#interesting... it's fascinating to think that it's possible to not completely know yourself. like. i live here. and yet

[simptasia]

[shannon rutherford voice] i've been through a trauma here!

[astronomalyy]

Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.

They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.

And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.

Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.

A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.

Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.

Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.

Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.

[biscuitdolly]

˚₊‧ ꒰ა traits and habits that your future self will thank you for .ᐟ 🫧🎀🧁

📧 -> my first long post in a while 🫶 I've had my ups and downs recently but for the most part life has been pretty good.

O1 𝜗𝜚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ don't overshare.

you don't have to be nonchalant and mysterious, but take a moment to consider your words before you speak. (e.g. "will i regret telling this person this piece of information in the future?")

O2 𝜗𝜚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ learn how to listen + let people talk.

It's crucial to make others feel heard, even when you might not share their viewpoint. Never cut someone off on purpose whilst they're speaking, it can really hurt someones feelings. if you accidentally cut someone off, always apologize and let them finish speaking once you've said your point.

O3 𝜗𝜚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ learn how to say no.

i know it's hard not to be a people-pleaser, but learning to say no to things that don't align with you is so important. It can help you avoid uncomfortable, awkward, and even risky situations. Setting boundaries is hard but being taken advantage of is harder.

O4 𝜗𝜚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ nourish yourself.

Make it a habit to eat meals regularly. Reduce your sugar intake. Embrace healthier food choices. Establish a skincare routine. Treat yourself to a shower after a long day. Stay hydrated. These simple changes can be easily integrated into your daily routine and will significantly enhance your life for the better.

O5 𝜗𝜚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ process over outcome.

sure, while it's great to imagine our ideal life, simply visualizing it won't automatically lead us to success. It can certainly boost our motivation, but relying solely on wishful thinking won't take us to our desired destination. enjoy the process of achieving your goal rather than just focusing on the end result.

O6 𝜗𝜚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ focus on yourself.

this is super cliche, i know. but it truly has a significant impact. Picture this -> you're sitting for a math exam, and you glance over at your desk partner's work, only to see completely different answers. You've always admired this person, so you quickly assume your answers must be wrong and decide to change them to match theirs. When the results come back, you discover that your original answers were spot on, but now you've failed because you chose to follow someone else instead of trusting your gut. Just because others are taking a different path doesn't mean it's the right one for you, or that the other person is necessarily "correct". It's important to remember that comparing ourselves to others can lead to unnecessary stress and self-doubt. Stay true to yourself and your own journey!

O7 𝜗𝜚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ become knowledgeable.

during school, we all learn about basics like maths and english. Exploring fascinating subjects like philosophy, geography, and astronomy can really broaden your horizons. You can also research topics that relate to your interests, such as anatomy, colour theory, fashion history, etc.

O8 𝜗���� 𓈒 ݁ ₊ stop with the shit talking.

talking ill about others is possibly the most unattractive thing you could possibly do. Afterall, what goes around comes around, and it will come to bite you back.

O9 𝜗𝜚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ kindness is key.

smile at strangers, say hi to people you know in the halls. engage in light conversations and share compliments with those around you. Being recognized as "the friendly one" can lead to countless opportunities for friendships and relationships. Step out of your comfort zone a bit! Just a simple smile can brighten someone's day, often in ways you might not even notice.

1O 𝜗𝜚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ i can't relate to desperation ♪

he doesn't want you? that's fine, move on. certain things just aren't meant to be, so don't push it. if someone doesn't like you, there's nothing you can do about it. why waste your time on some dumb guy?

[heliosunny]

Hello! I was curious what your take on the Amphoreus men’s reactions would be to a sick or even injured reader? I had bad nausea and a migraine today, bedridden and all, (but I’m better now!) and I fear if I was their darling they’d think I’m pregnant or something dumb like that 😂

Wishing you a lovely day! Thank you for sharing your writings ❤️

I'm sick atm so Imma answer this. Glad to hear u got better.

When you're sick

🌿 Anaxa

At first, he's simply observing. He doesn't react strongly, but his mind is already working to figure out what’s wrong.

(Watching you struggle to sit up, his eyes gleaming with amusement at first.)

Anaxa: “How fascinating. Your skin is warmer than usual, your pupils slightly dilated… Could it be a poison? Did someone poison you? Or perhaps a parasite? I do wonder.”

Anaxa is unsettlingly calm as he begins testing different treatments on you (you poor thing). You say it’s just a cold? He doesn’t believe you.

(You groan, insisting it’s just a cold. He hums, unconvinced, swirling a dark liquid in a glass.)

Anaxa: “Drink this. It may cure you, or at the very least, give me something new to analyze.”

(He scares you, but he only wants the best for you. Such hypocrite.)

Pregnancy thought? Unlikely. He’s too logical for that, he's looking for tangible symptoms. However, if he does think it, it’s because he wants to study the changes in your body up close.

(You woke up just to see his hand already inspecting your stomach.)

Anaxa: “We managed to put a baby in here huh. Don't you move, I'll take very good care of you.”

(You pushed him away soon after and refused to drink or eat anything from him.)

🐶 Phainon

His smile starts to fade when he heard the news. You have a minor fever?

(He barges into the room)

Phainon: “You're going to die? Don't leave me! I can't bear the thought of living all alone...”

(Lays you in bed dramatically like you’re on your deathbed.)

If you say it’s just a cold, he’ll be offended and insist that you need “proper royal treatment.”

(He tucked you in so tight you can't even move.)

Phainon: “I always know that you're not as strong as me, but I didn't expect you to be sick. I will feed you, every day, don't worry.”

Pregnancy thought? that’s not possible… unless…

(You tell him to calm down, but he ignores you, crouching beside your bed with a look of pure anguish.)

Phainon: “What if it’s something deadly? What if *gasp you’re with child?!? Whose? Mine?”

(You choke on your own saliva at his ridiculous assumption.)

Phainon: “Stay right here, I’ll summon someone immediately!”

(He rushes out before you can protest. You are doomed.)

🦁Mydei

At first, he just watches you suspiciously. When he realizes it’s real, he softens… a little.

He doesn’t fuss, but he becomes overbearing in a quiet way. He forces you to rest, doesn’t let you lift a single finger.

(Arms crossed, standing near the door, eyes narrowed as he watches you weakly sip your drink.)

Mydei: “If you’re too weak to hold a cup properly, you shouldn’t be holding it at all.”

(You glare at him, muttering that you can take care of yourself.)

Mydei: “Clearly.” (Sarcastic. He takes the cup from your hands and forces you to lie down.) “Rest.”

If you get worse, he just picks you up and hauls you off to a doctor, no questions asked.

He’ll be stubbornly glued to your side until you’re better.

Pregnancy thought? The possibility crosses his mind, but he immediately throws it out because he would’ve known if anything like that was possible.

When you're injured

🌿 Anaxa

He is completely unfazed. Even if you’re bleeding out, he will only act calm and professional while getting out his medical tools.

(Kneeling beside you, observing the wound with a calm, almost clinical expression.)

Anaxa: “Hm. A deep cut. The bleeding is slowing, but the damage is substantial.”

You swear he’s a doctor with how efficiently he patches you up—but he makes little effort to comfort you. Rather, he finds it interesting to mess with you.

(You wince as he prods at the wound. He doesn’t even warn you.)

Anaxa: “I expected better. Letting yourself get hurt like this… Have you always been so careless?”

(You glare at him.)

Anaxa: “Oh, don’t look at me like that. This is your own fault, after all. Still, if I find out someone else dares hurt you... nevermind.”

🐶Phainon

Trying to hold back his anger, won't let it shows in front of you. You can only see his good side.

(His entire body is tense as he kneels beside you, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles turn white.)

Phainon: “Who did this?”

(You try to downplay it, but his eyes still burning with fury.)

Once he’s calmed down, he scoops you up and takes you to the best healer available.

He’s genuinely shaken up by it and might get overly protective afterward. Even minor scrapes will have him wrapping you up in bandages like a mummy.

Phainon: “And once you’re healed, you are never leaving my sight again. I won’t allow it.”

🦁Mydei

He’s surprisingly calm when he sees you’re injured, but it’s the eerie kind of calm. He’s not saying much, but the rage is there.

He doesn’t panic, he assesses your wound like a warrior, checking the severity before deciding what to do.

(He crouches beside you, examining the wound with an eerily quiet intensity.)

Mydei: “You’re bleeding.”

(You bite back a sarcastic remark. He rips off a piece of his sleeve, pressing it against the wound with firm but careful hands.)

Mydei: “Does it hurt?”

(You hesitate. He looks at you, his sharp gaze unyielding.)

Mydei: “Good. Remember it.”

Two priorities:

Getting you treated.

Finding whoever did this and destroying them.

No more fights. No more risks. You are staying where he can see you.

(He finishes bandaging the wound, then stands, offering you his hand.)

Mydei: “Come. You’re not walking alone.”

[gemsalive]

re: that HEFTY siffrin sweep on id5’s isat favourite blorbos poll — this might sound silly but i do actually think it’s kinda fascinating that isat, as a game so inseparably steeped in (for lack of a better way to describe it) queer fandom culture, managed to so completely sidestep the common Fandom Phenomenon that i suspect was behind the poll in the first place by creating a main character that is also overwhelmingly the fan favourite character for once.

obviously there are any number of factors we could point at to explain the extent to which siffrin nomiddlenames nolastnames manages to grab people and absolutely not let go, but personally i think one of the most interesting ones to consider is the one specific to the medium — that is, how siffrin subverts the “silent blank slate video game protagonist” archetype in such a way that happens to be primo brainrot breeding grounds.

like, when a video game dev makes a silent protagonist it’s usually a bid to maximize immersion by closing the aesthetic distance between player and character as much as possible, right? which is especially true of rpg video games — players find connection in the generic, as that is what gives you the freedom of motion to insert yourself into the story in whatever unique shape suits you best. you are your character and your character is you.

(as ever, post ran long. yall know the drill. tossin in a quick header pic before thoughts on blank slates & blorboification continue under the cut)

and then you’ve got siffrin, who is expressly pointed out to be the taciturn type; who when initially giving the player exposition about their journey so far doesn’t seem to hint at a life or history or even really any motivations outside the journey; whose every thought and action is narrated in second person so as to keep tracing and re-tracing the connection between him and you.

even their design — all darkless and shapeless, bundled up in that big cloak, as if an invitation for you to fill it in with whatever lets you relate to them most! at this point they are their own character for sure, but they also have enough very clear parallels going on with the silent protagonist archetype to feel more than accidental.

of course, as you keep playing you start to recognize that his blankness is much, much more than just a grab at immersion; his apparent lack of backstory, itself a fundamental piece of backstory. this is where he flips dramatically in the player’s perception from “generic vessel for story delivery” to “thoroughly multidimensional character trapped within endless torment nexus custom-built to target and exacerbate all his very specific worst traits rooted in very specific traumas”.

yknow, the good stuff !

but by then you have also been playing enough to be feeling the effects of the thing isat’s design does best of all. i’m talkin bout that ludonarrative lockstep baby. every piece of isat’s gameplay is designed to make you feel what siffrin is feeling — you understand by now that he is not a stand-in for you, but all the same you share in his frustration, his grief, his rare moments of joy and the subsequent heart-in-your-shoes devastation when that joy is inevitably poisoned — and through it all, the desperate grasping for anything new — all as if they were every bit your own.

so in this way the connection is maintained, even if you were someone for whom siffrin’s particular traits & struggles might not otherwise cause you relate to them at all if you had encountered them elsewhere, in a setting where you weren’t actively controlling them as a player. siffrin still gets to carry all the “just like me fr” impact of the blank slate protagonist in the tropes he embodies and in the game mechanics’ design, while totally free to evolve completely into his own character and keep you relating to closely them all the same. now toss back in the fact that said traits & struggles very much ARE of a flavour that a great many people Would Tend To Relate To and just like that you’ve got a perfect storm cookin.

too individual and compellingly written to be an empty vessel for plot delivery. too closely connected with the player’s emotional state to be a story observed impassively from the outside. he has 92 mental illnesses and for the low low price of free u can give him yours to carry too. nobody is doin it like him. congratulations on your well-deserved nose sniffrin nomiddlenames nolastnames <3

[dovesdreaming]

Soo, idk if ur still doing Harry Hook requests, but could you possibly do Harry Hook x reader who is the daughter of the cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland? And if you do, I would like it to be Head cannons pls!! :)

Your Cheshire Cat grin

Such a good request! I hope you enjoy what I wrote <3 sorry it took so long and that it’s not as long as it could be!!

Warnings: none

Not proofread

You and Harry as a pair were a dangerous combination. You constantly got into trouble together and would be asked where your other half was if you were seen without the other.

-Your relationship started from being friends and blossomed into a relationship. However your friendship consisted of a lot of flirting and people often mistook you for a couple any way.

-You match each others freak. There’s nothing more to say than that.

-You of course inherited your fathers smile and Harry loved it. He thought it was the right mix of cheeky and cute. He always made you laugh just to see your Cheshire Cat grin.

-Due to your father you also loved playing tricks on people and you often roped Harry in to help you. He would go along with anything you said though he was too lovestruck to care.

-You could disappear and reappear at will and used this to your advantage to confuse people. But you also were a bit lazy and skipped the walk from each class. Harry however would still insist to carry your bag like the gentleman he is.

-You had grown up in wonderland so of course you were slightly crazy but nothing you did ever fazed Harry even if other people were.

-Harry would love to visit wonderland with you and find out more about your childhood. He understood what is was like to grow up somewhere completely different to Auradon and the isle. He knew what it felt like when you were homesick and missed the comforts only your world offered. He would help out in anyway he could, trying to recreate certain foods or teas you had there, he just wanted to see you happy again.

-Harry would happily listen to any stories you had of wonderland and would grow to love the place almost as much as you.

-if you inherited powers to turn into a cat you would live to wonder around in this form. You would always catch Harry off guard and sometimes manage to scare him. Would love to play games of hide and seek Harry doesn’t know he’s part of.

-He would find you sunbathing on a window sill, completely unbothered by how worried he looked by him thinking you had gone missing.

-Would always be willing to protect you and put himself in danger for you.

-You would be classes as the oddball of Auradon (think the Luna lovegood of the school) yet he never took notice of the weird glances you got.

-You always seemed to be off in your dreamworld and he was fascinated by what was going on in your head

-You would happily visit neverland with him and got on with tinker bell very well, she might even lend you some pixie dust which Harry was quite jealous of.

-His friends were a bit confused by his interest in you at first but after spending more time with you saw how interesting you were as a person. You were conniving yet kind and it drew them to you. Harry was pleased that the people he cared about liked you, not nearly as much as he liked you though.

-Would always attend any tea party’s thrown in wonderland and would think they were the best party he had ever been to (though he hadn’t been to many in the first place)

-Found your style of purple clothing very attractive even if others didn’t. Loved how you were never scared to express yourself.

-Would never judge your whimsical behaviour in anyway and would always protect you from the weird glances thrown at you. He would love every part of you and nothing would ever change that.

Thank you for reading 🫶

[rowie264]

Jinx x jinxer!reader. First kiss

Warnings: mention of stalking, mention of possessive behaviour, fluff

After your first encounter with Jinx, you began to see her more often. Somehow, she always knew where to find you and where you lived, appearing out of nowhere. You wondered if she was stalking you, but you tried not to dwell on that thought for the sake of your peace of mind.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't like spending time with her. Jinx turned out to be completely different from what you used to think. Of course, it's true that she was dangerous and crazy, but you also found out how funny and passionate she was. It was really interesting to hear her explain how her bombs and other devices work, even though you barely understood the details.

She was an artist too, just like you. Her style was different, but no less fascinating. Sometimes you even painted something together on the walls of Zaun.

You couldn't deny your growing affection for her. Even considered her... a friend.

A few weeks later, you also began to notice that her behavior toward you was changing.

She was touchy from the very beginning – had no idea about personal space at all – but over time she became bolder and clingier. It was startling you at first but at some point you’ve got used to it, enjoying random touches and tight hugs as much as Jinx did.

But seems like for her it wasn’t enough.

She was becoming demanding and possessive. Often asked you to spend more time with her instead of Jinxers. Sometimes you caught her saying something she shouldn't have known (this is when you stopped ignoring whole stalking thing you had guesses about). Sometimes she would sneak into your bed to sleep beside you. Sometimes you have noticed that your belongings disappear for several days, but appear in the same place as if nothing had happened.

You knew you should be afraid and disgusted… but you didn’t. That's when you realized that you fell in love with her.

One day you came to Jinx's lair and saw that she was doing something at the workplace. You walked over and put your arms around her waist from behind. “A new project?” You ask, looking at the blueprints.

Jinx stiffens for a second before relaxing and leaning back against you. “Yep! A bomb that turns into smaller bombs jumping around before exploding!” She chirps with infectious enthusiasm.

“And the purpose? Besides fun I mean.” One of your hands starts slowly caressing her stomach, continuing to speak in as casual tone as possible. Today you wanted to push the boundaries even further. Do something that friends don't do and make sure that you were right in your assumptions.

“Ya know… bigger radius. Harder to dodge all of them too.” She tries to look unperturbed, but her breathing gets a little heavier, and you feel hard muscles tense under your fingers.

“Try to be careful with them, will you? Don’t throw it close to yourself.” You murmur brushing thumb against blue cloud on her side. Lately, you've been fantasizing about getting tattoos like the ones Jinx used to doodle on your arm. Those pink clouds were temporary, but you crave something more permanent - the real deal.

"I'm not that crazy. Besides, I haven't even built it yet." She snorts, but suddenly clenches her jaw when you nuzzle her temple, making her almost tremble with pleasure. She can't help but lean a little closer to you. Your tenderness makes her dizzy.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to do it. You are a genius.” You whisper into her ear and leave small kiss on the shell before pulling back.

The sight before your eyes makes your heart stop beating for a second. Jinx, the Loose Cannon, most wanted criminal in Piltover and simply craziest person you’ve ever met… had the most adorable blush in whole world. Her eyes were wide, lips slightly parted and it looked like she had squeezed the pen so hard that it broke.

“Are you alright?” You ask in soft voice taking her hand to inspect it for any signs of harm. Your concern dissipates upon finding her skin unscathed. Before she can say anything, you lift her hand to your lips and plant a kiss on her palm, looking directly into her eyes as you do.

Her mouth opens and closes, blush on her cheeks deepens. You caught her completely off guard.

“Aren’t you adorable?” you murmur out loud, slowly spinning her chair and leaning closer to her till your lips are mere inches apart. You can feel the warmth of her breath on your face. Her eyes flicker to your lips and back up. She is so cute, it’s maddening.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask her and wait patiently for permission. She looks at you, as if not sure this is real. After few moments she swallows lump in her throat and nods her head slowly, biting bottom lip. “P-please…”

Only then you close remained distance and finally kiss her, moving your lips against hers in slow and tender manner. Jinx tried her best to kiss back, but her inexperience shows. She’s a little clumsy, her movements uncertain, too shaky from nervousness and overwhelmed emotions.

As the kiss goes on Jinx relaxes more and more and wraps her arms around your neck, pressing her body closer against yours, as she gives in to new sensations.

The kiss slowly grows more urgent, and her hand clutches at your shirt. She’s starting to get a little lightheaded, letting out a small moan when you lean forward, pushing her slightly against the workbench.

You take this opportunity to slip your tongue into her mouth, causing her to whimper. She tries to mimic your movements swirling her own tongue around yours in passionate dance, making you want to deepen the kiss… but you stop yourself and pull back.

While you were both catching your breath, you could see her mouth slightly open as she stared at you with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed, and her breathing quickened. She looked absolutely adorable like this.

“Enough for the first time.” You murmur with fond but playful smile. She immediately pouts, which makes you chuckle and scoop her into your warm embrace.

[j0s3f1n3]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓛𝓪𝓭𝔂

Tom Riddle x f!reader

Count word: 551

TW: Kinda explicit, not very detailed, MDNI

Notes: I just wanted to write about the vibe i was feeling lately. I am definitely obsessed with this man. Who doesn't want a man yearning for you ? Let alone Tom Riddle. This is my first text/story, idk so if you see this i would love to read your reviews :3 I am thinking of maybe a part two ? Or something in the same vibe ? What do you think ?

Tom Riddle was a cold and enigmatic man. He was surrounded by a dark aura which seemed to frighten every living thing coming near him.

Some may say he was scary in many ways. The way he was always one step ahead of every move you could possibly think. The way one glance from him felt like staring at death itself.

But yet, he wasn’t feared as much as he should. His charismatic smile got him everywhere he wanted. And his eyes, god his eyes, icy and stormy at the same time, they looked like they could tell you a million dark stories.

It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he was far beyond reach. But some fools tried. Rejection after rejection, the girls and even some brave boys tried to steal the cold heart of the Dark Lord as he likes to be called.

He was more than beautiful, he was deviously handsome. And he knows it. Of course he does. 

It was known to everyone that Tom Riddle wasn’t the type for a relationship.He didn’t want it. He couldn’t want it.

However, when his cold eyes met yours, something changed. Something he can’t really understand and neither can you.

Like moths to a flame, you were drawn to each other. At first, the stares lingered longer than they should. And then you talk. Tom usually engaged in small talk to manipulate others, but with you, it was different. It was a challenge as each word escaped your mouth. It was a battle to see who would give in first.

The tension between you was palpable every time you were in the same room. No one knew how and why he had some sort of interest in you. From outside, you were just a normal, lonely girl but deep inside, you were twisted and dark as him. 

Both of your minds were made for each other. And he hated it. He hated the fact that you could make him feel things. Anger, Loathing, Jealousy even. 

He fascinated you in ways you shouldn’t wander. Every sane person wouldn’t try to understand him, to help him. But was your sanity alright? You asked yourself sometimes at night when your thoughts brought you to him.

You desired him. You despise his complexity. You wanted him.

And the worst thing is that you didn’t even feel guilt. He was the complete opposite of the light but yet you found refuge in his presence.

The fascination turned into obsession. You didn’t just want to be near him. You wanted to claim him. 

Lucky for you, he had the same thoughts for you. He wanted to own, claim, possess you. You needed to be his. It was the only solution.

His thoughts were far away from clean. In his mind, he was punishing you for making him feel things he shouldn’t, things he couldn’t.

Spread on his sheets, bent over his lap, straddle him. He had you in every position he could imagine. The only thing left was making them a reality.

Tom Riddle was not the type to accept rejection; he would worship you, crave you if necessary. If only you could allow him to taste you.

Tom Riddle wasn’t the type to let anyone dictate his life, until you came.

His dark Lady.

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

All rights reserved. This is an original piece by ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ. Divider from @aquazero •°. *࿐

[anxious-witch]

Okay, so this is likely be long so buckle up. Let's talk about how the height and position of characters affects the story and shows us where they are emotionally or in regards to characters they interact with.

This is the most prominent with three characters, which are Edwin, Charles and the Cat King. But! I will do my best to touch upon the rest as well if anyone finds this interesting.

Considering I briefly touched upon how Charles and his dad have a similar hunched stance, let's start with Charles.

Also TW for talk of abuse and violence, since I do touch upon his relationship with his dad and abuse in general.

Charles is fascinating because he is one character that seems to constantly make himself smaller, either on the same level as the other character he is next to, or sometimes even make himself smaller than them.

This is especially visible next to Edwin, who always holds himself perfect straight and poised. Even in the above picture, where he is slightly leaning back for the dramatic effect, Charles is still hunched down more. With Crystal, yes, he is generally taller, but anytime he can, he does his best to lean down so they are on the eye-level.

This has dual purpose-both because Charles wants to be as non threatning as possible and because he often tries to sympathize with people, to quite literally understand their point of view.

Charles is the tallest character in the series, which I think has a weight on it's own. At first, I was under the impression Edwin was taller, bc of Charles' hunching, but Charled is just slightly taller. He is a protector, he is a brawn, and he tries his best to make himself as small as possible.

We also see that in scenes where he is "beanth" the person he is interacting with, usually happens when is emotionally distressed and/or feels powerless in a situation

The first time it happens in Devlin's house, when he is sitting on the stairs while Edwin and Crystal are standing. This is also right before he snaps and tries to hit the murderous father of the family, actively showing the turmoil he has been going through. Because that's what Charles does. He can't stand being helpless. His feeling below the problems he is facing is symbolized through him sitting on the stairs and he can't stand it any longer so he acts, quite rashly, just to disperse that feeling.

But then, what happens? He gets knocked to the floor, even lower than he was before. And he remains there, frozen.

Stuck in a loop of feeling helpless while being on the stairs, trying to take action and being knocked down even lower. What a metaphor for being stuck in an abusive loophole! Feeling like any time you try to stand up for yourself, any time you try to take action to not feel so helpless, you get into an even worse position. And then, in the end, it's Edwin and Crystal who have to help him out of the loop and who help him back on his feet.

We see him again in a position where amother character is not only above him, but actively lookming over him in a scene with his dad. Moreso, this is one instance where Charles doesn't take this position willingly, but rather, his dad literally knocks him down to the floor and starts beating him.

I think it's also sooo interesting how Charles' mom and the Night Nurse are positioned here. The Night Nurse stands above both Charles and his dad, all prim and proper. Completely unfeeling and separate from the whole picture.

Meanwhile, Charles' mom is above all of them, barely seen in the doorway, but still watching and she is crying. And while I know Charles loves his mom and understands she was likely also abused, I do wonder if this represents his view on both his parents. His dad, who is close but hurts him, who Charles would be on the same level with, if he wasn't constabtly knocked down. And his mom, who is above all that, almost like some sort of holy figure, but still suffering on Charles behaf.

Third time I noticed Charles being in a position where someone is above him was in a scene where Crystal is packing to go back to London, after getting her memories back.

Charles feels both emotionally vulnerable and helpless to stop her. Because he wants her to do what's best for her, but he also clearly doesn't want her to leave. The important part is that here, despite his clear emotional turmoil, Charles doesn't react directly. I believe he offers her his help, to come with her, but he doesn't insist. Which is a big change to the previous instance where we seem him in such position.

I am sure there are more scenes like these, these are just the ones I noticed. But! Shall we look at when does Charles stand full upright and shows how tall he really is?

Spoiler-When he is feelings brave

Framing is also very important and very deliberate. I'll touch more on this in Edwin's analysis, but you'll notice how most of the time, Edwin is always framed as the taller and biggest, either by height or because he is the closest to the camera. But no in the scene where he and Charles talk about Edwin's supposed feelings about Monty. No-it's Charles who is closer to the camera, because Edwin is the one being emotionally vulnerable. Charles holds the power to either lift up or crush Edwin here. And he is very aware of it.

And fulled by that power, by the fact Edwin opened up to him, Charles stands up tall. And when he reaches Edwin, they are practically the same height. Perfectly balanced, in the wake of Charles' acceptance.

In the scene with the Night Nurse, we see Charles practically flaunting his height. Which is in line with him essentially telling her to take him, but to leave Edwin alone. The point is, not only is he fully showing off his power and consciously or not, trying to intimidate the Night Nurse, but he is also shielding Edwin that way. Look at me, not him. I am the one you should feel threatened by, not him.

And of course. Of course. One scene, where Charles is actively above someone else, where he is higher, both in height and positioning?

In hell, during, Edwin's confession.

In an interview from the actors in this post, they actually touched upon this scene and how Charles being above Edwin on the starway was intentional, because Edwin is feeling very emotionally vulnerable.

He is in an submissive position(do not make the sex joke) to Charles here. He is opening himself up for a rejection and Charles is the one with all the power here. Which in and off itself is powerful, but for Charles? The character who constantly shrinks himself down as not to make anyone uncomfortable and threatened, who constantly gets knocked down in a fight by others?

Charles is terrified of being in a more powerful position due to his dad, because what if he turns out to be the same when he is in such a position?

But instead, he uses that power to be kind. He can't return Edwin's feelings, but he can reassure him he cares for him and that they have time to figure this out. And that is what turns Charles' shirt red again. Not only the fact that he is loved, despite all his flaws, but also the fact that proved to himself that he would never knock down the person being vulnerable, even when he hold all the power.

I exceeded picture limit on mobile, but in a scene on the rooftop wjere Edwin tries to apologize if him confessing created any tension between them and Charles reassure him that it did not, they are on the same height again.

Charles is sitting on an wall, so he is elevated, but he all curled up, so he comes on around the same hight as Edwin who is standing. Equals, once again, despite completely different stances.

I believe that's all I have to say on the topic of Charles in this context, lmk if I forgot smth or if anyone has anything to add, I love hearing other ppl's takes too!

[sgiandubh]

The influencer

And then, there was this promo interview, which triggered yet another #silly gloating salvo:

[Source: Meg Hughes' TikTok page, https://www.tiktok.com/@meggghughes/video/7492146309391043862?_r=1&_t=ZS-8vVbnzZZ0io]

I will transcribe it verbatim - the only reason I am mentioning it, is because this is a case study in ass-kissing, especially when you consider the broader context.

Meg Hughes (MH): 'I talk so much about your role in this film, because it probably took me a few minutes to realize that that was you on screen, last night...'

Caitriona Balfe (CB): 'Awww, stop it...'

MH: '...you disappeared into that role and that's something I really find with your work, it is fascinating. I just adore seeing you come on my screen and then realizing - oh, my God, that's Caitriona Balfe!'

[CB laughs]

MH: 'And you were fabulous in your role, last night and gave such a beautiful performance, I thought you portrayed loneliness in such an endearing way, it really sat with me so much and I just wanna say I was in awe of it, last night...'

CB: 'Awww, thank you...'

MH: 'But how was the preparation for that role for you and what kind of drew you to it?'

CB: 'Well, I think, you know, kind of what you're saying, on the page that all leaped out at me, uhm, when I read the script. First of all, the whole script was just this very smart take on this great, sort of, spy genre and this kind of thriller has been [thick accent, didn't catch it properly, sorry]. But Inquiline popped at me because there was such depth to her [MH: 'yeah'], that you meet her and she completely upends your expectations. And then, also, there is somebody where you realize there is a whole life that has been lived before. And you get to fill that in for yourself, as an actor and kind of really create this person who, when Heller meets her is so broken, has experienced so much loss, but has found a way of surviving. But also, as she's kind of retreated from the world, she's also doing this really.. what I think is an incredibly heroic thing, which is exposing all of this corruption and kind of trying to... yeah... have some kind of justice or, you know, have some kind of balance in the world, against all these kinds of nefarious actors. Ahem... and I thought that was really beautiful... uh... dichotomy of what somebody sort of represents.'

MH:' As I was watching it, I was like, this is like Charlie Heller, if he made certain choices, in the future. It kind of felt like the road he could have possibly gone down a very lonely, very isolated road. So I find it very interesting, if he took this route. And I think that loneliness would have kind of, sort of, more plotty kind of date for Inquiline?' [Did you understand what she meant? I surely haven't, but that is perhaps just me, here].

CB: 'Yeah, no, I agree. I mean, I think they've both reacted to their situations in very different ways. His drive is for revenge, he really wants to get the people who've done this terrible, terrible thing to him. And whether she felt that in the beginning or not... you know... we don't really know, but I think, for me, I sort of... I think she understands that revenge is not something that will fill you, it's not something that will heal you, that in a way justice is what she is looking for. And I think Charlie is struggling with the difference between these two things, which I think is an interesting question in the movie, as well.'

MH: 'Thank you so much for talking to me, today...'

CB: 'No worries, such a pleasure to meet you...'

MH: '...it was so kind of you, it was so nice...'

CB: 'I mean, I have such fond memories of going and having oysters in Carlingford, with my parents...'

MH:' Oh, no way...'

CB: '... yeah...'

MH:... we're very known for it...'

CB:'...I know'

MH: '...oh, such a surprise, you have to come back...'

CB: ' I will, I will...'

MH: '... we'll have some oysters and chat more about all things film...'

CB: ' Perfect'.

And now, for my thoughts about this nice, but overall forgettable interview. Quite routine, by now, really.

Contrary to what was rather pompously sold by BIF& co, this charming, baby-faced 25 years young woman is not a film critic, nor does she pretend at any moment to be:

[Source: Meg Hughes' Instagram account ]

In her own words, she is 'a film nerd, with a love for the little things in life'. And her listed email address gives away her real profile:

[Source: https://sixteenth.com/]

She is currently affiliated with Sixteenth.com, a subsidiary of The Whalar Group:

Itself a media influencing agency founded in 2015 and based in New York:

[Source: https://whalargroup.com/our-story/]

In other words, Meg Hughes is a young Irish influencer, with a sizeable chunk of the Gen-Z Irish market under her belt. Don't get me wrong, here - there is nothing 'bad', so to speak, about this tiny detail. But, might I add: Roger Ebert was a real film critic. Meg Hughes is monetizing her posts and building her brand, which is something completely different, in a different, perhaps less formal and professional context.

But that makes all the difference, too. Her tone and semantics are more akin to a fan's, than a critic's, even if she doesn't follow C, nor *** (but does follow Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce, LOL). And she was dying to let her audience know she was an insider and invited as such to the London premiere: she speaks about what she did 'last night' no less than three times in the space of two meagre paragraphs!

Do you honestly think that someone, whose bread and butter is mainly provided by their social media accounts, would not be ready to take aboard PR's kindly planted suggested compliment?

I think she would, with no qualms (why would she, after all?) and absolutely no idea of the menial Tumblr ensuing drama-drama.

The only thing Meg Hughes is 'channeling' is this:

If you had any doubt about the real origin of the 'organic' compliment, the involuntary evidence is, I think, right here. And laugh as much as you can, for you don't know what we say in Romanian: 'prea mult râs strică, maică' -> too much laughs ain't good for ya, mommie. I'd certainly deplore you choking on it.

PR planted, then used at convenience, for the newbies and the casuals, whose attention span is never superior to five minutes.

Meanwhile, French critics have a different take on The Amateur. But that is another story, for a bit later tonight. I know it pisses many off and I totally intend to oblige. Rest assured, C was not attacked - just completely ignored by all the French major movie critic media outlets, which I think is unfair. But it is what it is. Toodles!

[ducksido]

Hello~ I just read your Italian and Aussie yuu posts, and I love your style!!! I was wondering, if you’re taking requests rn, if you could possibly do a southerner! Yuu? Like Georgia/Alabama/Florida (preferably like South Georgia.) If you don’t want to, feel free to delete. I hope you have a wonderful day and take care of yourself!!!

(South Georgia as in the British overseas territory near Antarctica? Not the U.S. state? If you meant the U.S. state, let me know!)

South Georgia! Yuu

General Reactions

Grim:

“Yuu, why don’t you ever get cold?! ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN?!”

“Wait, wait—your island has no permanent human population?! HOW ARE YOU EVEN HERE?!”

Keeps mistaking penguins for some weird fae species.

The NRC Student Body:

“Yuu literally walked through a blizzard and didn’t even shiver. I think they’re part ice spirit.”

Nobody understands their home. "Wait, so it’s an island, but it’s also not really a country?"

“You lived near seals and penguins instead of people?! That’s metal.”

Tries to joke about Yuu being from a ‘cold, isolated wasteland’ → Realizes they are completely serious.

Crowley:

“Ah, Prefect! You must find this school to be a tropical paradise compared to your homeland! No need to thank me!”

Uses them as an example of "resilience." (Even though they didn’t choose to be born in the cold.)

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

Mildly concerned about how unfazed Yuu is by extreme conditions.

“You’ve survived sub-zero temperatures and wild storms, yet you still refuse to follow the Queen’s rules?”

Secretly jealous that Yuu never catches colds.

Ace Trappola:

“Wait, wait, you grew up on an island where no one actually lives? That’s hardcore.”

Takes bets on how long it’ll take for Yuu to feel cold. (Loses every time.)

“So your neighbors were penguins? What do they even do all day?!”

Deuce Spade:

“You’re literally built different.”

Wants to fight a penguin after Yuu tells him they can be aggressive.

“Wait, you had to learn how to survive in freezing conditions?? RESPECT.”

Trey Clover:

“So… what kind of food do you even eat back home?”

Tries making something with seal meat substitute. Instant regret.

Cater Diamond:

“So you’re saying your island is remote, icy, and full of wildlife? Bro, that’s some Magicam aesthetic.”

Keeps calling Yuu a ‘mystery traveler.’

“Wait… so there’s literally no internet where you’re from? HOW DO YOU LIVE?!”

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

“Tch. So you come from a place even harsher than my homeland?”

“Hmph. Cold or not, you still reek of herbivore.”

Absolutely refuses to believe penguins are dangerous. (One attacks him. He respects them now.)

Ruggie Bucchi:

“So… there aren’t a lot of people on your island? …How do you hustle there?!”

Finds out Yuu can handle harsh conditions → Plans a survival challenge.

“Wait, so penguins can fight? I need to see this.”

Jack Howl:

“You grew up in survival conditions?! That’s so cool!”

Immediately respects Yuu.

“We should train together—your endurance must be insane.”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

“Wait, so your home is an island, but it’s too cold for tourism?”

Sees how Yuu casually withstands freezing water. “I need you for a business deal.”

Jade Leech:

Fascinated by their survival skills.

“Ah, Prefect, you must have many interesting wildlife encounters… Tell me, have you ever fought a seal?”

Wants to go on an ‘expedition’ with Yuu.

Floyd Leech:

“PENGUINS?! You mean those little guys in suits? I WANNA SQUEEZE ‘EM.”

Finds out penguins can bite. “Never mind. I’ll squeeze you instead, Chilly-chan!”

Nicknames Yuu ‘Chilly’ or ‘Ice Cube.’

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim:

“Wait, your home is cold all year round?! That sounds awful! Let’s get you some sunshine!”

Throws Yuu a ‘Welcome to Warmth’ party.

“No offense, but I could NEVER live without people around.”

Jamil Viper:

“...You’re seriously saying you don’t feel cold? At all?”

Suspicious but impressed.

“You willingly lived in isolation? Sounds peaceful…”

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

“Bro, your internet must be garbage.”

Respects Yuu for their ability to live alone.

“Okay but… you don’t have like, ghosts in the ice, right?”

Ortho Shroud:

Runs a full analysis on South Georgia.

“Fascinating! You must have excellent survival instincts!”

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

“So, your homeland is cold, dark, and isolated? …How intriguing.”

“I should visit. Perhaps the fae would find it comfortable.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

“Ah, I see! You’re from a land of warriors!”

“Do you eat seal stew? I have a recipe!”

Silver:

“I think I’d fall asleep and freeze to death there.”

Sebek Zigvolt:

“I ADMIRE YOUR RESILIENCE, HUMAN!”

Sees a penguin. “WHAT MANNER OF BEAST IS THIS?!”

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

“How do you maintain your skin in such harsh weather?”

“I refuse to believe you don’t need moisturizer.”

Epel Felmier:

“Your island is tough? Sounds like home!”

Wants to ride a penguin.

Rook Hunt:

Knows every fact about South Georgia.

“Ah, a land of ice, wind, and noble creatures! A true test of the soul!”

RSA & Noble Bell

Neige:

“Oh! Your home sounds like a fairytale!”

Chenya:

Steals Yuu’s coat to see if they finally feel cold. (They don’t.)

Rollo Flamme:

“So your home is cold and isolated? I see. You must understand my disdain for chaos.”

Meleanor & Young Lilia:

Meleanor wants to visit.

Lilia is delighted by penguins.

More South Georgia!Yuu Chaos

Does not react to cold. Confuses everyone with their survival skills. Penguins are now a school-wide obsession.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Pity Party | p. 2

Carmy Berzatto x gn!reader

Masterlist Part One

Summary: Carmy takes you home, but you find yourself not ready to go yet

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, some mushiness, fluff, possibly incorrect info about cars

A/n: hi. I’m sorry for taking a million years on this. and I’m sorry it’s not longer. Thank you to anyone that read the first part and shared their interest <3 and thank you for reading this one. You all are the best

“Holy shit,” you said, food still in your mouth and hand wrapped around the taco. Your wide eyes glanced up to Carmy’s.

“Right?” He swallowed down his bite before grinning, his head bobbing up and down in an approving nod.

You’d replaced the claustrophobic party with a small taqueria that, despite the occasional yelling between the front person and cooks, was much more peaceful. It had too few people in it for how good the food tasted, but you wouldn’t complain about the lack of noise or drunken singing.

“All the dishes were created by Rosa. She owned this food truck back when I was a kid — way before she could open up this place. If you come back–”

“When I come back,” you corrected.

“When you come back,” he said with a grin, “Their shredded beef is top shit. She spends hours getting it just right. Or the nachos. Even their fucking nachos are insane.”

You laughed, suddenly wishing you’d ordered nachos — maybe if you had more time here. As you ate, you listened to Carmy continue telling you about the restaurant and Rosa and how the tastes come together just right. You didn’t think you’d ever thought that hard about food before, but you just listened to him explain.

Well, mostly. Sometimes you watched his eyes light up as he spoke. Or you focused on the smooth way his mouth formed around the words.

“Sorry, this can get annoying,” he said after a minute of explaining the flavor profile of the tres leches cake a past restaurant he’d worked at had, and how it was a twist on Rosa’s tres leches cake he’d had as a kid.

But you shook your head, your expression dropping into a frown at his sudden cynicism. “No, no. Keep going,” you offered, hoping your tone sounded as sincere as you felt. “It’s fascinating stuff. Does Rosa know that she inspired you?”

You kept asking him questions. Most of it was to feed your interest, but part of it was to hear him keep talking.

Taking a sip of water, you washed down the different flavors of the taco. “Thank you again for taking me here. You’re a two-time lifesaver now,” you said with a tired but grateful laugh. Your eyes glanced down to your phone, seeing that Richie gave a thumbs up to your message saying you got a ride home from Carmy.

“Course. And thanks again for paying,” he said with an almost incredulous laugh. “Though I still can’t believe you paid the guy before I could see what you were doing.”

You nodded, happily chewing. It was the least you could do since he saved your night from complete disaster. “You can grab food the next time you drive me home from a party while I’m covered in beer.”

“Christ, I hope that doesn’t happen again for your sake.” He wiped his hands on a napkin, balling it up onto his plate. He gestured a finger toward you, saying, “The guy that spilled on you sounded like a total douche.”

A smile broke out across your face as you swallowed down a bite. “He was. He had the ugliest polo and cargo short combo I’ve ever seen doing the grossest hip thrusts I’ve ever seen with a full cup. And that wasn’t even the worst part!” You couldn’t contain the giggles popping up through your words now. “I looked back at him while walking away — from the most half-assed apology I’d ever heard — and saw his toe shoes… The fucker was wearing toe shoes!”

Carmy almost spit out his water, choking on it as you spoke. When he finally recovered, he shook his head, saying, “Nah, you’re fucking with me. There’s no way.” His grin went wide as he laughed harder.

“No, I’m 100% serious. I nearly ran into someone cause I couldn’t take my eyes off of them — like a goddamn trainwreck or something.”

You relished in the sound of his laughter, letting it replace the image of that guy’s horrible footwear.

“Christ, that’s horrible.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered, finishing up your food. Standing, you held out a hand for his plate. You threw away the trash, stacking the plates in a dish bin with the remnants of laughter stuck to you. By the time you came back to the table, Carmy was standing and putting his jacket back on.

He stared at you for a second, and you couldn’t read the look in his eyes. You smiled nonetheless. He just said, “Ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. It didn’t feel as cold walking to the van this time with a full stomach and being next to Carmy. The tender fuzziness wrapped throughout your body didn’t wane until after a few miles of driving. On a side road meant to take you to the freeway back into the city, the car began to lurch. Your gaze slid over to Carmy as the van gradually slowed.

You found his expression sinking into a frown as he pulled off onto the shoulder. The skin of his knuckle stretched taut, his hands gripping the wheel tight. Parked, he shut the car off and tried turning it back on. Your stomach sank when a click-click-click sound hit your ears.

His fingers firmly wrapped around the car keys stuck into the ignition. He tried turning them again, which only produced that clicking sound once more. One final try, a hail mary as you held your breath, as he tried again. But you let out a half sigh when the engine kept turning over.

He slumped back into his seat, his hand dropping from the keys to lie beside his leg. “Fuck…” he breathed out, wiping the other hand across his forehead and along his hairline.

You opened your mouth, hoping to say something helpful, but nothing worked its way past the worry lining your throat. So you pressed your lips back together. You just nodded when he told you, “Let me see if I can look under the hood,” and made his way to the front of the van. Your eyes flitted between looking at the way his face wrinkled as he felt for the hood release and your fingers picking at your nails.

Flickers of the flashlight from Carmy’s phone passed from either side of the popped hood. A few minutes later, your eyebrows rose expectantly at him as soon as he came back. “What’s the prognosis?” you asked.

He sighed while closing the door, glancing to you. “It’s been a while since I’ve worked on cars, but there’s definitely a leak. With how hot it felt under there, I’d guess it’s the coolant.”

You breathed out, your eyebrows sinking into a disappointed frown. “So a tow truck it is.”

“Yeah…” he said, “I’m sorry, let me- I’ll order you a ride.” His words sounded defeated as he fished out his phone from his jean pocket.

“Oh, you don’t…” The words slipped past your lips before you could register what you were saying — before you could recognize the sharp feelings in your chest that sparked the words. Carmy turned to look at you, his attention fixed on the end of your sentence. Beneath his stare, you found it hard to think much beyond how much you weren’t ready for the night to end.

Clearing your throat, you slowly said, “You don’t have to do that. I could, um, wait with you.” With your heart beating against your ribs, you added, “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind me sticking around.”

His finger paused, hovering over his phone screen. After a beat, the corner of his mouth lifted into a hesitant smile. “Uh, no. ‘f course not,” he said. “But it could be awhile before a truck gets here.”

Smiling, you shrugged. “Okay.”

And you watched him nod as a bigger smile spread across his face, like sunshine sneaking through the crack of a door. Your gaze flitted around the van’s interior and the dark side of the road while he called the towing company. But your attention was back on him when he hung up.

A small sigh accompanied his words. “They said it could be an hour. Maybe more.”

“Okay, well,” you started but paused, feeling warm all over. You hadn’t quite thought this far ahead. And now, in the soft silence of the van, his attention sat entirely on you. Quickly, you glanced into the back of the van, eyeing all of the boxes that sat there. With a slight grin, you continued, “Well now that we have some time to kill, I have to ask what’s all back here.”

Carmy shifted, looking to the back as well. “God, sorry about the mess. Most of it’s just supplies for The Beef… And Richie’s stupid fucking shirts for the restaurant.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Well shirts aren’t so bad. They can be good advertising for–”

“They say ‘The Original Berf.’”

“Oh.” You let out a small laugh, which grew with each breath because of course they said that. The way Carmy shook his head only furthered your giggling. Eventually, once your laughter died down, you eyed the back again. “How many shirts are in there?”

He looked back again, reaching a hand back to flip up the top of a box behind your seat. “Uh, maybe 20? Why?”

Pursing your lips, you asked, “Do you think there’s a shirt my size in there?” And at Carmy’s laugh, your mouth pulled into a smile.

“Let me see…”

He stretched toward the back, his hand gripping the side of your seat. With his body just a few inches away, waves of warmth rolled off of him. Your eyes couldn’t help trailing the curls of his hair or the dips and wrinkles of his sweater around his body.

When the rustling stopped, and your gaze elsewhere, he finally pulled back with a dark navy shirt in his hands. “Here you go.”

Giving a quiet, “Thank you,” you unfolded the shirt and held it up. It looked to be about your size, so you began unbuckling your seatbelt. “Um, could you– I mean, do you mind?” you asked, holding the shirt close to you, unsure of how to ask him to give you privacy in the car.

Thankfully, he got the message and turned the other way. “Yeah, yeah. Just, uh, let me know if it doesn’t fit.”

Hesitantly, your fingers wrapped around the hem of your shirt. You briefly relished in the feeling of finally taking off your beer-stained shirt, enjoying the air from the car’s vents against your skin. You pulled down the new shirt and said, “Okay, you’re good to look.”

You shifted it this way and that until it felt right. As you looked down and read that it did indeed read “The Original Berf,” another laugh slipped from your mouth.

You looked at Carmy as he said, “Richie calls it a collector’s item.”

“Of course he does,” you muttered with a grin. The feeling of a dry, smell-free shirt had you thanking him again. “This might bring you up to saving me three times tonight.” You turned to look at him, the left side of your body resting against the back of your seat. Your head tilted, leaning into the headrest.

“Well, you’re spending tonight waiting for a tow truck with me, so I’d say we’re about even.”

You let out a quiet hum, pursing your lips. “If we’re even… then could I ask you a favor?”

He was now turned toward you, his head tilted the same way. His hands sat in his lap, his fingers fidgeting every couple of seconds. Yet his expression looked almost calm as he said, “Yeah, anything.”

–

So there you both were, lying on the hood of his van looking up at the stars. With a sturdy enough box to use as a step and a thermal blanket beneath your bodies, you and Carmy set up a place to stargaze side by side. The night air and moonlight kissed your skin as you raised a hand, pointing out another constellation.

The occasional car passed by. A soft siren echoed in the distance. But sitting far enough away from the city, you could hear as the frogs and crickets sang their songs in the grasses nearby. You couldn’t help but think they sounded nice beneath the rumble of Carmy’s voice as he spoke.

“My family didn’t take road trips or anything like that, but uh, my brother took me west one night — when we were young. Honestly, I think he was just pissed at our family and wanted to get out,” he explained with his hands clasped together over his stomach. His chest rose and fell while his gaze stayed fixed on the Hercules constellation above. “But he drove the two of us out of the city and woke me up after. And it was just some field. I was so mad that he dragged me all the way out to a cornfield in the middle of the night.” He shook his head and let out a soft laugh, one filled with a sort of fondness, as if the memory played before his eyes.

“He told me to shut the fuck up and look at the stars. So we sat there on the hood of our mom’s piece of shit car, and he told me about the constellations.” He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. “But he didn’t know shit about constellations. He made it all up. I started to catch on when he pointed out the little dipper for the third time.”

A smile of your own spread across your face. You turned your head to look at him better, to watch the creases wrinkle around his eyes. “That sounds really nice,” you whispered. “To get out and escape once and awhile.”

“Yeah. It is…” Like now. The words seemed to dance between the two of you.

“Can you point out the little dipper to me?” you asked. “We wouldn’t want all his hard work teaching to go to waste.”

With a laugh, Carmy nodded and looked back to the sky. His hand raised, pointing to stars off to the right. “You see those four stars there that make a rectangle? That’s the cup. And those three,” he said, tracing his finger up in a curve, “make the handle.”

You nodded along. “I’m surprised you didn’t do much stargazing in your fabulous Copenhagen days,” you teased.

A groan left his mouth. “Cooking in Copenhagen leaves you no time for stargazing.”

“Sounds like cooking in Chicago leaves you without any time, either,” you whispered, watching as his hand dropped back down, his eyes locking onto yours.

He didn’t say anything at first, and an icy uncertainty began to creep up your spine. He turned his body onto his side to face it. “It leaves time for some things,” he said, melting away the worry and replacing it with burning hope. You turned toward him, too.

“Like what?” you breathed out, letting your fingers inch closer to his in the space between you. With him so close, you became acutely aware of everything around you. The bumps of the hood beneath you, the crinkle of the blanket with each movement, the intensity in the way he listened to your every word.

His gaze skipped around your face as he said, “Like a first date.”

You raised your eyebrows, turning your nose at him. “We just had our first date. Doesn’t a private dinner and stargazing sound romantic to you?” you asked. But you could only tease for so long, could only keep the sincerity at arm’s length until you were weak to it.

“Let me take you out for real,” he answered, grinning at you. His eyes continued to glance down to your lips. You felt your heartbeat in your ears. You barely ignore the uneasy excitement building in your chest. “Let me kiss you.”

Brief moments passed like hours before you nodded, before his hand brushed along your jaw and cupped your face. In an instant, your eyes shut as his mouth pressed to yours — like they were made to fit together. Your body molded to his, your muscles melting at his touch. Your fingers gripped his shirt, then his hair when it wasn’t enough. An almost desperate groan came from the back of his throat when you broke away to breathe.

He kept kissing you, only letting you get small gasps of air here and there. And the comforting feel of him nearly felt more important than breathing anyway. It left you in a dizzying addiction to his touch.

His nose nudged against yours with each kiss, his hold on you solid and unmoving. You didn’t know how much time had passed there in his embrace before lights hit your eyelids. Slowly, the sound of a car approaching reached your ears, making you pull away from Carmy.

A truck came closer as you sat up, your body already missing the warmth of Carmy. The lights on top of the truck told you it was here to tow the van. Looking back at Carmy, you watched as he adjusted his shirt and hair before hopping off the hood. You took his hand to get down yourself, smiling as he squeezed your hand.

He left your side to speak with the tow truck driver, but his eyes never left you for long. The butterflies in your stomach never left either, not with the soft way he looked at you.

The journey home passed in a blur, the tired goodbye and quick kiss as you parted ways. Not even Richie, who arrived home next door at the same time as you and immediately noticed your changed shirt, could dull the smile on your face. Though when he asked how your night with Carmy was and obnoxiously wiggled his eyebrows, he came close.

You merely muttered, “Shut up,” before closing your door on him. And finally back in your apartment, you could shower and change — relishing in the clean and dry feeling. Even the sharpness of the vinegar you poured into a bowl was a relief. Diluting it with water per Carmy’s instructions, you mixed it together before dipping your shirt in.

And you thought of him the entire time, unable to keep a smile off your face as you washed off your shirt to find it stain-free

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (see full series list here)

1994

Two nights before Harry's big Ministry hearing, you sit at the kitchen table with Sirius, talking about nothing in particular, easily slipping into your old routine of sitting and talking with each other for hours on end. No matter who you meet, no matter how long you've known them, there's no one that seems to just get you like he does.

Mrs Weasley wipes down the counters in the kitchen, her usual routine before heading to bed, while her husband fiddles with a Muggle children's toy you'd given him. It's one of those things with the metal balls inside, and you have to shake and tilt it to try and get them to fall into place in the holes, usually on the top of a bottle of bubbles.

"Fascinating!" Mr Weasley exclaims happily, shaking it enthusiastically and watching in wonder as the balls miss every hole completely. "And Muggle children play with this, yes?"

You nod, smiling. "Keeps them entertained for a little while. I never liked them growing up — I was never patient enough.”

He continues to play with the toy, his face the picture of wonder and interest. You're glad he's there, really, because you hate the tension between Sirius and Mrs Weasley ever since Harry's return. Neither one of them have decided to apologise to the other — and though sometimes you think about saying it to Sirius, you feel it really should be Mrs Weasley who apologises, considering the awful things she said about his place as Harry's godfather.

You're still on good terms with Mrs Weasley, despite how her words still sit stinging in the back of your mind, but you'd rather forget about it and move on amicably than suffer through this suffocating awkwardness.

A knock on the kitchen door grabs the attention of the room, and you stand up to answer it, surprised when Dumbledore is on the other side of it.

"Dumbledore!" you exclaim, opening the door wider for him to enter. "Wasn't expecting you tonight."

He steps inside, smiling politely at you. "Yes, I do apologise for coming unannounced… Sirius, I would like a word with you, if you don't mind."

Mrs Weasley drops her cloth into the sink, brushing off her hands and seizing hold of Arthur's arm quickly. "It's getting late, we should be getting to bed. Goodnight, everyone."

"Night," you say to them, watching as they scurry out of the basement kitchen as quick as possible and close it behind them. Glancing between Dumbledore and Sirius, you feel a slight awkwardness creep through you. You clear your throat. "Should I go?"

"No," they say at the same time, eyes focused on each other.

Great.

You mentally prepare yourself for the argument that's bound to begin when these two start talking. You busy yourself in the kitchen, doing nothing really but pretend to look occupied as Sirius starts the conversation.

"Well, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Harry's hearing on Thursday," Dumbledore replies, as you mindlessly adjust cups in the press without them needing it.

"And? What about it?"

There's a pause, the only noise being you clinking cups against each other aimlessly. "I expect you would like to accompany Harry, but I am afraid I must tell you that I do not think you should."

"I can't say I'm surprised to hear you think that," Sirius says, a slight bitterness lining the edges of his voice. "But I'm sure you understand that I think I should. He's going to a Ministry hearing, he could do with the moral support."

"He will have moral support from Mr Weasley, who will be bringing him to and from his hearing," Dumbledore answers calmly. "It is far too dangerous for you to leave this house, Sirius, even in your animagus form."

"I'll be careful. I just want to help his nerves — "

"I cannot let you," Dumbledore says, more firm this time. "Not only do I think you shouldn't, I know you shouldn't. It is not worth the risk."

You look up as Sirius glances at you, and Dumbledore follows his eyeline expectantly.

"I'll go with him, Sirius, don't worry," you say with a sympathetic smile. You know how much he was looking forward to getting out of the house. "I'll make sure he's alright."

"I am sorry to say I must tell you to stay here as well, professor," Dumbledore says slowly, and you blink at him in confusion.

"I...I don't understand. I'm not on the run, why can't I go with my godson?"

"Suspicions will be raised if you are spotted within the Ministry," Dumbledore says, looking at you. The prolonged eye contact is making you uncomfortable, and you nervously avoid his gaze and focus on the wooden table before you. "It is best that Harry's visit draws as little attention as possible."

"Then I'll wear a disguise," you reply simply.

"As who?"

You bring yourself to meet his eyes, blue and expectant as he silently waits for you to offer an answer: one that you don't have. "As...uh, a Ministry worker bringing him to his hearing, of course."

You think you might imagine the slight surprise that widens Dumbledore's eyes by a fraction, but it's gone when he shakes his head. "Too risky. I direct the two of you to stay here during his hearing, and not to go with him."

You look at Sirius, your eyes communicating every frustration you're currently feeling — he looks the exact same. You're so sick of having arguments and never getting what you want out of them.

You bite your lip, sighing defeatedly. "Right, fine. We'll stay."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

After a disgustingly early start on Thursday morning, you wish Harry the best of luck in his hearing and watch as he and Mr Weasley leave the house for the Ministry. You make an effort to keep yourself and Sirius as busy as possible, working on cleaning and redoing the drawing room again.

You run a cloth along the piano, catching the dust and revealing the shiny black surface hiding beneath the grime. You sit down on the bench, pushing it closer to the instrument with your heels and start to play whatever comes to mind, an old classical tune you've forgotten the name of.

When you finish, Sirius comes to join you, placing his hand on your shoulder. "Beautiful. What's it called?"

You shrug, smiling sheepishly at him. "I forget. I'm a bit rusty, to be honest."

"Doesn't sound like that to me," he says, motioning for you to scoot over so he can sit beside you on the bench. "Could you teach me something?"

"You never played?" You say, surprised. "I would've thought this was here for you to play."

Sirius chuckles softly, shaking his head. "It was more my mother. She always wanted me to play, but I refused, of course. Regulus was far better than me — he used to play while she did her embroidery."

You scoff. "Her embroidery? It was the 70s, not the 1800s."

"My parents did not get the memo, apparently." He nudges you with his shoulder, smiling playfully at you. "Come on, teach me something, professor."

You spend the next hour teaching him the basics, gently placing your hands on his and slowly leading him through a simple piece, laughing at the intense look of concentration on his face.

"What are you giggling at?" he says with a grin, looking back at you.

"Nothing, you're just so concentrated," you giggle, beaming.

"Well, it's actually quite difficult, you know...everyone has to start somewhere!" he says in mock offense.

You hum, pouting dramatically at him. "And you're starting off very well." You peck his lips, patting his shoulder as you swing your legs over the bench and stand up. "Come on, Mozart, I think I heard the front door open."

When you enter the kitchen, the atmosphere is very much celebratory as Ron high-fives Harry hard, a great big grin on his face.

"Cleared!" Harry says to you and Sirius, beaming, "of all charges!"

You feel the weight lift from your shoulders and grin at him. "Oh, wonderful, Harry!"

Sirius claps Harry hard on the back, beaming proudly at him. "Knew you'd pull through."

When Harry turns away, however, you don't miss the way Sirius's smile falters and is replaced by a small look of disappointment, before he regains his composure and smiles again. You find his hand and squeeze it comfortingly.

"Listen, you guys, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry — " Mr Weasley starts, and you both immediately turn your attention to Arthur.

"What?" you say sharply.

"Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together," Mr Weasley replies. "Dumbledore ought to know."

"Absolutely," Sirius says. "We'll tell him, don't worry."

Lucius Malfoy. If Fudge stopped to think for a second why Lucius Malfoy keeps donating so much gold to the Ministry, surely he'd realise that it's not out of the goodness of his lovely pureblood heart?

Dinner passes pleasantly, everyone in high spirits after Harry's great escape from expulsion. Sirius, however, seems more downcast than usual and you're pretty sure you know the reason.

He heads to bed much earlier than everyone else, finishing his meal and bidding everyone goodnight. While everyone else celebrates and chats happily at the table around you, you chew on your lip thoughtfully.

You wait a while before heading up to bed after Sirius, wanting to give him time to himself to think over everything. However, when you open the door to his bedroom you find it empty, and immediately go looking for him. It's only when you enter the master bedroom, where Buckbeak is being kept, that you find your husband, sitting on the floor next to the hippogriff, stroking his feathers absent-mindedly.

"Here you are," you say softly, shutting the door behind you. "Hello, Buckbeak."

Buckbeak cocks his head in your direction curiously, clicking his beak in greeting.

Sirius looks up when you enter, clearing his throat. "Hello."

You make your way over, sitting next to him on the floor. You don't say anything for a few moments, the room quiet and still, before you take a deep breath and start talking. "I know you're disappointed Harry is going away to Hogwarts again."

He doesn't respond, sighing.

"But it was going to happen," you continue, your voice soft and gentle. "That's where he's happiest."

"I know," he says quietly. "I know that. I just...hoped I'd get more time with him. Longer than a few weeks."

You hum, laying your head on his shoulder. "Me too."

"But you'll get to see him anyway," he continues. "Come September, you'll both be gone back to Hogwarts."

You shake your head, offering him a small smile. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts in September, Sirius. I'm staying here."

His expression brightens for a moment, before he seems to remind himself of something and shakes his head. "But you love your job. You're always talking about how much you love teaching."

"I do," you answer truthfully. "But I love you more. I could never live with myself if I knew I had the choice of going back to work or being with you, and I chose my job. I've had a good thirteen years of working there, and I'd like to make up for all the time we have missed out on together instead."

Sirius looks at you as if it's taking every bit of resolve in him to say this. "I want you to go back."

"You don’t seem too convinced.”

He exhales deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. "I want you there, to look out for Harry. To keep him safe."

"Hogwarts is where he's safest, Sirius," you say. "Dumbledore will be there, he knows best how to protect him — "

"But he's not you," he says simply, his eyes serious. "Dumbledore can protect him, sure, but Harry trusts you. He knows he can go to you for anything. I think that's what he needs most this year."

You sigh, kissing your teeth quietly. "I don't want you to be alone."

"But you know I'm right."

You chuckle humourlessly, shaking your head. "I hate it when you're right."

He pulls you into him, kissing your temple. "I know."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"So, any girls, Harry?"

Sirius raises his eyebrows at the boy, everyone else in the room distracted by their own separate conversations and activities. They had previously been discussing Harry's life at the Dursleys, and now Sirius thinks it is high time for him to impart as much (god)fatherly wisdom he can on the lad.

"What?" Harry's face is the picture of confusion.

"You can't tell me there isn't someone you've got your eye on," Sirius continues with a cheeky grin. "Girl, boy, maybe there's more than one — so come on, tell me, what's going on?"

Harry laughs nervously, shaking his head. "There's no one."

Sirius raises his eyebrows at him, unbelieving.

"Okay, there's one girl."

Sirius grins triumphantly, laughing. "I knew it! You make any moves yet?"

"What? No."

"In that case, let me impart some of my endless wisdom," Sirius says theatrically. "Now, Harry, if you're going to listen to anything I say to you now, it best be this: never lie to a woman. Okay? Simple." He brings his hand up to begin listing things off his fingers. "It'll never work, they always know. And if they don't know straight away, they'll find out you lied eventually, and then it'll be even worse for you. It never ends well. I mean — have you ever tried to lie to my wife?"

Harry thinks for a moment, shaking his head. "No?"

"Think again, you're sure you've never lied about your homework or something like that?" Sirius pushes.

Harry thinks again, remembering the time he tried to lie to you about his scar being painful in fourth year. "Wait, I have, actually."

"And did she believe you?"

"No."

Sirius nods gravely. "She is impossible to lie to. I don't know how, but she just sees through it every time — it's impressive, really."

"I hope you're not gossiping about me."

Looking up, Sirius spots you sitting down into the chair beside him, just returning from your guard duty that night.

He smiles. "Never, darling."

You hum, giving him an unimpressed look. "Nice try."

Sirius looks at Harry, raising his eyebrows with a laugh. "See? I told you." He shakes his head, smiling at you. "I've just been giving Harry some advice on girls, that's all."

You snort, giving him an incredulous look. "Girl advice? Sirius, please, you know nothing about women."

"What? I know plenty!" he says defensively, but still in good humour. "I knew enough to get you to marry me."

You smile sympathetically at him, patting his cheek. "That's actually not true, I'm afraid, because I married you for your money."

"Oh, really?"

"Uh-huh."

You look at each other, grinning, before bursting into laughter. When your chuckles finally subside, you look at Harry again. "Seriously, though, Harry, don't listen to Sirius. You don't want to do anything he or your father ever did to get a girl to like them."

"It still worked!" Sirius defends. "We both got to marry the women we loved."

"What did my dad do?" Harry asks curiously, and you laugh.

"What didn't your dad do?" you say. "Actually, do you want to hear the story of how I even became friends with your dad? And Sirius too, by connection — but it was really all James's doing in the end."

"I want to hear this too!" Hermione chimes in, who before had been talking to Remus with Ron.

"What's this?" Remus asks, a curious smile playing on his features.

"How we became friends in fourth year," you explain, and Remus instantly nods in acknowledgment.

"Oh yes, James and his ways."

You clear your throat, grinning. "Now, if I can have your full attention..."

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

January, 1975

You walk along the corridor, a letter clutched in your hands, making your way to the owlery when a voice calls your name.

You recognise the voice, and with an agitated sigh, you continue walking and ignore it. He calls again, before you hear his footsteps pounding along the floor behind you and he skids to a stop beside you, bumping your shoulder.

"Potter? What do you want?"

James Potter falls into step beside you, grinning, his face red and his glasses askew from running. You can't say you're particularly fond of him, considering how he annoys Lily every single day and bullies her friend, Severus. Any enemy of Lily's is an enemy of yours.

"So quick to anger!" he exclaims dramatically. "So demanding!"

You grit your teeth. "What do you want, James?"

"Listen, listen..." he places a hand on your shoulder, pulling you aside. "Now, you and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye, for reasons unknown — "

You scoff.

" — but despite this, I have a trade — a proposal, if you will — of a lifetime to offer you!"

You raise your eyebrows at him again, thoroughly unimpressed.

"I suggest this — trade me a date with Lily, and I'll send you an invitation to the wedding. Sound good?"

He stretches out his hands, wiggling them theatrically and you burst into derisive laughter, shaking your head.

"Oh...you're funny, James, I'll give you that," you say, moving to walk away when he grabs your arm again.

"Wait, wait, listen to me," he says desperately. "Look, I really like Lily, and you're the only one who can help me. You’re her best friend.”

"What about Alice?"

He frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. "She used some…colourful language to tell me she will not be helping me."

You nod. "Sounds about right." You sigh, rubbing your forehead. "Look, James, if you really like Lily then stop being such an ass about it."

"What?"

"You're too cocky, James, and you're mean," you say. "Just actually talk to her yourself, no bullshit. And let Alice and me get some peace, yeah?" 

You finally manage to leave him now, turning and making your way up to the owlery to post your letter. 

If there's one thing about James Potter, it's that he doesn't know how to follow good advice. Sure, talking to Lily would be all fine and dandy if she wanted anything to do with him, but unfortunately for James, she did not. No, to James, this romance is a multi-level scheme, a plan, and you were key to his success.

The best friend angle, he calls it. If he can convince you that he's a decent guy, good enough to date Lily, you can then convince her to go out with him! All he needs is one teeny, tiny little date and James believes that Lily will fall head-over-heels in love with him, and they'll live happily ever after for years to come. 

But he can't go talking himself up to you — you'd never believe it for a second. So he sends the next best thing: his best friend. 

One morning, on your way to Potions, your bag decides to unceremoniously rip and fall to the ground, sending your belongings skittering along the dungeon floor. 

"Oh, no! Do you want some help?" Alice asks, stopping in her tracks. 

You shake your head, glancing at your watch. "No, it's fine. You'll be late — save me a seat!" 

Alice and Lily quickly head into the classroom while you throw everything back into your bag, cursing at the textbook that's now been covered in ink from one of your inkwells and how you've got dark ink all over your hands now. You repair your bag with a wave of your wand, and hurry into the classroom. 

Professor Horace Slughorn looks at you in surprise as you enter and you smile sheepishly. 

"Sorry, professor, my bag split..."

"Nothing to worry about, my dear! Take a seat," Slughorn booms cheerfully. 

You look around, trying to locate Lily and Alice and the seat they were supposed to have saved you, only to find it's been taken by someone else — conveniently the boy Alice has been pining over for the past few weeks. You stare, betrayed, at Alice, who shrugs and mouths, "I'm sorry!"

You scoff quietly, glaring at the boy and wandering to the only empty seat left, which happens to be right beside Sirius Black. He looks up, raising his eyebrows and smirking at you as you sigh, dropping into the seat beside him. 

"Well, aren't I lucky to have you sit beside me?" 

"Truly." You glance around and click your tongue thoughtfully. "Trouble in paradise, Sirius? Looks like your girlfriend kicked you out."

You point at James, who is sitting beside Peter and Remus on the other side of the room.

"Is there something wrong with wanting to sit with someone new?" Sirius says, lowering his voice as Slughorn begins his teaching. "A very pretty someone, might I add."

"Save it for James," you mutter, unimpressed. This isn't the first time Sirius has tried his charms on you, and you're not in the mood for it right now. 

"Today we will be brewing a hair-raising potion," Slughorn says, smiling happily at the students. "Now, we'll start by chopping up 5 grams of porcupine quills — "

"Speaking of James..." Sirius starts, ignoring Slughorn. "What do you think of him? What are your thoughts?"

"I think he's a git." You turn pointedly away from him, focusing on Slughorn again. You give him a confused look when you notice he's not paying attention to Slughorn at all. "Don't you want to find out how to brew this potion?"

He shrugs casually. "I've already made it before, it's not difficult."

Though you really want to ignore him and listen to Slughorn, your curiosity gets the best of you and you turn to him again. "Why have you made a hair-raising potion before?"

He grins at you. "We put it in Filch's goblet on Halloween. Although, we may have gotten some measurements wrong — "

"That was you?" You say in disbelief, a shocked laugh escaping your lips. "You're the reason Filch lost half his hair?" 

"Well, me and James — and also Peter and Remus," he replies, grinning proudly. 

You sigh, shaking your head with an amused smile. "Right. Well…I haven't made it before, so if you don't mind, I'd like to listen to my teacher now."

" — next, add the rat tails slowly, mixing the potion counter-clockwise as the tails are added, and it should turn to this sort of blue colour — cerulean, I would say...or perhaps it is more of a sky blue — " 

"Really, though, about James..." Sirius interrupts quietly, distracting you again. "He's a good guy. Got a good heart, a real romantic. Don't you want Lily to go out with someone who really cares about her?"

You scoff. "Did James set you up for this? Seriously? He's more desperate than I thought—"

"Which just shows how much he cares," Sirius says, ever the loyal friend. 

"It shows how much of a coward he is," you hiss, your face the picture of attention when Slughorn's gaze flits to your desk to make sure you're listening. "He's too scared to talk to Lily himself."

"Because she hates him!" He sighs, looking at you, eyes big and pleading. "You just need to get to know him, then you'll see — what about this? Hang out with us tomorrow. Spend the whole day with us, and then tell me what you think."

You raise your eyebrows at him, shaking your head. 

"Unless..." a smirk tugs at his lips. "Unless you're scared of being wrong. Scared that you might actually like us."

And, despite knowing that this is definitely not worth your time, despite knowing that he only said that to goad you, you bite. 

"Fine. One day, that's all you get," you relent, and Sirius grins triumphantly. "But — if I don't like him by the end of it, you have to do my potions homework for a month!"

"Done." He holds his hand out for you to shake, grinning smugly at you, and you take it, letting go quickly. "And when I say the whole day, I mean the whole day. You can't go running off to Lily and Alice at all, you're stuck with us."

You give him a pained smile, gritting your teeth. "Can't wait."

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

"You make me sound so bad in that story," Sirius complains when you finish and you laugh.

"That's how you were!" you defend. "Right, Remus?" 

Remus smiles appreciatively, nodding. "I'm afraid so."

"Did it work?" Hermione asks curiously. "What did you think of James by the end of it?" 

You laugh, grinning at her. "Oh, nothing changed, and Sirius had to do my Potions work for the month, as agreed" — Sirius rolls his eyes " — but I did have a lot of fun, and we became friends. By fifth year, we were all as thick as thieves." 

"Did you really not like my dad?" Harry says, brows furrowed. 

You give him a reassuring smile, shaking your head. "Not at the beginning, no. Lily didn't like him, so I didn't like him either. But after that torturous day spent with the lot of them, he really grew on me and now I can't picture Lily with anyone else. You really wouldn't meet another couple more perfect for each other."

"Except for us, of course," Sirius adds. 

You nod, an obvious look on your face. "Oh, obviously. We are unbeatable." You tap your chin thoughtfully, racking your brains for another story to tell. "What else can I tell you..."

"How about the time you punched Lucius Malfoy?" Remus offers, casually taking a sip from his goblet. 

The trio's jaws drop, and you turn and stare at Remus accusingly, who smiles innocently at you over his goblet. 

Sirius laughs beside you. "An excellent story!"

You shake your head frantically, glaring at Remus. "I really don't think this is the story they need to hear — "

"We wanna hear it!" Harry says, grinning and nodding at his two friends. 

"I — I don't even remember — "

"I do," Sirius says, smirking at you. He clears his throat dramatically. "Your godmother hated Lucius Malfoy at school, Harry. Absolutely hated him, and for good reason too, 'cause he was a prick — but one day he was picking on her, trying to wind her up, and he said something bad about Lily and bam, she just punched him right in the middle of Herbology, no hesitation."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stare at you in shock and you wince, shaking your head. "That makes me sound awful."

"One of the best days of my life," Sirius says with a proud grin. "You broke his nose, didn't you?" 

"Yep," you nod, kissing your teeth. "Got myself a month's worth of detention, too. Professor McGonagall was furious with me."

"Wicked," Ron says in awe. 

"You should've seen the look on his face," Sirius continues gleefully. "He was too afraid to speak to her for weeks."

You shake your head vigorously. "I'd like to stop talking about this."

"Oh, stop pretending like you regret it," Sirius says with a scoff, laughing. "You're proud of it — and you should be, he needed to be taken down a peg."

"Oh, well…” you glance at Remus. “At least I didn't eat a butterfly."

Remus stares back at you in shock, his cheeks reddening. "I was six! And I told you that in confidence!"

"You...you ate a butterfly?" Harry repeats and Remus hangs his head in shame. 

"I'm not proud of it. It was an accident and I cried for a month after it happened. I...I can never look at butterflies the same."

You and Sirius burst into laughter, while Remus scowls, his face a dark shade of crimson.

He gives Sirius an accusatory look. "You can't say anything, Sirius, when you only took O.W.L. Astronomy because she was taking it."

You snort, looking at Sirius in surprise. "Really? I thought you liked it."

"Hated it," Sirius admits. "I thought it'd be nice and easy, looking at stars and planets and all that but it was actually pretty difficult, and you loved it — you used to go on these long excited rambles about astronomy and I never had any idea what you were talking about."

"I really thought you liked it!" you say sheepishly. "If you didn't like it, why didn't you tell me? Could've escaped my rambles."

He shrugs, smiling at you. "I liked hearing you talk."

You raise your eyebrows, folding your arms. "Didn't like hearing me talk when you put that potion in the showers, did you?"

Remus and Sirius grin at each other. 

"It's not like you were the only target!" Sirius says defensively, still laughing. 

"What?" Harry asks, puzzled, and you give the chortling Sirius a shove. 

"The boys thought they were so funny." You scowl at Remus, though you don't really mean it. "One day, they slipped a potion into the Gryffindor showers that caused anyone who used them to have to walk around with a giant bubble around their head for the rest of the day. It was awful."

Ron and Harry start laughing and you sigh, shaking your head. 

"It was very funny, to be fair," Sirius says cheekily and you roll your eyes. 

"Oh, shut it." 

You, Sirius, and Remus spend the rest of the evening telling the kids the best stories of your school days, and your chest burns from laughter by the end of it. 

"Remember the night we snuck out?"

"Or when James sneezed and nearly fell off his broom!"

"You can't forget the time Alice tripped, fell into Flitwick, and knocked him over!" 

When Mrs Weasley finally puts a stop to your story-telling and makes the kids go to bed, you linger, sitting contentedly between Sirius and Remus. You drape your arms across their shoulders, pulling them into you with a sigh. "I love you two, you know that? I don't know what I'd do without you."

You mean it, too. You're so happy to be back to some semblance of normal, where you get to see Sirius every day and wake up next to him after so long apart, where you finally get to tell people these stories without worrying about what they'll think, where you get to laugh and joke with Remus and talk about nothing at all. 

You're with your family again.

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

“I thought we’d have a little party, not a sit-down dinner,” Mrs Weasley says cheerfully, as she hangs a scarlet banner over the dinner table that reads: Congratulations Ron and Hermione — New Prefects.

The kids had received their book lists this morning, the last day of the summer holidays,  which you find quite odd as the book list is usually out far earlier in the year. With the lists, Ron and Hermione receive shiny new prefect badges and Mrs Weasley has been on cloud nine ever since. When you join her in Diagon Alley to get everyone’s books and supplies, she talks and talks of how proud she is of her youngest son and how wonderful it is that he was chosen. You think it’s sweet.

The town is bustling of course, with parents and children scrambling to get their books and school supplies before the term starts. You meet several of your students and their parents and stop many times to chat and catch up with them – even spending a good while talking to Neville and his grandmother, who has always struck you as an interesting woman. She is one of the few people who had actually trusted you after Sirius’s imprisonment and always appreciates the time you spend visiting Frank and Alice in St Mungo’s.

“Your father and Bill are on the way, Ron, I’ve sent them both owls and they’re thrilled.”

The table is piled high with food and drink, the room buzzing with celebration and cheer. Remus approaches you and Sirius, goblets in hand for the both of you. 

“All set for tomorrow, then?” he asks you, handing you your goblet. 

“Think so,” you answer with a shrug, taking a sip from your wine. “I’m glad I went to Diagon Alley weeks ago, it was absolutely mad today — all the good parchment and quills were gone.”

Nearby, Moody sets his normal eye on Ron and growls, “Prefect, eh? Well, congratulations. Authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn’t have appointed you…”

Ron looks quite startled at this view and quickly leaves to go welcome Arthur and Bill Weasley, who have just arrived, accompanied by Mundungus in a weirdly lumpy overcoat that he seems adamant to keep on — no doubt housing another unique business venture in his pockets.

“Well, I think a toast is in order,” Mr Weasley announces, once everyone has a drink. He raises his goblet, beaming. “To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!”

You grin at the pair of them, drinking to them and then applauding. As you reach for something to eat on the table, you beam at the pair of them. “Congrats, you two. I was never a prefect myself, that was Lily’s job — our teachers reckoned I wasn’t a good fit.”

“Why did they think that?” Ginny asks curiously. 

“��Cause I found rules impossible to follow.”

Ginny laughs, and Hermione looks unsure of whether she should smile or frown at this, and instead chooses to take a large gulp from her butterbeer and chokes on it. 

“What about you, Sirius?” Ginny says, thumping the coughing Hermione on the back. 

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Remus was the good boy, he got the badge.”

“I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends,” says Remus. “I need scarcely say that I failed dismally.”

Soon, Ron is gushing about his new broom to anyone who’ll listen. His mother has bought him a broomstick as a present for his new status. “Nought to seventy in ten seconds, not bad, is it? When you think the Comet Two-Ninety only does nought to sixty and that’s with a decent tailwind according to Which Broomstick?”

“Why didn’t Dumbledore make Potter a prefect?” Kingsley Shacklebolt is saying quietly to Remus, though his deep voice is audible even in chatter. 

“He’ll have had his reasons,” Remus replies. 

“But it would’ve shown confidence in him. It’s what I’d’ve done,” Kingsley continues. “Especially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days…”

You think that perhaps it’s best to keep Harry out of the limelight as much as possible. Your heart aches with sympathy for him — an orphan boy raised with his spiteful relations, without any knowledge of the wizarding world until his eleventh birthday, and then being thrust into a world where everyone knows his name and his story better than he does. A boy who met two different versions of Voldemort in his first two years, then watched him come back to life at fourteen, and witnessed the death of his classmate. A boy who is currently being vilified by the media and the government simply for telling the truth, and a boy who has to live in fear for his life all because he survived death as a baby. 

At the end of the day, he’s just a boy. He’s just a child. 

If you could take it all on for him, you would. You would do it in a heartbeat. 

“You alright?”

Sirius taps the tip of your nose gently with his finger, looking inquisitively at you. You shake yourself out of the thoughtful daze you had gotten yourself in, and smile at him. 

“Perfect. Just thinking, that’s all.” 

“About what?” 

You glance at Harry out of the corner of your eye, who catches your eye and looks away quickly, acting as though he isn’t eavesdropping as he makes his way over to Moody. You turn back to Sirius, placing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans with a shrug. “D’you remember all the things the prefects used to get? The fancy baths in the bathroom, the private compartment on the train, the mitching class for meetings…”

“Didn’t need to be a prefect for the last one, did we?” Sirius says with a cheeky grin, and you chuckle. 

“Well, we certainly didn’t, no.”

After a while, everyone begins to filter out of the basement and upstairs to their beds. You follow Moody as he hobbles down the hallway towards the doorway. 

“You’re welcome to stay, y’know,” you whisper, conscious of the sleeping portraits on the wall. 

Moody leans on his staff with both hands, raising his eyebrows at you. “And wait for that house-elf of yours to strangle me in my sleep? No thanks.”

You snort, scoffing. “If Kreacher was going to strangle anyone in their sleep, what makes you think it’d be you?” 

“I’ve seen the looks he gives me — there’s murderous intent in those eyes,” Moody growls, good eye wide in warning. 

Sirius shrugs. “He has that intent for everyone, trust me — “

He stops as a muffled yell is heard from upstairs, and without hesitating you sprint up the stairs to the drawing room with Sirius, Moody, and Remus following close behind you.

“What’s going on?” 

Running into the room, you freeze when you spot Mrs Weasley cowering in the corner of the room, her hand trembling violently as she points her wand at a figure in the middle of the room: Harry, lying dead on the carpet. 

Remus pulls out his wand immediately, saying, “Riddikulus!”

Harry’s body vanishes, replaced by a shiny full moon hovering in the centre of the room. Remus waves his wand once more and the moon vanishes. 

Mrs Weasley breaks into a fit of sobbing, her face in her hands as her body shakes. 

“Molly,” Remus says bleakly, striding over to her, “Molly, don’t…”

You stare at the patch of carpet where the boggart pretending to be Harry’s lifeless body had just been, fighting the urge to vomit.

“It was just a boggart,” Remus says soothingly as Mrs Weasley buries her head in his shoulder, sobbing. “Just a stupid boggart…”

“I see them d-d-dead all the time!” she cries into his shoulder. “All the t-time! I d-dream about it!”

You force yourself to tear your eyes off the carpet, shaking your head to remove the image of Harry dead, but it sticks sickeningly permanent in your mind despite your efforts. Looking around, you see the real, alive Harry standing, panting, at the side of the room. You feel a rush of relief at the sight of him alive. 

“D-don’t tell Arthur,” Mrs Weasley chokes, rubbing her eyes desperately with her sleeve. “I d-don’t want him to know…being silly…”

Remus hands her a handkerchief and she blows her nose loudly. 

“Harry, I’m so sorry, what must you think of me?” she says shakily. “Not even able to get rid of a boggart…”

“Don’t be stupid,” Harry says with a weak smile. 

“I’m just s-so worried,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “Half the f-family’s in the Order, it’ll b-be a miracle if we all come through this…and P-Percy’s not talking to us…what if something d-dreadful happens and we had never m-made up? And what’s going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who’s g-going to look after Ron and Ginny?” 

“Molly, that’s enough,” Remus says firmly. “This isn’t like the last time. The Order is better prepared, we’ve got a head start, we know what Voldemort’s up to…”

She gives a squeak of fright at the name. 

“Oh, Molly, come on, it’s about time you got used to hearing it — look, I can’t promise no one’s going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we’re much better off than we were last time. You weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one…”

“Don’t worry about Percy,” you add gently. “He’ll come round. He’s still young and he hasn’t gotten the chance to realise that he needs his family more than his job yet.”

“And as for who’s going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died,” Remus says, smiling slightly, “what do you think we’d do, let them starve?”

Mrs Weasley gives a watery smile. “Being silly.”

“Come on, Molly, why don’t you come downstairs and let me make you a cup of tea to help you relax?” you offer soothingly, leading her out of the drawing room. 

When you slip into bed some twenty minutes later, sleep escapes you for quite some time. The image of Harry’s unmoving body burns in your mind, a seed of worry gnawing at your gut. You dream of Harry’s corpse on the drawing room carpet and of Cedric’s lifeless face on the dewy grass of the quidditch pitch.

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter twenty-eight here!

-> all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

thank you for all your patience, I know this chapter was a little slower than usual to come out. also sorry to anyone who read like half of this chapter because I accidentally posted it before it was finished and didn't realise for ages. love you all <33

HUGE thank you to my incredible taglist lovelies:

@mothraantics @wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @devoid-swanky @carpe000diem @mooonyxoxo @hyperspeedo @idkman5335 @elanna-elrondiel @murielisacertifieddilf @penelopied @jennifer0305 @imgondeletedis @wooyoungsrightsock @wolfdragon0424

[ronearoundblindly]

How does mermaid reader feel about Steve? Like what is her take on their relationship?

just fair warning if you keep writing I’m gonna keep asking questions lol.

I...don't know what happened with this, but it was kinda fun! (unedited, not long, no real warnings except, yeah, he's a human and you're a mermaid, semi-angsty fluff!!)

Steve Rogers x deep sea mermaid!Reader from Sun, Salt, and Shield

Steve is a novelty.

Originally, you just considered him a split-tail with a crown of morning sunlight and high-ocean eyes. Later on, you learned it's called 'hair,' but a closer translation based on how mermaids see it is a 'mane.' Steve has a golden mane--something no one in your species has--hence, you think of it as a crown.

You were caged when you first saw him. That made you assume certain things when Steve walked up to the Raft's tank. Even in near darkness, his mane is bright. No other person you've encountered so far has that.

You're curious, frankly, but on-guard as always.

When humans are deprived of sleep, they can hallucinate, and mermaids are no different. You thought he was a complete figment of your imagination until Stark interacted with him, until Steve stepped into the water and put pressure across your heart and hips. The push of his hand, forcing your head against his chest, could have made you howl in relief.

All you wanted was to rest, but something in the back of your mind also told you not to scare him.

Stark, you don't mind scaring, Chuck is right where he belongs, excreted out into the industrial filters beyond the wall of your tank, but Steve? He must be protected.

He sees you. He listens to you.

You did not thing surfacers could do that. Not really. Not nicely. All humans want to do is control and take, use and abuse. However, you aren't afraid of them. You absolutely can kill any one of them that gets closer than you'd like. They're fragile.

But the way Steve grips you? Maybe he's not so fragile...

English is freaking hard. You learn quite a bit from Tony and then practice with Steve. You can feel his patience but love earning his admiration more. You find yourself wanting him to be proud of you and your progress.

You love making Steve laugh. It takes so long to figure out how to amuse him.

Numbers are a pain in the ass to learn because they have a concept, a symbol, and a written word. That's the point Tony halts teaching you to read alongside the verbal language. You threw a fit. He threw a fit. He left in a huff to cool off. You shrieked for Steve to come back for hours.

Eventually, when Tony returns, you threaten to eat him, and he calls it quits for the day.

Tony knew you favored Steve Rogers from day one. He planned to use that knowledge--and to some lesser extent, he did--but soon Tony simply realizes making you happy makes Steve happy...plus you cooperate and become an ambassador of sorts in your home realm.

You keep learning for Steve, not for Stark.

Mermen are, in your experience, domineering and uninspired. Their immense size differential to mermaids is useful to the brute-force model of society deep in the ocean, but they are boring. Your father is not stupid though. Almost none of them are stupid. Simple-minded remains the best translation you can manage.

Steve fascinates you. His attention to detail, his open nature, and his empathy are entirely new to you.

Mermen don't hide their baser instincts, so they freely ogle and flocked toward the most physiologically attractive mermaids. No interest in what's beneath the surface, ironically. Very shallow.

That's not to say bonds aren't possible. They absolutely are. Bonding with a partner is secondary at best, an afterthought most often, and unnecessary at worst.

Yet again, Steve wins you on every level--he has a sharp mind and acknowledges yours, he challenges your development without critique, and, lastly, he's quite attractive for how small and smooth he is.

"Should've seen me before," he once mumbled after you explained all that as well as your vocabulary would allow.

You don't know what he meant by that.

Because a certain level of indifference is common in couplings of your species, you were quite alarmed, embarrassed, and uncomfortable with how deep your affection for Steve became. You know how other humans react to you, and it doesn't build much confidence that one of them could feel this way about you.

During these long, repeated hugs with Steve, you realize that it's not just curiosity, or the novelty of his existence, or interest in learning from him: you feel about Steve how others feel about their mates.

Not gonna lie: that's terrifying. You don't actually know if Steve reciprocates. Sure, he explains human couples in great detail, and he shows you some of what he means, but all that could be...part of teaching you.

Until Steve discusses kissing, you convinced yourself he could not possibly harbor romantic affection for you.

It's lips against something, he says, that's all. His lips can press anywhere and boom! you've been kissed. He illustrates by kissing the back of your hand, kissing your cheek, kissing your forehead.

By now, your face is cradled in his hands. You can hear his heart racing as he sits on the steps in your pool and leans toward your body. His high-ocean eyes are shadowed as he looks down your face, captivated by--

"--your beautiful lips," he says, gently pressing his atop yours.

It's difficult to describe why something so simple hits so dramatically in your mind. The golden-maned man, almost the strongest of his species, amongst the softest of yours, kisses you like he needs to learn you, like he needs your existence, like he's curious.

There's a phrase you hum at the back of your throat once he releases you and sits up, a dusty rose painting his neck and cheeks.

"Swim beside me."

The better translation to English would be "I love you," but you haven't learned that yet.

Thank you for asking!

A/N: why am I crying?????

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[drdemonprince]

I am very very attracted to my boss and it's driving me insane. There's this amazing chemistry and tension between us and all day long we're just teasing eachother and flirting. We're always gravitating towards eachother and happy to see eachother, finding excuses to work together, etc. He is, however, a straight man twice my age who has a girlfriend and I'm a trans guy who could be completely misreading our interactions. Straight guys often banter and "flirt" with eachother so maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe he's just excited to be some sort of a mentor figure to me and he likes to be admired, and likes to see me grow and learn, and that's all there is to it. He calls me his protege which I find incredibly hot. Anyway I'm seriously contemplating whether I should confess my attraction. I'm not really anticipating him to reciprocate, but would do it more so to get rejected so I would be able to stop fantasizing about him all day long and give myself some closure. On the other hand, I don't want to humiliate myself and create a possible distance or awkwardness between us. There would be no consequences for my job so that's not an issue. I was wondering if you have any words of wisdom for me? You always have such a unique yet sobering outlook on things and I would love to hear your thoughts on this situation.

"Unique yet sobering outlook"! That's the kind of compliment I would have put in the word document alongside all my favorite feedback from English professors back in the day when I still needed that. Sincerely, thank you.

I am of several minds with regard to your question. On the one hand, I think straight people are terminally monogamous most of the time and that it would be hell on earth to get involved with this man and draw the potential ire of his girlfriend even if they weren't.

I think it's usually a self-hating maneuver to date a straight man as a trans masc (I have been there, it is terrible) but as a gay man, I support the frisson of danger that comes with seducing a heterosexual and think it would be a baller little feather in your cap to ruin this man's identity and relationship for a fling with you, even if it would be destined to end in agony.

I hear that this misadventure will not affect your job, but I don't exactly understand how that could be true. It sounds as if you work together quite closely and that his flirty banter is part of what makes the gig pleasant, and even if he doesn't have the capacity to fire you (I'm guessing) this affair could devastate the vibe enough that someone else might step in and fire you for its indirect consequences. happens sometimes.

Part of me however does believe in "fuck it we ball" and in being a bit reckless when you find yourself in a moment of raw, transfixing chemistry. chasing after fascinating moments that are destined to shatter our hearts is one of the core aspects of being alive. It keeps us growing, fills us with vigor! Who doesn't want to one day have an interesting story of a love affair like that?

One of my follow up questions would be how rare this kind of connection is for you. If it were me? Someone I truly connect with on the level you are describing is rare, and I've been willing to risk upending my life as i know it over a fleeting few weeks or months of passion before, and sometimes it's been worth it! Some mistakes are worth making, because we will become stronger and more interesting people after they happen!

But another part of me also thinks "straight men flirt with eachother sometimes" makes no sense and that what you are likely experiencing is him not seeing you as a man, or doing the thing some sensitive straight guys do of leeching attention off of queer men to feed their egos. (Which isn't evil, we all need attention sometimes, but it can be devastating.). If he lets you down because he sees you as a man and is not gay, that might relieve the pressure for you and work out fine. If he is into you because he doesn't see you as a man, you two will fuck and it will be horrible in the long term probably. But maybe hot in the short term.

I also think there are probably hotter ways to play this one (and more strategically effective ones) than a straight-up love confession, which would probably force him to bring up his girlfriend as the reason not to pursue it.

I think if you really want to SEDUCE this man you should spend time with him after work, ask him to mentor you on a labor intensive but potentially rewarding project, disclose little personal details that endear him to you, ask him lots of questions about himself, allow him to open up to you about his life... and then strike.

I think it'll be interesting if you go for it, at least. I certainly want to hear the story. But I don't want you to get fired, lose a mentorship that is important to your career, or get your ass beat by the gf.

So I will also tap my followers for their feedback.

[partycatty]

MK1 MEN ( any ) WITH A METALHEAD READER WHOS PERSONALITY IS EXTROVERTED AND SUPER SWEET ☹️☹️

syzoth, johnny, kenshi > metalhead

how kenshi, johnny, and syzoth react to a metalhead extroverted reader!!

(this is kinda short i'm sorry pookie bears :( )

notes: i am not well versed in metal culture/music so i did a lil research, if it's super inaccurate pls shoot me a message and humble me so i can correct it! i wrote the reader to have tats, and wears mostly black. saving the piercings for an upcoming post ;)

masterlist <3

♡

syzoth >

•"you're like me," he'll say when he first meets you properly back at the wu shi academy. "the marks on your skin... you are zaterran?" poor guy gets his hopes up that, after losing everything, maybe he wasn't completely alone.

•at first, you're confused on what he's talking about. you don't have scales or the like. but, looking down, you realize he's talking about your plethora of tattoos exposed by your uniform and you can't help but laugh.

•side note am i tweakin or does it look like he's saying "you're like me" in the gif? i know he's saying "to catch me" but look again.... get immersed...

•"i-i'm confused. earthrealmers get these done for fun?" syzoth asks as you pull up your sleeve. you two sit together in the dining hall, but the food is the last of your concern because this yummy little lizard is just so enamored with your appearance. as he trails a cold finger along the line work, you explain the significance of your tattoos, and you chuckle to yourself, joking about how most places won't hire you because of your appearance.

•you're usually clocked as intimidating or threatening by most people considering your appearance, but what they don't realize is that you're actually a sweetheart! syzoth, however, is one of the few who doesn't see you as intimidating. in fact, he sees himself in you.

•"i suppose we're both outsiders in our own way," syzoth replies with a little smile. when you two are alone later, he pulls his hood down and lets you follow his own tattoo as it snakes - literally - around his body. he feels comfortable enough to let you run your hands up and down his own tattoos. his head rests on your lap as you run a hand through his hair, occasionally placing feather-light touches around his tattooed eye.

•when you explain what it means to be a metalhead, it's clear that he doesn't fully understand right away. this is especially evident when he starts saying "your people" or "your village." poor thing thinks you're a subspecies of human or sumn 😭

•syzoth asks to hear "your people's music" when you two share a moment between training, and you turn to johnny and ask for his phone. he's the only one that brings that damn thing everywhere, others leave it in their rooms. you play "kickstart my heart" by mötley crüe, holding it up to syzoth's ear. he leans in with wide eyes.

•"this is incredible, (reader)!" syzoth exclaims with a grin. "show me more."

•when you two aren't training or apart, you're sharing everything about your interest as you wander the grounds together, and you find syzoth utterly fascinated with every aspect. he memorizes the artists, lyrics, and even asks for fashion advice. you guys get a tiny matching lizard tattoo! you converted him! ur a couple of metalhead besties :3

•when syzoth is snuck into earthrealm to attend a concert, he has to be careful not to alert any humans of his beastly presence. you dress this sweetheart up like a metalhead doll, complete with a vest, layered wrist bands, and baggy cargo pants. you take a step back and admire your work.

•"you clean up nice," you say, reaching up to run a hand through his exposed hair. "i could get used to this. all that's left is to grow that hair out... if that's even possible."

•he flushes, his cheeks twinging a light greenish color.

•"and don't blush like that when we're out there. you'll get too many stares."

•"i-i wasn't blushing—!"

•liar.

♡

johnny >

•i know we're talking about mk1, but we saw what bro's like in the future. he definitely covers the radio display and asks cassie to name the song.

•johnny's music taste is a comical mix of classic rock, metal, white girl pop, and songs to shake his ass to. so, imagine his wondrous excitement when you arrive at the wu shi academy wearing all black and a band tee that sends johnny straight back into his childhood. he's still gonna be a gatekeeper about it though.

•"no way you're a metallica fan. people these days wear their merch like it's nothin'! name three songs," johnny crosses his arms with a little smirk, totally thinking you were caught in his trap.

•"whiskey in the jar, sad but true, the unforgiven," you reply, mirroring his smug pose.

•his smile falters. "that doesn't count! those are all popular! three more."

•"disposable heroes, until it sleeps, battery, wherever i may roam, moth into flame, st. anger, motorbreath, no leaf clover, ride the li—" you're counting on your fingers, and running out quick.

•"OKAY. okay. i get it! just didn't expect you to be cultured and pretty." — "....thanks? wait, are you johnny cage?!"

•once you get over the whole "working alongside a martial arts action hero" thing, you find that johnny's actually quite sweet when he isn't being a pompous ass. he loves to jump in with references and lyrics the other men don't understand, but you're always quick to point it out and finish the lyric, doing the spiderman point meme. you guys practically jump up and down while holding hands like schoolgirls at times.

•the others are a little apprehensive about your demeanor. your makeup is dark, your hair is different, and your tattoos creep out from under your uniform. you look like you'd kick someone's ass if they looked at you wrong. this isn't entirely true! johnny has minimal shame or hesitation regardless, so you don't really faze him as much. if anything, he wants to sneak into those little brain folds of yours and get to know you more than as a fighter.

•you know when you select sareena with the johnny cage voice announcer and he goes "why are demons so hot?!" yeah. he thinks that way about you, too. bro is fawning over you constantly and you find it adorable. kung lao points out how much it looks like a sweet golden puppy following around a black cat. you looove dragging this dumb boy around the academy, as he wants nothing more but to bond with you over the one interest he knows you have. he's totally the "i want a hot goth gf!" type ass. AND YOURE NOT EVEN GOTH.

•finally, you two have a moment alone after all the craziness of outworld. you sat at the academy's nearby pond, one earbud in your ear and the other in johnny's. the cord of the headphones causes you two to bump shoulders, but johnny's hands remain on his lap as he fidgets anxiously.

•"...my dad was an asshole, but the one thing he gave me was good music taste," johnny finally says, breaking the silence with an uncharacteristically gentle tone. "i was a shithead kid. i probably still am. but the one thing that'll always clear my mind is a damn good song."

•you smile and nudge his shoulder playfully. he apologizes sheepishly for being too sappy.

•"i don't think you're a shithead.... and hey, when all of this is done, come to a concert with me," you reach down to his lap and grab his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "my treat. we can party hard and drink until we make out in the bathroom."

•"i couldn't ask you to do that," johnny protests, angling his body to face you which sends the earbud swinging out of his ear. "the — the 'my treat part.' it'd be on me. front row seats. backstage VIP. they'll let me in anywhere, hotshot! i'm a star!"

•"i love me a man that knows how to have a good time," you reply enthusiastically, kissing his cheek before standing up and walking off, putting the other earbud in your ear. "time for bed. see you later, cage. i'll be holding you to that!"

•johnny sits there like a little dumb idiot, a hand on his cheek as he processes what you did. why is he flustered? johnny cage never gets flustered! oh god he's flustered. you flustered him. oh no.

•"...WAIT, YOU WANT TO MAKE OUT WITH ME?"

♡

kenshi >

•now you guys are an unlikely duo! you're the kind of person to talk someone's ear off, and kenshi just so happens to be a great listener. the one thing he won't admit to you, though, is that he already knows all of the things you're info-dumping onto him. sweet boy just likes the sound of your voice :)

•you two wouldn't talk much before, but he found that after his blinding, your voice gave him great comfort. when you get trapped in shang tsung's dungeon-like laboratory, you sit beside him and talk about the history of metal in a soothing voice to take his mind off of the pain, leaning your head on his shoulder and his head atop yours.

•you later bring up his yakuza tattoos, a sensitive subject but he's willing to tackle it with you. you mention the beauty of them despite the nasty context. kenshi sighs deeply.

•"how i wish i paid more attention to yours. they're blurry lines with sento's vision."

•you take his hand and place it on your skin, his warm touch giving you goosebumps. you guide him to trail along each shape. you explain each one in great detail, discussing how, when and why you got them.

•kenshi doesn't really listen to music, so you're a little taken aback when he asks to hear some metal from your playlist. you show him eagerly, and his brows furrow in concentration as he taps his finger along to the beat.

•"i never had much appreciation for music, but i'm starting to see the beauty in it now," he'll mutter, facing you. something tells you he's not just talking about the music.

•you'll play your music to suppress the squelching and wincing sounds of kenshi as you take off his blindfold to wash it. you sit across from him with a wound care kit. when his wounds are still healing, he'll ask that you talk to him through the process to distract him of the pain. his hand instinctively squeezes your knee as he tries to hold back his gasps of pain. kenshi will interrupt you occasionally in a grumbly voice, asking the title or album of whatever's playing, one that you happily share.

•the hardest part of cleaning his wounds is removing the sticky, bloodied fabric from his eyes, so you'll sing playfully to the music as you do so, earning a chuckle from kenshi.

•"how do you stay so positive, when you're looking at something so ugly?" he'll mutter, a little ashamed. you pause your motion of dabbing his eyes of blood and put the gauze down. you place your hands on his shoulders, easing them up to his cheeks to not startle him with a sudden touch.

•"don't even start with that, takahashi," you'll warn him semi-playfully. "i hate to see you miserable. i'm just trying to help."

•"and you do an excellent job," he'll reply in a gentle tone, putting one hand atop yours. "i couldn't thank you enough. you and i... we're different from the others. you understand me."

•"you thank me enough by listening to me ramble," you teasingly reply, stroking his cheeks with your thumb. "never thought i'd find a friend here."

•"i didn't think i'd find a friend in you, (reader)," kenshi quips. "you looked so different from the others. i wish i could see every detail again."

•you two sit there in verbal silence for a moment, only able to hear your own heartbeat and the music thumping. kenshi's hand lifts to your own face, reciprocating your hold. his thumb toys with your bottom lip before he speaks.

•"perhaps, i could settle for feeling it instead."