#i mean the fact that while we really get to know james's character and have harry grapple with him

[the-phoenix-heart]

Every day I think about how Lily Evans should have been a slytherin

[fairyysoup]

hotel room service

(repost)

pairing(s): adrian chase x fem!reader

summary: An off night, a hotel room, a bottle of peach Jim Beam, and Vigilante. What could go wrong?

words: 9.8k

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), some dubcon elements, shower sex, praise kink, sub!adrian, technically switch!adrian but (gestures vaguely), alcohol consumption, drunk sex, blood kink, mentions of contraception, cowgirl position, choking, gagging, friends to lovers, character study disguised as smut, james gunn said the visor is prescription and i took that as canon, reader uses prescription lenses, yes i did name this after the pitbull song

a/n: we are so fucking back

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

“Working hours” with this black ops group are loosely defined at best, and entirely nonexistent at worst. And don’t even get started on pay, because you think at this point that you’re only getting comped whatever the pay is for your cost of living, and that’s only really when you’re on the clock. They’ll pay for the hotel room and sometimes the food, but besides that, you’re on your own.

But, back to those working hours. You don’t know when they stopped, but maybe it was around the time your roomie decided to crack open a bottle of whisky and pour out half of it for you into one of the plastic solo cups they provide with the coffee pot. God knows you’re not working anymore, you’re just sort of sitting idle while he rambles about the room, gesticulating with the bottle. Like he does.

(Plus, you don’t think he’s even being paid for this? Adrian is just here for the fun and because he’s available, and the rest of the team just let him tag along because he’s useful. The thought makes you smirk a little bit.)

You admire his profile as he talks, one finger pressed to your smiling lips as your eyes trail him back and forth, thinking he might eventually hypnotize you. He’s so… expressive. And he has dimples and curly hair, which you’ve always been a sucker for. He hasn’t even taken off his suit; blue on silver on black, with a red visor on the mask discarded on the table. You had watched him remove it, and carefully tried to hide the fact that you were staring as he pulled his wire-rimmed glasses out of a hidden pocket.

You’re very pointedly staring now, sizing him up like your next fucking meal (alcohol does that to you), and Adrian keeps on blathering in one long spiel, pacing in circles like hasn’t even noticed your hungry gaze (alcohol does that to him).

“Is that prescription?” you ask, cutting him off in the middle of his sentence, which you’d barely been paying attention to. Something something Twilight, something something cultural reset.

Adrian stops pacing, looking at you with a deer-in-headlights expression. “Huh?”

You nod at the mask laying on the table by the door. “The visor. Is it prescription?” 

He swivels to look at the mask, and then back to you with an almost bashful laugh. “Uh… yeah?”

“That’s sick.” 

“Really?” Dimples. You take another sip of your whisky to calm yourself, and it burns at the back of your throat. Objectively, you should not be feeling this way about your pseudo-coworker, who also happens to be somewhat of a lunatic. But, y’know, he’s… sweet. To you. Which is the odd thing, but you’ve gone beyond worrying about the details at this point. You’re hunting alien butterfly creatures that live in people’s brains, you can get past a couple character flaws.

“I mean, yeah.” You lick your lips, which have taken on the flavor of the peach liqueur in the whisky. “I wear prescription lenses, too, but they’re a bitch to keep clean on the job. If I could afford prescription hardware, I would. Good on you.”

“Yeah, I mean… yeah, it is fucking cool, thank you!” He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners and making you clench your jaw with how badly you want to reach out and kiss him long and hard at that exact moment. “I was starting to think no one else would notice how genius it is. Y’know, I don’t even think Peacemaker’s noticed, which is totally not very best friend-like of him, but it’s fine, I’m sure he’ll come around eventually, the guy constantly has a lot of shit on his plate. Like I remember one time, me and him got stuck in a Winnebago that was rolling downhill toward a cliff like something out of Looney Tunes because some idiot crack dealer locked us in there with his load, and-”

He’s pacing again, and the amber colored liquid in the square bottle he grips by the neck sloshes against the glass as he continues waving it around emphatically. And you’ve zoned out again, because now you’re thinking about his hands, and how nice they’d feel on your body. You’ve seen him beat the shit out of people, you know he’s packing some major force in those fists, but you haven’t felt them on your own skin, or had the experience of having them wrapped around your throat for yourself. 

“-then, y’know, Eagly’s a fucking badass, I don’t know if you’ve seen him in action, but the little dude can take a guy out in like one peck. Like do not get caught on the wrong end of those talons is all I’m saying. Anyways, he swooped in and yanked the fucking wheel, so the Winnebago flipped. I mean, can you imagine! A bald eagle rolling a camper. That shit’s gotta be, like, legendary-”

And his quads as he walks, Jesus Christ. You’ve never been super partial to burly, buff guys (sorry Chris), but there’s something to be said for muscle in the right places. Adrian’s legs are nice, you can tell just by the way the fabric of his pants stretches around them when he turns, and fuck his ass is so tight. You nearly salivate just staring at it, thinking about how much you’d love to dig your heels into it, or squeeze it to urge him on as he fucks you. 

Your eyes snap down to your solo cup of whisky, and you frown. When did you drink half of it?

“-but like I’m sure you know Eagly pretty well because he loves you, I can tell. He kind of scooches closer every time you sit near him, it’s really cute actually, I mean, I would scooch closer whenever you sat near me too except I feel like you’d punch me in the dick, good thing my suit’s got a reinforced crotch-”

“Wait, what?” You blink up at him, your brain sort of fizzling out and then rebooting as you stare at him. What did he say? 

Adrian doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, the guy who made it was like, ‘That makes no sense, you’re gonna have the worst time trying to take a piss in this,’ and I said, ‘No, dude, have you ever been karate kicked in the nuts before? Shit hurts.’ I still had to pay extra-”

“No, no, what was that shit about scooching closer? To me?” You squint at him. “Babe, are you trying to tell me something?”

He blushes. You know he’s joked about not feeling emotions like other people do, but you wonder how true that really is, because he goes beet fucking red like he’s having trouble breathing as he stares down at his shoes. “I, uh- well, I mean, yeah, I’d scooch closer to you. Theoretically. If- if you wanted me to. And if you weren’t going to punch me in the dick.”

“Why would I punch you in the dick?”

“I don’t know, it’s like… it’s an understandable reaction to someone getting in someone else’s personal space!”

“No, it really isn’t…”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you wouldn’t punch me in the dick?”

You throw up your hand in an exasperated gesture. “When have you ever seen me punch someone in the dick?”

He screws up his face. “UM, I don’t know, you punched Peacemaker in the dick!”

“What? When?”

“When he tried lifting you onto the truck that one time!” 

“That was a misunderstanding, I kneed him because he didn’t give me a heads up!”

“But you did it!”

“Well, the last thing I would want to do to your dick is punch it, all right?”

You both stop and stare at each other for a long moment. You think you might have stopped breathing, too. Yeah, you are definitely tipsy at this point, but you raise a slightly shaking hand to take a casual sip of your drink, as if you aren’t staring at him with bulging eyes like you’re possessed.

He opens his mouth and closes it a few times before he comes out with a response. “Okay.”

You blink. “Okay?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, okay. I mean, what other stuff would you do to my dick?”

“Uh… stuff.” You jerkily stand, nearly sloshing your drink as you try to get your bearings. You set the cup down on the bedside table and turn to look at him with the most awkward, pin-straight posture you could possibly muster, like a high schooler trying to pretend they aren’t drunk in front of their parents. “I’m going to take a shower now. Yeah. I am. I’m going to do that.”

“Oh. Okay.” Adrian looks down at the bottle in his hand, and then shuffles a bit to the side so that you can pass him.

“I mean, unless you wanted to shower first?” You pause at the end of your respective bed, and turn to see him turning down the covers on his own by the window. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting in bed,” he says flatly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He reaches up and undoes a latch on his armor that frees the chestplate, and lifts it over his head in one swift move, leaving him in his tight fitting black undershirt.

You stare at him, scatterbrained until you manage to scowl at him, and the two knives he wears crossed against his lower back. “You’re going to sleep with all your weapons?”

“Yeah.”

“With all the dirt and sweat and fucking blood from fighting?”

“Yeah.” 

“You can’t just… you can’t just get in bed with your outside clothes on, dude!” you splutter, leaning your thigh against the end of the mattress before you, and slow your speech carefully as you declare, “It’s… unsanitary.”

“Oh, and who are you, the sleep police?” Adrian turns to sneer at you. “I thought you were going to take a shower.”

“Well I was, but that was before I knew you weren’t planning on it!” You throw your hand out at him. “Why?”

“Because! If I go to sleep with wet hair it dries all weird, okay? Get off my dick!”

“I’m sure you’ll look just as pretty regardless, Adrian,” you tut condescendingly at him, rolling your eyes as you turn on your heels toward the bathroom. “Do what you want, or fucking join me if you change your mind, I don’t care.”

You don’t register the full weight of your words until you turn on the tap. But, by that time, you also don’t get to see the way Adrian stares at the door to the bathroom like you’ve just presented him with the key to the city.

You very rarely opt for lukewarm showers, but you certainly do now. With the way your blood is humming through your veins like electricity, and you feel hot just from the sight of Adrian’s muscles in that tight fucking shirt, you feel a cold shower is in order. Well, colder, anyways. 

The water pressure is complete bullshit, of course. It pathetically trickles out, and it takes longer than usual for your body to get completely soaked. In that time, you lean against the tile and hold your head in your hands as the water drips down your face. How the fuck are you supposed to sleep in the same room as this guy? Between the way you’re just aching to jump his bones, and his inability to stop talking, you don’t think it’s a possibility tonight.

You wonder what he would sound like when you ride him. You wonder if he would finally shut up, or if he would switch to talking to you like a lover instead of a drinking buddy. You wonder if he would beg, or if he’s more dominant than that. 

You’re imagining his head between your thighs. You’re imagining what he’d look like with your hands tangled in his hair. You’re imagining the feeling of his mouth on your skin, the calloused planes of his palms on your breasts and beneath your thighs. You’re… you’re shaking.

The white shower curtain rips open, and Adrian steps in beside you, naked as the day he was born. “Hey, can you pass the soap?”

“What the fuck?” You turn your head to look at him with a bewildered expression, simply refusing to tear your eyes away from his face because you do not want to cross that line and have the image of his dick imprinted in your brain while you try to get to sleep tonight. “Adrian, what are you doing?”

“Well, you said to join you if I changed my mind.” He shrugs, his smile the absolute picture of innocence, but his eyes still rake slowly down your body before finding your face again. 

You blink, searching for a proper response to that. His eyes are green. Jesus Christ, that’s three for three: dimples, curly hair, and green eyes. He’s trying to kill you. 

“I was being sar-” you cut yourself off with a sigh, “yeah, you know what, I did say that. Shit. Fucking… okay. Whatever. Here.” You fumble with the tiny complimentary body wash tube and thrust it toward him. “Go apeshit.”

“You have a really great ass by the way.”

“Adrian.”  

“What? You do. I’m just being honest. I’m not even saying that because this is the first time I’ve seen you naked, I always thought your ass was nice, there just wasn’t a good time to say it.”

Your face is burning. You turn your back on him and try your hardest not to clap your hands over your eyes or do something equally embarrassing. You don’t think Adrian is even fazed by any of this; he wasn’t wearing his glasses, either, and you don’t know how strong his prescription is. You imagine pretty strong, if he needs it in his visor. Maybe there’s a good chance he can’t see the exact details of your tits. Maybe-

He touches your shoulder, and you feel lather running down your back as he starts massaging circles into your skin.

“Are you washing me?” you wheeze, your voice coming out an octave higher, and you really do cover your face again this time. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and you can’t focus on anything other than the touch of his hand on your shoulder blade.

“Uh, yeah? I wash your back, you wash mine, right?” He sounds cheery and completely content with everything that’s happening and, despite the sheer oddness of all of it, you don’t really want him to stop. You guess that’s why you haven’t told him to get the hell out, yet.

Maybe you’re just as much of a lunatic as him. “‘Scratch,’ Adrian. It’s fucking ‘scratch.’” 

He pauses. “What?”

“It’s ‘I scratch your back, you scratch mine.’”

“That makes no fucking sense.” He shakes his head in your periphery, his hand resuming its circular motion against your back, moving across to your other shoulder. You feel the soft, wet glide like a molten lava trail.

“Of course it makes sense! Why would it be ‘wash?’”

“Why wouldn’t it be ‘wash?’”

“Because it’s about doing your friends favors,” you argue in a wobbly, strained voice as you shiver while his fingers slide down your spine. It raises goosebumps on your skin, despite the heat in your veins and the cool of the water. “Friends don’t wash each other’s backs, genius.”

“So, we’re not friends?”

His hand pauses again just at the curve of your lower back, where it extends down into your tailbone. You bite your lip, and you can feel his eyes on you, the touch of his gaze almost as real as his hand is. Your thighs clench together involuntarily. You simpering little… weak, desperate thing, you are not going to beg for him to touch you. That’s not it. That’s not how this should go.

But, you could turn around and touch him, too. You could probably kiss him, if you were feeling really adventurous. He just basically implied that he wouldn’t be opposed to fucking you, right? That was where the conversation had been going earlier, if you hadn’t been such a pussy. Neither of you is nearly as subtle as you think you are.

You manage to chew your lip enough to tear a gash in it, and salty, coppery blood hits your tongue. You’re losing it, standing on the precipice of something way bigger than the two of you. You’re just an inch away from becoming more than just friends with Adrian, if you don’t reel it in quickly. Your hand comes up to slam against the wall when his fingers, which seem to be discontented to remain idle, start tracing little shapes on your lower back. A star. A diamond. A heart.

“N… No, I- I mean, we are. But I don’t think we’re going to be, if you keep it up.”

He grunts carelessly. “I’m having a hard time not keeping it up, really.”

“What do you mean?” You turn around, and his hand glides across your lower back and to your hip, because he refuses to stop touching you now (not that you want him to stop, either, if you’re being honest with yourself). Your eyes flick down, and you know exactly what he means, because he’s hard as a rock. 

And also thick, and long, and veiny, but hey. What did you expect?

Your eyes linger on his erection for a long time, and drag your gaze slowly from the burst of dark hair at the base of his cock, up the line of his torso and to his chest. His pale skin is riddled with little scars here and there, from small injuries that weren’t serious enough to slow him down. He has a faint spray of freckles on his shoulders, suggesting that he spends at least some time in the sun. It makes you inordinately flustered to think of him doing some sort of outdoor activities to get that toned body of his. 

You clear your throat as you find his gaze again. “Next dumb question,” you say, and he gives you a wide-eyed, vaguely awestruck look that makes you way more confident than it ought to. “Are you gonna fuck me, Adrian?”

His eyelashes flutter. His cheeks are painted with that sweet pink blush again, like he’s been entirely oblivious to the fact that he’s had you melting for him since he cracked open the bottle of Jim Beam. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a fucking fantastic idea, do you?”  

“Yeah, I do.” And he grabs you by the face to kiss you, and crowds you back against the wall. You give a surprised yelp into his open mouth, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as your back hits the cold tile. He grunts and brushes his soap covered fingers across your cheeks. “Did you bite your lip?”

“Yeah.”

“...Was that because of me?”

You whimper weakly as he slowly, and very purposefully, traces the length of your bottom lip with his tongue like he’s savoring the taste of your blood. “Yeah.”

“That’s so fucking hot.”

He yanks you up off of your feet, making you squeak and hold in a nervous laugh. Your leg bumps the faucet handle, and the water turns ice cold just as Adrian scrambles to hook your legs around his waist. 

“Shit.” Adrian hisses and smacks the wall beside your hip once or twice before he finds the faucet, because he doesn’t stop kissing you. He’s sloppy and rushed and overexcited, but at least he gets the water running warm against as he presses you up against the wall. “I’ve never done this here, have you?”

“Shower sex? No.” You bite his lip as he hitches you up by the back of your thighs, and he groans as his hips jerk up toward yours. “But I think you’re doing a good job.”

“Wait, fuck. Do we need, like, a condom…?” He blinks at you with a glassy look in his eyes. 

“IUD. I have- it’s all good, you’re fine.” You knock your head back against the wall with a whimper high in your throat as he brushes his cock against your entrance. You can feel the world spinning as you tangle your fingers in his wet hair, giving it a small but sharp tug. “Now, if you don’t fuck me I’m gonna-”

You choke when he drives the full length of his cock into you, pushing your hips back against the wall. Your nails scratch down his neck and across his shoulder blades as he splits you open, your legs tightening around his waist while simultaneously trying to spread wider to accommodate him. Adrian spits a curse into your neck, his teeth grazing a vein there as he ruts up into you, filling you so completely that a cry dies in your throat. 

“God, fuck, Adrian,” you sob toward the ceiling, only too aware of him moaning loudly against your skin. He feels better than you had imagined, stretching you out so perfectly that your toes curl as you try your hardest to draw him forward with your legs alone.

“I knew you’d be perfect,” you catch him whispering into the crook of your neck, just barely audible over the trickle of water over your head.

He doesn’t even give you time to adjust before he starts pistoning his hips into yours, jolting you up the wall. Your skin squeaks against the wet tile, and his grunts echo in the curve of your neck. Tears might actually be streaming down your face, but you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart from the warm water coming from the showerhead.

Adrian’s hand comes up to brace against the wall beside your head, and he surprises you. “You really think I’m pretty?” He asks with such a genuine note of hope in his voice that you think he must be serious. 

“I think you’re fucking gorgeous,” you breathe, whining when he nips at your jaw with his teeth. You interrupt your train of thought with a series of hoarse cries, because Adrian picks up the pace with less precision, and more just forceful thrusts that drive all the way to the end of you and make you see stars, regardless.

“You’re the most perfect person in the world and I wish I could paint because the only thing I’d be painting is just you over and over and over-” 

He’s blathering into your shoulder, his mouth brushing your skin as it moves and his hips slamming yours back against the wall hard enough that you’re definitely going to be feeling it in the morning. Every bit of desire you have for him surges up inside you like an inferno catching on, like every stroke he makes is stoking that fire within you.

“-so pretty everyone wants you I can’t believe you would let me touch you or even kiss you but you’re letting me do this to you and it’s all I’ve wanted to do since I first saw you-”

It occurs to you to tell him that you’d let him do anything he wants to you at this point, as long as he just doesn’t stop fucking you- but that’s yet another line you refuse to cross for the sake of self preservation. You’re already drunk, and confessing the true scope of your feelings to him in this state would just be a recipe for disaster. 

Oh god, but he’s like a reckoning. You shake your head to compose yourself and scratch your nails along his neck before you take his face in your hands and draw him up to you. His pupils were already blown out, but you think they nearly eclipse his irises when his hips falter and he sucks in a sharp breath. His dark hair is thoroughly drenched, and water drips down his face in little rivulets that you trace with your fingers just before you draw him to your lips.

You feel his small moan vibrate on your lips, and that’s enough. Your legs spasm, and your orgasm suddenly snaps within you like a rubber band, every muscle in your core tightening down on his cock as you see a burst of white behind your closed eyelids. It snuck up on you just as much as it did him.

“Holy fuck-” Adrian loudly gasps against your lips with a startled jolt of his hips, his full weight crushing you up against the wall. His nose nuzzles yours, so intimate in a way that you hadn’t expected from him, and with a few shuddering huffs of breath you feel him come with a rush of warmth deep inside you.

You’re floating somewhere above awareness when he slouches forward, his forehead resting against yours and his eyes closed as he takes deep, steadying breaths. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s just holding you, with his fingers digging into your thighs like he’s just trying to ground himself in your body.

You raise a shaking hand to smooth his wet hair back from his face. “Earth to Adrian. You still with me, babe?”

He grumbles something entirely non-coherent directly in front of your face, and blinks his eyes groggily open at you. 

“The alcohol’s catching up with you, huh?”

He nods.

“Guess I’m washing your back, anyways. C’mon.” You wiggle out of his grip, and you’re only too thankful that you’re smushed up against the shower wall, or else you may have easily slipped and ate shit on the tile. The alcohol is fucking with your head quite a bit now, too, and your movements are a little jerky and uncoordinated as you try to help him get cleaned up.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet. The rest of the shower takes place in complete silence, actually, with the exception of the little grunt he makes when you urge him to bend down so you can get his hair for him. You catch him looking a little dazed as you turn off the water, and he gives you an unfocused stare when you toss a towel at him. You wonder if you actually succeeded in frying the guy’s brains just by fucking him.

But then, back in the room as you clumsily dig through your bag to pull out a night shirt and a pair of underwear, Adrian shuffles directly to his bed and tosses his towel aside before clambouring into it, bare ass to the wind. He flops down face first, and shoves his feet under the turned down comforter.

“Adrian… what are you doing?” You say for what feels like the millionth time this evening. 

“‘M going to bed,” he drawls into the pillow. His entire body shakes as he hiccups, and then turns his head to the side to look up at you with his big green doe-eyes that make your heart do a somersault in your ribcage. “You should tooootally join me. There’s-” hiccup- “lotsa room. We could go again.”

You blink at him as you semi-stagger, semi-walk toward the bed, stooping to pick up pieces of his uniform strewn across the floor as he had, presumably, just ripped everything off as he made his way to the bathroom. “Mm, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Uh, you said it was a great idea,” he argues as you toss his clothes into a pile at the end of the bed.

“That was before the whisky kicked in and we were both staggering… fuckin… drunk-” you accidentally whack your foot against the corner of the bed and bite your lip as you fight not to crumble to the floor. “One of us has to be responsible.”

“I’m-” hiccup- “responstable.”

“Uh-huh.” You stop as your eyes land on the mostly empty Jim Beam bottle on the bedside table. You’re almost positive it had been at least quarter full when you left him to go take a shower. “Adrian, did you drink all that?”

He blinks his eyes open and follows your pointing finger to the bottle. “Oh, yeah. Hhhuuuhh… had to… I lost the cap so we can’t keep it.” When you march forward to snatch it off the table, he grunts dismissively. “Gotta… get rid of it.”

“Guess that’s why you’re worse off than me.” You shake your head and drop the entire bottle into the trash bin. “Aren’t you gonna put something on to sleep in?”

“I don’t have anything.”

You snap your head towards his sprawling, naked form. Your eyes linger on his ass for way too long. “You didn’t bring a single thing to wear?”

“Why… why would I bring a change of clothes to kill bad guys?” 

“I don’t fuckin’ know! Anonymity!” 

He grumbles into the pillow, “I have a mask.”

“Fuck the mask. You can’t sleep in the mask.”

“Sure I can. I fuck in the mask, I can sleep in it. S’a free country.”

You blink, your eyes flicking between Adrian and the mask on the table. “Dude, you fuck in that thing?”

“Hell yeah I do. I could fuck you in the mask. Could do it right now. Go get the mask.” Despite the conviction of his words, he’s slurring them, and his face is still pressed into his pillow as he lies motionless on the bed. 

“I… don’t think that’s gonna happen tonight.” You sigh as you toe forward and grab the end of his comforter, drawing it up over his body. “We’re both way too drunk. We probably… probably shouldn’t have…”

Adrian flops over to look up at you as you, essentially, tuck him in. There’s a note of hurt in his voice when he mumbles, “You regret it?”

You pause, staring down at his expression of confusion and betrayal. Do you regret it? You can’t deny that you hadn’t been hesitant to have sex with him for a litany of reasons- one being that you work with him, and another being that he’s a loose cannon on the best of days. Not exactly relationship material, you think. 

Or, you thought, but now he’s gazing up at you with these wide, dumbfounded eyes, and you’re tucking the comforter up beneath his chin, and he turns his face down and kisses your knuckle even though he looks mildly hurt. And yes, you liked the sex very much. You liked it so much that you can’t trust yourself not to do it again if you don’t shuffle off to your own bed immediately.

“No,” you tell him firmly, combing your fingers through his wet hair as you draw back. “I don’t regret it, but I think we both need to sleep this off.”

“Okay,” Adrian says quietly, his expression relaxing, but his arms come out from under the comforter and he reaches for you with grabby-hands. “Sleep with me?”

You catch one of his hands and give it a gentle squeeze. “G’night, Adrian.”

You hear him sigh in disappointment when you shut off the bedside lamp. His hands audibly plop down onto the mattress as he rasps, “Night.”

You wake from a dreamless sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning, and your throat is bone dry. Smacking at the nightstand a couple times, your phone manages to illuminate and tell you that the time is only 1:30. 

You blink sleep away from your eyes and try to see through the dark as you stumble into the combination vanity, closet, and kitchenette. You knew you brought a water bottle or two, it can’t be that hard to find-

“Hey, what’cha doing?”

You hardly even startle at this point. You’re slowly becoming acclimated to the idea that Adrian is just constantly awake and witness to your every move, which isn’t as disconcerting to you as one might think. “I’m looking for the water. Did you see where I put it?”

“Uhhhhh mini-fridge?”

You reach blindly under the counter and yank the little fridge open, once again smacking around until your hand lands on the shape of a water bottle. “You want some?”

“Yeah, you could spit it into my open mouth-”

“Adrian.”

“What? It would be fucking sexy.” Adrian grunts, and the light clicks on from the main room. Then, he wolf-whistles just before you straighten up from where he’d caught you, bent over in front of the fridge. “Y’know, I was right. You have a really great ass.”

You grumble a half-hearted thanks under your breath as you approach his bedside and thrust a water bottle at him. “I see you’ve sobered up a bit.”

He waves a hand at you dismissively. “Pshh, I wasn’t that drunk.”

“You were drooling all over your pillow.”

“Maybe I always do that.”

“Yeah, okay.” There’s a long pause, wherein you perch on the edge of your mattress and chug an obscene amount of water. Adrian watches your throat work until he, too, succumbs and lifts his bottle to his lips. 

An uncomfortably heavy silence settles between you two, only permeated by the quiet sipping of water and the cheap motel AC unit kicking in. It’s entirely unlike him to be silent and still for more than a couple of seconds, but he’s just sitting there looking despondent and running a hand back and forth over the white comforter, periodically lifting his bottle to take another drink. He doesn’t even really look tired, and you wonder if he ever got to sleep in the first place.

You know that the tension in the air is so thick because you have yet to address the giant fucking elephant in the room; and to address it is to have the most awkward and intimate conversation you can possibly imagine with Adrian, of all people. As much as you love his sense of humor, the idea of baring your soul to him is almost enough to have you running into the bathroom again, and locking the damn door this time.

But, in true Adrian fashion (because damn it all to hell if he ever lets something be), he beats you to the punch. “So, are you? Sober now, I mean.”

You chew your lip again, and reopen the gash you’d put there before. “Yeah. I am.”

He nods, pursing his lips as he looks down at his lap. He was right, his hair does dry… well, not weird, but just rather unruly if he goes to bed with it wet. Dark curls stick up at odd angles, a cowlick on the back of his crown standing straight up and begging you to come over and smooth it down. More curls fall across his forehead and nearly touch the top of his glasses. He blinks slowly, and severe shadows from his lashes cross his face in the golden light of the bedside lamp. You snap your gaze away, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“So… was that a lie? About just needing to sober up?”

Your thumbs twitch on your bottle. To tell the truth, or to lie? You feel like your mouth just stays dry, no matter how much water you drink. “Look, Adrian, I-”

“Also, I have, like, no pride and a ridiculously thick skull, or- or whatever Peacemaker calls it. So, you don’t have to beat around the bush or anything for my sake, you probably won’t even hurt me-”

“Adrian, I like you too fucking much, don’t you get it?” 

That fully shuts him up, and he locks his jaw as he fixes you with a startled look. You suck your bottom lip through your teeth, perturbed at the taste of blood still apparent on it, and dig your heels into the carpet. 

“The last thing I want to do is hurt you. You’re… one of my closest friends, all right? But I’m afraid that if we keep going like this, I’m not going to want to be friends anymore. And I think I’ll fall in love with you really quickly, and that might be a really bad idea for both of us. You just…” You shake your head, your voice dipping in volume as you stare bashfully down at your feet, “you have no clue how much I want you all the time, baby.”

“Why would it be a bad idea?” he asks you plainly.

“What?” You pick your eyes up off the floor to squint at him, finding him staring at you challengingly, a flush already on his cheeks. 

“I mean, honestly. Name a single reason why it would be a bad idea. Bet’cha can’t.” Adrian throws his empty water bottle across the room, and it makes a gentle tap against the side of the television before skittering to the floor. “I think we’d fuck like rabbits and then I’d wake up every morning and make you pancakes, because I’m really fucking good at those, but you’d have to make the eggs because I always burn them. And I think we’d kick ass together as a cool superhero power couple, and I’d carry your gun for you if you got tired, and I could show you where all my hidden knives are. And you could also do anything you wanted to me, like any time, and I’d be totally fine with it and probably also turned on by it, as long as you call me baby like you just did.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m super hard right now. Probably should’ve warned you, I have a thing about that-”

“No, smartass, I mean are you serious about the other stuff?” You tilt your head at him. “I never really took you for the domestic sort.”

“Tsch- yeah! I’m, like, super domestic. I’m like one of those domestic...ated... cats?” He trails off as you step forward and crawl onto his bed, up his legs to straddle his lap.

“Cats?” you repeat with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m… I…” Adrian’s eyes flick across your face, down to your shirt and bare thighs on either side of his, your knees pressing the comforter taut across his lap and (very prominent) erection. “I don’t know, I have trouble thinking when you’re on top of me-”

Nodding, you reach forward and take his glasses by the wire earpieces, and pull them from his face. He goes stock still, his lips parted in awe as you slide them onto your own face, and give him a sweet smile. “I like your glasses. They look good on you.”

“They look good on you.” His voice cracks. “Can you see in them?”

You blink at him, and then turn your head to look across the room. “A lot better than I thought I would. I think our prescriptions are similar.”

“That means you can also wear my mask.” 

You look back at him, and find that he has his million-mile stare on, like he’s completely lost in thought. You smirk. “Do you want me to wear the mask?”

He blinks, and it’s like you’ve flipped a switch and turned his focus back on. “Uh… no. I mean, yes. Maybe later. I want to look at you.” His eyelashes flutter so fast you think he might take flight for a second. “You’re so fucking beautiful I could stare at you all day.”

“You can touch me, too. Don’t be shy.”

He practically vibrates with anticipation as his palms glide up your thighs, hot and big and just a bit rough. His eyes are everywhere at once; your lips, your eyes, your chest, your thighs, where your hips disappear under your oversized shirt. His fingers catch the hem, and he curls it between them.

“You should totally get naked, too. It’s super unfair that I’m the only one naked right now,” he says breathlessly, nodding the whole time like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“So, do it.” You shrug, trailing a finger up his chest. “Take it off, baby.”

Adrian fists the hem of your shirt and rips it in half up the middle with a loud tear. You gasp, shivering as the garment falls from your shoulders and leaves you in just your panties. “Adrian!”

His eyes are trained on your tits. “What? It’s not like you need it tonight, anyways, and tomorrow we’ll be home…”

“What if that was my only shirt?” you retort.

He looks up at you. “Was it?”

“Well, no-”

“Then there’s your answer. Now, can I go down on you? Because I’ve wanted to for a really long time and I think it’s super hot that you’re wearing my glasses so it’s like I’m watching myself eat your pussy.”

He has such a hopeful expression on his face that you have to hold in a manic string of laughter as you nod at him. “Yeah, sure. Are you going to tear up my underwear, too?”

“No, I wanna keep those.”

“That makes perfect sense.” You shake your head before you kiss him deeply, and his tongue dips into your mouth as he rolls over with you, briefly getting tangled in the sheets before he roughly kicks them off. 

You run your fingers through his hair, snickering as he climbs between your legs and his hands deftly tug your panties down. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Depends on how incriminating it is.”

“I’ve never come from someone eating me out before,” you admit quietly, a blush furiously heating your cheeks until you fear that if you touch your face you might burn yourself. 

Adrian fixes you with a deadpan stare, and a slew of emotions cross his face before he lands on something relatively serene and says, “Okay.”

“Okay?” 

He nods and grins, like this is the most casual conversation in the world, and his green eyes bore into yours. “Yeah. You should probably, uh… hold on, though.”

You frown in confusion. “To what?”

He rocks back on his knees, picking up your arms by the wrists, and he very simply places your hands on his head, with a little smile that conveys, ‘it’s no big deal,’ but the tenderness with which he does it sends another message, altogether. Your fingers weave between soft, unruly curls, your fingernails digging in just a bit when he lowers himself down between your thighs, and you come to the conclusion that this is just how he is. Tenderness, closeness, hidden behind casual sighs and dismissive shrugs.

You’re learning. Slowly. 

His breath finds you before his lips do, where you’re wet and swollen and slippery like you haven’t been touched in your fucking life. But he has once already, and still his mouth feels like a searing hot brand between your legs. In fact, you nearly jump out of your skin at the first brush of his tongue through your folds, your hands tightening on his hair and tugging as you buck your hips up against him. 

Adrian grasps your hips and slams them down against the mattress. Sometimes you forget how fucking strong he is. His slight frame really doesn’t give justice to the force behind those lean muscles, because he holds you in an iron grip that you can hardly wiggle out of. It makes you feel small, in a way, that he holds you hostage to his tongue and won’t let you move away from or towards him. 

A long, miserable whine rips out of your lips before you can stop it, and you could blush at how pathetic it sounds, except that Adrian mimics it with a groan against your cunt. Your head is flung back against the pillows, but when you just barely tilt up to glance down at him, you find his green eyes trained directly on you. They start off wide as moons, and then narrow like he’s challenging you to look away as he drags the flat expanse of his tongue slowly over your clit, curling the tip just as it skims the mark.

“Oh, fuck you, Adrian, you’re so fucking good,” you grit out through clenched teeth. Your nails dig into his scalp and he shudders, briefly nuzzling his head up into your touch before he dips down to give you his tongue again. Your breath hitches, and your eyes flutter shut when he sucks on your clit long and hard. “So… s-so good… good boy…”

The moan that Adrian makes is overtly pornographic, and his hips snap once against the mattress so hard that the bed shakes beneath you. He breaks away from you to rest his forehead against your thigh, squeezing your hips tightly in his hold as his hot breath billows across your sweat-damp skin.

You loosen your fingers in his hair to stroke it softly, subconsciously struggling to flatten the cowlick at the back that you’d noticed earlier. Adrian’s eyes are squeezed shut, his shoulders heaving while he tries to steady his breath through his nose. “Did you just come?”

The tips of Adrian’s ears glow pink. He gives you a little nod and then a feeble, “Couldn’t help it.”

So, he can’t just take his praise in stride, he has to react to it with fervor. “That’s really sexy of you,” you blurt out, your voice ragged and just this side of adoring. 

He returns with a quiet mmm, rumbling across your skin as he drags his open mouth along the sensitive flesh of your thigh, his eyes drowsily shut. It takes him another moment to catch his breath, but once he does, he’s right back at it again. Dipping his head down and absolutely going for it with no signs of letting up, and you have to suck in a deep stream of air and scramble for a hold on him somehow.

“Oh- oh my fuckin-g god-” your voice comes out without thinking, wrung thin and anguished, as your foot plants itself in his shoulder. Adrian simply grunts, paying no mind to the fact that you’re effectively kicking the living shit out of him as he sucks so hard on your clit that you threaten to break his vise-hold on your hips.

He was right that you needed something to hold onto, because you feel like you might leave the ground. He works at you relentlessly, devouring you with his lips and tongue and teeth like he can’t get enough of you, his fingertips pressing so hard into your hips that his nails are turning stark white. 

“Fuck, you’re so squirmy,” Adrian groans when he pulls away from you for half a second, and struggles to hold you down when you try to chase his mouth. “Should I tie you down?”

“Do you have anything to tie me down with?” you mutter breathlessly toward the ceiling.

A beat. “Nope. Stay still.”

You fight not to jolt as the next touch of his mouth on you. He dips his tongue into your channel, seemingly trying to draw your arousal out of you that way. You start whining when he finally nuzzles his way back up, giving you soft, teasing licks to your clit that edge you closer and closer to the release of the swell of heat you feel building in your core. Your volume turns up a notch when his tongue starts drawing little circles around the swollen flesh. 

And when his lips come down to latch onto it and gently suck, you know you’re just shy of howling. His soft groans vibrate onto your skin as you scratch at his head and pull on his hair, and you eventually find yourself babbling, “Adrian, please, I’m gonna come, please pleasepleaseplease-”

He sucks harder, moaning like it turns him on just to hear you say it. You heave a few rapid breaths, and then come against his face with a cry that crackles and breaks in your throat as your head arches back, baring your neck forward. Your heels digging into his back, hands scratching, hips flailing like you can somehow escape the barrage of hypersensitivity he’s putting you through.

You really fucking hope no one is in the room next to yours.

His fingertips stick to your skin once he releases his grip on you. He’s practically glowing, grinning from ear to ear at you from between your legs, and it’s a better image than you had imagined. 

You drop your head back with a breathless chuckle. “Okay, Mr. ‘I Have No Pride.’”

“I made you come,” he chirps happily.

“Yeah, you did. It was really good, too.”

“So, why didn’t anyone else?” Adrian pushes his head toward your touch when you stroke your hand gently through his hair. 

“I dunno. They weren’t applying themselves, I guess.”

“That’s stupid. You’re, like, the hottest person ever. Hotter than Doja Cat,” he grumbles petulantly, and you can tell by the look in his eye that he’s dead serious. “Want me to kill them? I should kill them.”

“No.” You trail your fingers down the curve of his face, going for his chin, but he turns his face and sucks your two fingers into his mouth before you can manage it. You stop dead as the pad of his tongue swirls around the digits, and he blinks up at you innocently, despite the lewd connotations of the act. “N-no, I… hhhhh… you’re distracting me.”

He bats his eyes at you, and he slowly pulls back along your fingers until they pop out of his mouth, covered in saliva. “How am I distracting you?”

“You’re- you… you little shit.” You grab him by the chin and draw him up from between your legs. He clumsily crawls up the length of your torso with his cheeks smushed between your fingers as you hiss, “I’m going to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you, I swear to god.” 

“You know, that sounds slightly menacing when you say it like that,” he slurs, his jaw working against your hold. 

“On your back, Chase.”

He grabs you before you can protest, and rolls back over so that you plop down on top of him, your hand still jammed up against his jaw. A blast of air comes out of your lungs in lieu of laughter, and Adrian snorts, shuffling his hips so that he moves back against the pillows.

“Okay, look, I really really really like you,” he says as you pick yourself up, straddling his lap, “but if you’re too good at this I might accidentally fall in love with you. Just to let you know what you’re getting into here.”

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Yeah, and I think I might actually, um, ask you to move in with me, like, immediately. Like tomorrow. Do you rent or own? Doesn’t matter, I can put your name on the lease. Maybe if you own a house it can be income property-”

You cast your eyes down and find him, remarkably, hard and leaking precum as he continues babbling about living situations. You tilt your head, letting him get his stream of consciousness out there in the open, as your eyes catch on a dark wad of fabric beside his pillow. Your underwear, which he’d gingerly set aside instead of tossing across the room like you thought he would.

“Hm, Adrian?”

He blinks up at you, his eyes wide and dilated. “Yeah?”

You pick up the wadded up underwear. “You wanted to keep these, right?”

He licks his lips. “Um. Yes.”

“Hold them for me, then.” You grab his jaw and stuff them in his mouth, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he makes a noise of protest, but then actually moans when, presumably, he tastes you on them. “You’re so fucking cute, I haven’t even tied you up. You just want my taste in your mouth, huh?” He nods. “Yeah. Pretty boy.”

He predictably moans again, his hands grasping at every part of you they can reach; your arms, your breasts, the expanse of his palms gliding down the curve of your waist and settling on your thighs. You grab one, lifting it and settling his palm against your throat.

“Hold this for me, too?” You ask him sweetly, giving his bewildered expression a devilish smirk in return. You rock forward, sliding your dripping pussy along his erection, and his hand tightens on your throat just a bit. “That’s it.”

You pick your hips up, reaching between your legs to position him where you want him, and when you sink down onto his cock, the underwear in his mouth does nothing to muffle the obscene groan that he makes. His hand flexes on your throat, and his eyes close and open a few times as he tries to maintain a certain amount of control. Something tells you that he’s not really used to taking it lying down. 

You’re already decently sore from the way he effectively fucked your brains out in the shower. This is just ensuring that you’re going to be feeling it for the rest of the week, but you can’t help yourself. You take him in all the way, making agonized noises the entire time, and then jolt your hips down a little more so you can feel him bottom out. 

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re something else,” you snarl down at him, and his eyes go wide again as you squeeze him, every bit of your aching strength bearing down onto his cock until he whines loudly through the fabric and his fingers tighten on the sides of your throat. “Oh, god, I could ruin you. You could ruin me. I want you to, it would be so easy for you, I wouldn’t even be able to walk in the morning.”

And you’re moving, picking up your hips and letting them fall back down in slow, deep strokes that have him writhing, his free hand in a death grip on your thigh. You raise your hand to press against the back of his on your throat, your fingers weaving in between his, and he flexes them back a bit to make room. 

Even when he’s gagged, he’s noisy. Keening and grunting at you, his jaw tightening every once in a while and the tendons of his neck jumping out at you when your hips meet his. Dark curls hang down his forehead, damp with sweat, and you can’t help but feel like the shower was useless.

No, not useless. It brought you here.

Adrian bucks his hips up suddenly, meeting you halfway when you take a particularly long time on the downstroke. You gasp, tightening your hand on his, and your nails dig into his chest. 

“Oh, you want me to ruin you, don’t you?” You murmur at him, baiting him to do it again. And he does, just like you hoped he would. You pick up the pace in retaliation, letting the lewd sounds of your skin hitting his fill the room. “Silly boy, I knew you would.”

He whimpers, blinking up at you slowly, his face screwing up and tightening in earnest when you rake your nails up and down his chest. He makes a couple pathetic, weak groans in the back of his throat like he wants to convey something to you, but he’s not reaching up to remove your underwear from his mouth.

(You wonder if he even remembers that he can.)

“You gonna come for me?” you ask as his whimpers increase in volume. His cock is so hard, twitching and dragging thick inside you, and his chest jumps with every desperate, ragged breath he takes. “Yeah, you are. Go on, baby, make a mess.”

Adrian gives you a curt shake of his head, and paws at your thigh for a second before his hand slides forward, and his thumb touches your clit.

“Oh fuck, Adrian-” you lurch forward, pressing your throat hard against his palm, your legs seizing up on either side of his hips. He makes you come again with a single fucking touch, and it burns through your core like fire, almost more satisfying than the first because you’re able to feel him inside you this time, something warm and hard and thick to come on.

Apparently, that was all he needed in order to let go. His back arches a bit as he jerks his hips up into yours, and he fills your pulsing cunt until his shallow breaths rattle in his throat, his eyes squeezed so tight that you see a tear collecting in the corner of one. He lays with his head driven back hard into the pillow, whimpering and whining like he’s been mortally wounded. 

Too sore to move just yet, you pull his hand away from your throat and kiss his palm. Adrian’s eyes flutter open, and he finds you with a glazed-over stare, like he might either see you or see through you. Still letting out soft whimpers with each harsh exhale. 

“Oh. Sweetheart,” you giggle, and reach forward to pull the wad of underwear from his mouth. It comes out with a long string of his spit attached to it, and you give him a cheeky smirk as you break the string with your finger and lick it off, rather than wiping it on your skin. 

“You… you’re…” You swear his eyes nearly roll back in his skull before he closes them, trying to collect himself. He takes a deep, long breath, and then splutters, “Willyoumarrymeactually?”

You give him your biggest, goofiest grin, a little bubble of laughter wedging itself deep in your chest. “Get a little more whisky in me, and we’ll see what bright ideas I have then.”

“Okay.”

You lift yourself off of his softening cock, and the release comes with a dribble of his cum sliding down your thigh. He groans, but with one look at him you know that there’s not going to be any more action for the rest of the night. 

You shift to the left, and his hand smacks down onto your thigh. “Mmmm no, you sleep with me.”

“Yeah, obviously. But you came all over the sheets earlier, genius.”

“Oh.”

He takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes in time to see you taking his glasses off. You blink a few times, your eyes having adjusted to the slight difference in your prescriptions, and refocus on his face to find him gazing up at you adoringly. 

“I’m gonna take a guess and say you don’t sleep in these, too?” You wiggle the glasses at him. 

He licks his lips. “No, not… not usually.”

You set the glasses on the bedside table, and then slowly slide off of him, off the bed and onto shaky legs. You take his hand and tug just a bit. “C’mon, pretty. Into my bed.”

He follows your lead without a fuss, making the two step journey to the other bed and plopping down face-first. 

“D’you wanna get pancakes when we wake up?” he asks around a yawn as you nudge his ass, prodding him to scoot over. 

You nod furiously, even though you know he can’t see you as you switch the light off and climb in beside him, curling up against his warm back. “Pancakes sound fucking delicious.”

“Not as delicious as your pus-”

“Adrian.”

[heartoftheserpent]

Awake in the middle of the night thinking about Harry and Sirius and for once I’m not complaining about the writing I genuinely think this is one of the best and most striking and poignantly written relationships in the whole series

- neither of them have any real reason to immediately trust each other as they do

- Harry doesn’t have a good relationship history with parents; the Dursleys were awful, obviously, but his other interactions with parent figures have very much colored inside your lines, so to speak.

- Dumbledore cares, but at this point (book 3) he and Harry aren’t really closer than a typical Headmaster and student.

- Molly and Arthur care, but they very much stay in their lanes; even after knowing Harry’s guardians starve and confine him, yes they write to Dumbledore and ask if he can stay more, but when they are told no, they don’t go out of their way to check up on him or even owl him during the summer.

- Hagrid is closer, but he mostly seems to trust that Harry can take care of himself. In fact, most of the time, their relationship is Harry helping him, not the other way around, and Hagrid doesn’t seem to find that strange.

- even the first night they truly meet, Harry immediately agrees to live with Sirius despite having had one (1) intense conversation with him where Sirius was very much on the teetering edge of sanity, unclean, vicious, mysterious, and broken

- to the point that THAT VERY NIGHT, going to live with Sirius is a strong enough thought to summon a Patronus for him

- This instinctive and immutable trust and liking goes both ways - in a series that can often be mean spirited, I’m often struck by just how much these two LIKE each other

- Sirius’s devotion to Harry is something I see as weirdly overlooked by a lot of characters; the man not only spent twelve years in Azkaban, but broke out, and spends the rest of his life wholly devoted to Harry’s well-being. Living on rats, starving in a cave for a year, just to be close if Harry MIGHT need help

- this isn’t just how godfather/godchild relationships are written in these books, either. We have two other examples (Snape-Draco [EDIT: I forgot this was fanon lol] and Harry-Teddy) and while both seem affectionate, neither seem like “tear down the world and rip myself apart to keep you from harm.” Heck, Teddy doesn’t even live with Harry, and his parents are dead.

- this is what’s really getting to me today:

- all the characters involved seem to see the Harry-Sirius relationship through their own perspectives so strongly that they miss important features of it (again, this is a writing element I really like, and haven’t seen mentioned much if at all)

- Hermione sees Sirius as well-meaning but perhaps not to be listened to…. Which is how she treats her own parents tbh, fine with not only ignoring their authority but also their autonomy if she thinks it’s necessary

- Ron seems to think of him as a fun/cool older brother. He’s the only one who comments on Sirius being so dedicated as to live in a cave and eat rats, but his astute comment is, “he must really like you, Harry.”

- Remus (in my opinion) seems to view their relationship as the same as his own with Harry - I.e. “friend of your parents who cares but in a normal way with normal boundaries”

- Molly famously does not think highly of this relationship, and I do think that says a lot about how she thinks you should treat Someone Else’s Child.

- except Sirius doesn’t treat Harry like he’s someone else’s responsibility, he’s the most involved parent we see in the series, up to and including the Malfoys

- This is more striking when you pair it with the insouciant playboy vibes he had as a young man!!!

- I honestly wonder whether even James and Lily would have been surprised at the level of devotion he shows. Would they have expected that from him? Would even they be impressed? Would they have joked about making Sirius the godfather when he was the reckless, feckless, fun-loving one, and have marveled at the way he stepped up to the plate?

- the trust, respect, liking, and devotion goes both ways!!!!

- Harry never doubts that Sirius has his well-being in mind (we’re going to set aside a couple of hate crime writing moments in ootp)

- in GoF, when his scar hurts, he remembers that he can write to Sirius and he’s thrilled. He trusts Sirius’s advice completely even after meeting him once. And when that letter results in Sirius coming back to England, he immediately lies and tries to send him away for his own good. And Sirius’s response? “Nice try.”

- They already instinctively know and trust each other, they’re already both acting out of care, no one has ever stepped up like Sirius and Harry RESPONDS to that so beautifully

- this continues in ootp with Harry not hesitating to risk his life to save Sirius; Hermione points out (accurately) that Sirius wouldn’t want him to. It doesn’t matter. This is the only person who has ever loved him fully and unselfishly.

- And of course, that winds up in the opposite, with Sirius sacrificing himself for Harry instead, and Harry having to watch

- This is easily the most traumatic moment in the whole series for Harry, culminating in his meltdown in Dumbledore’s office and severe depression and malaise at the beginning of HBP

- idk i just can’t stop thinking about them

- About how it’s the closest, most fiercely loving parent/child relationship in the whole series and all the other characters fail to see that based on their own biases

[everythingisromant1c]

p2: three reasons why you can't stand co-star!james potter

co-star!james potter x actress!reader

summary: you were finding the first days of shooting your new TV show to be absolutely amazing, aside from the fact that you absolutely could not stand your co-star James Potter. unfortunately for you, you spent enough time around him to narrow down his most irritating qualities to only three:

a/n: hey so this took waayyy longer than i would've hoped to release, but i promise this series is not going anywhere, so tysm for all the loveee and all ur guys' patience <33

also pls pls pls feel free to send in prompt requests for this series i am so all ears

full series: Trouble in Hollywood - masterlist

1. He was insufferably good at his job

You wished you could say working with James Potter was such a challenge because he was simply bad at his job. But the thing was: he wasn't. It turned out he was really the impeccably good actor that your director Minerva seemed to swear he was, as if the talent truly was seeping through his veins. Somehow, that only made working with him more frustrating to you.

"Aaron, you've got to believe me."

James had come to you during the middle of hair and makeup and asked you to rehearse lines with him even before official rehearsals for the day's shooting began, saying it would make him feel more prepared. And, as much as you hated it, you felt the same. Your only regret was thinking you'd be able to stand him and his arrogance before seven in the morning.

"Why should I, Cassidy?"

The brunette responded to you fully in character, leaning back against a nearby vanity with his long legs crossed in front of him as you sat in your cushioned chair. He apparently got out of hair and makeup in under a matter of minutes, looking effortlessly put together with his curls hanging perfectly over his forehead—you didn't have the same luck. Your lovely makeup artist Mary seemed to be unbothered by the interruptions, continuing on with your makeup as you rehearsed your lines, though you caught her amused smile every once in a while from her reflection in the mirror.

"Because..." you began, trying to stay in character as your brain scrambled for your next line.

"You're supposed to say," cut in James, "'-because we can only trust each other right now.'"

"Please stop telling me my lines, James." You repeated the irritated request you'd uttered all morning to him as you put a tired hand to the bridge of your nose, one that Mary moved away hurriedly.

"Watch your makeup," she pleaded with a powder-filled brush to your nose , and you winced apologetically.

"Did you just want me to stand here and wait for you to remember them?" James's voice poked at you irritatingly as you stared up at him from your seat.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want." You fought from rolling your eyes. "You could at least give me a second. I didn't even ask for my line."

He raised his brows with an acquiescent sigh. "Whatever the lady wants."

Ignoring him, a skill you were growing like a muscle, you cleared your throat in focus, trying not to move too much as Mary blended some product on your neck. "Because we can only trust each other right now."

James quickly jumped back into character, right on time. "That didn't mean anything to you the other night."

"I already told you I'm sorry for that. When I heard all the rumors, I ..." you cursed at yourself as your mind drew another painful, embarrassing blank.

"-I didn't know what to think." James looked anything but guilty as his voice met your ears once again, finishing your line for you without fail.

"James!" You glared at him, doing your best to stay out in your chair and not storm out of the trailer he'd so brazenly infiltrated. You shook your head to yourself through your reflection in the brightly lit mirrors . "You're impossible."

James shrugged innocently. "I don't get why you're mad at me for trying to help."

"I'm not."

He scoffed, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. "So is this what you look like when you're happy with me?" The corner of his aggravating lips lifted along with his shoulder in a small shrug, before turning away again. "Isn't very much like how I've pictured it."

You didn't miss the way Mary let out a small breath of laughter from her nose as she switched over to doting on your hair. You gritted your teeth.

"I mean, I'm not mad at you for helping. I'm mad at you because you're annoying."

He crossed his arms defensively, his lips still quirked up, and you fought against the urge within you that had your eyes following the movement of his biceps. "I'm annoying?"

The feigned disbelief in his voice snapped your back to your right mind.

"Yes," you answered plainly. "You and your posh accent."

Maybe you'd stopped making sense, but it was too early for you to care. James was watching your meltdown with what you could only identify as merriment, his unfortunately unignorable presence taking up too much space in the cramped makeup trailer.

Thankfully choosing to ignore the part about his accent, he put up his hands innocently. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who keeps forgetting their lines."

"We just got the updated script for this episode last night." You shifted in your chair to face him, and you heard Mary wince from behind you, probably getting fed up with how much you were moving around, though you were too annoyed to stop yourself. "How the hell are you already off-book?"

James shrugged smugly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned forward. You squinted your eyes at him. "An actor never reveals his secrets, love."

You twisted your mouth in disgust at his words—because you definitely felt something as he said them, whether it was disgust or not you didn't want to think about—and probably only made him more satisfied. "Mary," you groaned, looking at her through the mirror in front of you. "I think I'm going to be sick."

She shook her head and gave your reflection a sharp look back. "Not in that freshly ironed shirt you're not."

You sighed, settling back into your chair and sparing another glance at the man to your right. He tipped his head at you, almost tauntingly, and you felt your jaw tighten. It was going to be a long day.

2. Everyone else seemed to love him

You'd been going about your Thursday innocently, filming scenes when called upon—finally having memorized all your lines properly—and somehow getting through the morning without any irritating interactions with your least favorite person on set at the moment. That good feeling, of course, could only last so long.

"What's this?"

Minerva, your director, had been walking around set with you until you both stopped at the sight of a crowd forming outside one of the sets. You followed her, making your way through the crowd of your fellow actors and crew members until you were met with a nauseating sight: James Potter.

At the sight of your director, his already proud smile grew to a beaming one, almost blinding, as he greeted her. "We've all been really busy with this week's filming schedule, Minnie, and you mentioned what a hassle it's been ordering enough food for everyone every day with our budget, so I pulled some strings and got my family's chef to cater our lunch."

Your jaw slacked as he nodded his head to his left, where a number of tables were set up with what looked like pizza ingredients, a moustached-man in a chef hat standing behind the scene proudly. You couldn't believe your eyes. Apparently, neither could the woman next to you.

"Oh my- James this is ... amazing!" Minerva—or Minnie, as James somehow had grown accustomed to calling her—turned to your co-star, expression as bright and beaming as James's crowd-pleasing smile was. "But you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble-"

"It was no trouble at all. Francis was more than happy to help."

He waved a hand at the chef, who you assumed was the 'Francis' in question, who nodded back at him happily with a pizza cutter in his hand. It was like something out of a movie, the way everyone clapped for James who stood at the front of the crowd like the beloved man he was. You felt sick to your stomach.

"What's wrong? Do you not like the pizza?"

You'd taken your lunch shamefully, making sure to hide your amazement at the endless selection of pizza toppings that James had arranged at the build-your-own-pizza station, and were sitting with Remus, who you'd met at auditions for the show and luckily got casted in a role other than one that'd gone to James, and Sirius, another one of your co-stars who you'd quickly become friends with since you spent practically all your time on set nowadays.

You looked up at Remus briefly before returning your gaze to the pizza in front of you, the perfect slice underneath the sun seeming to taunt you. "No," you grumbled. "The pizza's amazing."

Sirius chuckled. "You'd think you'd be happy about that."

"I would, aside from the fact that it was Potter who brought it in."

The black-haired man tipped his head at you curiously. "What's your problem with James again?"

You shook your head forebodingly. "Don't tell me he's brainwashed you both with his hundred-dollar pizza too."

"I doubt the pizza's that much money." Remus bit into the slice in his hand, talking through the bite. "But it is pretty delicious."

"It is," Sirius nodded. "It was pretty nice of him to cover lunch for the day. If anything, you'd think you'd like him more for this."

You groaned. "He brought in his family's private chef, for God's sake. It's not like he rescued a cat from a tree or something."

Sirius and Remus shared a look as you spoke. You knew you sounded ridiculous, but you currently lacked enough dignity to care as yet another slice of pizza sat on your plate, ready to be eaten.

"James is actually a really nice lad," reasoned Sirius. "Take it from us. We kind of grew up with him."

That fact had yet to escape you as soon as you'd met the two of them. According to the stories they'd relayed to you, Remus's mum had been an on-set tutor to James growing up when he was acting in some movie, while Sirius's parents had been producers for some of James's parents' films. Safe to say, the three of them certainly left you feeling inexperienced in the world of acting.

"James should be the least of your worries," urged Remus. "He's harmless."

"If he's so harmless, then why has he gone out of his way to be a pain in my ass since I met him?"

Sirius snorted. "We said he's harmless, not that he's not an idiot sometimes."

"But," Remus added, "whatever James has done, just know that it always comes from a good place. The man doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

You sighed inwardly. The James Potter you knew seemed to be very different from the one that everyone else seemed to be familiar with, and it was driving you crazy.

3. He was an obnoxious flirt

When you said 'flirt', you not only meant that he flirted with you—unfortunately—but that he seemed to flirt with anyone in sight, whether he realized it or not. In fact, you'd been forced to watch as he smooth-talked one of the hairstylists on set for the past ten minutes.

You couldn't hear everything they were saying, thank god, but you were sure she was probably more charmed by the fact that his last name was Potter than anything he could remotely come up with to win her over. You'd had enough conversations with him to know that the movie-star smiles he offered were enough to charm people before they realized just how insufferable he was.

After what felt like hours, he said something to the woman in parting and left her looking flushed and smiley as he strolled away. You sighed, happy to finally be rid of distractions, and looked back down at the script on your lap that you were trying to memorize but stopped almost immediately as you felt an unwelcome presence lingering from in front of you. You looked up and fought a groan.

James tipped his head at you innocently. "You wanted me?"

You tensed at his phrasing and did your best to go back to ignoring him as you focused back on your script. "I did not."

Not taking the hint, as usual, he stayed put, shoving his hands in his well-tailored pockets. "Well, you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes, so I just assumed you had something to say."

"Well, you assumed wrong." You gave him a tight-lipped smile from where you sat. "And I wasn't staring. I just miraculously found it hard to concentrate on memorizing lines when you were harassing that hairstylist right next to me."

He squinted at you quizzically before shaking his head, finding your banter more amusing than you probably were. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me."

You scoffed, blinking rapidly to truly portray your disbelief. "You wish. Reality is, Potter—I think I hate you."

James peered at you with a glint in his eye like he'd never heard anything more amusing, leaning back against the wall next to you. "You think?"

You shrugged tightly. "The jury hasn't come to a decision just yet." You thought back to the unfortunately delicious pizza he'd provided, and all the things that Remus and Sirius had said to you that stood in stark contrast to practically every other experience you'd had with him.

James grinned, finding teasing you the most entertaining part of his day, even on set for a TV show. "So I still have a chance?"

His eyes glistened and you reeled. "A chance to what? Did you not hear the 'hate' part?"

"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?"

You shook your head. "Strong, but appropriate."

"Ouch." He touched his hand to his chest in that dramatic way he always did, something you blamed on his actor roots. "Your words hurt, you know." You rolled your eyes, truly trying then to get back to memorizing your lines so James would have nothing over you during filming the next day, but he didn't seem to care. "Look, I get it. You said you hate me. But really, I don't think you do."

You sighed, setting your script aside as you looked up at him with finality. "And why is that, Potter?"

"Because," James began, and you didn't like the tease in his tone as he looked down at you. "A little birdie told me you had some say in whether or not they cast me in South Bay. And that you actually encouraged it."

Your lips parted, those words being the last ones you expected him to say after weeks had gone by since the chemistry read. You didn't know who'd ratted you out, but whoever did would be getting a stern talking to. Or a partially stern one, since they were more than likely your boss.

You shrugged weakly at him. "That ... that doesn't mean anything."

James's thick brow lifted effortlessly. "So you're not denying it?"

At his challenging look, you relented with a drop of your shoulders. "I'm not. It's true; I told Minerva I think they should choose you to play Aaron becuase you are good at your job, James. As much as it annoys me. I mean, you're clearly a great actor, you get all your lines memorized overnight, not to mention the entire crew is in love with you for some reason-"

"Oh, I see."

You paused, looking at the way James's slight grin turned into a shit-eating one. "What?"

He tipped his head at you tauntingly. "You're jealous."

You let out a laugh harsher than you meant it to be. "Please. There's nothing about you I could possibly waste my energy being jealous over."

The brunette tutted, and you hated the feeling it sent through you. "For such a great actress, you're not a very good liar."

You felt your breathing shallow for a moment, not knowing what to do with the compliment that flowed so easily from his lips like he hadn't given it a second thought. You pushed the thought aside, focusing on the insult part of his statement instead, and rolled your eyes.

"Look," James continued at your expression. "Jealous or not, we're going to have to work together on this show for God knows how many more months. Years even, if it gets renewed for a second season." The thought both filled you with excitement and dread as it came from James's lips. He looked down at you with an honest curiosity. "How much longer can you go on pretending to hate me?"

You noted that what he was saying was true, letting the words sit in your chest for a moment, but you also noted that you had more fun being petty. You tilted your chin up at him. "Funny that you think I'm pretending."

James put a hand on the table you were sitting at, leaning forward slightly and making you freeze up. "Funny that you're still not a good liar, love."

Your throat felt tight with something you wanted to again dismiss as disgust at both his proximity and the delicate word that fell from his lips. You let an unpleasant pinch form between your brows. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

James felt something warm, almost giddy, form in his chest, and it didn't matter that you looked like you were considering slapping him right then. He let the corner of his lips quirk up. "You're adorable when you're mad."

"Don't call me that either." You huffed, picking up your still un-memorized script and standing. "I'm going to my trailer."

James quirked a brow, following you with only his eyes. "Is that an invitation?"

You rolled your eyes, walking away and calling over your shoulder. "Absolutely not."

taglist:

@ilovejamespottersomuch @empath-bunny @santaasi @veysxrge @bitterspoons @ladyhestiaa @rorybear14

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I feel like in the early books Ron was not dumb and then JR kind of made him dumb later like she got influenced by the movies.

I kinda feel like this, too. Again, I'm not a mind reader, and I don’t know what JKR was thinking or what her writing process was, but that is the vibe I got too. I mean, even in boom 5, Ron is smarter and more capable than he is portrayed in books 6 and 7. But this feeds in to a lot of other problems I have with the final two books.

Something I noted recently when reading through book 5 again is that Ron was already the Keeper of Gryffindor's Quidditch team in year 5. Throughout year 5, Ron has an arc of getting more confident as a Quidditch player, and he gets a win at the end of the book. At the end of the book, he also sorta accepts that it: "can't get any worse". So, apparently, JKR trudged the same arc with Ron twice, once in OotP and once (but worse) in HBP.

And Ron isn't the only one who is dumbed down in the final books. The romances in HBP make all of them look dumber (Hermiobe included). It's like all of Romione's emotional intelligence (a staple of both characters in earlier books. Ron was always good at understanding how to talk to people and balancing Harry and Hermione’s moods while Hermione used to be great at analyzing other people's emotions) was thrown out the window in HBP for the sake of teen romance drama. (I know the emotional range if a teaspoon line is in OotP, but Hermione is wrong and frustrated that Ron doesn't seem to realize she has a crush on him. Again, retrudging arcs)

But Ron in DH is at his worst. Now, I can find watsonian explanations for that (the war, worry for his family, etc.). But doylisticly, it seems JKR was influenced by the movie portrayal the most when writing the final book. Hermione is toned down compared to her past, Ron is stupider, Harry is more book Harry than movie Harry, but he still feels off. The entire Golden Trio dynamic feels off for sections of DH (and parts of HBP to a lesser extent). All their plans are also kinda shit in a way they don't need to be considering they had time to plan for a change.

And we know the movies influenced her writing. Hell, even the twins height was influenced by the movies. In PS, Ron at 11 is said to be "almost as tall as the twins". They are repeatedly described as built like Molly and Charlie - "short and stocky" and yet, they are described as taller than Harry in DH, even though, Harry is the same height as James who is described as "tall". So I think the movies were definitely a contributing factor.

DH is the only book in the series Ron feels useless while Hermione is portrayed as amazing (even if she's not as perfect as her movie counterpart). It's so much closer to their movie dynamic than the books. But its not consistent. Some scenes are more similar to their book characters, while others feel oddly detached and like these aren't the same people. (I think JKR edited in some scenes later that were more influenced by the movies, including the battle of the seven Potters and a good chunk of the camping trip, if i had to guess).

It's all part of why I'm not a fan of Romione in HBP and DH. Ron feels dumber than he had up to this point. In the earlier books, his and Hermione’s banter was so good because they were both incredibly intelligent and respected each other so much. In the last two books, their dynamic just doesn't feel the same to me in a bad way.

So, I definitely feel like Ron was dumbed down in the final 2 books and had his arcs from books 4 and 5 get retrudged in 7 and 6, respectively. Which adds to him feeling dumber, I think. The fact we see things we already saw from him adds to him feeling stupider since he didn't really learn from his arcs. I feel JKR wasn't sure what to do with his character by the end. I feel she had the same problem with Hermione, as she doesn't really get an arc at all in DH. (Which is a shame, since I think she could've had an interesting arc in realising what she was willing to do in war, rather than give Harry that arc that wasn't there beyond one line from Lupin, since she was kind of primed for it. And I wish Ron didn’t get arcs he already had. I think Romione getting together in year 5 would've helped both their arcs).

Again, I can find watsonian explanations for all of this, and I do like the final two books. But I'm more critical of them since I feel there is more to criticise there from a writing standpoint, a plot and worldbuilding standpoint, and a characterization standpoint. (Especially as they come after my favorite books in the series: GoF and OotP)

[msbluebell]

How We Fall For People Like James Somerton

We're all joking, but this James Somerton thing has me really fucked up.

I wasn't a huge fan of James. I saw a few of his videos and liked them. In the ones I saw he was calm and explained things straightforwardly and even the one or two times he said things against white women...well, that's language I've been seeing on Tumblr since I joined back in my tweenage years. I thought it was just a dismissive joke pointing out a frank reality.

I didn't watch him too much. Just a few videos. I kept meaning to watch more, but I didn't because sometimes I wanted something easier. But I regarded him sell because of how informed he seemed.

And that's the thing, isn't it? He SEEMED informed. He spoke confidently and sometimes quoted queer sounding articles and I trusted him blindly. And why? Because he was giving me information that SEEMED well researched.

Illumanaughtii too. I WAS a consistent fan of hers before other youtubers came out. Because she presented information really well and I like hand drawn characters and because she read academic sounding quotes. I trusted her and her information was stollen. And I feel like a fool for ever having trusted her now, but at least her stollen facts were apparently accurate. Maybe.

James though, he straight up lied. Todd in the Shadows went through a lot of effort to expose those lies. He did so much research that I didn't bother to do. And he admitted he only did it because he happened to know people more informed than him that noticed the lies and went down a rabbit hole.

And maybe if I was more involved I would have noticed. But that's beside the point. what's getting me is I didn't bother to check myself, I just blindly trusted.

And the worst part is I can see why it happened.

I work.

I work, and then I get home, and when I get home I stress. I stress about work I have to do tomorrow, or classes, or finding a new job that actually pays a livable wage. And to escape that stress I go online to AO3, or tumblr, but especially Youtube.

Because I like youtube, I like to have noise in the background while I work. I like to listen to things while I read. And some of the time it's ASMR videos, or watching someone cook something. But mostly? It's history things or video essays.

And when I'm working, or reading, I'll hear a fact, and I'll look up, and I'll think "Huh, that's interesting to know, I didn't know that." And I won't think anything about it.

Because I'm busy, or I'm tired. I'm tired from work, and I don't want to do more work. Or sometimes it's mental health. This is my coping mechanism. I'm trying to learn things, do something to distract myself. I'm not looking to disprove things.

In other words I'm lazy. Or, if I'm being kind to myself, I'm tired.

Maybe if the topic was something I was an expert in I would have noticed. I'm a former ballerina, I'm a failed history major dropout. Maybe if he'd said something like "Holodomor never happened" or "Boudica is a Finnish folk hero" I'd have noticed. Maybe.

But he didn't, and I didn't notice. I assumed he did the work, and why?

Because surely a gay man wouldn't spend hours on youtube talking about Queer history if he wasn't passionate. Because he, a queer man, would surely know about queer history. Surely he wouldn't want to spread lies and hate. And he's quoting from books and articles so why wouldn't I trust him?

My trust was blind and unfounded.

And now I'm reeling from that. I'm reeling because I'm starting to feel like I can't trust a lot of people. How can I listen to any Youtuber casually now?

I can't, I never should have assumed I could.

Now every informative video feels like I need to do tens of hours of research just to be sure what I'm hearing is true. I feel like I can't trust anything unless I do.

James Somerton took my trust.

And it's not only that either. That's not what scares me the most. It's that there are THOUSANDS of people like me. Millions like me. Who are learning something from a video or a tweet or a tumblr post from someone they assume is an expert and are blindly trusting because they assume they can trust it. They don't intend to do their own research because they're tired, or don't know how. And that scars me. I was a history major, I studied tyrants and misinformation and the rise of propaganda, and I, with all my tools to notice, was still blind.

You cannot blindly trust a video, you cannot blindly trust a tweet, you especially cannot blindly trust a tumblr post.

YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO PROPOGANDA

[moistvonlipwig]

🔥

kara danvers :)

ok well you and i have discussed this at length so this will not be new to you but imco (in my correct opinion) kara danvers [as portrayed by the cw's supergirl, not necessarily in other versions] is actually pretty lazy, and i would argue this is one of her most central and consistent character traits. and i don't just mean physically lazy, although i should note that per 3.17 "trinity" she canonically Hates Walking and doesn't understand why humans exercise. i mostly mean on an intellectual & moral level.

kara wants to be a reporter, but when she figures this out (because......a pretty lady told her she should do it? ig?), she does not apply to journalism school, or take online classes. instead she is handed a reporter job by her boss (who scrawled 'reporter' on her hilariously terrible resume when they met for reasons known only to her) and from then on proceeds to basically just do whatever she wants and get offended when more seasoned reporters who have gone to journalism school ask her to do basic functions of the job like Acquire Sources and Report On The Facts And Not Just Your Personal Opinions. at no point do we really see her ask her colleagues, even friendly ones like james, for advice or help; instead, advice is something that's imposed upon her by the wicked snapper, who dares to be unimpressed by her uneducated slay. throughout the show, on multiple occasions, the idea of actually Doing Her Job seems to offend her -- lena even calls her out for this explicitly in 3.02 "triggers," but she continues to display this behavior with andrea in s5 & s6. in the finale, when she is promoted to editor-in-chief in an act of blatant cronyism that truthfully should prompt the entire catco staff to quit in protest, it is not on her initiative, nor due to her efforts, nor is it because anything about the position has piqued her interest; it is, again, simply handed to her, and she just accepts.

additionally, we rarely see her express meaningful curiosity about, well, any subject, really -- we know she learned calculus young, but her interest in math and science seems nil; she is deeply naive about the u.s. justice system in s6 in a way that suggests she has never looked into it, though her own mother was a judge on krypton; and a lot of her interests seem very Basic (pizza, potstickers [? why girl.], nsync, the wizard of oz, harry potter), which to be clear is not inherently a sign of intellectual laziness or incuriosity, but it also does nothing to suggest that she is someone with a wide knowledge of food, literature, music, or film.

she also demonstrates what i would argue is a kind of moral laziness, though you could call it an offshoot of her intellectual laziness, in her general lack of real self-reflection about, like, any of her actions. although some of the other characters sometimes bring up how messed-up the DEO is (e.g. james in s1 with the gitmo comparison -- which, CRAZY line to put in your show and then never address, btw), kara herself does not question it (until the Wrong People take over, of course). her rhetoric in early s2 about daxamites suggests that she is quite comfortable believing sweeping generalizations she was taught as a child and has never really sat down to interrogate them, but while mon-el being.....pretty bad but i guess not as bad as his mom? yay? inspires her to stop being bigoted against daxamites specifically, we will later still hear her say that certain species tend to be peaceful or aggressive, etc., with no self-reflection. in 3.05 "damage," when morgan edge tries to make it seem like lena's lead dispersal device that kara activated poisoned children, kara does not take the opportunity to self-reflect on the choice she made and whether it was worth it; instead, her arc for the episode is reacting emotionally to her best buddy feeling guilty (about the thing kara also did. i cannot emphasize that part enough).

i would argue the conclusion she draws in 5.13, too, smacks of this moral laziness; she spends the episode looking for a magic shortcut to not having to feel bad anymore, and when she can't find one, she decides that actually, meh, there was never a perfect way for things to go down, so all that lying wasn't such a big deal and lena should just get over it. kara is dripping with a lot of guilt in 5A, but throughout both 5A and 5B there's very little actual, thoughtful self-reflection on what she did wrong and why, and that carries over into S6 when, after like ten episodes of lena (and also william ig) repeatedly trying to tell her not to play god, she decides in the very penultimate episode to solve her problems by eating the sun, and then when she decides against it partway through doing it, there's again very little self-reflection on her part of why the hell she thought that was a good thing to do. kara's morality, on the whole, seems largely based on (a) alex and (b) vibes, and not so much on any actual thought she's dedicated to the moral questions at hand.

and similarly to when kara is asked to Do Her Damn Job at her place of work -- when kara is challenged on her morality (like when lena challenges her on the kryptonite in s3, or on myriad in 5.17), she acts annoyed at the very idea of having to do the hard work of thinking about the morals she espouses as a superhero. and it doesn't read as someone who has thought very hard about her moral choices and is offended because she believes so strongly that she's right, because we never actually see her thinking hard about these moral choices she makes at all. it reads as someone who hasn't thought about it beyond a very cursory level and is frustrated that she's being asked to. because, again, she's just fundamentally kind of lazy.

and the thing is this might sound like i am dunking on her but actually i think this is a trait that is incredibly funny. my favorite portrayal of supergirl/kara danvers is the one from the children's cartoon dc super hero girls 2019, whose version of kara is ALSO lazy, on top of being an aggressive, quick-to-anger, rude, irresponsible, selfish brat. and she's hilarious in that show, she's one of my favorite characters. another favorite character of mine, also a children's cartoon character, is anne boonchuy from amphibia, whose entire character journey is about learning not to be physically, intellectually, or morally lazy and learning to [school principal voice] Apply Herself instead. it can be incredibly fun to watch characters be lazy and incurious and self-centered, whether they change for the better or not. but it is a bit strange that some people act like kara is this super disciplined person who loves working out and loves learning and reads widely and is curious about everything and self-reflects on her own decisions and how she affects others to the point of obsession. i wonder if part of it is 'femslash same-character syndrome,' where people slap other characters' traits from other popular femslash ships onto each other. because the character i just described is adora from she-ra. who a lot of people think is similar to kara. except no. she's not at all. as evidenced by this whole write-up ☝️ lol. they're just both blonde and for some reason (#blondephobia?) femslash fandoms wanna act like all blonde girlies are the same. but they are not. #wakeupamerica.....

[dontwannaliv]

I don't know if anyone will agree with me, but hear me out. Not all of the Marauders characters are stunning. HEAR ME OUT. I'm not talking about the common headcanon of Peter being the least attractive of the group, I'm talking about skinny, lanky Remus with an awkward build and awkward face. The tall nerd with scruffy hair and tattered sweaters. I know that people like casanova Remus and hot sexy attractive Remus that smokes and is mysterious, I do too, to an extent. I think that because we are talking about a group of teenage boys, they're not all gonna be hot models. It makes them less relatable and more like objects, which really pisses me off. Remus isn't toned muscles and abs, he's skinny if not scrawny. He has the typical build of someone who doesn't play sports and spends all of their time studying, reading, playing guitar, writing, whatever you prefer. That's ok, better even. I love awkward Remus who's a smart, witty when he wants, kind of clumsy, agressive when nescessary, deeply insecure guy.

It's not just Remus. James is also not flawless. He is, afterall, a wild-haired boy that wears glasses. He's going to be imperfect. However, he will always be charming, kind, funny, caring etc. I mean he's James, it's the same way that Remus is more resposible or mature, it's just the foundation of their characters. Even so, don't think that James can't have deep internal flaws and mental health issues, those things can co-exist with all of his wonderful personality traits. But the level of attractiveness each one of them is held to is maddening. I really miss and would love to see more of awkward, lanky Remus and messy, flawed James. Peter, generally, is not part of this standard, with often being the "least attractive" in the group (he's not).

Sirius is another conversation. Because I truly believe he is a very attractive guy, but, he does have flaws. Like maybe he wouldn't look so good without his hair (that's genuinely the only one I can think of, referencing atyd). It's just the fact that Sirius is so attractive and knows this that is a big, huge, part of his character and without that he wouldn't have a lot of his distinct personality traits. His attractiveness though, and often headcanoned confidence, is usually a facade to hide his true feelings; which are anything but pretty. He's a messy, unhappy, confused person, AND THAT'S OK. That doesn't make him any less charming or handsome, that just makes him human.

Okay, I'm getting off track.

Regulus is also a victim of this. I read a fic recently where he was described as this gorgeous boy, not only by James but by other people as well. And good for him, but really? Come on. It's become such an important, prominent and common theme in a lot of the fics where they are all gorgeous. Like Regulus, in my mind, is skinny, has a severe face with sharp features and is gaunt and haunted by his internalized fear and grief. He's not a happy person and I think his looks reflect that. And I do recognize that a lot of these stories are told in the POVs of James, Regulus, Sirius and Remus where they are going to call the person they are in love with (wolfstar and jegulus) beautiful. I'm all for that, it's the kind of fluff I live for, but maybe instead of admiring their conventially attractive muscles or jawlines, they could admire their quirks and flaws?

It all comes down to humanizing them, because when I see all of these gorgeous celebrities and influencers showing me what "beauty" is, I don't also want to be fed that when I'm reading about my favourite gay wizards. I just want to feel like being mediocre is okay, I think a lot of people do, and that starts with things like this.

The girls are a COMPLTELY DIFERENT CONVERSATION. But while were here...

The girls are all beautiful. Yes, they have flaws but its a little different for them. Beauty standards for women are ridiculous and disgusting. So, when we desribe just how beautiful Mary, Marlene, Dorcas, Lily and Pandora are it needs to be not in a completely conventional way. It needs to be on the basis of personality and looks that are otherwise considered as mediocre. Like, maybe Lily is plus sized or Pandora has frizzy curls. Things like that, things that contradict disgusting standards.

However, I'm not saying that they can't be conventionally attractive either. It's for sure allowed because that still is beauty. Like Mary in atyd is very conventionaly beautiful with nice boobs and a nice body. BUT, this type of beauty needs to be paired with other humanizing features. It can't be her whole personality, whoever you're writing about. She needs to have flaws as well as beauty or what society views as "flaws" described as beauty.

Girls need that type of reprisentation of no matter how you look or are, you are beautiful.

So, that is my four a.m, rant about beauty and the marauders. For the boys it's all about humanizing them and showing that not only typically attractive people find love. And for the girls it's all about describing their beauty in a way that allows the girl reading it to feel reprisented and beautiful because of that.

So, yeah. Thanks for listening<3

Oh, and notice how I never called any of them "ugly" or "unattractive". That's because they are all beautiful to me.

[winters-on-the-wing]

Oh what you said responding to the ask about transphobia/bigotry I've been looking for the right way to describe it: hard to romanticize! Thats like the foundation of this fandom it seems. Everything is whitewashed and stripped down to its bare bones to be the most relatable and palatable shit! Complexity for this fandom is babying regulus and feeling bad because his brother (rightfully so) left home. Like cmon are we not capable of being deeper than that. We base everything on the most bland tropes like brother's best friend and grump x sunshine! Truly moving and deep literature explores people in 3d not the 2d shells of people that can be described in singular words/attributes that bastardize them and make them walking caricatures of people (eg; Marlene = lesbian, Mary = pretty, James = sunshine, remus = wolf, and so on) the best art isn't easily palatable! The movies that leave you feeling ill or uncomfortable (in the good way) for lack of a better word are usually some of the best films. I feel like even aside from the racism, sexism and other problems of that sort, this fandom just lacks depth? We gave ourselves full creative power over these characters and bastardized them and it makes me so sad. There are so many smart and deep people in this fandom and I wish their analysis and ideas about the fabdom were he more popular ones instead of the ones that are easy to romanticize. Let's see conflict, not everyone has to be friends, people can be complex and not completely bad or good. Make them have complicated relationships outside of ships. What are the odds of about 13 people (the most popular characters) ALL finding their soul mates in highschool??? Like u can have sm fun exploring these characters but noooooooo. Ok sry for rambling, I'm a yapper. I'll stfu now

no. don’t stfu. never stfu.

you are absolutely right and you really boiled down something i’ve always been frustrated with.

i’m an actor. it’s my JOB to take characters from text, to see words on paper, usually ONLY dialogue and stage directions, and create a person, a fully fleshed person with wants and goals and fears and a soul. it’s my job to use the clues that the canon text provides and make the character pop out of the page, to make them compelling, to make them HUMAN.

if it’s not human, who the fuck cares? i know i sure dont.

i don’t want to read about plastic robots as they go through all the tired, stale tropes. grumpy x sunshine, enemies to lovers, best friends brother. it’s all the same. it’s a formula. it’s spoon feeding. i’m not trying to hate on people who enjoy it but i just can’t imagine being satisfied with that. the barest touch of the surface level when there’s so much if you go deeper. so much more HUMANITY. so much more meaning.

i need grit. i need people with palpable flaws, people who don’t always get what they want falling into their laps when they want it, people who are IN THE WRONG. people who think bad things and do bad things and regret it, people who do bad things and don’t regret it. people who exist messily. people who make me uncomfortable to read about because they’re so like me and i have to face the fact that i’m not perfect.

i don’t want a perfect romanticized story where the little white boy gets rescued by the big muscular casanova. i don’t want a robotic generated formula where the perfectly placed lesbian couple get just enough sentences to be seen so that the author can feel progressive and inclusive and then the lesbians get shoved off and forgotten about forever.

what happened to authenticity? what happened to bringing a piece of your soul to the art you create?

again i’m not trying to tell people how to enjoy fandom. do what you want.

it just personally saddens me how hard it is to find work with that human spark in it. the spark of curiosity, of intrigue, of going deeper than the bare surface level. i love art that makes me think. why does nobody THINK while creating anymore? sometimes i just feel so alone in this, surrounded by plastic when i want to read and write and engage with work that was written with a beating heart so palpable that it can be heard between every word.

i wish fanfics and headcanons and concepts that were created with thought were more popular than they are, instead of the same bland thing being shoved down my throat every second of the day. i constantly get hated on in this fandom for thinking differently than everyone else, but why is individuality an enemy? im starting to think that i get hated on in this fandom for THINKING, period.

does that make sense?

maybe i’m pretentious. it’s highly likely i’m pretentious.

[iamnmbr3]

Your blog is a treasure on this website. Thank you for speaking up for what matters while still dedicating time to dissecting the series you love.  I wanted to ask you a question that blends both topics: I wanna talk about Tonks’ gender non-conformity and Lupin’s coding, and where JKR went wrong in later statements for both of these things vs. what we can garner from the books. I love your analysis style and would love to hear your thoughts on this. If someone’s already asked this before and I missed it, please link it, haha, I don’t wanna waste your time. Love

Wow. This is. So incredibly nice. I just sat staring at this message when I got it, filled with gratitude and warmth. Thank you so much for your kind words.

And thank you also for this great question! And for the chance to rant about what is, in my opinion, the most confounding and worst ship in the entire series - Lupin/Tonks.

(If you like this ship, that's fine; you do you. I've shipped characters who never even met. But for me, the way JKR wrote the ship did not land...and also felt like a course correct to "straightwash" two very queer coded characters into heteronormativity).

So first, let's talk about Tonks. With her short, pink hair and her tomboyish ways the coding surrounding her really lends itself to readings of her as queer/GNC. (And no this is not me saying there can't be straight cis gender conforming women with short pink hair so put down the pitchforks). She's also shown to be career driven, passionate about her work, not at all interested in being a house wife (and remember most of the women in HP seem content to settle down into traditional female roles) and seemingly not that interested in men at all. Not to mention the fact that she has a strong dislike of her given name and chooses to go by something less obviously feminine has created a lot of fodder for NB and trans readings. Also, sorry not sorry, but she canonically chose her own gender. I know that's not what JKR intended, but given the extent of Tonks's powers the reason that she is a girl is because she wants to be.

So that's Tonks.

Then we have Lupin. Who is. Extremely queer coded. I mean. The wolfstar coding. My god. Remember the bit in book 5 when he and Sirius spend like 15 pages just...staring at each other? It's a lot. I'm not even going to get into that in detail because there is just so much of it. I will say I personally see wolfstar as a deeply flawed and messed up ship with a bunch of toxicity (like the whole Marauders' dynamic tbh) and not as something fluffy and soft. I see Lupin as having been a bit infatuated with James (and having had a bit of a crush on Sirius too) while Sirius was deeply and obsessively in love with James and James alone (despite James being tragically straight). And then after James's death I can see them getting together and bringing all the baggage from their messed up Marauders dynamic into that relationship. But I know that's an unpopular reading of the ship.

Also, In a society where everyone tends to pair up to someone of the opposite sex and get married he is very single and not looking to mingle. And yeah, I know, there's the werewolf thing. But again. He doesn't seem that interested.

AND JKR made werewolves as a metaphor for HIV/AIDS which tragically has a strong history in the gay community. (The metaphor doesn't quite work since while people with HIV/AIDS pose no threat to society and do not in any way deserve their stigma werewolves are genuinely dangerous and can and will eat your child...but that's a different topic).

So that's Remus.

And now we get to the travesty that is remadora (again, no hate to the fans of this ship). Unfortunately, JKR became increasingly homophobic over the years which did not jive well with fans picking up on the queercoding of Tonks and Lupin and running with it. Wolfstar especially became super popular, much to her horror. So what did she do? She decided to shove the two of them into the most awkward romance I have ever seen. Every time I reread the books I look for some sort of buildup and there's just nothing. (Also, Remus literally has to be bullied into marrying her and then is immediately unhappy and tries to leave so honestly...if this was an attempt to beat the 'Remus is a closeted gay man' allegations it kinda backfired). It's so WEIRD. There's no chemistry between them. We never see them really interacting in a positive way "on-screen." Remus is also wayyyy older than her. They don't have shared interests. They are extremely different people. They never even seem happy together. AND as soon as they're together Tonks's character gets gutted and she just accepts the traditional feminine housewife role and is stripped of all her spunk and personality and forced into bland heteronormativity that ruins everything that was unique about her. I hate it so much. And it's SO obvious what JKR was doing.

But listen. I don't care what JKR says. In my head Tonks is alive and well and happily married to Ginny. Remember when Ginny canonically was like 'wtf is wrong with Bill? Who WOULDN'T want to marry Tonks instead of Fleur?!' C'mon. She clearly is down bad for Tonks. (Though also I think Fleur/Tonks would be HILARIOUS). After the war they both start comforting each other over having partners who clearly don't actually want to be with them and then a romance blooms. They even like the same music. It's perfect.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! First off I want to say this is one of my favorite tumblr blogs out there :) I’m sure it’s a lot of work but it definitely pays off with how easy it is to find a fic on here! I love the work you all do.

I’ve perused the #crowley’s-eyes fics quite a bit and am looking for more— specifically relating to Crowley having trouble with his vision. I have vision issues myself and it makes me happy to see that aspect in my favorite character.

Thank you in advance! 🫶❤️

Hi! Yes, we have quite a few posts on our #crowley's eyes tag. Here are some more recent fics to add...

Snake Eyes by DrHuggles_j (G)

It's difficult to keep from your book-loving angelic counterpart that Crowley, in fact, cannot read words that small on a page. Sure, he can read and write, but human text has a tendency to evade him at times, opting to guess or simply miracle the text to a readable size. He's kept the secret for this long, what's for the rest of eternity?

Your Eyes Hold the Stars by ForrestToffee (G)

When he fell Crowley was cursed with snake eyes. And sure, it made the first several couple millennia a little challenging until glasses were invented. But he didn’t really know what he was missing. But fast forward six thousand years, and fooling Heaven and Hell with their little body swap scheme unexpectedly gave Crowley the opportunity to see the world as it was meant to be seen. OR Crowley gets the opportunity to see his stars as they were always meant to be seen.

until the stars fall from the sky by theivytree (T)

The stars have always been one of Aziraphale’s favorite things about the universe. Millions of stars, thousands of planets, so expansive and beautiful. He remembers being in space, watching the nebula burst in an array of colors the angel had never seen before. Gorgeous was the only way it could be described in Earthly words. Or; Aziraphale and Crowley go stargazing on two separate occasions.

Bright as his eyes by HenlyesTales (G)

"What do you mean?". Crowley shrugged "Heaven destroyed most of them when I fell" Aziraphale stared at Crowley for a few seconds, "Crowley they’re all- they’re all here. Heaven didn’t touch your stars". -Or- Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in 35 AD, go on a walk together and Crowley realizes how much his snake eyes affect him.

Snake Eyes by Strummer_Pinks (NR)

Aziraphale pines over Crowley, unable to voice his true feelings for his friend. In other news, Aziraphale doesn't realize that having snake eyes, Crowley can't see in colour. Insanity at a sushi restaurant ensues.

The Crowley Collection by OverlookBrooke (M)

Aziraphale wasn’t an idiot. He knew Crowley enjoyed James Bond and botany and old cars. There were so many wonderful novels on these topics—Crowley really ought to try reading once and a while. (He could definitely learn to enjoy his hobbies and interests even better if he dug his nose into a book every now and then!) Aziraphale had to wonder, why wouldn’t he read? No matter. If he didn’t want to read, Aziraphale would collect books for him. Just in case he wanted to. No other reason. Right?

- Mod D

[linmeiwei]

Deconstructing Mr Darcy

My favourite character in all Austen canon is Mr Darcy. Unfortunately, as soon as I say this, everybody is like

Because when I say this people think of this…

And this…

But that’s not why he’s my favourite character.

There is this famous quote by P.D. James in which she argues that Austen's Emma is like a predecessor of the detective novel, in the way that she sprinkles clues as to what's really going on with Frank Churchill.

And ever since, I've been reading Pride and Prejudice differently, because of course she does something similar there too.

Specifically, Austen constructs this elaborate character puzzle with Mr Darcy at its centre. Every time he and Elizabeth clash, throughout the novel, one of the central conflicts sparks up: what is Darcy really like?

Elizabeth’s early interest in him is often interpreted as sexual tension/latent attraction. I’m not saying this isn’t the case (you can argue about this). But what is evident is that her intellectual interest in characters is roused by him. Because, well, he really presents her with a tricky puzzle.

1) The mysterious man at the ball

When Elizabeth and her sisters go to the Assembly Ball at Meryton, remember, they go there to ogle Mr Bingley. He is the rich, handsome bachelor they hope to dance with when they get there.

But then they actually arrive and it’s someone else who has everyone talking. Mr Darcy. He’s the tall, handsome stranger who turns out to be much, much richer than Mr Bingley, and who gets everyone excited.

Who will he dance with?

Well, nobody because he’s like way too important to deign to notice any of them. He stoops to acknowledge that Jane, literally the most beautiful girl in the county, is somewhat pretty. But her sister is totally beneath his notice.

With this twist upon a twist, the author invites Elizabeth and the reader to abandon their first suspicion that he’s the hero and to consider him a little absurd instead. And this is a comic novel. By that point we have met multiple absurd characters, so we know this is what is to be expected from this story.

2) The cracks

The narrator hints that Darcy enjoys a good gossip with his friends and spends his free time dissecting the many ways in which the local women don’t interest him. Again, absurd, remember? Elizabeth is among the women he judges harshly, but as he sees more and more of her this happens:

So the reader is now invited to some irony which Elizabeth is not privileged to enjoy. But it’s all in service of the comedy, right? Because it’s more delicious for the reader to see the contrast of how much Elizabeth is wrong about what he thinks of her.

You, the reader, have a good chuckle with the author about this, don’t you? But while you’re laughing you’re MISSING A CLUE! And it’s right there: Elizabeth is wrong about Darcy. It’s lampshading the fact that she doesn’t really understand him at all.

3) The real deal

So then we get a little closer to Darcy. Elizabeth stays with him and his friends at Netherfield to nurse her sister. As Darcy continues to admire her, and as she continues to be oblivious, one evening he approaches her and this happens:

Again Elizabeth is wrong about Darcy, but here Austen adds another clue:

So… the guy who has the superpower of turning any normal situation awkward makes this super awkward situation… charming?

And then Austen adds some misdirection by immediately adding:

And we’re focusing on the irony that this guy is more enchanted with her the more she rejects him. And we’re a little amazed at how arrogant this guy is that he doesn’t see how much he is disliked at this moment. Almost as self-important and oblivious as Mr Collins.

And so we don’t see that… he’s nice? And I mean, an arrogant, self-important arse, as Elizabeth thinks of him, wouldn’t be nice at this point. He’d be wounded. He’d make it awkward. Importantly, he’d make it awkward for her.

It’s hard to get out of a situation like this gracefully. But he can. He knows how. He has that ability.

And this works as a bit of foreshadowing too, of course. Dancing and courtship are pretty strongly linked in Austen (and culturally in that era) and so his acceptance of her rejection in this manner lampshades his character as a lover.

But there’s so much more. That time at Netherfield is so rich in character studies, I feel like someone could write several PhD theses on that section of the book alone.

My favourite is the one that happens when Darcy and Elizabeth literally talk about characters. Miss Bingley asserts that Darcy is perfect, has no flaws. Elizabeth is delighted: this is just what she thinks Darcy thinks of himself.

Darcy says: No, I’m plenty flawed, thanks.

Elizabeth is curious now. Go on, oh prideful one, enlighten us mere mortals!

Darcy explains that he’s resentful, that he doesn’t forget or forgive easily.

Elizabeth has to admit that that’s a non-ridiculous answer. She’s disappointed, a little, because what good is that to her, since she wanted to have a good laugh at this expense? But he predicted as much and at the beginning of this conversation challenged her on this to preempt her making a joke of the whole conversation.

He wants to continue to be serious and this happens:

Again, Austen’s sleight of hand: when we first read this, it sounds more like Darcy is just a misanthrope who has a negative and pessimistic attitude towards people. That’s how Elizabeth hears it too.

But he tells us himself: that’s not what he means. Elizabeth (and the reader) is misunderstanding him. And he shows us, right away, by taking her jibe in good humour right then and there.

Multiple times, Elizabeth teases or attacks him, and he’s cheerful about it. He thinks it’s kind of funny. Bingley gets a shot or two in, and Darcy takes that on the chest too.

Austen manages to create this impression of him in the reader’s mind of a guy who is angry and prideful all the time, but when we review his actions, how often is this really true?

4) Darcy through the eyes of others

In many analyses, Elizabeth is blamed for being so easily taken in and so stubbornly mistaken in Darcy, but in all fairness, look at what she has to work with!

So much of what she learns about him is through other people, and so what she knows is filtered by their interests, skewed perspectives and compromised judgements. The fawning of Caroline Bingley and Mr Collins, the hatred of George Wickham, the deference of Mr Bingley, the lack of deference from Colonel Fitzwilliam, the way Charlotte views men, the way Jane always finds good things to say about anybody, her mother’s vulgar prejudice, all of it adds to a picture of absolute confusion. And the worst offender is Darcy himself, of course, because he stubbornly refuses to clarify anything about himself, partly because he can’t and partly because he just won’t.

Darcy’s stay in Hertfordshire culminates in this exchange, at the Netherfield Ball, between Darcy and Elizabeth:

5) Mr Darcy in love

Darcy really is a hard nut to crack, and in large part it’s because he makes himself hard to crack. The baseline here is pretty bad but it gets so much worse the more he loves Elizabeth and the more he is determined to hide from her.

Before, he just doesn’t care what people think of him. But now, he does care and he desperately wants them not to know that he has, annoyingly and embarrassingly, fallen head over heels in love.

Austen strings us along in this confusion until the absolute shock that comes with his proposal. Even though we as readers always knew more than Elizabeth did, and even though both we the readers and Elizabeth had tonnes of evidence and clues about Darcy and his real character, this twist comes as a complete surprise.

And because we, the readers, and Elizabeth, the protagonist, are surprised, we don’t notice another important clue. Darcy is also shocked. Like, we’re all sitting in this scene, aghast, amazed, shocked. We all came to this point following a trail of wrong clues, misdirections, misunderstandings and mistaken assumptions.

But what does this tell us about Darcy? Other than what he finally reveals through his letter, we learn that the entire time he thought Elizabeth:

Knew what she was doing, flirting with and encouraging him

Understood his prevarication

Expected a proposal

The poor man doesn’t come out of this looking good, does he? It makes him look really arrogant, self-important and big-headed. And to an extent, well, it is.

But there’s also another, kinder, reading to all this: that he’s someone who overthinks things.

There’s the conversation in Netherfield with Bingley where he deprecates those who do things rapidly as if it were a virtue. We know from other parts of the novel that he’s a bookish (he prides himself in his library), intellectual (he admires those who read), “clever” (in the narrator’s own words) guy.

Used to responsibility, used to being relied on to guide and advise people, used to solving knotty problems, Darcy approached his problem (loving a girl who is in every way beneath him) in the same way. He deserves a large portion of the smackdown he receives—no argument from me here. It does him good, later, as we all know. But when we revisit the novel, these deeper dimensions of his character become more apparent whenever we come to this moment: that Darcy’s flaws are not just the obvious ones here (pride, arrogance, lack of manners) but also shades of other traits of his.

6) A mystery to the very end

At this point, Austen begins to clear the mist a little. Darcy gets such a blow with Elizabeth’s rejection that our heart does go out to him, and then the letter explains so much, you begin to feel like he’s been wronged with our harsh view of him. We’re brought into his home, and so, slowly, we are shown that, yes, he’s sort of quiet and taciturn, and maybe his people skills aren’t exactly up there, but he’s actually quite nice, at least willing to try to be outwardly more friendly, but in essence he’s a kind person and a responsible landowner. Elizabeth begins to see that he’s rather attractive.

The reader and Elizabeth begin to thaw towards him. And then Lydia runs away, All seems lost. Wickham has been such a wicked force in Darcy’s life, Elizabeth has already tried Darcy to the edge of what any reasonable man would put up with and Elizabeth’s family exposes herself in the worst possible way.

What I love is that Darcy’s true character is always, always most visible through his actions. This mirrors the whole point of the novel of course: that we should pay attention not to impressions, superficialities (words) but to what people really are, and what they actually do (actions). So, Darcy doesn’t say anything, in fact he swears everybody to silence. He just does. He saves Elizabeth’s family in the most warm-hearted, generous and forgiving way possible.

Anyway, I could write books on this subject just because of how much there is to say, and this is but the tip of the iceberg, but I’ll leave off here. I just wanted to explain why I love Mr Darcy, the character, and why you should too. Not as a literary romantic hero, not as a literary crush but as a really interesting, beautifully written, complex character in his own right.

[darklinaforever]

Ok. I'm going to freak out. I'm watching a video that talks about the female characters in Harry Potter and their treatment and then we move on to Lily and so it drifts at one point to Snape saying that he didn't like James, because he's his boyfriend and that only he, Snape, deserves Lily ! WTF ? No ? Snape hates James because he was literally his torturer at school?! What the hell are you talking about ?! And then, for a guy who thinks he's the only one who deserves Lily, he really accepted the fact that she no longer wanted to be his friend. So stop talking stupid shit. I hate those who twist the facts about Snape to make him look worse. I'm sick of this bullshit. Not to mention that Snape is a blood purist who only saw Lily as an exception whereas... the guy was just indoctrinated into a cult in the end by horrible people who pretended to treat him well in particular. Literally, just because you're part of something bad doesn't mean you really buy into it. There is what we call indoctrination, which was clearly the case with Snape. The guy literally yells at a student, it seems to me at one point in the books for daring to say mud blood as a reminder. And then, I don't know, beyond his love for Lily which pushed him towards redemption, even if it was for her first and foremost, he still did things that really compensated for it. Being a double agent is no small thing. Working for Dumbledore is no small thing. Not to mention I don't understand the delusion of thinking that the fact that Snape still loves Lily and still mourns her is weird. Sirius and Remus are still mourning James too and I don't see anyone finding them weird for that. You have to get anti-Snape treatment after a while. It's like bullshit to say that if Harry had been a girl, Snape would have basically wanted to fuck her. Ridiculous. Ginny Weasley is basically Lily Potter's double and Snape doesn't really care. I'm tired of coming across Snape hatred even on a subject that isn't supposed to concern him.

[happy-mokka]

Crowley:

"You mean like a sudden rainstorm forces them together beneath the canopy. They look into each other’s eyes and realize they were made for each other."

Aziraphale:

"Sounds a bit unlikely."

Crowley:

"No, get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes, Va-voom! Sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis movie."

Said movie was "Four weddings and a funeral" from 1994.

Written by Richard Curtis. Directed by Mike Newell.

The 2 Va-voom! people were Andie MacDowell and Hugh Grant.

Me and my friend watched it today. We had planned that for longer, in fact, since Crowley had mentioned it, and she took notice of it while watching Good Omens (and reading several references of it on Tumblr afterwards.

I already knew the movie from when it came out in the mid-90s. I loved it back then. Goofy Charles plaayed by a young Hugh Grant. Today, I have to admit, I see it from a different perspective. Well, I've lived 30 more years, after all. I still like it, but from a different angle.

My friend put it like this, when the movie was over, and I have to admit she's absolutely right:

(Hugh and Andie find to each other and Va-voomingly kiss in the rain)

"Well, they deserve each other! They're both horrible!"

Yep. Let's be honest. They are. She hooks up with him twice, just to leave him behind like a rotten apple - the second time already engaged to horrible Scotsman Hamish.

He treated every single one of his ex-girlfriends like shit and has not even the guts to at least once after all these years to really apologize when he has the opportunity.

These 2 were the two mains in this rom-com and supposed to be the characters to sympathize with accordingly.

It just didn't work for me anymore.

Why I still like the movie, though, is for the great supporting characters and cast.

Charlotte Coleman as Charles' cute sister Scarlett.

James Fleet as Charles' deaf brother Tom.

Robin McCaffrey as Tom's future fiance Serena (learning sign language to be able to flirt with him 🥰)

Last but absolutely not least, Simon Callow as Gareth and John Hannah as Mathew. This adorable gay couple. Back then, in the 90s, this was still a very courageous take, having them in a major blockbuster in such a prominent position as characters.

For me, they're the main reason now why I keep coming back to this movie. Their acting and chemistry are brilliant, and the name giving funeral is so sad but at the same time beautiful and uplifting (if that's even possible).

Here it is:

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good."

(W. H. Auden)

Charles states after the funeral:

"Yes, it's odd, isn't it? All these years, we've been single and proud of it and never noticed that two of us were, in effect, married all this time."

Which brings me to this in the end:

Maybe such a thing as a Va-voom! moment exists. Maybe not. Waiting for it to happen will mostly likely make you miss lots of other nice things and especially people in your life. Sometimes, the most unlikely side-characters might, at some point, become your favorite people in the world if you get to know them. Don't always go for the prom king or queen. Talk to the geek and the outsider. The shy colleague in the back of the room. You'll change over time, and so will your perception of people and things. Be open to it, and you might find bestest friends along the way, maybe even Va-voom!, just in a different way than you'd expected. You might not even need to get wet in the process...

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.2 K Warnings: none Prompt: Things finally start to make sense, maybe you'll finally discover one of the mysteries that have been surrounding you This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

In a couple of weeks I'll make a Q&A to cellebrate Gilded Constellations reaching 100,000 K words. And I'd love for all of you to be a part of it. So send in your questions, they can be anything you want, things like: How did you get the idea? Where does inspo come from? writing tips (I mean I don’t know much but anyway), character design, fancast, fav characters, things about me, about my plot notebook, literally anything you want, ask away (just state: For Q&A event or something) <3

Chapter 14: Maybe I’m Amazed

Monday October 25th, 1976

You and Remus had a presentation today, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found. You waited near the door of the classroom, with your notes in your hands, looking over them while tapping your feet on the ground, toying with your ring, and turning to look at the hall every couple of seconds, hoping to see him miraculously arrive. But he didn’t, in fact, it was the second time that day people you expected to see were nowhere to be found. 

You were also supposed to go flying with James and Sirius in the morning like you did every single day, but neither of the boys made it. You went up to knock on their room’s door, but nobody answered, and after waiting for a few minutes, you decided to go for the morning flight by yourself. 

Professor Flitwick saw you at the door, looking nervous and smiled at you empathetically from his desk. When your class was just about to start you sighed and walked closer to him. 

“Professor, I don’t understand what’s happening, I’m not sure if Remus will make it. He didn’t tell me anything, I haven’t seen him since yesterday and I–“ 

“It’s ok,” he said calmly “Mr. Lupin is sick, I was informed.” 

“Sick?” You asked with a frown. 

Flitwick nodded, “I believe he and some of his friends all ate something that upset their stomachs at Hogsmeade on Saturday, they’re at the nurses’ office.” 

You opened your eyes wide, that was your lie. But if the boys really were at the infirmary, then it meant something had happened to them on their stupid prank last night. 

You frowned, almost wanting to run off to see them, but resisted the urge to do so “What’s gonna happen to our presentation then? He’s worked so hard on it, I wouldn’t want him to lose his grade.” 

“You can present with him next class,” he told you comprehensively “It’s ok Miss (Y/LN), take your seat, don’t stress too much about it. I know you’ll give a brilliant presentation once your partner’s feeling better.” 

You nodded “Thank you, Professor,” you told him with a smile and went to take one of the seats. 

The class started, Lily and Marlene had worked on their project together and they went first, talking about the properties of wordless magic and then making a very small presentation, teaching some volunteers to make sparks with their wands without saying a word. Tom and Marlene were next, and they gave a talk about the dangers of dark magic and so on. A couple other students asked for volunteers, and while in normal situations you’d have been among the first to raise your hand, today was an exception, you were a little too busy, tapping your feet under the desk and looking at the clock every couple of minutes. 

At some point you decided you had to do something, so you took some parchment out and wrote a small note: 

Hey Puppy! You all right? I missed you and Prongs on our morning flight today… Remus missed our presentation too, tell him Flitwick said we could present next class. Are you all really at the infirmary? Because I know for a fact it wasn’t something you ate… Unless you actually ate something last night, I wouldn’t put that past you lot, but I’m sure that’s not it. I’ll keep an eye out for your answer plane. 

You read it over a couple of times and then started to bend it into a very small paper plane that you left over your desk. When class was over you used the same spell Remus had used at the beginning of the course so that your little plane landed close to Sirius. 

It wasn’t until you were in the middle of transfigurations that a different paper plane landed over your desk, you carefully unfolded it and started reading:

Hey beautiful! Thanks for that strong vote of confidence! We didn’t actually eat anything bad. Remus says he’s sorry for missing the class, and that he’ll do your homework for a week to make it up to you, I’m jealous! 

We really are at the infirmary though, last night’s prank went awry and we accidentally got attacked by Grindylows. We’re all right, Remus got the worst of it anyway… But we came to check on him first thing in the morning, that’s why we didn’t make it to the morning flight. Your rumour somehow got all the way to Poppy, and when we went to check on Remus she gave us some medicine and had us stay in the infirmary to check on us… so it’s basically your fault. 

Anyway, you should still come see your poor boyfriend in the infirmary, pamper him with kisses and offer him some tasty treats… at least.

ps. Since I haven’t retrieved the ones from last week, that would mean you owe me six so far…

You smiled when you finished reading, Sirius was a total flirt, and you loved that about him. When you read over it though, you frowned, that was the second time Remus got hurt after a prank, and if they were attacked by Grindylows, there was no way they were just fine, those little creatures could be absolute savages, you’d know, since one time a friend at your older school had fallen on the lake and been attacked by those nasty little water beings, she had to be taken to the hospital wing, and stayed there for a week. Of course, Remus was bigger, stronger, and a more advanced wizard, since that had happened to her in 3rd year, but regardless, Remus must be pretty battered up, again. 

Finally, you sighed and went back to trying to turn the quill you had in front of you into a bird. Not that you were doing too good at that either.  You let out an exasperated groan after your 3rd try of only getting a beak and little legs to appear on the quill. 

Professor McGonagall approached you  “Everything ok Miss (Y/LN)?”

You nodded, the air of exasperation remaining regardless, “I’m really struggling to get this right,” you told her “This is the first time I ever done transfiguration, and no magic had been this challenging for me before, it’s just…” 

McGonagall smiled understandingly “Would you mind if I got you a tutor? I know a couple students from your year that would be more than willing to help.” 

“I… uh… I’m not really that close to everyone in my year…” 

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, you were pretty much already a member of one of the Gryffindor friend groups, and the rumour that you and Sirius were dating was already spreading too “I was thinking Mr. Lupin could help, and from what I gather you’re already friends…”  

“Oh… Remus? Yeah, we’re close!” 

“Excellent, I’ll tell him once he’s back on his feet. Poor boy, he must be feeling pretty tattered up today.” 

You nodded “Yeah, he shouldn’t have eaten that.” 

“Eaten what?” She asked, confused. 

You arched your eyebrows “The thing at Hogsmeade that made them all end up in the infirmary…” 

“They all?” Minerva quipped “Who else is in the infirmary?” 

“Sirius, James and Peter.” 

“They are there?!” She asked, seemingly surprised. You frowned, how did McGonagall know Remus was in the hospital if she didn’t know the boys were there too?

“Isn’t that the reason Remus was in the infirmary?” You asked, rather confused. 

“The reason he–? Oh right, yeah right, must have slipped my mind.” She said and stepped away. 

You frowned, there were many things that did not make sense with Remus Lupin, you’d already accepted that, and moved on from it, since he was one of the best people you’d ever met, but this, this was just off. McGonagall was not the type of teacher to whom things just “slipped her mind”, and that was a fact. Unless she knew Remus had been in the infirmary for another reason, and if that reason was that he’d been attacked by Grindylows, then that would imply she knew about the boys’ prank and was covering for them, which made even less sense. 

And today was not the first time things were weird, it was like some teachers knew something that you didn’t. And it was all somehow related to Remus. And you really did not want to pry, but your mind, being naturally curious, could not stop thinking about it. And it all seemed so familiar; like you only needed to find the one little string that would solve the entire mystery, and it was just there for you to reach out and pull, but somehow, you were trying to find the tail end with your eyes closed. Maybe Remus really did blindfold you the first time you met, but instead of using the physical blindfold, he’d used an intricate web of half-facts and untold tales. Of course, he didn’t owe you any kind of explanation, and it was not like you were going to ask but a part of you really, really wanted to discover the mystery. 

You spend the entire class pondering all the little things that didn’t make sense about Remus Lupin, thinking of trillions of ways in which they could be connected to each other, but nothing seemed to make sense. No matter how much you racked your brain, you could not find the string to tie it all out. You were so focused in uncovering the mystery that you didn’t even realise when the class was over. 

“Hey (Y/N)! You ok?” Tom said as he shook your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You nodded “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You said, but your head was pounding from so much thinking, and to be honest, you did not want to deal with divination class, so you corrected yourself “Actually, would you mind telling Spellman I’m feeling a little dizzy, and that I’m going to the infirmary?” 

Tom gave you a look and nodded, the two of you stood together and started walking towards the door “And where are you actually going to?” He asked, curiosity getting the best of him. 

“Hm? Oh, to the infirmary actually, I’ll just pass by the kitchens first.” 

“The kitchens?” He asked confused as you both continued walking towards the stairs. 

“I’m taking some food for the boys,” you explained, Tom nodded, but still looked confused “They got caught up in the excuse from yesterday and Poppy got them to stay in the infirmary to check on them.” 

“So you’re just feeling bad as an excuse to go see your sweet boyfriend,” he teased. 

You nodded “Yeah, and my friend who got attacked by Grindyllows.” 

Tom frowned “Grindylows? At this time of the year?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“It’s weird, when the lake starts to cool down they disappear.” 

You frowned at that, yet another puzzle piece to solve, but by then Tom was already walking towards a different set of stairs “See you around, hope you feel better, I’ll tell Spellman where you went,” he said loudly. Tom really was the worst liar you’d ever met. 

“Thanks Tom,” you managed to say before scurrying through one of the hall entrances, so people wouldn’t notice the weird exchange you’d had. 

Once you got to the kitchens you knocked on the frame and asked the elves if you could have some food, they nodded and started preparing you some snacks to go, you asked around, hoping to find Nimbbletwist, but the elves told you that she’d been commission to something by Dumbledore that particular day. When they were done you thanked them profusely and waved goodbye. You grabbed the package of food and after placing the entire thing inside your backpack you started walking towards the infirmary. 

Once you were next to the huge, half-opened doors, you slowly slipped inside, hoping not to cause too much of a stir inside, but the place was pretty much empty, other than the hushed whispers you heard at the end of the room. A curtain was covering the boys from your sight, and muffling their voices. 

“We need to find a better way to deal with your furry little problem,” You heard Peter say “Moony’s been going pretty wild the past few times.” 

“Ehm…” You cleared your throat, whatever the boys were talking about, the fact that they were whispering about in an empty room, meant that the conversation was secret enough for them, and you were not planning to eavesdrop on some of the nicest people you’d met. “Morning boys,” you said with an awkward wave. 

Sirius smiled the second he spotted you, Peter looked like he’d seen a ghost, and Remus looked too tired to care much about you having shown up almost out of nowhere. But James was the first one to speak “Hey (Y/N)! Sorry we missed the morning flight.” 

You nodded “Sirius told me all about your mishaps,” you said as you walked closer to them, you looked around trying to find a sitting spot, and when you didn’t you resolved to stay standing “Brought you guys some snacks.” 

“You actually did?” Sirius asked with a dashing smile, eyes shining in content. His girl had brought him snacks, and she looked as lovely as ever while doing so. By then, you were already turning your backpack in front of you and pulling the little pack the elves had built for you. So he helped you hold it as you pulled the food pack and placed it on the bed besides Remus. They’d packed sausage rolls, pork pies, scotch pancakes, Jaffa cakes and tiny Bakewell tarts, Peter dug right into the sausage rolls, like he was starving. 

“Poppy didn’t give you boys any food?” 

“She gave us soup,” Peter said in between bites “It was so bland and tasteless, she said it’d make our stomachs feel better.” 

“I thought it was good,” Remus said with a shrug. 

“Yeah, you got the one with spices,” Peter complained “You should’ve said we had a headache or something instead.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “Since when are headaches something 4 people can have at the same time?” You retorted. 

Peter shrugged in response “A magical headache or whatever.” 

“At least, thanks to you, we didn’t get in trouble for skipping class,” James said with a shrug. 

“Exactly, that’s my girl!” Sirius said with a wink, then he grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap, you arched your eyebrow at him once you were comfortably sitting on him “You looked like you were tired.” 

You laughed, shaking your head “Yeah, sure Puppy, if you say so.” 

“Don’t think I’ve stopped counting,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter, setting the two of you in a more comfortable position. 

Finally, you turned to Remus, he wasn’t eating any of the things you’d brought, James was munching on a pork pie and even Sirius was enjoying a Bakewell tart, but Remus looked genuinely beaten up. He had a sharp gush on his face, and another one down his arm, probably many more underneath his clothes and bandages. Just when you started to pay attention to the open wounds, and realising how different they were from the ones your friend had gotten when she was attacked by Grindyllows, Sirius spoke again “You’re wearing your ring today,” he said pointing at it as he grabbed your hand to look at it. 

“Found it in a drawer as I was getting ready in the morning,” you told him “seemed to match the mood of yesterday.” 

“Because of the moon and the stars,” Sirius agreed, paying a closer look at your ring, you nodded, “It’s very beautiful,” he said, slipping it out of your finger and testing if it would fit in his pinky, it stood out among his thicker rings, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Won’t you eat anything?” Peter asked Remus as he munched on his fourth sausage roll. 

“I’m not really feeling it,” Remus responded. 

“Mmm… Actually–“ you said as you placed a cookie in your mouth to bring your backpack to your lap again. Sirius took the cookie from your lips and held it for you, you turned to him and whispered a small “thanks,” before you continued to rummage through your bags, “It’s here!” You said as you pulled out a chocolate bar. It was the same brand Remus always carried around, and you’d bought a few at Honeydukes over the weekend. You’d decided to always carry one in your bag, to offer to Remus when he was feeling off, just like he’d done for you several times. You handed it over to him. 

The boy smiled as he grabbed onto it “Thanks love! Don’t deserve it after I failed you for today’s presentation.” 

“Don’t be silly Rem, you had an accident,” you told him motioning to him on the bed. 

“And where’s my chocolate bar?” Asked Sirius as he leaned his head over your shoulder to give Remus a better look. 

“You don’t get one today Puppy, I only packed one in the morning, sorry.” 

“And you gave it to Remus instead of me?” He teased, playing offended. “You do remember I am your boyfriend right?”  

“Well, clearly Remus was the one to save all of your asses last night,” you said pointing at the bandaged boy, and then at the rest, who barely had a scratch on them “However the hell did you get into a fight with Grindylows?” 

“We were trying to get some gillyweed,” Remus responded while he pulled on the paper of the chocolate bar to open it “for a special prank we wanted to do on the Slytherins.” 

“With gillyweed?” You asked with a frown. 

“For a potion,” James added “took the recipe from one of Grandpa’s old journals.” 

You narrowed your eyes at James, but nodded, Who knows? the Potters are pretty much experts on potions, they’d know. “Did you get it?” 

Remus shook his head “We were too busy with the Grindylows.”

“I could maybe help you–˝

“–No!” Remus, James, Sirius and Peter said at the same time. You closed your mouth at that, taken aback by their answer. 

“Love, you did see Moony, right? Do you wanna end up like that?” Sirius reasoned. 

“Well… I’m a good swimmer, I could scare the Grindylows away with bombarda or something–”

“–don’t worry about it,” said James “We decided we would buy it in a magazine and get it delivered, we don’t wanna have to go through that again,” he motioned to Remus. 

“But thanks for offering,” Remus added “It’s very brave of you.” 

You shook your head, “those stupid Slytherin boys have been getting on my nerves lately, whatever prank you do to them, I’d love to help.” 

“They’ve bothered you again since the broom incident?” Sirius asked. A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered the way Evan had pulled you over the railing last night. 

“Nothing I can’t deal with, they’re just a bunch of cowards.” 

James looked at you with apprehension, he thought it was his fault that Barty had started to pick on you, after all the ball you threw at his face had originally been directed at him, not at you. You wondered if the boys had heard of yesterday’s commotion in the astronomy tower, they probably hadn’t, they wouldn’t be relaxed at all. 

Sirius yawned from behind, closing his eyes as he leaned closer to you, resting his head over your neck. “You boys should go get some sleep,” you told them when you noticed that it wasn’t only Sirius who was sleepy, James’ shoulders were slumped, and he normally stood straight, while Peter was sluggishly munching onto his fourth sausage roll. “I’ll stay with Rem, I need to wait for Poppy to come anyway, I want something for my headache.”

“You’ve got a headache?” Remus asked with a frown, “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”  

You tried to shrug but stopped when you remembered Sirius still had his head over your shoulder “You looked a lot worse,” you said with a teasing smile. 

He shook his head with a breathy laugh, “Don’t put yourself second luv, I’m fine, I’m strong! See?” He said as he raised his arm and as if to show off his muscles. 

You laughed, he wasn’t lying, but it was still funny. “You sure you can stay luv? What about your classes?” Sirius asked. 

“I’ll catch up later, it’s easy. It’s not like we have transfiguration.” 

“Still having trouble with that?” Peter asked politely. 

You nodded “That’s literally the cause of my headache, couldn’t get a feather to turn into a bird. McGonagall said she’d give me a tutor.” 

“How delightful,” Sirius said ironically. 

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, “but then she said it’d be Remus, so it’s fine, we’re already working together in so many other classes, he must be getting sick of my face.” 

“Oh shut up, I would never,” he said as he broke off another square of his chocolate.

Sirius extended his hands towards him “Gimme soooome Moooony!”

Remus rolled his eyes, but extended his hand with a piece towards your boyfriend anyway, when their hands brushed against each other Remus hissed “What the hell Pads?” He said with a frown, looking betrayed. 

Sirius looked at his hand, his eyes widened as he saw he was still wearing your ring, your silver ring. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you.” 

“Shock him?” You asked confused, that wasn’t the reaction you’d expect from someone who’d gotten an electricity shock. Let alone Remus’.

Remus nodded, “I’ve got a small cut in my hand,” he lied “It was rather unexpected.” 

You looked at him with a bit of a frown, you hadn’t seen any cuts on his hand. James suddenly stood up and clapped, gathering everyone’s attention “Well, if I don’t move now, I’m falling asleep on this chair. Pete, Pads, you coming along?” 

While you turned your head to look at James, Remus threw a look at Sirius, who frowned apologetically and mouthed “I’m sorry, I forgot.” 

“I’m coming,” Peter said, standing up after James. “Need anything from the dorm?” He asked Remus. 

He shook his head “I’ll catch up with my homework later.” He responded. 

“I’ve got a couple of books here in my bag, we can read something while they go sleep.” You offered your friend with a smile. 

“Sounds great!” Remus responded with a smile. 

“Nerds!” Sirius teased. 

“Pads?” Peter asked, “You coming too?” 

Sirius nodded, burying his head on your back as he hugged you tighter. 

“You don’t have to go,” you told him since he didn’t look like he wanted to let go of you just yet. 

“Why don’t you come nap with me instead?” He mumbled, voice a little muffled since he still had his head pressed to your back. “You smell really nice today.” Truth be told, Sirius thought you smelled nice every day, but with some of the dog qualities still lingering on him after the previous hours of being a dog, he was both extra sensitive to smell,  and extra clingy of his human too, not that you knew any of it. 

“Let the poor girl breathe mate!” Peter teased. Sirius just groaned in response. 

“I’m gonna stand up luv,” he told you, you were about to stand, but he just stood up while still holding onto you, and once he was up, he slid to the side, and dropped you right back on the chair. Well then, I guess that works too, you thought. 

“Bye Puppy,” you told him as he walked towards his friends. He raised his hands, showing 9 fingers up and raising his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes, but also realised he was still wearing your ring on his pinky finger “Oi my ring!” 

“I’m keeping it as collateral,” he told you, “‘least until you pay up what you owe.” You gave him an amused smile and shook your head as he left. 

“What do you owe him?” Remus asked once the boys were gone. 

“He hasn’t told you about that yet?” You asked casually “says he doesn’t like being called Puppy–“ 

“–that’s a lotta crap.” 

You laughed “Yeah, well he charges a kiss for every time I call him that.” 

Remus raised his eyebrows, now he was amused “he’s just taking advantage of you love…” 

“Is he though?” You said back with a little smirk “The way I see it is a win-win situation. He gets to be all flirty and I get to kiss his pretty lips.” 

“Touché,” the boy agreed, he too thought Sirius had pretty lips “Can I tease him with the nickname too?” 

“All you want,” you replied with a smile “if he tries to kiss you, though, don’t blame me for it.” You both laughed, and a comfortable silence followed, then you remembered you still had books inside your bag and pulled them out, setting them on the bed beside him. He grabbed the one at the top when you noticed which book it was, you pulled it from his hands. “You can’t read that one.” 

“I can’t read… A Wizard's Handy Handbook of Spells?” He asked as he read the cover name from your hands. 

“It’s not that,” you added, holding it tightly between your arms. “It’s… not actually A Wizard's Handy Handbook of Spells, I charmed the cover.” He arched an eyebrow and tried to take it from your grasp, you pulled back but it was too late, he had it in his hands again.  Remus had an awful lot of energy for someone who had been badly hurt just a couple of hours ago. “Remus, give me that!” 

“I wanna know why you charmed the cover first,” he said while dangling the book in the air. 

You looked at him with a frown and jumped forward to try and grasp the book from his hands, but he pulled it back, to the side of the bed. “Remus!” 

“Am I gonna have to read it?” 

You stood up, and extended your hands over him, to try and get the book that was on the other side of the bed, but your feet got trapped with your backpack strap and you ended up falling over Remus. He groaned as your body crashed over a particularly nasty bruise. Your scent filled his nostrils from the closeness, Sirius was right, you smelled awfully nice, a little like him too.

“Shit Rem, I’m sorry,” you said standing up as soon as possible “I didn’t mean to–“ The brusque movements had caused his shirt to rise up slightly and you actually saw the nasty bruise your body had crashed against, you looked at it with a concerned frown and then back at your friend “Remus…” 

He averted your gaze, he did not like being pitted “I’m fine.” He said once he turned back to you, using his free hand to pull down his shirt again “I’m strong, remember?” 

“Yeah, someone falling over a bruise hurts, no matter how strong…” 

He shrugged, he’d definitely had worse than you falling over him “You’re light, didn’t hurt much.” You looked at him, sighing “and you smell nice, no wonder Sirius wants to have you on his lap all the time.” Finally, you laughed, shaking your head as you stared at your friend. Remus realised you had a really nice laugh as you did, he shook his head from the trance of staring, he wasn’t sure he’d ever found a girl as pretty as you. “Will you tell me what kind of book you were trying to hide from me, or will I have to figure it out myself?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s a spicy romance novel,” you said avoiding his gaze, he smiled diverted. The more you know, he thought. “It was recommended!” You added. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“It was!” You insisted “By your little Ravenclaw girlfriend, actually” 

“Nina Blythe?!” he asked in disbelief.

You nodded “Are you sure you don’t want to date her? She’s clearly into the good stuff.” He gave you a look and you laughed, Nina was beautiful, but she definitely still had a baby face, like Remus had said when you told him she had a crush on him.

“She’s not really my type.” 

“Which is…?”

“None of your business, of course.” He replied sassily, and then changed the subject “How spicy?” He asked, curiosity taking the best of him. 

You shrugged “I’ll tell you when I get to the spicy part,” you told him with a shrug, taking the book from his hands, he let you do it without any fuzz this time “But um…” you pointed at one of the other books on the bed “this one’s good, you’d like it.”

“Is it also spicy?” He teased. 

“Remus!” You complained, “Not every single book I read is spicy!” 

He shrugged “Wouldn’t shame you if you did.” 

You rolled your eyes and let out a breathy laugh. “It’s not spicy, but it is really good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, taking the book and opening on the first page. Soon enough the two of you were comfortably reading. You were so engrossed in your book that you’d totally forgotten the initial reason you’d gone there. But as you continued flipping pages, it was like the string you had been trying to reach earlier was finally there, shining brightly for you to take it, and tie all the mysterious facts into one sole explanation. As your eyes moved through the words in the book, the description of the male lead started to resonate with you…

Remus was strong. Remus had a lot of scars and bruises all over his body, and they were definitely not caused by Grindyllows, he always carried around a calming draught and had other rather strong painkiller potions in his room as well, he tended to stay away from you when you wore your silver ring, literally jumping from your grasp when you touched him with it on one time, and was also visibly mad at Sirius when he brushed over his fingers with it on, as if they both knew something you didn’t –electric shock, my ass. 

McGonagall knew he was in the infirmary, no, she expected him to be in the infirmary today, yesterday was full moon. 

When you told him that he could get the Fluxweed he said he was good at catching so he switched with you, he would’ve had to harvest it on the full moon. All the boys got really suspicious during the full moon, and the two times you’d seen the full moon happen in the castle, Remus and all the boys had disappeared. Peter was talking about “a furry little problem” just before you cleared your throat earlier. James had joked about his romance novel being called “The Beast Within.”

In the boggart class, when you got a werewolf, all the boys had tensed up, even the way Lily had approached you, constantly looking back and forth between him and you. 

You looked up at him, Remus looked tired, Remus had a great sense of smell, Remus got a lot more irritable around this time of the month, Remus was ripped even if he didn’t look like the type to do much exercise, in fact, you’d never seen him do exercise. Remus Bogart had been the moon. Remus was right in front of you, looking like he’d been up all night and yesterday was full moon. 

Remus’ nickname… Remus’ nickname was fucking Moony! 

YESTERDAY WAS FULL MOON. 

Finally seeing clearly every single thing that didn’t make sense in your head, all the half-told tales and the lies and the inconsistencies, “You’re a werewolf…” you mumbled, almost in a whisper. 

He had been too distraught with the book to notice, so he looked up at you “Sorry, what was that, luv?” 

Your head started swirling with fast thoughts, Remus hadn’t told you himself. Remus probably wanted his lycanthropy to be a secret. Remus had gone to great lengths to hide it. You’d barely met him a couple of months ago and you were sure most people didn’t know about his condition, other than a few teachers, the boys and, maybe Lily. She probably knows, in the bogart class, she seemed alarmed. But Marlene, Mary, Beth? They probably have no clue. What right did you have to know before the people who’d met him years ago? Whoever the hell were you to butt in on this boy’s life? Even if he’d become one of your closest friends. I do not want to make Remus uncomfortable. I do not want Remus to hate me for prying. “I.. uh.. Do you like golf?” You improvised, almost cringing at yourself for how stupid your question had been. 

“Golf?” He asked with a frown.

“Aha…” you continued “the muggle sport, Golf. With uhm.. sticks and small balls,” you then made a little golf swing with your hands. 

“Yeah, I know Golf,” he responded, still confused “Never played it tho.” 

“Me neither,” you responded honestly “This character though,” you pointed to the book “Seems like- very obsessed with it.” 

Remus frowned and leaned forward on the bed, to try and get a glimpse of the book, you remembered that you were literally on the page about the scars on the werewolf’s body and you instantly dropped the book. It closed shut on the floor. You leaned down “Oh no, I lost my page.” Maybe you were a worse liar than Tom in the end. 

Remus arched an eyebrow as he saw you leaning on the floor, you looked rather desperate. 

“You okay?” You nodded and sat back on the chair. “So… how was it? spicy?” 

“Not much so far,” you responded honestly “just very in-depth descriptions of the male lead’s toned abdomen from the time they went to swim on a lake together.” 

Remus nodded, maybe he’d have to borrow the book from you at some point. “And you’re liking it?” 

“Plot’s good, yeah. Very enlightening.” 

“Enlightening?” He asked, not quite understanding how abs would be enlightening, but who knows, maybe they are. 

“Mhm…” you said when you realised the slip-up “What about your book?” you decided to drag the subject away from the spicy werewolf book and onto the one Remus had instead. 

“I’m loving it, actually. I didn’t know you had such great taste in books.” 

You smiled at the compliment “The portrait of Dorian Gray is an absolute classic, it has some of the most killer quotes I’ve read in my life.” 

“Nowadays people know the price of everything–“ he started.

“–and value nothing…” you finished the quote for him, “And there are so many others, you won’t be able to stop.” You told him with a smile, “Like… the only way to get rid of temptation, is–“ 

“–to yield to it.” He said at the same time as you did, a certain glimmer in his eyes when he did. 

Out if nowhere the images of the kiss you’d had at Marlene’s party came back to Remus, he remembered how soft and gentle you’d been, he remembered how your hand over his shoulder had felt, how kind your lips had been to his, how you’d tasted of fresh berries and potions, how after the kiss was over you looked genuinely pleased but cracked a joke to ease the tension, how contagious your laugh had been… how sweet you smelled that day, always with a hint of Sirius’ scent from how close you were to each other. What the hell is wrong with me? She’s dating Sirius! She’s dating Sirius –my crush best friend– Black, he thought. He snapped himself out of it as soon as he could, coughing up a couple of times to clear his throat. 

You looked at him, with a bit of concern and stood up, quickly walking towards the nightstand to pour some water on a glass and hand it over to him, he took it, fingers brushing against your small hands. He cursed himself for feeling something when they did, he’d rather feel nothing at all. Why must you be so kind?, he thought as you waited for him to finish drinking, to put the glass back in his place.  “Thank you,” he mumbled. 

You just smiled kindly “That’s what friends are for.” No, he thought, the boys were rarely as attentive as you were, and Lily, well Lily rarely visited after the full moon, even if she always took a moment to ask if he was feeling alright. Maybe that was why he was feeling so weird all of a sudden, he just wasn’t used to being cared for the way you cared for him. He then started to wonder if you were that nice to everyone, or only to your closest friends, he wanted to know if you also carried around Peter’s or Prong’s favourite treats in your bag, or if you had ever given chocolate to Tom, Alex or Teddy, if you borrowed books to Lily, or if you laughed along Nina the same way you did with him, he felt a tiny pang of jealousy when he imagined those things happening. Remus, stop it! he told himself, by then you’d already sat back in your seat, and found yourself engrossed in your book. Or at least you were pretending to be, in really you were still cursing yourself for asking if he liked golf. 

When you noticed he was staring you turned to him with a diverted smile “Do I have something in my face?” 

He seemed to be snapped out of his own thoughts “What?” 

“You were staring,” you told him, pretending to be uninterested as you still looked at the book, in reality, you were wondering if maybe he’d heard you ask if he was a werewolf and if he was considering how to kick you out of his life for butting in on his private business. 

“Ah…” he acknowledged “I wasn’t…. I was thinking of last night’s accident,” he lied. 

“Of course,” you responded, “Grindylows must’ve  been horrifying.” 

He nodded, absentmindedly and the two returned to your respective books. 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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[cassandraclare]

hiii cassie 💛 i hope you’ve been enjoying your time away writing, your locations are always beautiful per usual and you deserve it so much, question regarding a certain tween blondie that loves potato chips (yes, tis’ kit)

i’ve found myself struggling resonate fully with kits character due to the fact that in tda it seemed he was set up as “the new jace” yet..during my current tmi re read, i’m just NOW realizing how completely (emphasis on completely) different they are from eachother. and i also find myself struggling because he’s made to seem like he has an “uncanny resemblance” to jace yet so many of us readers know they aren’t from the same line of herondales at all. i’d figure jace gets his incredibly good looks from stephen, james, cordelia, will etc. HIS ancestors. while kit has completely different ancestors, along with johnny rooks genes.

i fear that if he’s referred to anymore as a “mini jace” that i won’t ever be able to fully resonate w him due to that lack of logic taking me out of the book 🥹 sorry to point this all out i tried to ignore it but im just like “will i have to read about him being jaces twin despite the lack of genetic sense it makes all of..twp?”

Hmm. I mean, I don't think there's anything indicating he's Jace's twin — otherwise people would be constantly mixing them up and Clary, upon seeing him, would be staggered rather than curious. :)

I think you have to decide, a bit, what really bothers you re: longstanding tropes and science in fantasy — after all, the way the Herondale mark is passed down makes no sense genetically. Neither does their ability to see ghosts. None of it has anything to do with genetics, because it is about magic, and so is Jace and Kit's resemblance. The idea that people who have ancestors in common long ago have a sort of ineffable resemblance goes way back to the origins of fantasy. It's about pointing out a preternatural connection, not about common genes. It exists as a mythic trope that isn't connected to science in the same way the mythic trope exists that you can inherit not just, say, eye color, but also personality quirks like loyalty or evilness. (See: TV Tropes page "In the Blood.")

For what it's worth, I don't think of Jace and Kit as characters who are particularly similar, personality-wise or in any other way, really. They both had traumatic childhoods, and were later adopted into new families, and that makes for some points in common, but I have never thought of Kit as a new Jace (we still have the OG Jace, so he doesn't need replacing!) or a mini Jace or anything like that, so anything that seems otherwise is unintentional or open to interpretation.