. The very thought of marriage made your stomach churn and you excused yourself to the food table.

As you stood by the delicious spread, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at how the other children of your age were trying too woo each other. A chuckle beside made you turn around and you were met with perhaps the most handsome guy you'd met in your entire life. Bringing yourself back to reality, you extended a hand out and introduced yourself, the gesture hot-wired into your brain after all the courtship lessons. You could see your mother wearing a proud smile on her face.

"Hello. I'm y/n".

"Y/n? That's a very pretty name. I'm Paul Atreides." Ah so that's why your mother was ecstatic. If you and Paul were together, your houses would basically be unstoppable. You had always thought that as a child of one of the most fastest developing houses, he'd be another stuck-up kid with tantrum issues but he seemed the very opposite.

"This party seems Rather boring.", he spoke up.

"It sure does. I'm tired of being paraded around by my father. I just want to get off this place and remove these tight formal clothes."

Paul looked around before leaning down and whispering into your ear, "I have an idea. Follow me." Your stomach flipped at the closeness and you giddily followed Paul as he led you into the library. You had always heard about the libraries of Caladan but seeing it first hand made your jaw drop. You were like a kid in a candy store and you ran around the library, peeking up at different shelves filled with beautifully crafted books. A particular book caught your eye and you reached for it. "The secrets of the Sand". It was a book about the land of Arrakis. You'd always been captivated by the sand dunes and the spice of Arrakis and always wanted to learn more about it. You ran your fingers down its carved spine.

"You can keep it, you know." You jumped at the voice, having forgotten that Paul was still with you.

"Thank you, Paul." You smiled.

He picked up another book for himself and guided you to the chairs. The two of you sat in silence and read, both enjoying each others company. Your mother walked into the library after a while and found you guys sleeping on each other, books long forgotten.

[roger-that-cap]

wildest dreams

witch!wanda x reincarnated!reader 

summary: wanda had walked around the earth for centuries with no magic and hardly any soul left after losing her soulmate. she thought that her lover would never return and that the only reunion they would have would be in the afterlife, but a run-in with bucky changes everything after he insists that he met the long gone y/n at a fountain in the park. 

yet another au by me... 

word count: around 6.5k?

imma tag one person bc she gets upset when she isn’t tagged- and idk if anyone else would actually be interested?

@teenwonder

also this picture is not mine, and the dividers are by @firefly-graphics !!

without further ado, it’s almost 6 in the morning but i give you this!!

She held you tight, fingers digging into your skin as she trembled above you. The rose bushes were rustling in the wind next to you both, the sweet smell of the flowers contrasting with the moment. You were halfway gone already, eyes far off but trying to swim back to the surface, wanting to look at her one last time before the inevitable happened. 

  “S…” you tried to say, but she hushed you immediately, tears falling down on your face and mixing with your own. You shook her head at her as hard as you could, begging for her to let you continue. “Say you’ll remember me,” you ground out, fingers tightening around her hand. 

  “What?” Wanda asked, voice already thick with grief as she tried to decide whether or not it was better to keep the knife lodged between your ribs inside of you.

“When I come back-” you cut yourself off by coughing up blood, and Wanda didn’t even wince when it splattered on her cheek. “Back for you, promise that you’ll remember me.” 

 “Darling,” Wanda whispered back, her voice cracking as she bent over and rested her head on your stomach for a moment, hiding her sob. She could feel her magic tingling inside of her; under her skin, in her bones, dancing on her fingertips. “I wish I knew- I wish I just knew how-”

  “Please.” You said, a desperate look in your eyes as you halted her words, already knowing what Wanda wanted. But natural magic was nothing to mess with. She sobbed again with her lips pressed together, no sound escaping her. You squeezed her hand tighter as the sun started on its routine descent, basking the two of you in an orange glow that you would have stopped to admire in any other moment in time. But Wanda would grow to hate that shade of orange with every breath in her. “Please.” It would always remind her of the sound of your begging, voice reaching for something that she couldn’t see. 

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice, or the way that she just knew that you were well within your last moments, because she looked up at you one last time. “Of course I’ll remember you, darling. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you.” There was a wheezing sound that came from your chest as you cracked a bloody smile, and then you gave one last squeeze before you looked away from her, your soul settling in the afterlife. 

  Wanda Maximoff would never forget it. Suddenly, her previously  irrational fear of losing her magic became real, but that feeling didn’t even come close to the one she got when you grew lifeless in her arms. 

Ever since you knew what a normal person was supposed to be like, you had identified that you, in fact, were not the normal person that you were probably supposed to be. Normal people didn’t daydream to the point where it felt like their bodies weren’t in the present anymore. Normal people didn’t have birthmarks under their ribs that aced and burned. Normal people didn’t feel out of touch with their world, like they weren’t even meant to be in the century they were in. Normal people didn’t feel like they were searching for something tirelessly, something just under their noses. And normal people surely didn’t dream of the same set of hands, same pair of eyes, or the same voice over and over again, a new setting every time, but always the same, faceless person. You either drew the same faceless person or rose bushes, and every sketch book you ever had was full of them. 

At first, you were sure that you were going insane. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see a flash of reddish brown hair, or the same set of eyes, or the same pair of pale hands. You kept seeing this person without ever seeing a face for nights at a time before you went to see a therapist, who just ended up telling you that worrying about it was only going to make it worse, whatever it even was. But eventually, you learned to get used to it. 

Acceptance turned into expectancy. You went to sleep knowing that there was going to be a pair of hands accompanied by the same slender fingers as always before you, sometimes intertwined with your own. You knew that there was going to be a set of eyes on you, watching you intently with no ace to go with them. You knew that you would hear whispers of the same voice, speaking so clearly in a language you didn’t even come close to understanding, and soon, you were craving to see and hear those things. And wanting to see them led to something that you never told your therapist; drawings. 

You drew nearly every day under the sky, trying to find different park benches to see the sun rise and set at different angles for inspiration. You loved the sky, moon and stars alike, but there was something special about sunrises and sunsets. Sunrises and sets both meant new beginnings to you, out with the old and in with the new, and each rise and fall filled you with a strange feeling of nostalgia. You were watching the sunset on a park bench by yourself, a sketchbook sitting on your lap as you held an idle pencil, still thinking about the way you wanted to draw the hands. The birthmark between your ribs started to tingle, letting you know that it was about to burn again. That damn birthmark. You dropped the pencil and scratched at it, trying to beat the annoying feeling at its own game. You cursed the mark, but your eyes didn’t leave the sky, and you noticed your heart swelling in your chest, faint despair in the pits of it, churning around like the middle of the deep sea. 

 You shook your head and put your pencil in your hand again, brain not even having to work hard at all to see the features of the faceless person who was in your every dream. 

Even before she ever met you, Wanda didn’t sleep well. She would toss and turn for at least an hour before she finally found some temporary, flimsy form of peace. Her sleep was always light and she hardly ever had dreams, which was customary for a woman like her at the time- an un-blossomed witch. 

It was hard for her to remember the time where she didn’t have magic, but that time certainly existed. It lasted nearly thirty years. She never aged a day past twenty one, time moving past her without a care in the world. She was stuck right there, no magic except for the little bit in her bones that was keeping her young. And then she met you. 

You were the person that kicked her magic into gear. You were her kindred soul, her other half and the power to her magic. Meeting you had flung her right into the world of magic and spells, things that she only watched others do, but even as she was introduced to an entirely different world, she could remember only really wanting you. Her heart and soul called to you far louder and stronger than spells called to her eager mind. When she met you, it all fell into place. It was an easy love, one that was never going to be disputed or questioned, and loved it. She was prepared to move heaven, earth, and the gods for you, if she had to. Your arrival into her life had caused her to finally blossom. 

But now, she had bloomed and flourished and wilted all the same, and she was just waiting to decompose. 

“Have hope,” was all that Bucky, a warlock who had been tortured enough in his own way, would tell her. “Have hope that something good will come to you, and it will.” 

She never had the heart to tell him that good things hardly came to those who waited. He himself was a product of waiting, and it had served him well. Before he met his other half, he was taken by a rival clan and experimented on with spells that were so far past illegal that they made the casual witch shudder. Eventually, he was broken out and the rival clan was defeated, but he returned to them as an empty shell of a man. But then, Steve came, and then the man was nothing but a ball of light. His magic grew to be strong and so did Steve’s, and together they became known as some of the strongest practitioners of magic in the world. 

 But what did Wanda have to hope for when you were gone? What did she have to wake up for and smile at when she knew that she had buried you hundreds of years ago? It wasn’t even about the magic. She couldn’t care less about the way she felt the energy leave her- and it was dramatic- leaving in a singular burst of light the second you left. She only knew that you were gone, and that was the only thing that mattered, and it seemed to be the only thing that she even really felt. 

Well, she did feel one other thing. Exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by the lack of you by her side. And exhaustion was exactly why she assumed that she was hallucinating when she felt a small tug at her heart, in a part of her brain that had been dormant for years and years. She shook her head and tried to take her thoughts away from you and the nagging feeling in her gut. 

“Oh, no…” you exclaimed, voice tapering out into a whine as you watched the ruined paper sink deeper and deeper into the fountain, a fist clenching at your side in disappointment when you realized how many hours were lost, just like that, and then even tighter when you realized that part of you wasn’t even truly upset about the time spent on the ruined art. You were mostly upset that you lost the only vision of the hands that you had during the daytime. 

You were on your knees, sleeves still all the way down as you reached into the water frantically, causing the paper to move even further away. You weren’t even worried about your sketchbook that had fallen open onto the pavement, more focused on the rapidly deteriorating piece of paper. You hardly even noticed the man who knocked into you talking, trying his hardest to make the situation better. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?” 

“I mean,” you breathed out, taking the nearly disintegrated paper from the water and grimacing. When you realized that the man was fumbling to say something from behind you, celery apprehensive over the fact that you were upset, you took a short breath and turned around, giving him a small smile. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and crystal blue eyes that were striking, but you knew that they held thousands of stories by looking just once.  He was holding your sketchbook, and by the way he was gripping it tightly, you could tell that he had flipped through it for a second. “It’s just a drawing. I guess I can make another one.” 

  His eyes widened. You saw his jaw slacken and his neck stretch out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked three times, and his parted lips trembled for a second before he slammed them shut. You cocked a brow at him, your sadness about losing the drawing being replaced by a weak feeling of uneasiness. “Sir?” 

  “Knew it.” His face was clear from any type of emotion as he watched yours, and when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, a grin spread across his face. “I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” You furrowed your brows at him, asking what the hell had just occurred without saying a single word. “I’m sorry, you just looked really familiar.” 

 Just like that, you smiled. You knew that feeling, you felt like you got deja vu far too often to be normal. You hated when people made you feel strange for it, you always had, so you tried your best to ignore it with him. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You extended your dry hand for him to shake it. He stared at it for a moment, and then with an eagerness that made you smile, he shook your hand. 

“‘I’m Bucky.” 

  For a moment, you could have sworn that you had done more tha just seen him before. Could have sworn that you had shaken his hand, met him before, been at the receiving end of his blinding yet somewhat shy smile. It flashed through you warm and bright, and you cleared your throat before pulling your hand away and realizing you had held it for too long. You cleared it again when you saw something flash in his eyes, a weak smile lifting on your lips.

“It’s not her.” 

Wanda was furious. She was insulted more than anything, really, angry that Bucky could even mistake the light of you for someone else. She knew that you would never grace the earth with your presence again, and she was so used to the fact that she was going to have to die before seeing you again. And for one of her closest friends to try to convince her that you were back? 

 “She would have already found me.” And Wanda believed that with her whole heart. You had asked her so long ago that you remember her, like she could ever forget. Your scent was so flowery that whenever she walked past a growing garden that she smelled you, your smile was so bright that she saw it in the way the rays of sun came down on the earth. She heard your laugh in the chirping of the birds every morning, and she saw your playfulness in the running waters of the stream by the cabin. She could never forget you, because everything was traced back to you. And you would never return without finding her. 

“I don’t think she even knows it yet, but she is looking for you.” Bucky insisted, stepping forward and receiving Wanda’s burning glare while Steve stepped to the side and let it happen. “I bumped into her and she dropped her sketchbook. I saw her drawings- she drew your eyes.” 

  Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “What?” 

“She dropped the drawing of hands in the water, but I saw she had drawn eyes that looked just like yours, hair the same shade as yours, even drawn the necklace you used to wear. She draws roses, too. I swear to everything above, it’s her.” 

She could feel herself getting warm, the sort of emotions stirring inside of her that had the potential to turn into a singular weapon. The thought of a rose bush made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not her.” 

“You forget that I knew her, too,” Bucky stated, and Wanda’s desolation was replaced by some ancient feeling of possessiveness. “I could never forget her face, and that was it right there. That was her face, without a shadow of a doubt, And her voice-” 

Wanda’s face curled into a snarl. “Stop talking about her.”  

“Hey, Wanda, take a deep breath,” Steve cut in, ever the mediator, but Bucky was hardheaded. If he thought something needed to happen, he was the one to push for it to happen, and he needed her to see. 

 “She looks the same as she did the day she left.” Wanda let out a choked noise. For a second, all she could picture was her lover dying by the blooming rose bushes in the sunset, ruining two of the most beautiful things in life at once. The third (but first) was you, but not even your horrible death could taint Wanda’s memory of you. You would forever be the brightest and most beautiful thing to grace the earth. “I got her number, we’re meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks away.” 

“Leave her alone.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. When she saw the brunet’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open, she spoke before he could get a word in. “Just stay away from her, Bucky.” 

All she could think about was your death. The way you choked on your own blood. The way you cried and looked up at her, but still managed to smile. And as she was consumed by rage and memories, the only other thought in her mind was that she was yours and you were here, and that she couldn’t save you then. But she was surely going to preserve your memory from Bucky’s mouth. 

  “I know you feel it coming back. You haven’t felt it in so long, but it’s warm, right? It’s powerful. You always were the strongest, and you’re not dormant any longer. Stop lying to yourself and depriving yourself of love, Wanda. You know Y/N-”

  She saw red. Red as red as the fires that burned in the magma underneath the ground, as red as embers in a fire. “You don’t get to say her name.” She saw so much red, so much hot anger that hardly covered her sadness, that she didn’t even see the way that she had her hand out red coming from her palm as she lifted Bucky right off of the wooden floor of their shared home. “You don’t get to talk about her.” There was a warbling noise in her ears, whispers that sounded like her name, getting louder and louder until she finally realized it was Steve trying to get her attention. 

  “Wanda.” 

Instantly, she dropped her arm and watched Bucky fall to the ground, landing in a crouched position. She watched him catch his breath on the ground. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she felt terrible and that she had no idea what happened, what took over her, but she was stopped by the brilliant smile that came onto Bucky’s face. 

  “You used magic.” He said, slowly and steadily, not a hint of hesitance or animosity in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seemed more proud than anything. “You can’t deny this now, Wanda.” 

She was hyperventilating, the pain in her chest intensifying as she tried without any results to get the right amount of air in her lungs. She felt her knees hit the ground before she knew that she did, her hands covering her face as she sobbed into herself. Her heart ached, tugging in so many different directions as her brain fought to rationalize what everything meant. She had used magic,  and that meant that you were back, in one way or another. She was in disbelief. She was in despair. She was in shock. 

“I know you do, I know you do,” It was Steve’s arms around her, and Steve’s voice in her ear, and she realized that she had been saying I miss her, I miss her, over and over again until the words jumbled. “We know you do, Wanda. We miss her too.” 

But he didn’t understand. He hadn’t lost Bucky since he had found him. He hadn’t walked the earth for centuries after losing the only thing that mattered to him as an empty shell of the person he used to be. He would never understand, but that wasn’t his fault. In fact, she prayed that he would never understand. 

“I’m sorry I approached you like that,” Bucky said, crouching down and hugging her just as Steve was, enclosing her into a hugging circle. They were coven, related by magic, and just being around them made her tears subside. “But you know that I would have never said anything like that unless I was one thousand percent sure. I would never do anything to hurt you, Wanda. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I found her.” 

And how could he want anything but the best for her? He knew her just as much as Steve did. Just as much as she probably knew herself. He and Steve were the ones who stormed the coven that took you from her by her side, and they were the ones that helped her send them to their graves. They supported her through thick and thin, through revenge and peace, and mostly, they loved you almost as much as she did. Why would Bucky lie? 

Wanda blinked, staring down at her hands in fear and wonder as her heart beat started to get away from her. Steve’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched from the sudden touch after such a rush of power. 

“I think you should go with him, Wanda.” Her heavy breathing was all that filled the air for a moment. “Just take a look at her from outside so you can leave if he was wrong without anyone knowing, but you should at least try. I think Buck’s right.” 

Wanda’s breaths were still labored. Her hands trembled as she moved hair from her eyes, and her lip quivered before she found the strength to mutter a few words. “Will she- will she remember?” 

“I think she will,” Steve said softly. “But she’s probably just a human. It may take more than just seeing you for her to remember everything.” 

 Her eyes were wet with tears, and her heart was so big with warmth and need that she was scared that it would burst open at the seams. But she was even more terrified to lose the idea of you. Slowly and shakily, she nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she sealed her own fate. “I’ll go.” She saw Steve give her his fatherly and supportive smile, small yet full. “I’ll see her.” 

You didn’t know how you were gently swindled into giving Bucky your number. You knew that it was nothing but friendly, but he was so charming that you felt like you could never not know him. In fact, it felt like you already did know him. He said something about maybe commissioning an artwork of yours, and of course that excited you. You were going to meet him at a coffee shop, in a public place even though you weren’t the slightest bit afraid of him. But something felt different. 

 It started once you got into your car. You were driving to get to the shop when tingles came down your spine, and bumps raised on your arms, like someone was whispering against your skin. You started to feel warmth come and go in waves, brushing against your mind and then retreating again. You shook off all of the strong feelings as you turned your car off, parked in front of the coffee shop while the music from your speakers filled the silence, soft piano music that was perfect for the weather. 

  It was drizzling, the kind of weather that you liked to call a “lover’s drizzle” because of how often it was seen in romantic scenes. Scenes of confession, of reunion, of desperation between two lovers- more often than not, they had the mild rain to stand in. You turned the music down before shutting your car off and then stepping out, closing the door and locking it immediately before walking briskly to the entrance of the coffee shop with your recent drawings in hand. 

 Bucky wasn’t there when you arrived. In fact, hardly anyone was there besides the few employees, who smiled at you when you entered but otherwise fell back into conversation amongst themselves, which was fine with you. There was one beefy blonde man who was sitting with a laptop and a ball cap on. He glanced up for a moment and then took a double take, blinking hard at you with a star struck look on his face, and then he shot his gaze back down and went back to typing.

You sat down at a table for two, the only type of table that was there besides the long, awkward study tables that they had set up in the center of the room. You would much rather take the intimate setting of a two-seater than to sit in the middle of the shop, so you did just that. You flipped through your work, looking at it closely now that you had the time. He had mentioned something about possible portrait work for a friend of his, so you naturally brought most of the drawings that you had done with hands, arms, eyes, hair, nearly everything that was the closest to your heart. You rested your palm on top of them and watched your fingers trace the slender ones that you had drawn in what felt like by memory at the time, like you were just remembering the way an old friend’s hands used to look. You peeled that one back and looked into the eyes, the strangest and prettiest light green color that made your heart pound every time you looked at it. You took a deep breath in.

  “That’s gorgeous.” You jumped in your seat as the chair in front of you pulled out from under the table, and there was the charming brunet that you had met by the fountain, giving you the same welcoming smile that he first granted you. You smiled back without hesitation, your heart warming at the sight. “You sure can draw.” 

  “I try,” you joked, your grin nearly splitting your face. “Do you drink coffee?” 

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like tea, though.” You gave him a thoughtful look. 

“Are you into herbal healing?” 

You could have sworn that there was some sort of excitement in his eyes, but you weren’t sure enough by the time he opened his mouth again. “Yes, actually! What, does it look like I’m into it?” 

“No,” you answered, and it was true. Bucky was huge. He had the kind of build that intimidated other guys at the gym, the kind that made athletes jealous. He looked like the typical meathead, but he was sweeter than you could have imagined. But he looked nothing like a man who would be into herbal healing. “Just a guess.” 

“Pretty good guess,” he mused, and you grinned back. Your head was in the clouds of some strange deja vu when he asked you if you wanted something, and the entire exchange of whether or not you were going to pay was on the back burner as you sifted through your thoughts. By the time he came back, you noticed that you must have told him that you liked hot chocolate, and that he must have paid. You scolded him before he sat back down, waving you off. It was silent for a few moments as you looked out of the window, the rain still steadily working through the atmosphere. The cup was comfortingly warm. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

  With any other man, you would have immediately told him no, or at least have your guard up. But there was just something deep down, so buried that it was faint, but it was there, that told you that he was nowhere even close to being a threat. “Yes.”

 He nodded, taking a sip of his tea and then putting his cup down gently before giving you an intense look. “Who’s the girl?”  

You frowned. “What girl?” 

He raised a singular brow. “The one you draw.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked twice, and then tilted your head to the side. “I don’t draw just one person,” you said slowly, the lie dragging its way out of your mouth and through your teeth. “They’re different people.” 

“Oh,” he said, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew you were lying to him and to yourself. You sipped your drink and something tugged at you, telling you to look out of the window and into the rain again, just one more time before you spilled your guts about seeing things- and then something caught your eye. A flash of a familiar reddish-brown. You turned your full body to look that way, and once you did, you nearly dropped your cup. 

  There was a woman staring back at you, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that the artist in you wanted to rush to make an unworthy attempt at capturing it. Her lips were parted in pure shock, but you were watching them tremble even from far away. She was getting slightly damp in the rain, but she stood there like it didn’t even matter, just locking eyes with you and sending your heart rate through the roof. When your eyes finally came back to hers after looking at her for what felt like the quickest eternity, you gasped. You knew those eyes. 

  If you weren’t so deep into gazing at the woman stuck behind the glass, you would have noticed the pleased and content look on Bucky’s face, and the look that he gave the big blond sitting with a ball cap on all by himself. You would have noticed the way that the blond man was turning his body towards your table, watching with the same amount of anticipation as Bucky was. You tried to understand why she looked so familiar, why she was scratching the part of your brain that always tried to convince you that you were much older than twenty something- and then it hit you. 

  You had been drawing this woman. And you had been thinking about her ever since you knew how to think. It was just the first time you were ever seeing the full picture. “I-” you muttered, eyes stuck on her and the way she looked like she was about to topple over from emotions. The words got stuck in your own throat as you weakly tried to get your mind to take you back to the conversation. “I- excuse me. I have to- I’ll be back- excuse me.” Your chair made a loud noise as you stood from the table in a haste, pushing the door open and walking towards the woman who was still standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck. 

Before you even knew you were outside and into the rain, you were standing not even four steps away from the woman, who was now looking at you with an incomprehensible look on her face. You couldn’t even feel the rain on you. All you could feel was her gaze and the warmth that was settling in your stomach and chest, and the same intense familiarity that was hitting you when you looked at Bucky. But it was so much stronger. 

“I-” you frowned, taking a step closer and resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “Do I know you? Have we met?” You had to have met. You had seen her in your sleep, in your daydreams, in your sketchbook. And still, you never could have imagined how beautiful she was. 

She was silent. 

“I know this is random and that I just bum rushed you, but, did we go to school together or something?” You were embarrassed. You had never begged someone to remember you before, but this woman was different. She hadn’t said a word to you, and you didn’t even know her name, but you were enraptured. You swore you knew her. You swore you saw her eyes glaze over for a second. 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her voice struck something familiar in your chest, something warm and comforting. It was so familiar, so far back in your memory that it felt like home. Her accent, her inflection, the way she spoke slowly yet deliberately. It was all there in your mind, but you just couldn’t figure out how you knew it so well. “You don’t remember who I am?” 

 That had you closing your mouth. You tilted your head to the side at what could have been a hostile question, but her tone made it sad. Did you forget a high school friend? “Oh, um, I know you from somewhere, but I can’t really-” 

 “Think.” The desperation in her voice made your knees shake. If she were anyone else, you would have told her to go away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want her to go away. But you couldn’t quite place her either, even though your own heart was screaming at you to remember. 

  “I’m sorry,” you said, a hurt expression on your face. You braved yourself to leave, taking a deep breath and giving her a weak smile that embarrassed you even further. “This was weird of me. I’ll just-” 

 She was reaching for you. Time started to run slower as her pale arm extended towards you, long fingers that you had committed to memory and to paper a thousand times outstretched. Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly as you stood in place for a second, body still until you subconsciously leaned forward, your nerves buzzing under your skin. 

  For a second, the only thing you could do was look at the point where her skin touched yours. 

  You had seen magic before. You had seen it in movies and at theme parks and when miracles happened, but nothing ever like when her skin touched yours. You swore that the warmth that your body had been feeling kicked in even stronger, surrounding you in comfort. Her hand was wrapped around your arm, gentle yet begging, firm yet wishing all the same for something you couldn’t quite see yet. You looked up and into her eyes, the eyes you had drawn and seen so many times, and then you saw it. 

   You saw it in more than flashes. They were coming in at the speed of light, but somehow you were able to catch every moment and every feeling that came along. You heard her voice as clear as day, ringing with laughter. You saw the two of you attempting to skip stones. You saw her enchanting your stones behind your back to make you think you had actually done it. You saw her mouth brushing over your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead. You could feel her hands on you, holding you, protecting you, cherishing you all the same. You could remember the way that you felt when you saw her standing in traditional witch’s clothing, being inducted into her coven as a blossomed witch. You saw everything and nothing, and you remembered it all. 

Wanda. 

A strangled sound escaped your body, so feral that it scared you, but you didn’t care. You pulled her forward, your head clashing against her chest. You could feel her shaking, like she wanted nothing more than to hold you just as tightly, but she was hesitating. “Wanda,” you called out, hugging her tighter, and then, like something in the universe stretched too far and then snapped right back into place, she was returning the embrace. 

  “I thought I had lost you forever,” she said, her voice hollow yet so full, so expressive. “I lost you, darling.” 

  The memories were all there, like all it took was a touch, but you were still coping with the knowledge. You had been murdered. Murdered by witch hunters, way back when witches were known and feared. That had to have been hundreds of years ago, you knew it. But still, your focus was on Wanda. It always would be on Wanda, forever and always. Just like hers was on you. 

“You didn’t,” you managed to say, your own voice thick with emotion as you buried your face into her neck, finally feeling the texture of the hair that you tried so hard to get right. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere ever again.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly sobbing in your arms. You had no idea how you weren’t being interrupted in the crowded streets, but when you took a look back inside of the cafe to see the men who you so clearly remembered as Steve and Bucky, you knew it had something to do with them and their fulfilled smiles. “I wasn’t able to save you. I let you die, and I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.” 

  Her words brought you back to the present. “Wanda, no. No, no, no.” You wanted to pull away and look at her face, but the second you started to, she held onto you even tighter. You leaned your head back onto her chest. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way any of us could have known, and no way that you could have saved me. It was beyond us.” 

  “Nothing should have ever been beyond us.” She argued softly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But it was,” you said. “And now it’s behind us. Don’t apologize, Wanda.” You wiggled around and got free enough to look up at her teary face. “I may not have recognized you, but now that I do, I can’t believe that I ever forgot you.”

   “A new life will do that to you.” 

“Is it really a new life if I remember everything?” You said softly, the rain long gone as you stood with each other, bodies nearly molded together with how close you were. 

  She pulled away to look down at you, her eyes and overall expression tense, and then there was a look that you recognized from a long time ago. It was a look of sweet desire. You closed the cap between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers in a way that proved that you were both two lost souls who had wandered their way back to their other halves. 

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” Her lips brushed your again, soft and tender and eager for more touch. “As long as you let me be in it.” 

[thegreatimpersonator]

if it were someone like olivia or billie who have very small discographies then i'd get why people are going feral, but taylor has 11 albums and a bunch of movies and performances - people need to chill

I actually wouldn't understand this thought process even if the artist in question had a small discography or hadn't been putting out content in a long while. Idk it just feels icky to know that once you release your art into the world there is this expectation that you follow that up with something better (which would be okay if it meant, like, depicting growth or something) and in as little time as possible. Movie franchises churning out repetitive, recycled films to keep up with profits or record companies pressuring singers to make music months after an album release is so rotten like you are literally rushing a creative process and demanding unreasonable results whilst overlooking the fact that the person doing this work is not a machine but in fact, a regular human

[sirisuorionblack]

Hello 👋 I was wondering if you could write about Remus Lupin bitting one of Harry’s friends, and they’re relatively alright with it but lovely Remus hates himself for it- a bit of angst but with happy ending?

Family

Remus Lupin x Sirius Black

Summary - The marauders are back at Hogwarts at the age of 34 for yet another adventurous night after years but this time it didn't end rather well but Remus had his family.

A/N Okie so this was a wonderful idea and I just had to write it and I might have tweaked my request status a bit. But, anyway, a few things before you start, everybody is alive, no voldy, no nothing. And since you didn’t specify which one of Harry’s friends, I naturally went for Ron to add in the drama. Also, this happens in their third year and Remus and Sirius are well, married, sorry if it isn't a pairing you are comfortable with. And this may be a bit rushed, idk but I loved it tbh.

Remus ran his fingers over the scars on his knuckles. Remus was gifted with such a beautiful life, his friends and family so close to him, leading a life filled with love and happiness, the sound of innocent laughter always echoing in his ears no matter what.

Over the years, he and his best friends had grown from adventurous teens to adventurous adults, still spending every full moon like a tightly-knit pack, running into the woods and barking in their animal forms. They had never grown out of it and Remus was more than grateful for it. It was truly a wonder, regardless of how much they had grown, married and having kids of their own, never spared a thought if any other was in need of help.

Thirty-four. It was bewildering how he managed to pass twenty-seven years tuning into a full-on beast with insane thoughts and no memory of his human self, only noticing the stag, dog and the rat that managed to keep him accompanied no matter what. He pitied the wolf at times, he would never have the chance to know what love is, never understand how people care about others and would protect their loved ones.

Remus knew what love is, Sirius taught him that like his life depended on it. Remus shivered every time he thought about this. They were no longer the playful and traumatized teens, they were adults with responsibilities now and it was terrifying. But Remus found comfort in the very aspect of it, teaching and just as his friends insisted he did become the Defence Against Dark Arts professor and he more than just loved it.

And now after years, they were back in the shrieking shack for the next full moon, this time, honestly dreading it. Remus suspected that Harry and his friends were rather curious about their shenanigans in the shrieking shack. Harry, of course, knew that Remus was a werewolf he had known it ever since he was realised, his father, Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail would go missing for hours and then his mother would be with Uncle Moony, treating all the new scars that Harry was told is a sign of bravery from a young age by his godfather.

For some odd reason, Dumbledore had requested that Harry must not know was that it was his very own Uncle Moony spending his night away in the shrieking shack for which Sirius had reasoned was solely for the drama it ensued.

“Moony, stop fretting,” James said, patting him on the shoulder and pulling him away from the window sill he was standing before, “It is Harry we are talking about, I think he would be rather cautious,”

“That’s the stupidest things you have ever told in your whole life, Prongs,” Sirius commented, smirking and looking out of the window, to see when the full moon rises.

“Hey!” James glared at him, “I mean, yes, he could be a curious little shit but he is…good,”

“This is not about if he is good or not, James,” Remus snapped. He took a deep breath and sat on a chair that had been placed near the wall, away from the three of them.

“Right, sorry,” James said, looking at him apologetically and remained silent giving Remus an opportunity to continue, “Just like you said, he is a curious child and his friends almost give him a run for his money and there is so little chance to no chance that they would not be coming here to “find out“ what’s going on! And like what if I accidentally hurt someone!?”

Remus shuddered as he said those words. Contrasting how he was speaking moments ago, he looked up to see Peter, James and Sirius looking at him and he fixed his eyes to Sirius’ and he whispered, “They could die or even worse become a monster like me,”

“Moony, enough,” Sirius said, calmly, drawing the attention to himself rather than Remus, “The full moon will be in minutes, there is nothing we can do,”

“Remus,” Peter sighed, emerging from the corner he stood in, “First of all - you are not a monster. Second of all - we are here, nothing wrong is gonna happen,”

”What if something does?” Remus argued. He didn’t have to see to know that Sirius closed his eyes to calm himself down.

“Sirius, do you hear yourself!?” Remus stood up abruptly, “Your words drip with irresponsibility!”

“It’s not irresponsibility, Moony,” he said, motioning Peter to take over as he walked towards Remus, “it’s the reality. What do you think we should do, then?”

For once, Remus Lupin was out of ideas. He didn’t know what to say but he knew Sirius was right, there was almost nothing they could do other than control the wolf and every full moon they deal with would be a unique tale of itself, never certain of what could happen. It was woven with time.

“It’s time,” Peter said, grimly. Remus took a shuddering breath and fell into Sirius’ arms, who was still in his human form, unlike the stag and rat, watching their moves carefully.

Remus was right. In the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, Harry Potter laid wide awake, staring at the ceiling, the noises in the shrieking shack and the tales about it resonating in his mind. He was confused about what might be there and curious to find out when nobody would tell him the truth although they seemed to know. And today, they would unveil it.

James was rather happy that the full moon would end in a couple of minutes but he was not allowed to stay that way when he saw the wolf stop dead in tracks, sniffing the air. They all behaved rather weirdly, sometimes hilarious, in these forms but this time, it seemed different, like the wolf had encountered something out of order.

The stag and the dog stood cautiously, ready to pounce any moment while the rat, discreetly moved in the direction of the wolf’s sight and to a bush. They could hear whispers and murmurs as the animals and humans stood still on both sides, afraid of what might show and for the first time they all saw the wolf stand so extremely still.

And then slowly, a mess of unruly, jet black hair emerged from behind the bush. The wolf took deep, rapid, breaths that almost sounded like growling, bared its fangs.

The black hair further raised until they could see the bright green eyes, behind the round glasses and the wolf noticing the presence of the human, pounced.

The dog was rather quick to act and jumped on the wolf, redirecting its path but a stag and a dog wasn’t enough for the wolf to be distracted from its meal. Hunger in the pit of the wolf’s stomach derived its senses insane.

Harry stood up to his full height, wide eyes watching the wolf push a familiar black dog away from itself and leapt forward, fangs sinking into the flesh before it blacked out, falling to the ground.

He is going to get an earful from his father.

“Careful, Mr Lupin,” Madam Pomfrey rushed to him as Remus tried to sit up and take a look around. She gently pushed him back to a sleeping position on the hospital bed. Through half-lidded eyes, he frantically murmured Sirius’ name over and over again.

“Hey, hey, calm down, love,” Sirius was at his side, holding his scarred hand. Remus held onto it tightly and asked, “What happened?”

He could see Sirius hesitating to tell him and the vague memories remaining in his head from the night was not doing him any better.

“Sirus, please tell me what happened!?” He asked, anxiety rising in the bit of his stomach, the nasty churning feeling retuning. Sirius gently pushed the strands of hair from his forehead and leaned up, pressing his lips to Remus’ forehead.

“Th-the kids-” Sirius started just for him to be interrupted as Remus sat up, abruptly. He didn’t have time to sort out his chaotically, messy feelings and the one thing in his mind was what happened to the kids.

“Moony, Moony,” Sirius hurried to calm him down that, if anything, just made Remus panic even more in his hazy state of mind. Sirius placed his hands against Remus’ shoulder, pushing him gently to sit on the edge of the bed when he tried to stand up.

“Nobody is hurt, Remus,” he said, crouching a bit to look at Remus in the eyes but sighed with a pang in his chest when he saw Remus’ eyes unfocused and roaming above his head, at the various hospital beds.

Remus gasped and his heart sunk to the bottom when he saw the bed surrounded by kids and adults. It was Ron Weasley. His teeth had sunk into the boy’s shoulder blades where he could clearly see the bandages wrapped tightly around. He couldn’t imagine the pain the poor boy would have felt.

Remus Lupin felt like a terrible monster.

Why him? Why is it always him!? Just when he thought everything would be alright when he began to let himself wallow in the joy of being back at Hogwarts. And because of him the boy, merely thirteen, would have to become a monster every month.

“You are awake,” James, who seemed to have been outside the hospital wing, rushed to him, "Oh, thank gods-”

”I told you this would happen,” Remus whispered, hoarsely, staring at the foot of the empty bed before him. His mind was racing with unwanted thoughts. He felt mad at himself, at his friends, at the kids but was immediately engulfed in a pang of even bigger guilt.

A dry sob involuntarily escaped from his lips. He couldn’t understand how Greyback did that to the kids when here he was dying with guilt. He didn’t dare think of that one terrible evening when he was just seven.

Remus struggled to take a deep breath. “Moony, look at me, please,” Sirius said and these words in Remus’ head felt like a command. He slowly raised his head to look into those mesmerising grey eyes, sparkling like they always did in the sunlight. Those grey eyes were the only ones that had the ability to calm him down in seconds yet he found it difficult at the moment to regain his normal breathing pace.

“Hey, it's alright. I am here. We all are right here,” Sirius pushed the strands of hair out of his face as Remus tugged at his own shirt, as though it would help him breathe properly.

Sirius looked at James who immediately moved to the nearest window, pushing it open. The gush of fresh, cold breeze for some reason warmed his shattered heart. Remus, although still shaking, managed to take deep breaths.

“Listen to me, alright?” Sirius said, cautiously and slowly, “Nothing is wrong, everybody is doing good - I said you to just listen, Lupin. Ron did get a few injuries but, thankfully, since it was time for you to transform back, the bite was equivalent to that of a domestic dog or something,”

Remus didn't have the ability to comprehend what he was saying and just gawked, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

Sirius smiled gently, looking at Remus’ wide, confused eyes. “Ron will not transform every month. You didn’t “ruin“ his life, which I am sure at this point you have confirmed. And Madam Pomfrey had down all the necessities so he would be alright in a couple of days,”

“Oh,” Remus breathed, chuckling lightly but happily. Ron was alright. He was alright! He wouldn't turn into a monster every month, he wouldn't have all those hideous scars, he wouldn't be weak every other day, he wouldn't seem to look way older than he actually was. He would be able to lead a peaceful childhood.

James sat next to him while Peter sat on the bed before him, “Now you might be wondering why is Molly crying buckets when her son would be alright,”

“No, I’m not James,” Remus rolled his eyes, pushing James away and shaking his head with a light smile. He discreetly wiped the tears forming in the edge of his eyes.

“Uncle Moony!” Harry yelled, and ran to his uncle. Remus tried to stand up as his nephew rushed into his arms, the boy holding onto him so tightly. Remus slowly wrapped his arms around the boy and felt Sirius stand up behind him, providing support to his weak frame.

“But you should ‘cause I have prepared an answer for it. If you are not asking me why then Padfoot go ahead,” James said and watched with a smirk as Sirius cleared his throat, and asked, “Why?”

”Thank you very much for your certainly not forced question - it is because she is a mother!” James said going jazz hands just for him to be hit with three pillows.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Moony,” Harry whispered into his uncle’s chest, feeling guilty as ever. He heard the man sigh and the arms wrapped around him grew tighter. Remus took off Harry’s askew glasses and whispered, “It’s okay to me, Haz but your mum,”

Harry giggled, burying his face into Remus’ chest, “I love you, Uncle Moony,”

“I love you too, Haz” Remus ruffled the boy’s already messy hair.

"Wait!" Peter said, jumping up and stood beside Harry, smirking, "Can we, I dunno, take points from him?"

"No! that's stupid!" James complained, shaking his head, "Gryffindor needs to win the house cup. We can ground him or something but not take away points,"

"Yes! Can I ground him, please?" Sirius asked.

"No,, absolutely not," Remus said, holding the boy closer to him, "Nobody is gonna ground the poor boy. Leave him alone,"

"Gah! You're no fun, Moony," Peter said, shaking his head in disapproval.

James, after controlling his laughter said, “Also, Harry, your mum told me to yell at you as a favour for her and she would do her job when you come home for break,”

"Uncle W," Harry said, making Peter chuckle at the nickname the boy insisted in calling him saying it was too weird calling his uncle "Wormtail", "I will steal your cheese sticks,"

"No," Peter groaned, dramatically, "Cheese sticks, my weakness,"

“But you won’t yell at me, dad,” Harry said, pulling away from Remus and putting his glasses on.

“I will,” James said, seriously.

“It is not that you won’t, Prongs,” Sirius said, from behind Remus, “It is that you cant,”

“Oh shut up,” James said, rolling his eyes.

Remus couldn’t help but allow his eyes to skip towards Ron every often and harry, of course, noticed it. “Ron is alright, Uncle Moony. He was actually saying it doesn’t hurt much anymore and he was rather bewildered why his mother was crying too. Oh! he also says you guys were so cool yesterday,”

“We know, prongslet, we are the coolest people ever to exist,” Sirius flipped his hair, dramatically. Harry laughed.

Remus took a deep breath. He would never forgive himself for what had happened, but he had his family with him and they sure would make him forget it. These wonderful people were his family.

[seacottons]

The Art of Mischief

pairing: wooyoung x reader

genre: disgusting fluff. absolutely disgusting

wc: 4k ( idk how that happened )

warnings: some foul language

five times wooyoung pranks you for his annoying tiktok videos, and the one time you pay him back.

“Baby, I’m home!”

You were greeted with the sound of oil sizzling, and the smell of spices and meat as you stepped into your shared home with your boyfriend.

You bounced happily into the kitchen, sock feet thudding gently onto the wooden floor boards as you made yourself over to where your lover was stirring a pot of stew. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you tucked your chin onto his shoulder and stood onto the tips of your toes to glance down at the concoction he was preparing.

“What’chya making, Woo Bear?” Your grip around him tightened as you beamed, nose grazing the shell of his ear. You blinked as you peered expectantly at the silent, black haired male. His airpods nestled comfortably in his ears, dark eyes trained expertly at the meat and onions over the stove. He made no move or sound to acknowledge your presence, “Babe?”

Releasing your hold around him, you stood by his side, hip bumping into his playfully as you carefully tucked your head down and over the pans to catch his gaze. Suddenly, the ingredient list of the spice mix bottle became so damn interesting, as he examined it with a piercing gaze. The naive smile on your face drooped.

You wondered if San gave him something strange to smoke today.

Blinking in confusion, you tried again, voice softer this time.

With a wave of your hand in front of his face, you were sure he would snap out of whatever spell he was under, “Woo Bear? Hello?” He turned his back to you and grabbed a pair of silicone tongs to flip the slabs of beef, head bobbing to the sound of music playing in his ears, “Love, what’s wrong? Are you mad at me?”

You leaned towards him, brows shooting up in worry as his eyes drifted from the meat to the soup, hands working to lower the heat under the two, all the while ignorant to your presence. You shook his shoulder rather forcefully.

Your patience wore thin at this point. This was very out of character for Wooyoung. Where was the ceaseless teasing and the loud howls of laughter?

He even had the audacity to whistle whilst ladling a small amount of the kimchi stew he was brewing to give it a taste. This fucker.

Your hand flew to give his ass a loud slap as you croaked out in disbelief, “Jung Wooyoung, why are you ignoring me!?”

If your actions and words had any effect on him at all, he made no sign of it, and instead decided it will be a good time to season the soup with more salt. Giving it another taste test, you watched with a suspicious glare from his right as he slurped the soup quite noisily. You stepped closer, frame flush against his side as you leaned your face to silently squint at him, the tip of your nose just barely grazing the side of his jaw as you made sure to huff to showcase your anger. His brown orbs flickered to the right, and his jaw tightened in an attempt to contain his giggle. The muscles in his face strained as he pursed his lips harshly, breath hitching in his throat as you practically glued your face onto his own.

Wooyoung choked. He threw his head to the left, a mixture of a snort and cackle escaping his throat. You eyed him suspiciously as he hunched forward, hand gripping the edge of the countertop as he practically wheezed at your fuming face, “What’s going on-“

Your jumbled thoughts came to an abrupt halt, brows quirking up in curiosity as he pointed to one of the shelves behind you. Your eyes met the sight of his phone safely tucked against a few cans, camera facing you. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you gazed at him in unamusement, rolling your eyes as you playfully smacked him with the nearest hand towel, “That’s not funny. I was really worried you were mad at me, you bum,” you pouted against his lips as he held onto your frame whilst pressing numerous apologetic pecks onto your face.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but try that one on you,” he uttered against your skin, “You’re so cute when you’re worried.”

Golden beams of sunlight streamed through the thin white curtains of your room, the faint sound of birds chirping and cars honking waking you from slumber. Nestling further into Wooyoung’s hold, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, leg thrown onto his side as you clung onto him groggily. Pressing a soft kiss against the expanse of his neck, you mumbled a raspy ‘good morning’, lids fluttering open just a fraction before quickly fluttering back shut.

An extra half hour of sleep won’t hurt, seeing as Wooyoung wasn’t even awake yet. You adjusted your position, bed sheets rustling gently as you clung onto the male.

A dreamy smile found itself onto your features as you instinctively gripped onto him tighter, your breath fanning out against the shell of his ear.

Since when did Wooyoung go blonde?

Your puffy eyes fluttered open to gaze at the blonde strands tickling your nose, head lifting up in confusion. You swore he had black hair last ni-

You froze in dumbfounded disbelief at the sight of San underneath your frame.

Seconds ticked by, and your head tilted in confusion whilst also leaning forward, silently doubting your eyesight for a moment.

Why was San in your house?

Why was San in your bed?

Why was Wooyoung not in your bed?

It takes a few seconds for you to fully process the sight,the reels in your mind slowly churning after a long pause.

A pair of innocent brown eyes met your gaze, “Good morning?”

You threw yourself off of him with uncalculated movements that left you struggling with the the confines of the comforter, your bum thudding hard onto the carpeted floor as you emitted a wail of shock. Your hands slammed against your frame instinctively, shoulders sagging and lips parting to emit a sigh of relief at the feeling of clothes. You shot up and grabbed the unsuspecting San by the collar of his shirt, tugging him forward and demanding to know what on earth he was doing in your bed of all places this early in the morning. He squawked in astonishment, face contorting with fear and worry whilst pressing his palms against your shoulders in a failed attempt to keep you at bay.

“(Y/n)! Calm down- it was Wooyoung’s idea! I swear, I didn’t do anything—”

Your head shot up, and ironically enough, the first thing to catch your gaze was Wooyoung’s phone blatantly placed onto the middle of your dresser, the culprit weakly wheezing against the doorframe of your room, pained eyes glazing with unshed tears and visage a bright red from his silent and uncontrollable laughter.

“Baby- I’m sorry!” his eyes widened while watching you grab onto one of the pillows, weakly attempting to scoot back out of the room.

“Jung Wooyoung, you rat, you’re dead!”

“Baby!” you called out happily while slipping into a comfortable pair of slippers as you screeched into the hallway of your home, “I got you the strawberry croissants you were craving last night!” You peeked your head into your bedroom, eyes searching for the black haired male, “Baby?”

You paused as you heard the sound of running water and Wooyoung’s singing emitting from the bathroom. Knocking on the door, you cupped your mouth and leaned against the wooden frame, “Baby, I’m home! Don’t take too long!”

You giggled as he continued to belt out high notes as he showered, and you shook your head while making your way over to the kitchen to brew a batch of coffee to go along with the pastries you bought. A chime from your phone caught your attention. Absentmindedly digging through the cabinets, your actions came to an abrupt halt as you noticed a message from Wooyoung himself.

‘Baby! I’ll be home soon. Might stop to get us take-out~’

You quirked a brow, glancing at the time the message was sent.

Peering at the clock against the wall and back to your phone, your mind spun in an attempt to find a clear and rational explanation. You texted him back in confusion, the sound of his singing still audible from the kitchen.

‘I’m home? Aren’t you in the shower?’

You paused minutes after you loaded the coffee machine with water and coffee grinds to check on your phone, lips pursing in annoyance at the lack of response from your lover.

The scent of coffee wafted through the kitchen and the soft click of a door handle caught your attention, your heart practically skipping a beat in wonder.

Who was that?

You took tentative steps to peek at down the corridor, visibly taken aback at the sight of your boyfriend, “Hey, babe! I grabbed some chicken pasta and-“

“Wooyoung!?”

He gave you a quizzical look at the sudden volume. Walking over to you with a wary expression, he prodded your nose and shot you a grin, “The one and only. Want an autograph, babe?”

“If you’re here, then who’s in the shower?”

“What?”

“Someone’s in our bathroom! Who did you let in!?”

“What are you talking about, baby?”

You feel an onslaught of a headache starting. Why must your days always be this chaotic?

You rushed towards the bathroom with heavy thuds, the pads of your finger working hastily to unlock the knob with the lock pick you kept above the door frame. Swinging the door open roughly, your hands immediately grabbed the closest weapon— Wooyoung’s frilled toothbrush–, your eyes narrowing in suspicion at the shower stall, arms extended and ready to aim.

You were met with an empty bathroom.

You glanced at the shower stall— dry and without a speck of water. The sound of running shower head and Wooyoung’s angelic singing blasted out from a small, portable speaker.

Of course.

Of-fucking-course.

The sound of laughter behind you ceased your train of thought, and you peered back in disbelief as you grabbed the device, rushing back to your amused boyfriend, who had the time of his life nearly choking with laughter. You shoved the device into his face in accusation, and your eyes darted frantically to find sight of the—

The video camera San lets him borrow sometimes, sitting innocently in the corner of the living room.

You should have expected it from this persistent fucker.

“You’re unbelievable, Jung Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung begged and insisted on you joining him on his Instagram live where he promised his online fans a mukbang and session of him answering questions.

You complied as long as you didn’t have to appear on camera, as you preferred to eat without the eyes of many watching your every move.

Peering through his round spectacles at the phone facing him, Wooyoung’s brows raised in curiosity as he read through the many comments rolling past the screen. His messy locks framed his chiseled face, cheeks puffing slightly as he chewed on the kimbap he picked up from a nearby restaurant. Your hands appeared on screen as you reached down to grab at a piece from his side of the table, happily munching on the roasted vegetables and eyeing him with endearment as he squints at the screen of his phone, “Are you planning on adopting any pets soon?” he reads after swallowing. Clearing his throat, he swirled his spoon in the bowl of miso soup, eyes flickering up to glance behind his phone to meet your curious gaze with a flirtatious wiggle of his brows, “Why would I? I already have (y/n)?”

The piece of pickled radish nearly dipped down your throat wholly.

“Wooyoung!” you cried in disbelief, nearly dropping the kimbap in the shallow dish of soy sauce. You sent a swift kick to his thigh from underneath the table, a loud cry leaving his lips as his hands immediately flew to wrap around your ankle, tugging up your sock covered foot to showcase it to the viewers.

“It’s not nice to kick your boyfriend, (y/n),” Wooyoung shot you a mischievous grin, brows wriggling teasingly. You grumbled underneath your breath, and he cackled and reached over the tray of food to pinch your cheek whilst cooing obnoxiously loud, “Don’t be mad!” Rolling your eyes, you pecked the inside of his wrist before you retracted his hand away from your face to sip on your warm soup. Wooyoung leaned towards his phone with a large grin plastered onto his features “(Y/n), my cupcake. What did the soup bowl say to the other?”

“What?”

“You make miso happy.”

“That was horrible, Woo,” you mumbled, a failed attempt at hiding your face with a piece of seaweed.

“It made you smile,” he shot back, an infectious grin taking over his features. Standing up, he stretched his arms out before walking over to the kitchen, “I’ll be back! What drink do you want, babe?”

“Just water, please.”

You paused mid-bite as the lights of the living room flickered twice. You glanced outside to check the weather, brows quirking up in confusion at the sight of the clear night sky.

The lights flickered rapidly just before Wooyoung walked back with soft, padded thuds.

“Is this one of your pranks?” you grumbled, eyeing him cautiously as he settled the cup in front of you.

He appeared taken aback, jaw slackening as he quickly defended himself, “What? The water? I swear I didn’t put anything in it!”

“No, the lights-“ As if on cue, the lights of the living room and hall flickered repeatedly, “Oh-.. I guess that wasn’t you. We should get them checked out later.”

Well, that was quite odd.

“They were working perfectly fine all day, though,” Wooyoung mused, his phone catching his attention suddenly, “You guys think it’s probably a ghost? Yeah, could be.”

You scoffed at the ridiculous comment, heart beginning to race rapidly, “Ghosts aren’t real.”

Wooyoung pounded his fists onto the coffee table, the soy sauce and soup rippling upon impact, before he raised his chin and bellowed loudly, “Hey, ghost! Make the lights flicker three times!”

“Wooy-“

One. Two. Three.

You feel a part of your soul leave your body, your voice meek as you spoke, expression pleading for an explanation, “That was merely a coincidence..” you drawled out unconvincingly.

“You try, then,” he chimed, leaning forward with a taunting smile.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let the lights flicker twice on the count of three! One..”

“Wooyoung, stop. This is silly.”

“Two,” he gestured for you to continue.

Sighing at his playful antics, you rested your chin atop your palm as you pouted at the ebony haired male, “Three. Now can we..” your voice trailed off as the lights flickered twice more. The smile on your face instantly fell and you gave Wooyoung a wary glance, eyes widening comically, to which he guffawed in response.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he squawked, hands reaching up to adjust his red hoodie. His eyes glimmered with mischief, “Don't tell me you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!” you cried incredulously.

“What if the ghost turned of all of the lights in the house?”

The live video suddenly darkened as all of the lights in the house flickered off. The sound of your wail in the darkness and Wooyoung’s laughter rung out, and his phone was the only source of illumination within your dark house. You quickly dropped your chopsticks to crawl from the other side of the table to latch onto your giggling boyfriend, “This isn’t a laughing matter!”

“Baby, why are you shaking?” He cooed, pressing a kiss onto your cheek, “Dont worry, I’ll fight the ghos-“

“Don’t say that word!”

“(Y/n), but you’re always so feisty. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a silly little ghost?”

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, brows furrowed, “You provoked it! Now shut up and protect me.”

“Babe, it’s okay- I promise-”

You both startled when the lights flashed on, your breath hitching in your throat as you whined fearfully, “Wooyoung, our house is haunted.”

“Can I come out now? You promised me you’ll save some kimbap for me!” a voice suddenly chimed in.

You stilled, head peeking up from Wooyoung’s neck to look over his shoulder where a grouchy Yeosang walked out of the laundry room. You shot him a confused glance, eyes then darting to your boyfriend, who couldn’t help but shake with poorly contained laughter, “See, babe? Ghosts aren’t real. Yeosang was just playing with the electrical panel.”

“You fucking little-”

Swiftly tugging the hood up on his head, your fists clutched the drawstrings and pulled down so roughly that his spectacles flew into the air. Only his nose peeped out of the small hole as he cried in surprise. His arms flew to clutch at your wrists, tugging you down with him and out of frame from the camera, his cackles still audible through the thick fabric as he wrestled you down near Yeosang’s feet. The blonde merely stepped over the both of you, making his way over to Wooyoung’s spot to munch on the rest of the food, ignorant to Wooyoung’s pleas and cries of help as you managed to place him into a headlock.

“Let me move so your viewers can enjoy watching you get your ass handed to you,” mumbled the blonde as he glanced back at the commotion, cheeks round with food.

Wooyoung adored your baking skills as much as he adored you. He would constantly beg you to make his favorite pastries and insist he must have yours because the bakeries don’t have the special ingredient that is your love, babe.

Humming quietly to yourself as you peeked through the glass of the oven, you added another minute to the timer just as Wooyoung’s two friends entered the kitchen, loud boisterous laughter drowning out the soft music playing in the background.

“Thanks for inviting us, (y/n)!” Mingi ruffled your hair with a large grin plastered on his face. He jutted his thumb behind him to Yunho, who stood with a gentle smile on his face, “Your cookies are the best.”

“Our cookies!” Wooyoung yelped, “I helped too, y’know!”

“Wooyoung challenged us to a cookie eating contest, so I hope you made enough this time,” Mingi snorted as he peered back at the pouting male.

“I won three times in a row,” Yunho added smugly, “Your tiny man is going down, (y/n).”

“Oh great, that’ll be fun to watch,” you smiled as Wooyoung cried indignantly from where he was preparing the table with glasses of milk and a timer.

“(Y/n)! I thought you’ll cheer me on,” he feigned a hurt expression, arms reaching out to tug you flush against his chest.

“I will, as long as you don’t vomit this time.”

Wooyoung spluttered at the remark.

“Or choke on your milk,” Mingi added, earning him a glare from the smaller male.

You gently pried him off to check on the cookies, removing the two trays and placing them onto the countertop to cool, “You can have those batches. I have two more to bake, so it’s fine. Just don’t throw up like last time,” you warned as you shook your mittens threateningly.

Whilst waiting for the last two trays to bake, you put away the ingredients back into their respective spots, glancing every now and then back at the trio who settled onto the table with a camera facing them as they argued amongst each other who the victor will be.

A sudden, shrill shriek startled you, the bag of chocolate chips falling out of your hands in surprise. You swiftly turned around at the sound of your boyfriend’s wails, hurriedly rushing over to see what the matter was, only to yelp at the sight of a bloody hand and a tooth laying in his palm.

“(Y/n), are these chocolate chips made out of rocks?” Mingi asked in astonishment as you panicked, your hands scrambling for a kitchen towel.

“Wooyoung! What the fuck!” you cried out in shock, fingers clutching his face whilst ordering him to remove his hand from his mouth, “Baby- open up, let me see! You need to stop the bleeding!”

“Wait, does this mean the game is paused?” Yunho piped from behind you, ignorant to your frazzled state of mind. You had the urge to smack the two over their heads as you growled back at them with such ferocity it made them pale slightly, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Forget the cookies and help me!” you barked before you kicked the legs of Yunho’s chair before turning back to your boyfriend, whose scrunched face was still hidden behind his hand, “Wooyoung! Open your mouth!”

The anguish vanished from his face within a flash, and the hard lines softened as he flickered his eyes up to you, hand peering away to reveal a perfectly clean smile, “Gotcha, again, sweetcheeks.”

You gaped, your last braincell struggling to process the stunt this little fucker just pulled.

The other two snorted in laughter at your flabbergasted expression, before hastily clamping their mouths shut as you tugged on his ear dragging him to the side slightly, “You’re sleeping outside tonight, you asshole!”

“You didn’t!”

“I did.”

“I’m the luckiest boyfriend in the world, I-” he rambled through the speaker of your phone as you put away the last of the laundry, “(Y/n), babe- seriously, you’re the best. Fuck- I love, love, love you.”

“I love you too. Now hurry home or else I’ll give the tickets to Yeosang and San,” you laughed at the angered cry that left his lips.

You were lounging on the sofa when you heard the familiar sound of keys jingling and door slamming open. The peaceful atmosphere was bombarded with the sound of heavy footsteps and wails of excitement from the ebony haired male who swooped you into a bone crushing hug and attacked your face with fleeting kisses. You chuckled at his antics, hands gently prying his face off of your own so you can meet his gaze, “How’d you end up snagging them, baby? I thought they were all sold out.”

“I know a friend,” you leaned forward to peck his lips, “Check underneath your pillow.”

A second later you were left alone in the living room. You trudged after him with a mischievous smile, peeking your head in just in time to see his shoulders deflate, a crestfallen expression finding its way onto his features. He picked up the two scraps of badly cut paper, turning them over to examine them.

‘You’re being recorded!’ one read.

He pursed his lips, eyes catching sight of your propped phone on your dresser as he released a soft laugh, struggling to keep a smile on his features, “Ah, I get it. This is for all the times I’ve pranked you, huh?”

“Yup,” you chimed, arms crossed as you made yourself over to where he sat on the edge of the bed dejectedly, “I don’t mind your pranks, y’know? It’s your charm I fell for after all, but I just need you to tone it down sometime. And no more pranks involving you getting hurt!”

“I’m sorry,” his lips were drawn into a subtle pout as he traced circles with his feet onto the wooden floorboard, “I deserved this, I know. It’s okay. I’ll try and tone it down, though, baby. You’re just so fun to tease.”

“You are too, cutie,” you reached behind you to grab at something in your pocket, before swatting his nose with the object. He startled at the contact, eyes bulging as he stared down at your hand.

“Are those...”

“VIP tickets to see BTS, yes. Only if you promise to stop—“

“(Y/n!)”

You were interrupted by a sudden screech and a flash of blue tackling you down onto the bed, your words muffled against a pair of plush lips. Your shared laughter rung through the halls of your home as you struggled to keep an overly excited Wooyoung at bay, his lips persistently pressing onto every inch of skin of yours on display.