#but we are so tired of them they are so loud

[luveline]

for the fred x asf!reader, maybe something where one of his family members is like whispering about r or says something rude or backhanded and he sticks up for her? or if you don’t want to do his family, maybe a friend or something?

ty for requesting! fem, 1.7k

Sometimes you get so sick with everything that it makes you gag. It sounds insane, how can an illness that tires you force something like a gag? It might be more appropriate to attribute it to anxiety, but it’s overwhelming, whatever it is. You get this feeling like you’re totally lost in the middle of the day and all Fred can do is watch you as you scramble out of your seat for a bathroom. 

You haven’t actually thrown up yet. You stand bent over the bathroom sink in the burrow and breathe. Your gag had been loud —it wouldn’t surprise you if everybody here tonight had heard it. Fred stands just outside the door, the bathroom too small to force his way in while you still stand at the sink. 

“Lovely,” he says, without shame despite the tens of ears listening in, “can I come in?” 

The basin is made of yellow and orange tile, peculiar as the rest of the burrow. The mirror is framed by the same colours. You meet your own eyes and don’t have it in you to scowl. You aren’t angry at being sick. You aren’t sorry for yourself. You’re just tired. 

Fred says your name. 

You scoot into the very corner of the bathroom and begin opening the door for him. He’s in as soon as you allow him to be, shimmying between the door and the toilet to close it behind him again. He takes a breath of relief when he finds you unhurt, but his concern doesn’t waver. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

Sometimes you wish Fred didn’t have to see you at all. Like this, like that, ever. You wish he never met you, because you know he’s beautiful inside and out, and he has to witness you at your constant lows. “Fine.” 

“My mum’s making some peppermint tea, if you want some. It settles the stomach.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Is there something wrong?” 

Beyond the usual? No. Everything is the same. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you’ll be in love with him forever without ever feeling enough, maybe he’ll keep looking at you like he is now, softly, the slightest air of defeat about him. There are wires crossed in your head you can’t fix, and he loves you, and sometimes it doesn’t make a bit of difference. 

“Hey,” he says, “it’s okay.” Fred holds your arm by the elbow.

“I know. I don’t know what…” 

Do you ever? 

Fred doesn’t catch onto your dark mood. “That’s enough for today. We’ll go home, okay? Let me just say goodbye to mum, you can say bye to George. Or do we…” 

“No. It’s okay, I’ll go and see him.” 

“Okay.” He kisses your cheek. 

Fred leaves first. By the time you’ve slipped between the toilet and the door back out into the hallway, he’s gone. Not even his scent lingers. You make your way back into the living room where you’d been before you started feeling sick, face angled down. 

“You alright?” Charlie asks. 

You raise your head to smile at him quickly. “I’m okay. Just not feeling well, sorry.” 

“Going home?” George asks. 

You bite your tongue and nod. George gathers your jumper where you’d shed it in a hot flush and quickly stands to be by your side. 

“Let me walk you down to the garden.” 

“Okay. Bye, Charlie. See you next week.” 

“Feel better!” Charlie calls as you go. 

You pull your jumper on and follow George out into the garden, where you meander. You’d say goodbye to Molly, only she’s so caring that it can make things worse. She’s more understanding of how you feel than you’d first expected, but she made boys like Fred and George, so it shouldn’t surprise you. 

“What’s that about? The being sick?” George asks eventually. 

“I wasn’t sick.” 

“No?” 

“No, it’s just kecking. I don’t really know what it is, honestly.” 

George looks like Fred, but they’re not as identical as people think. Very occasionally you’ll spot him across the shop and think it’s your boyfriend for a few nanoseconds, but you could never mistake them for one another in good lighting. When George offers a hug, it doesn’t feel like Fred’s touch. You know the difference. 

“Maybe it’s, like, a sign you need to chill out for a bit.” 

“I’m always chilled out. Nobody expects anything from me. I never do anything.” 

George pulls back with an arm still covering your shoulders, “Listen to the way you’re talking,” he says gently, “you need to be nice to yourself, even if it’s just until you feel better. You know? Something is clearly winding you up, and it doesn’t have to. You can tell me about it.” 

It’s something, but it’s something he knows already. You hold your arm to his, struggling to explain, to want to. You wish you could go back to saying nothing; it was easier to be quiet. 

George isn’t disappointed. He rubs your arm. “You can tell me whenever. Or not tell me. Don’t tell me anything, let’s just ditch Fred and go get cake.” 

“I can’t ditch Fred.” 

“Why?” 

“I like him.” 

“Ugh.” George puts his cheek to yours. “Whatever. You’ll pick the right twin eventually.” 

Shouting echoes from the house. You and George look up at the same time, startled, the light mood of your joking quickly tanked. “Is that Fred?” you ask. 

It’s definitely Fred. “I couldn’t care less what you think, Ronald, I’d be surprised if you could form intelligent thought–” 

“Fred!” Molly shouts, “Boys, please, there’s no need for all the shouting!” 

“If I were you I’d look at yourself carefully the next time you're tempted to open your fat gob–”

George laughs beside you. “Jesus, what’s Ron said?” 

“I have no idea.” The twins argue with Ron every time they see him, so it could be anything. “Maybe he’s harping on Fred to cut his hair again.” 

“Well, he should.” 

“No way.” You picture your lovely boyfriend with short, short hair as everyone wants him to have and cringe. “No, thank you.” 

“Just don’t talk about her, Ron! It’s really quite simple, even a half-wit like you could understand it if you tried, don’t even think about her–”

Your chest falls as you realise what it is that’s making all the fuss. At Fred’s shout, there’s an upheaval of sounds, Ron’s yelling, Molly’s, and Arthur’s quieter pleading for everybody to calm down. Fred says something you can’t hear, and then the door out into the garden is opening, and Fred huffs a breath as he makes his way down the path. 

“Hey,” he says, forcing a smile when he sees you and George. “Ready to go?” 

“What happened?” you ask. 

“It’s nothing. Ron being Ron.” 

“Did he say something?” 

Fred looks between you and George with a frown. “He’s hardly capable of stringing four words together. But yes, he said something.” His frown deepens. “He’s just being a dick. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Was it about me?” 

Fred squints at you. “Could you be less perceptive?” 

“No.” 

He visually debates telling you what’s been said. George grabs your shoulder, half a hug as he says, “I can invoke a divine punishment.” 

“It was nothing cruel, ghost.” Fred sighs. “He asked me why you act like that, and I– He doesn’t get it, okay? But that doesn’t mean you act wrong.” 

“I see,” you say. 

Fred watches your face. His own turns to heartbreak. “Listen, I’ll go back in there. I’ll kill him.” 

“No, you won’t.” 

“Of course I will.” Fred ducks his head a little to see you where you’ve shied away. “I will kill him.” 

George snorts. “Me first. He’s such a fucking dolt of a boy.” 

“No, it’s okay, I know I’m weird–”

“I’ll kill him–”

“Fred,” you interrupt. You take a moment to formulate what you’re saying, because it’s important, and because you constantly toe the same line, “I am weird. He doesn’t have to pretend I wasn’t just almost sick in the living room for no real reason–”

“It’s not about pretending, it’s that he thinks you do it on purpose.” Fred speaks with such severity that you immediately close your mouth. “I’ve seen you struggle for so long, it’s painful, ghost, and it’s worse for you, I know it is, and the insinuation that you’re choosing–”

“Fred,” you say, putting your hand to his chest. “It’s okay.” 

“Well, it isn’t,” George says, “but yeah, it’s okay. I’m gonna make slugs come out of his nose.” 

George kisses your cheek, a smacking joking thing that you bat away before he jogs back up the path to the house. Fred looks down at your hand on his chest, still frowning, but with a slowly relaxing brow. 

“You can’t blame people for not getting it,” you say. 

“Yes, I can.” 

“You can’t.” 

“Yes, I can. You are difficult to understand sometimes, lovely, but being difficult to understand does not mean you’re difficult to care about. Ron’s total lack of empathy is ridiculous. He should be better than that.” 

“He just doesn’t get it,” you say, raising a hand to his chin to turn his head, and lifting your chin to kiss his cheek primly. “But I don’t need him to. Just need you.” 

He grabs you in a hug before you can move away, his face pressed against yours. “How do you feel now?” he asks quietly. “Still poorly?” 

“Yeah, a bit. George told me I need to chill out.” 

“You do. That’s what we’re going home to do.”

Fred is so careful with you that it sort of hurts. Like, to have someone stand in front of you and to hold you without a second thought, to have never let you down, to grab you at the first sign of weakness and hold you together. You will never, ever feel like you deserve him. Maybe you don’t. But Fred doesn’t work on deserving, he just loves, lips soft on your temple as his hand scrunched into your side. “Don’t worry,” he says gently, fingers curling in and out against you, almost like a loving scratch, “you’ll feel better soon.” 

[theosmanuscript]

tequila & empty cups

theodore nott x reader

warning: not proof read and its 2 am im dead tired

word count: 800+

synopsis: at an afterparty celebrating slytherin’s big win against gryffindor with bf!theo

author's note: sorry for the lack of content! i’ve been terribly lazy tehe!

Typically, the dungeons of Hogwarts are dark, cold and gloomy. First and second years were always huddled up in a corner, scrambling to complete their overdue assignments. This time, none of them were in sight. The highly anticipated Quidditch match resulted in Slytherin’s favour and like every other win, another raging party was put on. 

Green strobe lights lit up the common room and the air was filled with the scent of intoxication. Pansy and Lorenzo were on the floor, amidst the sea of people, dancing to the rhythm.

The loud music blasted out of the speakers made your heart thump with excitement. Mattheo and Blaise were on top of a table which surprisingly supported the weight of two beefy beaters. The former shouting the lyrics to Weasley Is Our King at the top of lungs along with the rest of the crowd whereas Blaise was taking swig after swig of the Firewhiskey which was graciously provided by an anonymous seventh year. On the other hand, Theodore was seated on the leather chair and you, comfortable on his lap.

“Weasley cannot save a thing! He cannot block a single ring!” Mattheo sang, throwing both his hands into the air. 

You watched with amusement while taking a sip of the strange concoction of punch and tequila out of the plastic cup. Contrary to popular belief, Slytherins knew how to appreciate Muggles’ masterpiece of hard liquor. Theo’s hand stroked your thigh that was draped over him. 

“He’s making a fool out of himself,” Theo whispered into your ear. His breath was hot against your neck and your skin started to tingle. Your heart pounded against your ribs as you looked into his eyes

“C’mon, he’s just having fun,” you replied, holding in a laugh as the table wobbled and Mattheo stumbled. “Couldn’t hurt to loosen up too, Mister Nonchalant.”

Theo snorted and sighed, “I think I need a refill, if you want me to loosen up.”

“I can do it. I need someone to top me up too.” You swung you legs off his lap and stood up, straightening your skirt that rode up. Theo probably had a good view of your ass but you didn’t care.

You took his now empty cup and walked towards the bottles, opening them, careful not to waste a drop of liquor. After all, it was difficult to acquire and sneak the bottles into the castle. 

“Great turn out, right?” 

You jumped at the sound of the voice. Turning around to face Adrian Pucey. He looked far to merry to be sober. You doubted he could walk in a straight line. 

“Yeah, I mean it was the last game before the end of the year,” you said nervously, “I think someone would have to be a bloody prat to miss it.” 

Adrian laughed as he took a step towards you. He was definitely not sober at all to disregard how uncomfortable you looked. 

“Well, I’m glad I made it. Wouldn’t want to miss seeing you here,”

You took another step back, as he reached out to grab your arm and a lump formed in your throat. 

“I have to get back to –” 

“C’mon, baby. You know you want this,” Adrian insisted. He tugged on your arm as you tried to wriggle out of his grip.

 “Pucey, let go of me,” you shrieked. As if you wanted anything to do with this slimy, lame excuse of a man.

“C’mon, we will have so much fu–” 

“She said let go of her,” a familiar, husky voice snapped from behind you. You turned to see Theo standing there, arms crossed and he looked pissed.  

Adrian’s face paled, immediately letting go of your arm. Your arm was painted white. How tightly did the wanker have to grip you? Adrian left as quickly as he came, pushing through the crowd, escaping from your volatile boyfriend.

Theo’s face was dark and if looks could kill, Adrian would have been burnt alive by Theo’s scowl. 

“Are you alright, cara mia?” Theo asked, worry written on his face.

You looked up and sighed, “Pucey was just being a prick. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Theo’s finger went up to your face, stroking your cheeks gently. “I love you.” he professed. He glanced at your lips and held your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips met yours and your eyes fluttered close. You brought your arms up and placed them over his neck, deepening the kiss. Theo squeezed your waist and you let out a gasp, taking the moment to slip his tongue in, dancing with yours. 

Your eyes opened as you pulled away to take in some air. Looking into his eyes as you responded, “I love you too.” 

© 2024 theosmanuscript. All rights reserved.

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: xu minghao

enemies to lovers

'you're not mine but wouldn't you want to be?'

minghao tries is hardest to stay calm but all these higher ups are making it really hard. he turns to look at you and the sight of your hunched back and bitten raw lips makes him boil. are you two friends? no, far from it. minghao is very aware of the whole 'enemies' agenda that is happening between you both, but does he want to see you like this? nervous, agitated, scared? no. fucking hell, no. he wants to see you burning with passion, wants to see that fire in your eyes whenever you two argue - minghao feels like he's been punched in the chest when he realizes that he's ready to kill just for you to not look this scared.

'can we wrap this up?' he voices out loud, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 'i don't see any point in this.'

'it'd be wise for you to be more polite and remember who you are talking to, xu minghao.'

he sees how you cringe at this, how your hands ball up into fists at the way that man spoke to him. understanding that you are angered on his behalf warms minghao up; it feels incredibly nice to know that you care. he keeps his mouth shut, lets managers drag on about the issue and takes two step in your direction, stopping when your shoulders brush. you tense up at first, sending him a questioning glance but he only stays put to which you reply with a rejected sigh. they lecture him and then start lecturing you and minghao can't just stand still when you're obviously fuming. they are being rude to you and the words are out of his mouth before he can think them through: 'don't talk to her like that.' your sharp intake of breath kind of wakes him up and he stares ahead at all the managers, who all look shell shocked.

'you have no right to talk to her like that.' minghao pushes in a clipped tone. 'she did her best and so did i, our timing got fucked up but it's not our fault. don't speak to her in that tone.'

shortly after you get pulled away by other people and minghao is in for another 30 minutes of lecturing. by the time he finally gets out of that stuffy room, he feels like he wasted ten years of his life on nothing. he sighs, stretches and is about to turn when soft steps stop him. he knows it's you even before you call out his name.

'why did you do that?' you ask, squinting at him. 'why the sudden hero act?'

'it wasn't an act,' he says, rolling his eyes. god, he's so tired. 'but you're welcome.'

'i haven't asked for it,' you spit out, obviously angered. 'i don't need your pity.'

minghao turns around, raising his eyebrow. 'i have never pitied you,' he says strongly, feeling himself getting worked up again as some stupid side effect on you being close. 'can't you just say 'thank you' and move on?'

'i don't need your help!' you hiss. 'i haven't asked for it!'

and - only you can make minghao want to both bang his head on the wall from frustration and laugh like a maniac. he sometimes wants to step closer, pull you into his arms and... he doesn't know. part of him wants to strangle you for being so damn difficult all the fucking time, but another part wants to smash your mouths together so you can finally shut up. minghao is aware of how unhealthy it is just as he is aware of how often your gaze falls on his lips or his biceps. it's good to know he's not the only one who's gone mad. they say it's a fine line between hatred and love and for minghao right now this line is so thin that he barely see it anymore. is it the same for you? he wants to ask, but instead he says: 'why you didn't stop me then? you always could just interrupt me over there but you didn't say a thing. if you don't need my help why i was the one who you turned to when authorities came? you didn't say anything but you searched for me with your eyes, don't even try to deny it.'

five steps. that's the distance that separates you two and minghao thinks it's fitting. he can take two and then you can take two and then maybe you'll play game of chicken on that last step. but you surprise him with taking all those five steps yourself, storming onto him with fire in your eyes that he loves so much. 'you're not the one to talk, minghao. you think i don't know that it was you who asked everyone to wait up for me? who brought medicine to my team when i fell sick?' you try to push him on his chest but minghao easily catches you wrist in his, not letting you move. 'let me go.'

'that's not what you want.' he says in a calm tone that doesn't show all the hurricane which's happening inside of him.

reality of how close you two are standing dawns on you. jerkily, you try to step back but his hold on you is too strong. 'let me go,' you whisper, voice wavering. 'hao, let me go.'

hao. 'that's not what you want,' minghao whispers and lets his other hand wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest. 'tell me what you really want, angel.' he sees how you shudder at the petname and smiles, leaning in. he lets go of your wrist, locking his arms around you instead. 'you can go if you want.' he leans in, brushing your noses together. 'or you can stay. and i can never, ever let you go. which i think is what you actually want.'

it's brave. it's bold, it's brazen and - it works. your body sags in his arms and you hide your face in his neck, hugging him back. 'prick,' you mutter into his neck, raising goosebumps where your lips touch his skin. 'self absorbed asshole.'

'yeah,' minghao easily agrees, hugging you tighter. 'prick, self absorbed asshole that i will never, ever let you go.'

a/n: this one is a bit vague but i couldn't figure out how to write this for the live of me. i hope this was okay? let me know! - nini

my seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[not-goldy]

Jimin has to be so tired of always trying to hold it down and be the older one who keeps things from getting all out whack. When he's sober & clear headed and in his head space, he will ignore everything Jk says to him that flirts past friendship lol. Jokingly calls his compliment lame. Downplays JK being romantic with snarky replies. Yet you put some alcohol in that man and all that weight is gone. Then we have him laying on the floor spilling his guts and the boyfriend pops right out. "Honey" "baby" "boyfriend pic" "My Jungkook". Okay, tell us more Jimin. He really has so much weight & pressure he carries on his shoulders & probably overthinks so much, including dealing with hate. Wondering how his relationship with JK will affect BTS, his dad's business, everyone but thinking about himself really. This is where JK comes in and is loud for the both of them. So it was so nice to see Jimin just let his guard down, so much so he let us see he was down cause the trips were coming to an end. I started crying too, cause you know when Jimin lets his guard down, its major. Jimin doing this for JK, when he saw that JK needed him and went to him to make it up to him and Letter, is probably two of the boldest things we ever seen him do, besides enlisting with Jk. He really let his guard down and let us see his vulnerability. I feel so honored esp knowing how private Jimin's become.

Awwwww I love this so much

I love you for this Anon. Marry me. I'll cook and clean and pay the bills.

Thank you thank you very much.

That's a perfect description of Jimin or at least how I see him in their dynamic. Just perfect. I got sick and tired of reading these bizarre takes and perspectives of him I couldn't resonate with from solos it turned me off. Waaayyy off. Like shut up I don't even want you to talk to me about Jimin no more just shut the hell up.

But this. Tell me more. It resonates hard my goodness.

He is the Hyung you know and I have a problem with people who try to undermine this aspect of him by constantly making him out to be some weakling and victim of the duo.

And I got tired of having to explain this over and over but dude does carry himself as Jungkook's hyung, HE IS HIS FILTER. THE VOICE OF REASON. THE MATURE ONE OF THE TWO THE ONE THE MEMBERS GO TO OR LOOK UP TO TO KEEP JUNGKOOK IN CHECK.

However it is a double edged sword and a Thorned crown because now he gotta overthink everything he gotta worry about everything

Imagine feeling he had to make sure they both could maintain their relationship without having it ruin the dynamics of the group. He had to make sure he wasn't keeping Kook all to himself always, or letting Kook have him all to himself lest it breads resentment among other members.

Imagine he had to agree with the members out of consideration because he would rather have Kook than not at all.

Imagine him having to forgive their fights, not talk to people about the problems they be having, trying to resolve all conflicts at home before coming on to set. I keep saying this, JIMIN IS THE REASON THEIR RELATIONSHIP HAS THRIVED WITHIN THE GROUP THIS LONG AND HE IS THR REASON THE BAND HASNT CRUMPLED BECAUSE OF THE RELATIONSHIP.

Left to some members and the management there would be a no dating among members policy because lime every one readily points out if they are indeed an item then its a huge risk to the band and company. I mean please look at where Suga is now. Now imagine if two members of BTS were actually found out to be queer and dating💀

It's a disservice to victimize Jimin. He is an intelligent resilient powerful negotiator and anyone who tries to put in their heads their relationship won't work or that they will fight and argue woukd be met with a resounding "DOESN'T APPLY TO US"

You making me want to lick Jimin's ass stop Anon stop

[blixabargelds]

things you said while we were driving plssssssss (4 whatever ship u so desire)

hellooo did this for clegan specifically for me and @swifty-fox's au we've been cooking we lov this version of our boys hope u do too gdfjff vague context: modern au where they are both unwell 🙃 this also ended up being 1.5k whoops

cw anorexia

John finds him in their usual spot. The camera nestled in the far corner of the yard hasn’t worked for months, operating solely as a fear mongering tactic. There’s a nook beneath it, tucked between the outside wall and the yard fence. It’s a good place for hiding. For trading cigarettes for gum, for kissing. Gale has only used it to hide lately. He sits against the wall, pulling at the hem of his fraying t-shirt, watching the strange glide of his pale skin slide over the bones of his hand, flexing his knuckles. There’s a rustling in the foliage beyond the fence. Gale looks up, expecting to see a rat, and instead comes face to face with John for the first time in weeks. He’s grinning. Gale blinks at him, bewildered, heart kicking in his chest, as John is grinning right at him. He’s got a beanie pulled down low despite the summer air, and he’s brandishing honest to God bolt cutters.

“Jesus, John,” Gale says. 

John winks as he cuts the fence. “C’mon, baby. We’re goin’ for a ride.”

...

“You look worse,” John says, tapping his restless fingers against the steering wheel and fiddling with the stereo. 

“Ain’t as bad off as you,” Gale says. “What’s with the moustache?”

John laughs. Turns to Gale with eyes gleaming. “Straight razors, baby! World is your oyster.” 

Gale rolls his eyes and smiles. He drops his head back against the carseat, pulling his sweater closer around his body as the breeze rushes in from John’s open window. There’s some upbeat old song rattling its way out of the tiny speakers, John singing along loudly as he vibrates in his seat. Gale rolls his head on his neck lazily to look at him. He seems okay. Curls grown past his brows, flopping down over them in gorgeous, loose spirals. He’s got shadows under his eyes, purpling and deep, but he’s boundless with energy that might be infectious if Gale weren’t so hungry. He watches as John dances in one place, grin still plastered below that stupid little moustache.

“You okay, Bucky?” 

“Peachy,” John smiles at him. He squints, then, looking at Gale with scrutiny, and far too much time with his eyes off the road. “You okay?”

“Mm,” Gale says. He shifts a little, feeling his seatbelt dig into his hip bones. “Better now you’re back.”

“Huh?” John says over the roar of the wind. “Sorry, what was that? You gone soft on me, Buck?”

Gale groans in false irritation. Says quietly, “Heard me the first time, John.” 

John throws his head back and laughs. Leans out the window like a dog and hollers down the open road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the door, and Gale drags him back inside as he swerves. The midday sun beats down on the hood of the car, trees rushing past, and as Gale settles back into his seat he watches, and tries to identify them. He grows tired after a while. Tucks his legs up and leans into the passenger side door, eyes drifting shut. 

“Where we goin’, Bucky,” he says, keeping them closed.

“Takin’ you on holiday, doll,” John says. “Gonna find you a diner and feed you up. Or you can watch me, because I’m fuckin’ starving. Then we’ll get a motel, one of those ones with the heart shaped beds. And I got a friend down South, real sweet kid, you’ll like him, Buck, you’ll really get on. He’s kinda loud, y’know, but I know you like that, really, and he’s got all these fuckin’ baseball cards. Which ain’t your thing, I know, but, he’s real sweet. Lives with his boyfriend, Kenny, he’s got the biggest garage you ever seen. But we’ll get the motel first. One of those ones with a claw foot tub. But we’ll get to a diner first, ’cos I’m starving. You starving, doll?”

Gale hums in vague acknowledgement. The motion of the car rocks him into a nodding state, and he thinks he might sleep like the dead with nobody interrupting to check on him. 

...

“Buck.”

Gale shrugs off a hand on his shoulder. 

“Buck.”

Gale groans, tucking his face further into the loose hood of his sweater, turning away. 

“Shit- Gale. Gale.”

“Wh’sit?” Gale mumbles. 

“Aw, Jesus, thank God,” John is saying, continuing to jostle Gale roughly from his doze. Gale shivers as he comes to, entire body laden with the aching remains of sleep. He can’t seem to shake it off fully. He opens his eyes, sees John’s pinched face swimming in front of him. They’re still in the car, but it’s stopped moving. “You fuckin’- been parked here half an hour, baby, you wouldn’t- fuck, you’re freezing.”

Gale is. He becomes aware of it like falling; gradually, then all at once, full-bodied shudders ripping through him, making his teeth chatter. He hugs his arms tighter around himself, fingers brushing against his shaking ribs. He looks groggily out of the window. The light outside is milky, but not as if it’s fading- more like it’s just begun to birth.

“Wh’re are we?” he says. His jaw is clenched against the chill in his bones, pushing his words out in odd slurs.

“Uh,” John’s head whips around. As he comes further into focus, Gale can see the shadows under his eyes have darkened still, a vaguely wild expression in his face. “I don’t know. Been drivin’ all night. I think- fuck, I think I had the window open too long or somethin’, Buck, I turned around a while back and your lips were all blue.”

Gale absently presses trembling fingers to his mouth. “’M fine.”

“We gotta find that diner,” John says. “Hey, Gale, look at me. When’s the last time you ate, huh? Can you remember for me, darlin’?”

Gale scrunches his eyes shut again. Tries hard to think. “Y’mean solid food.”

He hears John hiss. “Ah, shit.”

Gale grunts around the pain in his stomach. “Don’t go back, Bucky, please.”

“We’re not, don’t worry, I wouldn’t,” John says. He’s shuffling around, now, and Gale reopens his eyes to see him leaning into the back of the car, knocking aside various debris and pulling out a bag of chips. Gale wrinkles his nose, and shakes his head. “Look, I know you’re stubborn, but I’m freaked out, alright, baby. You don’t look so hot, Buck.”

“’M fine,” Gale says. He musters up more conviction, sitting straighter in his seat despite the stiffness in his spine. “Just give me a jacket.”

“I haven’t got one, Buck, it’s fuckin’ July.” John drops the bag of chips, continuing his root around until he finds a can of coke. Gale sets his jaw at the glaring red of it. “Just half. Buck, c’mon. American staple, huh? Goes with the whole trip. Just a bit of sugar, baby, then we’ll find that heart shaped bed. It ain’t half as bad as that shit you get back there, is it?”

Gale’s nostrils flare. John’s impossible when he’s got a bee in his bonnet, and Gale takes the offending can if only to shut him up; get him driving once more. He cracks it suspiciously. Takes a sniff. 

“Windin’ me up, now, Gale, it ain’t gonna hurt you,” John says. He turns to the wheel either way. Shoves the key in the ignition and looks back at him with a pointed scowl.

“You ain’t never cared before,” Gale says. He’s still looking at the tab of the can with disdain. 

“Never been this far from fuckin’ medical advice with you before,” John says. “Didn’t think I needed- fuck, was this stupid?”

“Jesus, Bucky,” Gale says. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Look.”

Gale bites down on his bravado. Inhales deep and shaky, fingers denting the can with the force of his grip, the little click click click of the bending metal pacing with the thrum of his heart. He takes a sip. Nausea washes over his tongue like thick honey. Every sugary pop of the soda on his taste buds tingles all the way down to his empty, clenching stomach, heavy in it, and poisonous. He hasn’t tasted anything so good in years. John’s eyes are boring into the side of his head as he turns the car out of the shoulder. Gale drinks down another gulp, larger and stinging. So, so sweet. He lowers the can, licks his lips, gathering the stray, sticky droplets, and tries not to moan in wretched pleasure. He turns to John instead, watching his jaw grind against the tug of a smile.

“Okay?” Gale says. 

“Okay when you stop damn shakin’,” says John. 

He puts his hand on Gale’s leg, leaning past the gear stick as they veer back onto the highway. His long fingers reach around to the soft underside of Gale’s knee, his thumb brushing gently at the lower part of his inner thigh. Gale tries not to bounce his leg at the feel of sugar filling his veins. 

“Heart shaped bed, huh, Bucky?” he says. 

John smirks at the road. “Drink your fuckin’ soda.” 

Gale curls his bony fingers over John’s hand on his thigh. Grimaces, and takes another sip. 

“There he is,” John says. “Y’alright, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, Bucky,” Gale smiles. “Told you so.”

[666writingcafe]

Greed (Part Two)

Lucifer

"Well, hello MC," Solomon merrily greets when he opens the front door of the cabin. As soon as he sees me, however, his expression grows more serious. "Lucifer, is everything alright?"

"I'm afraid not," I reply. "There's been an incident, and--"

"Tie me up," MC abruptly interrupts, their voice slightly strained. Solomon looks between the two of us, clearly confused.

"I'd do what they say," I suggest. He's still unsure, but he nevertheless lets us in and pulls out a chair from the kitchen for MC to sit in. He utters a spell that causes ropes to magically appear and wrap around them, effectively keeping them in place.

"There'd better be a good explanation for this," he warns, turning his attention back to me. "I'm not about to hurt my apprentice--" My phone suddenly rings, and I quickly excuse myself to another room to answer it.

"What happened?" I ask once I've answered the call.

"Mammon's lost the coin," Satan quietly responds on the other end. "The dumbass kept tossing it in the air, and it ended up rolling off somewhere."

"So you've haven't made it back to the House yet?" Satan sighs.

"No. We're still in the forest. He's making us look for the stupid thing."

"Asmo, I don't care about your fucking nails! We're not leaving until my lucky coin is back in my hands!" I've never heard Mammon scream that loud, and he's one of the more noisy ones in the bunch when he's arguing with someone.

"We're literally on our hands and knees, combing through every single thing on the ground. It's fucking ridiculous, if you ask me." I sigh.

"This is probably going to be a stupid question on my part, but has anyone tried to tell him to let the coin go so that you can get home safely?"

"Belphie." He pauses. "His statement caused Mammon to go berserk, and somehow he used magic to force us to the ground. If we even try to stand up, he makes the most excruciating pain shoot down our bodies." A faint whipping sound cuts through the air on his end. "And that would be due to him spotting someone taking a rest." This isn't good. Not at all.

"I'm assuming you've found a place to hide?"

"Yes, but I'll have to move soon. I hear him getting closer." Something suddenly starts rattling loudly, followed by various objects shattering on the ground.

"Lucifer, I think that's coming from your end," Satan nervously observes. "Did you at least make it to the cabin?"

"We did. Listen, I'm giving you permission to use whatever means necessary to knock Mammon out. Just make sure it's not fatal. Call me when you've done that." I quickly end the call and rush back to Solomon and MC, only to find the room they're in to be an absolute wreck.

"Let me go!" MC yells. Solomon looks like he's walked through a minefield with his hair in disarray and his clothes torn.

"As I keep telling you, I can't do that--"

"Whose side are you on, Solomon?! His?!"

"Look, I think it's unfair that he stole the coin from you, but--"

"But what?! You don't think he deserves to get punished?!"

"That isn't what I'm saying--"

"MC." They snap their head, focusing their attention on me. "Pull yourself together. You're being unreasonable." The air around them begins glowing.

"How dare you!" MC screams.

"Great, Lucifer," Solomon complains. "I was trying to calm them down, not provoke them even further."

"And how well is that turning out for you?" Silence. He may know MC better than I do, but I've dealt with Satan on the warpath many times before. Explanations mean nothing when someone is in this state, so the best thing to do is to be simply firm and wait for them to tire out on their own.

"Let me at him!"

"No."

"It's my coin, and I want it back!"

"No." Is it my imagination, or are the ropes starting to break?

"Of course you would side with Mammon."

"I will deal with him accordingly."

"Then why are you still here?!" In a nearly blinding flash, the ropes fly off MC, and they lunge themselves at me, knocking me down to the ground. I quickly spin us around so that I'm able to pin them down. They're thrashing about, but that's to be expected.

"Sleep." Their body quickly goes limp as the magic behind the command takes over them. I stand up and dust myself off. I don't have to look at Solomon to know that he's glaring at me.

"They'll be fine," I tell him. "It'll just be a few hours before they're awake again. Help me get them in bed." He's still seething, but he at least comes over and assists me. It's not until we've gotten MC tucked in and leaving their room that he reacts by slamming me against the wall.

"What the fuck is going on?" he whispers threateningly.

While I certainly have enough strength to throw him off me, I'm not about to get into another fight. Plus, I do understand why he's upset at me. In his eyes, I'm currently a threat to his loved one's safety. He has every right to protect them.

Especially since I'm trying to do the same thing. It'd be hypocritical of me to hold his feelings against him while experiencing them myself.

"Growing pains." If I gave that answer to someone else, they'd probably demand a more detailed explanation after chastising me for being so vague.

Thankfully, Solomon's smart enough to read between the lines of my short answer.

"They're affecting MC."

"Yes." The fact that he doesn't pose that as a question makes me suspect that he knows something that I don't. Then again, he did know MC back when they were human, so perhaps it makes some degree of sense.

Solomon steps away from me, allowing me to move freely.

"How much time do you have?" he asks.

"Enough."

"Good. Fancy a trip back to the castle?"

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Me again lol

Could you do #19: “did you walk here”

With all Paul, David, Marko, and Dwayne?

Scenario: reader’s parent was short and aggressive with him so he tried to avoid them without leaving the house, only to hear said parent on the phone acting completely different with their sibling, AKA nice/understanding/playful. And it got too much to hear so reader just left the house and walked to the cave. Angst with comfort?

If this is all too specific, i understand! Still love everything you write.

I hope you like this! It's slightly different than your concept, but when I began to write the words, they just kind of started to run with it? Anyways, I hope you like this!

----------------------

Four silhouettes stood on top of the cliff, their faces hidden by the shadows casted by the bright lights of the motorcycles they were sitting on. As I slowly walked closer, my legs were tired from the long walk, I couldn't help but overheard what they were saying.

"I don't know what you're going to do today, but I do know that we need to pick him up," Dwayne said, ignoring the annoyed look David shot him.

"No shit," he glared, "but if you think that's a one man job, you're wrong."

"He knows how to handle his family," Paul shrugged, mentally agreeing with Dwayne that it didn't really matter who picked their boyfriend up, as long as it happened.

"Doesn't mean he should have to," Marko answered, looking at David and then the others. "But if we all go, we might make things worse. We know he isn't ready to cut ties yet, so we shouldn't force him to."

"You ehr - you don't really have to worry about that," I said, my voice more unsteady than I had meant it to be.

"Are you alright?" Paul, who was closest to me, pulled me towards him. I stumbled due to the sudden movement, glad that he caught me before I fell.

"Like now, or before you grabbed me?" I asked teasingly, but it was painfully clear I wasn't quite in a joking mood.

"What happened?" David asked, his voice softer than I had heard before. I sighed as I sat down on Paul's bike, looking at the ground.

"I always knew they had a favourite," I tried to shrug it off, but saying it out loud only made it more real, "I just never thought they'd make it so painfully obvious."

The more I spoke, the angrier I began to feel. The angrier I got, the more tears burnt in my eyes. How could they - my parents, the ones who were supposed to love me no matter what - treat me so differently than my sibling? Why were they so distant towards me, as if I were the dirt under their shoes. What did my sibling do to deserve their love? Was it because they were younger? They needed their help more?

"Another fight, hm?" David lifted my face up with his hand, forcing me to look at him. "Your parents are idiots, I hope you know that."

I gave him a small smile and nodded. "It still hurts."

"No shit," Dwayne chuckled, "but it will lessen over time. Besides, you don't have to deal with them ever again if you don't want to."

"But they're my parents. I live there, I mean, I know I walked off tonight but I can't just leave..."

"And why not?" Marko popped up behind me. "If it's your things you're worried about, we got that covered. If you're scared that you'll see your parents on the boardwalk, we will deal with them. There's no need for you to go back if you don't want to."

"Wait, hold up!" Paul looked at me, worry on his face. "You said walked off. Did you walk here?"

I nodded.

"Fucking hell! Babe, that's an over four hour walk!"

I nodded, smiling sheepishly. "My feet do hurt."

"Marko, get some food. Dwayne, Paul, go and pick up his stuff. You're moving in with us tonight."

"Isn't that a bit fast?" I asked, a slight frown appearing on my forehead.

"I don't know anyone who would walk four hours just to see their boyfriends. Shut up, you live with us now."

I chuckled as he lifted me up, making sure I wouldn't have to walk any further today. "Okay, I guess."

[onceuponanavatar]

I'm not trying to be negative here, but I just want to get this off my chest. Obligatory "not all kat/aangers", because I know it's not all of them. So if this doesn't apply, then it's not about you.

When season 1 of netflix atla came out, it got a lot of criticism from all sides. Fair enough; I can see where people would have some issues. But as someone who did like it, scrolling online, it seemed like some of the harshest critics were kat/aangers. They were livid at the very idea that netflix could maybe—just maybe—entertain the thought of doing something different with zutara. Mind you, nothing was confirmed ever, but zutaras had (finally) gotten some positive interactions with people involved in the show, and yeah, we have a bad habit of getting our hopes up (silly us). And now, with the Toph casting announcement, I already see those same kat/aangers being loud online about how netflix better not *dare* to ruin her platonic friendship with Aang, but oh they already screwed up season 1 and are interacting positively with zutaras online (how dare they) so obviously they will ruin Toph too. And I'm just like??? No one at netflix has made any hint toward changing the Toph/Aang relationship as far as I know, but you're already getting heated over nothing. And even if they did? You guys have done nothing but bad mouth the show and try to ruin things for everyone who does like it. So why do you care what the show will do? You will either not watch it at all or watch it and complain anyway! Why would the showrunners want to cater to people who have been rude to them online, as opposed to fans that have been more positive and supportive? All that complaining, and they may not even change anything anyway! And even if they do and make taang or zutara canon, who cares? Let them do something different and explore new ideas! It doesn't change what happened in the original show! We will always have that.

Anyways, rant over. I hope that I was able to articulate clearly the point I wanted to make. I just get tired of the negativity and the closed-mindedness. We can never get anything new or different without a herd of people complaining, and it is exhausting.

[yoohyeon]

I feel like a Karen, I heard music in the hallways which is not allowed at this hour and I think it’s above so if we tell the landlord they will be force to move 🙃

[dukeofthomas]

"Angry robin" "violent robin" "misbehaving robin" shut up and accept my alternative; spunky Robin. Determined and head strong, can out-stubborn the Batman, has a strong moral-backbone and does what he thinks is right regardless of what anybody else says, Robin. Jason who was sassy and quippy and made crude jokes with a smile on his face. Jason who hid in Bruce's cape and whispered gossip to him. Jason who, if Bruce refused him something, could keep bothering endlessly until Bruce caved. And also dramatic Jason. If Bruce tells him no, it becomes a whole theatrical show; a monologue, a narration, embellishments, and falling onto the floor in his grief upon the fact his cruel father has denied him once again.

(Jason who has suffered through abuse and homelessness and poverty and starvation, who is the Fight out of Fight or Flight, who's built up defenses and walls and when pushed and triggered responds with the thing that's always protected him; anger. He's sweet and kind and funny, and when he sees a pimp hitting a prostitute he gets furious and responds with violence.)

[rubiesintherough]

.

[milflewis]

.

[venusssssssssss]

fuck fireworks and firecrackers my cats live inside and are still so scared of them during new year's....

[yuukimiyas]

g’mornie friends in my phone & in my heart! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა happy thurs & happy 4th of july to those to celebrate!! pls remember to be SAFE & to be so careful!! <33 i’m passin out lil sparklers to everyone in the city!! (っ ॑꒳ ॑c) —˖ ࣪⊹ make sure you all line up to get one!! <33

[billowingangel]

America doesn't like Fireworks

Here's a headcanon/projection I have for America. I also thought I already posted this but I actually dreamt that…totally not a sign of #mentalillness

content warning: mentions of multiple real life deaths, great war and world war two are mentioned, mentions of ptsd/shell shock.

i'm not fully sure those need a warning but just in case I wanted to provide them.

At first America loved fireworks to celebrate the fourth of july. He had loved the display of colors and patronism his citizens showed! He was a freshly indepent nation when the fireworks began in 1777. He thought they were beautiful, amazing, spectacular, and a wonderful sign of what the future would hold.

He also greatly prefered fireworks to the guns and canons set off during the 4th and was happy that after 1812 that phased out.

When Independence Day became an offical holiday in 1870 he cried with joy. That year he watched the firework display with an intense feeling of pride in his heart.

But then it began to change for him. In the years between 1903 and 1909 there were 44 deaths due to fireworks and even more injuries. He began to feel a bit of unease over the citizen's love for fireworks.

Then the Great War happened...So many young men came back from the war shell shocked. Hell, America even had some shell shock for a while. That first year after the war and the fireworks going off, he felt all those men's fears and his own fear.

That was a major turning point for him.

It didn't help that between 1928 and 1942 there were another 56 deaths in factories and stores due to fireworks. And then after World War Two, the sound of fireworks began to make America's heart race.

After a few years America decided he would leave his big house in Washington DC and go to another one of his houses. This house was further away from any firework show the city was doing. He wouldn't feel anxious and would be able to celebrate his independence/birthday in peace and quiet. But by that time it was the 1980s and more people were doing fireworks in the comfort of their backyards. The noise and smoke that filled the street of America's suburban house terrified him. Were they under attack? He had rushed to investigate only to find people with fireworks and firecrackers.

America gave up, it was probably just him upset by this whole mess. Those who had shell shock probably got used to it by now, correct?

But then in the 2000s he began to hear more talk, more talk of veterans struggling with the fireworks. Dogs struggling with the fireworks. Pets, kids, many more people then he assumed were scared of the loud fireworks. And in a way it explained to him why at the turn on the 1900s he began to have a change of heart about fireworks, a feeling of unease and uncomfort. Because despite how much he partied or celebrated on July 4th he still just didn't feel right, that something was wrong.

Then more and more states began to ban the setting off of fireworks for personal use but that wouldn't stop the citizens despite the growing number of people who found discomfort with them. America wouldn't go anywhere in the South around the 4th of July mostly staying in States that had the strictest bans on fireworks. By this time his fear of fireworks had greatly decreased especially since he realized the cause, it wasn't all his feelings but Americans feelings as well.

He even began to host some birthday parties where you could see the city sanctioned firework show. Firework shows were different to him then just the random ones in someone's back yard, those were expected, well controlled, a professional was doing it.

America hopes that one day he'll be able to like fireworks again but that probably wouldn't be until people stopped doing it on their own or when people and animals stopped being upset by it. Both those cases seem unlikely, so America will just grit his teeth and accept the firework tradition.

I even used some sources for this *insert surprise pikachu* History of Fireworks Firework Accidents and Deaths I couldn't find out when it became the norm to do your own fireworks but I assumed at least by the 80s. I also believe states began putting in place bans/laws about personal fireworks in the early 2000s but don't quote me.

[exopelagic]

this election feels so hollow even though it’s likely ostensibly gonna be a good outcome. labour really just sucks fucking ass rn huh