#it's still gay wizard wednesday

[mommyashtoreth]

not aboit cro&azi but: opinion on the shallowness and frankly odd pacing of nina and maggies relationship? like one day theyre having stilted conversation, the next maggie is crying over how in love she is.

Hmm. Strokes my wizard's beard. Good question. Good Omens fans have caught on to how much I love the sound of my own voice but not on to the other facet of my deeply annoying yet hilarious and charming personality, which is that I love being contrarian. So, in that fashion, I must disagree with this assessment. As we discovered last night it's been a while since I've watched goomer (I may rewatch it soon, I may not, who knows) but I still think it's abundantly clear that Maggie has a huge crush on Nina from afar, and uh. this is gonna sound crazy but when you have huge unrequited crushes on people it can make you nervous and awkward when you talk to them. Idk I come from an Az-and-Crowley school of relationships myself, where you hang out with someone for eight kajillion years as Totally Platonic Girl Best Friends until one day you just fucking snap you NEED to fuck them so badly, but lots of people experience relationships the way Maggie does, it's a suuuuper common romance trope, and that doesn't make it bad writing! I think we're just so used to seeing this kind of trope be applied to straight relationships and the "platonic gal pals for eight kajillion years until one day you just fucking snap" thing be applied to gay relationships that people aren't ready for this "awkward stuttering and blushing because he looked at me! He let me borrow his pencil!" sort of trope being applied to a wlw relationship. I don't really think their relationship is oddly paced at all, it feels "awkward" because it IS awkward. Nina is someone who, like, barely knows Maggie exists, was in a presumably-monogamous relationship up until very recently, and got a bunch of water dumped on her and then had a trade meeting turned into a Regency ball because these two freaks who are her and Maggie's narrative foils can't just talk to each other normal. And she reacts normally to that I think! I don't think their relationship is badly written (it's probably paced better than, like, Newt and Anathema's, for instance, but I understand the difference in tone between s1 and s2 making those feel like two different cases), it's just yknow, under weird circumstances. Idk I just think it's funny how many goomenheads are completely convinced that Crowley is somehow in total unrequited gay love with Aziraphale (who literally wants him back so badly it makes me sick), and yet I'm here talking about how Maggie is kind of in semi-unrequited gay love with Nina and that's Fine. It's a good character thing. They parallel Az and Crowley in a lot of ways (a romantic obsessed with something near-obsolete who Doesn't Drink and a fast-living cynic who deals with bad shit by instantly initiating Wine Drunk With No Man To Feel Up Wednesday; they're even cast to kind of Look similar which I think is funny), but the structure and context of their relationship is not the same and thus cannot be compared. It's not a Writing Flaw or a Plot Hole or anything to me, it's just the simple difference between "crush before friends" and "friends before crush"

[sybaritick]

WIP Wednesday, baby!

let's see a lil tephra year shall we?? gale's magic synesthesia...

Gale knew he noticed it more than other wizards. He was attuned to such things, by nature or by years of experience, and so he could feel any given mage's magic as something like a fingerprint if he had known them for long enough. Gortash was not fully a wizard, and Gale knew as much. No sorcery in him either, and though there was the unsettling thread of Bane’s favor, he was primarily an artificer and his magic tended to the practical over the ostentatious. At first he had found it surprising simply because of how ostentatious Enver's dress sense and decor and projects could be, but underlying that was some deep practicality, and Gale was less surprised with it as he came to know Enver more. Magic came from somewhere deeper in the psyche, and Enver's was something warm and heavy and metallic. The copper and iron of it pressed on his chest like the low thump of distant fireworks, and the viscous, soporific weight that tingled in his fingertips and cheeks would have been almost soothing if it did not taste of blood.

gale you're gay asf for this by the way

bonus lil horny one under the cut lmao ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

“No display could truly appease your appetite for submission. I ought to ration it at least somewhat, lest I begin to run out of concessions to make,” Gale said. Enver clamped his hand down onto Gale’s shoulder. No gauntlets, just him, Gale thought: just his hands and the weight of his presence. “Our little game. You do so enjoy pretending you don’t want this,” Enver answered.  “Yet still not as much as you seem to enjoy taking it from me like I don’t have a choice.” “No responsibility, that way,” Enver offered, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You were simply left without other options.”

kink negotiation but make it two horny nerds who aren't about to set down the mind games to talk things out

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Tag game!

I was tagged by @blossom-adventures and @thequeenofthewinter :)

3 Ships:

I'm going to delve away from Skyrim here because my procrastination response if I don't want to be productive around my place, is to immerse myself in as much media as possible. So an obvious one is OC/Brynjolf. Otherwise, Adi would not exist XD my others are OC (or reader)/Jacob Frye because I'm still hyperfixating on AC Syndicate. I also recently finally started Jane the Virgin, and I'm a slut for Jane/Rafael

1st Ever Ship:

I was but a young child, barely able to comprehend reading when my first ever a ship came to be. I shit you not. I think I was 5. It was Blue/Magenta in Blue's Clues. I found out a couple years ago was also my first gay ship, and I am HERE for it.

Last Song:

Boyfriend by Dove Cameron

Last Movie:

I watched one in my filmmaking class by a local director who created a film about a Ukrainian woman who immigrated to modern-day Winnipeg. Do I remember the title? Nope. Do I want to? Nope.

This movie was filmed back in like,,, 2019 I believe, is what he said and released like last year. It's two hours and could've been easily cut down to one. Very slow, almost too slow. I liked a lot of the shots. It was interesting to watch a film where only two characters - who were in there briefly - spoke English.

So there are good things about it, but it definitely could've been way better. I felt like the writing was almost too dry, and the director didn't give us any context as to what the plot was or any warnings that were needed (nudity and a certain subject related to nudity that is unpleasant to watch, to put it nicely).

I just think we should keep cishet white north American men away from creating films with that kind of subject because they don't,,, get it. Granted, neither do I but I do have an entire family of immigrants.

Currently Reading:

Well, it was my personality psych textbook, but no more! I hope to finish @thequeenofthewinter's fic because I'm behind due to school, and after that? Well, when the term starts, one of the texts for one of my classes is "The Handmaid's Tale," and I'm VERY excited to read it.

Currently Watching:

Too many things at once.

Jane the Virgin

Wednesday (I get the hype, I have critiques, but imma keep them to myself because it's very nitpicky and a bit pretentious)

RuPaul's Drag Race S14 (I'm on episode 7)

Canada's Drag Race S2 (I'm on episode 4)

The Witcher (started it in September, had a depressive episode)

Slow rewatch of Avatar: The Last Airbender because I'm following the podcast recaps and discussions

Slow rewatch of Kim Possible because I got bored and switched to the Witcher (it's great to watch after a long shift at work, though)

Wizards of Waverly Place (helped me through the depressive episode. Downside? I've seen it so many times the show is fully memorized)

Hunters on Amazon Prime (They re-edited the show to take out the scenes that got a lot of negative press, and I'm mad, so I stopped because they also re-edited my favourite scene in the entire show)

Teen Wolf (gotta prep for the movie coming out in 2023)

Okay yeah, so my fam and I have a lot of streaming services. Welcome to my Dad, and I are movie buffs

Currently Consuming:

Water. I'm pulling an all-nighter because I gotta be at the airport in two and a half hours, so if I sleep I will miss my flight. Gotta stay hydrated!

Currently Craving:

Tacos from a place back home, and lemonade from a pop-up lemonade stand that ends up at every big event in my city back home and if I can convince my parents I'll be able to get one and won't have to wait until Stampede in July next year. It's the best damn lemonade I've ever had.

The specific tacos I'm craving are the best damn fast-food tacos I've ever had, but I've definitely had better. My sister worked at a Mexican restaurant specializing in tacos that a family member owns, for god's sake. Although, now that I'm thinking about it, I also crave those. I think I just want tacos.

I can't really think of anyone to tag (the main person I would've tagged, tagged me first XD), so I pass this on to anyone that wants to do it :)

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

So the only thing I've managed to write recently is Rincey being gay for me. Oh well.

*

It was Sensible Wizard Wednesday, although the name still needed some workshopping. What it meant in practical terms was that Rincewind, Ponder, Rowan and the Librarian were spending the evening in the Mended Drum, getting ratted and bitching about their colleagues.

“Ook, oook.”

“Gosh really, I thought he’d stopped that. I’ll make a note,” Ponder said.

“Wait a minute” - Rincewind hiccuped - “’scuse me. Aren’t you in charge of that sort of thing? Why are we all still having to ask the Archchancellor personally for replacement pencils?”

“I factor stationery into the HEM budget and just hope it lasts the year.” He paused. “Alright, what do you do?”

“Borrow ‘em from Rowan. Simple.”

Attention turned to the geomancer. He took another sip of cider*. “Honest answer? Don’t get mad but I steal them from Ridcully.”

*0% proof and very little evidence. There was probably marginally more alcohol in the average glass of water.

“Oook?”

Rowan shrugged. “Like this.”

He frowned briefly in concentration and faded. Except that wasn’t quite the right word for it. Rowan was still there, but he was background – a patch of uninteresting colour against the wall, no more relevant than the rings their glasses left on the table.

It was just a hedge witch trick that most wizards were too proud for, but Rincewind still found himself amazed. Up until then he hadn’t been sure it was possible for Rowan to be background. Sure, he was small enough to get lost behind furniture, but after you’d noticed him, it wasn’t like you’d just stop. Not with that grin or the giggle that turned into a snort or that sweet lost look he got if you tried talking to him while he was cleaning his glasses or-

Oh.

Oh no.

He can’t be in love. It’s against the Lore and it’s inconvenient as hell and it’s not like Rowan would even feel the same way. It has to be the booze, it has to be.

Love isn’t the only thing you’re feeling.

“Eh?”

“What?”

“Oook?”

“You alright, Rince?”

It’s me, your libido, and I’m telling you that-

Rincewind shot up. “No! No, not happening.” He finally registered the concerned faces. “I’m fine, the drink’s just hitting a bit hard. Think I’d better go back and get my head down.”

And you could ask Rowan to join you.

“Shut up!”

Rincewind fled with impressive speed considering his legs were no longer on speaking terms with his brain. It went quite well for two streets until he ran face first into a wall that had leapt into his path.

He stared blankly at the bricks. Someone was shouting his name, which was never a good sign. He should run away, but that involved figuring out things like directions and knees.

“There you are, you bloody idiot. Come on, mate. Up we come.”

Rincewind let himself be dragged to his feet. Just his luck that is was Rowan who had chased after him.

“Let’s get you home, alright?”

“Mmph,” Rincewind agreed. He collapsed across his friend’s shoulders and resigned himself to the inevitable.

Gods alone knew how about five foot of fat wrapped in a wizard’s robe managed to get the gangly uncoordinated scarecrow of a failed mage back to the university. Rincewind vaguely remembered getting carried up Scholar’s Entry in a fireman’s lift, then dropped onto the grass on the other side.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared enough to walk him home, let alone put him to bed. So when Rowan lit the bedside lamp and tried to straighten up, Rincewind caught his hand.

“-”

Their eyes met. He wanted to say stay, wanted to believe this could mean more than just kindness to a colleague. He wanted it so badly that he couldn’t be true.

“Can I kiss you?”

Rincewind wasn’t sure if it was his beer or his libido that had got the words out. It didn’t matter. Rowan froze, mouth open, for just long enough for panic to take over from the initial shock.

“Ask me again tomorrow. When you’re sober.” Rowan squeezed his hand and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Well. That could have gone worse.

Rincewind barely had time to blow the lamp out before he fell asleep, still fully dressed.

*

Grey light filtered in through the gap in the curtains. Rincewind groaned. Then memories of last night started filtering through his consciousness. He groaned louder. Maybe if he buried himself under the covers and went back to sleep, it wouldn’t have happened.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been curled up in a haze of alcohol and regret when he heard the knock at the door.

“Gnh.”

“Rince? You decent?”

The door creaked as Rowan opened it. Rincewind curled up tighter and wished he could do the man’s disappearing trick.

“Hangover?” Rowan asked softly.

“Mmh.” Maybe that would get rid of him.

There was a faint rattle of china. “I guessed. Can we get you sat up?”

Rincewind uncurled a little and peeked out from under the covers. Like last night, he was gently manhandled upright, and Rowan had the same soft look in his eyes as he passed him a mug of something hot.

Rincewind sipped it and made a face.

“Aye, it’s not nice, but I want you sober.”

He forced down another couple of mouthfuls. Rowan looked rumpled in a four-hours-in-bed-zero-hours-asleep way and had dark rings around his eyes. Rincewind hoped that wasn’t because of him being a bloody idiot last night.

Neither man said anything until the mug was empty. Rowan took it from unresisting hands and placed it on the bedside table. He fiddled with the hem of his sleeve.

“Look about last night-”

“I wanted to-”

They both stopped.

“You start,” Rincewind said.

“What you said last night.” Rowan licked his lips nervously. “Would. Would you ask me again?”

The apology that had been hovering somewhere between Rincewind’s brain and his mouth stalled, panicked, and ran off to hide somewhere. With no other part of Rincewind’s psyche willing to fill in, his libido took its chance.

Take his hand and pull him down to you. Now open your mouth a little.

With no better ideas, Rincewind listened.

Rowan’s answer, it turned out, was a very enthusiastic yes.

[penicldecimater]

I posted 1,341 times in 2022

That's 1,072 more posts than 2021!

17 posts created (1%)

1,324 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@wizardpotions

@pee-pance

@hotvampireadjacent

@dunewizard

@wizard-email

I tagged 41 of my posts in 2022

#art - 5 posts

#hylics - 4 posts

#i would pet the puppy on the street and im still more evil than most of you - 1 post

#theyre so cute holy shit - 1 post

#when i see the monster i run man that shits scary - 1 post

#yee haow - 1 post

#im sorry for all the hylics ive been reblogging recently it just makes my brain very happy - 1 post

#average antics for where i live - 1 post

#lesbian and i main homeless link - 1 post

#gay wizard wednesday - 1 post

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#if you want a good example of how chaotic this instrument is go on youtube and find his performance for the intro of californias gold

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

huh?

0 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

#4

I need to look more butch not just by being bald. I must become original. Maybe pair of pant. Hit the gym and get big muscle. Idk.

0 notes - Posted November 27, 2022

#3

I just got picked up to attempt my drivers test for the first time

Bitches better watch out for my ultimate car blast attack

If I pass I'll cook up a meal for yall

0 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

#2

ONE special interest TWO special interest THREE special interest FOUR special in

2 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

@ellieofthewoods: they hate howl for his autistic wizard swag

2 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[newslobster]

Australian Basketballer Isaac Humphries Comes Out As Gay | Basketball News

Australian Basketballer Isaac Humphries Comes Out As Gay | Basketball News

An Australian basketballer on Wednesday became the first openly gay man to compete in the country’s professional league, saying he finally felt comfortable telling his teammates the “truth”. Isaac Humphries, a 24-year-old who has trained with the Washington Wizards and Atlanta Hawks in the NBA, said he had realised he could “reveal himself as a gay man and still play professional sport”. “It is a…

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Desperately need a fancy staff (and possibly a fake beard) for a sexy wizard photo shoot 🤔

[furnass]

7, 8, 9, 10, 15 and 17 :3

7. if you were a quest character, what weapon would you fight with?

Uhhh I think a sword is cool!! Or uh fighting using fists & shit. I also Really love the idea of music and magic being combined so, my own instrument clarinet :]

8. if you have one, tell us about an oc x canon ship that plagues your brain (doesn't have to be romantic! doesn't have to be yours either). there's no such thing as cringe, we are all here to have fun

MAN fuck you okay /lh/j. Okay so I’ve posted abt Viol here maybe once before. Copernica has two hands. One for Viol, and one for Armilly! I have a whole thing abt them in my brain that I’m too embarrassed to talk abt publicly atm </3 what I Will say is that they meet at the college, Viol knows Copernica when she was first in the college! Copernica left, Viol stayed. They re-meet when the quest crew comes back, and Viol is working for Hyapathia.

9. give us an overly specific headcanon that you have

Unsure how specific we are talking abt so. I do have some specific ones for t&t, like Thayne being selective mute & having sensory issues :]

10. Orik Tits out Tuesday, Copernica Gay Wizard Wednesday or Furnass Friday?

As the Creator of Furnass Friday I’m biased :] but Tits Tuesday is like. The classic.

15. if you draw, what's your favorite steamworld piece that you've made? if you write, what's your favorite fic that you've written?

I’ll do both!!! I will always love my first art of Krona even though her design Has changed some bit. Fic wise… my new quest one Berserk is def one of my favorites. Krona’s fic, The Red Queen’s Scientist, will always have a special place in my heart, as it was my First Steamworld fic.

17. gush about your favorite character. just do it

UHHHHH I have multiple I’ll do Copernica tho bc lesbian solidarity. I adore Copernica’s character so much bc like. Man I can’t even begin, her stuff w Armilly, she cares for the crew but she’s still like. Sigh why did you do that?? Or !!! this is Not supposed to be happening!! And I like that abt her. I love during the college how like. With Hyapathia she’s like. She is so betrayed and it Shows in her sprites and her words when Hyapathia is defeated. She’s smart and she Knows it, she’s a bit too confident at times but she really loves to learn and teach others which is shown at the end of the game. I see her with like an older sister relationship with T&T especially when she kinda butts in during the orphanage scene with Galleo’s comment. HER GLASSES! I love her glasses characters with glasses :) and Since I’m Gay I ship her with armilly so. The duo cards they have. Oooh my god those are so fucking cool, and then like. The way Copernica reacts in support to Armilly when she learns abt gilgamech???? They are gay sorry I don’t make the rules.

Armilly next only bc I relate to her a lot with ADHD. I like understand her desire to be included especially with the guild club, her want to be one of the Cool people and she keeps on Trying. She doesn’t understand why they don’t want her! She’s doing her best to be a hero and is supported by her friends and family. During the game she learns about like. Being who you are I suppose, and just embracing yourself. I’ll always love her scene with Gilgamech, the angst is just. Chefs kiss. When she just learns that she doesn’t need anybody approval it makes me :] She is trying her best, and has the best of friends to be with her :)

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: rorveth + isendain + throne3 snips!

Y’all, I have been up since 5:30am and somehow still have not accomplished a damn thing today. But I HAVE played an awful lot of Sims Medieval and I’m having fun! So far I’ve made Lyria and Rivia with Meve as the monarch and the Free Pontar Valley with Saskia as monarch and Philippa as wizard. Also, they gay.

Anyway, here’s a bit from the next chapter of To Claim You As My Own. Warnings for seriously dubious consent in the premise (Roche is captured by the Scoia’tael) and straightforward discussion of sex and sexual assault.

Iorveth/Vernon Roche:

“I’m not your therapist,” Roche pointed out, “and you should definitely have one. But I can tell you that snapping at him and humiliating him is not gonna help things.”

Eldain’s snarl made Roche question if the no-torture thing would stay true – but then Eldain slumped back down. “Fuck,” the elf grunted. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to apologize like, real well. Time to break out the flowers and jewelry and shit.”

Eldain stared up at him in bafflement – what, did elves not apologize for fuck ups the same way? – and then seemed to notice the state of him.

“Wow, you are disgusting! Is that smell you!?”

Roche scowled. “Considering I’m your captive, how I smell is rather your fault.”

“Huh. Yeah, I guess it is. Well, this is my tent now, and I absolutely cannot have a stinky tentpole captive in the middle of my tent. So we’ll just have to fix that.”

Blinking, Roche’s brow furrowed. Was Eldain kicking him out of his own prison cell? 

Instead, Eldain leaned out of the tent and flagged someone down to call for a bath. Like, an actual bath with a tub and everything. Roche blinked.

Was he going to do something like bathe himself in front of Roche but not actually let Roche be clean? As torture methods go, it would be untraditional, but mental manipulation did play a large role in torture.

Only instead of rolling a basin into the tent, Eldain began to pick the knots on his bindings. Did that mean he was getting kicked out? What the fuck?

Eldain kept his wrists bound behind him and walked him outside the tent – where numerous elves were pouring buckets of water into a massive tub.

“Uh?”

“What, humans don’t do communal bathing?” Eldain asked in amusement, stopping them next to the tub. “Here’s how this is gonna work. I will untie your wrists so you can wash yourself, ‘cause uh, gross, but I’m tying your ankles, plus you’re surrounded by Scoia’tael, so like, don’t even try it. Do not make me have to tell Iorveth that his dh’oine was stupidly killed trying to run away.”

Roche opened his mouth, blinked, then closed it as he realized he had no idea what to say. 

Eldain didn’t appear to expect an answer, because the elf untied his wrists – and gods, that was a relief, they’d been tied too tight – and wrapped the rope around his ankles. Then Eldain handed him some soap and a bucket and flourished his hand to indicate that Roche should go ahead.

Clearing his throat as Eldain stepped back, Roche awkwardly attempted to clean himself of all the evidence of how he’d been used and how he’d liked it. He grit his teeth, breathing deeply, and pretended that he was working in his mom’s brothel, a weekend shift to take over for someone like he often did. Yeah, he’d had sex. Yes, he was covered in evidence of it. No, it was no longer hot and now just annoying and crusty and he scrubbed hard to remove it.

The other Scoia’tael elves were definitely looking at him – curious, perhaps? Or plotting his death? – but there was nothing Roche could do about that, so he pretended they were just other patrons at the Clarabelle. It was at least enough to keep his blush limited to his face.

Then he was done and he poured the bucket over his head, rinsing off. He looked back to Eldain. “So… how exactly do I get in the tub with bound ankles?”

Eldain’s smirk did not bode well for him and he held out his arms uselessly.

“No, wait–” 

Eldain grabbed him, hauled him up overhead, and then dropped him directly into the tub. It wasn’t really that deep, but Roche still flailed as he struggled to surface. Finally, he was tossing back wet hair and sputtering, just to find Eldain laughing his ass off.

Roche narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t the mean kind of laughter Eldain had given before when insulting Isengrim, so he wasn’t actually that bothered by it, but he did think it was only fair if he got to retaliate.

He moved to the edge of the bath as Eldain kept laughing and it was honestly far too easy to pick him up and pull him into the tub by his tunic.

Eldain splashed around a lot more than Roche had, and when he surfaced, he slowly spit the water out of his mouth through frowning lips. “This tunic was new,” he whined, face downcast.

Roche rolled his eyes. “Meaning newly salvaged from the corpse of whatever poor sod wandered into your forest?”

“Sometimes they come from corpses that you put there,” an elf nearby murmured, glaring at Roche. And that hit Roche… weirdly hard, considering he was just a soldier doing his job. 

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it, because his and Eldain’s presence in the bath apparently signalled that it was Time to Bathe and a number of elves hopped into the tub next to them. Roche stiffened, but they mostly seemed occupied with settling in the tub or chatting with each other. 

Eldain wiggled out of wet clothes and threw them over the rim to deal with later, then settled next to Roche. Which meant that Roche was sitting naked in a bathtub along with 10 other entirely nude elves. And a lot of them kept glancing at him. Some were definitely angry, but others were… curious?

He swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from staring at all the elves around him. But they were just so unreasonably beautiful, so instead, he made himself look too closely, until he could notice the flaws. 

Every single elf here had at least one scar that he could see. Every single one. He gulped again.

One elf noticed him staring at a healed gash in their shoulder and bared their teeth at him. “Recognize it? I was the one that got lucky. You didn’t kill me. My entire squad, on the other hand…” 

They growled and Roche wondered how he was supposed to fight with his ankles bound in a bathtub filled with elves.

“Enough,” Eldain snapped, and where his voice had been whiny and amicable before, it was now stern and commanding, reminding Roche that the elf beside him was a commander, an equal to Iorveth. And Eldain’s reputation was even worse than Iorveth’s.

Several elves huffed in irritation, but they did turn away from him. Since they were mostly gathered on the far side of the tub, Roche didn’t really care. But the ones near him still kept staring.

“What?” he demanded when a dark skinned elf with her hair in pompoms continued to stare.

Her lips twisted. “I’m just wondering – how do you know how to make someone come so hard they scream like a siren?”

Next to him, Eldain choked, flushing, but he just blinked at her. “The same way anyone else does?” he answered hesitantly. 

Blank faces answered him, and for the first time in his captivity, he worried for the wellbeing of these elves. He took a deep breath, “okay, so first thing is erogenous zones.” He launched into the kind of lecture he’d often had to give young men whose groomsmen had brought to a brothel to ‘get rid of that pesky virginity’. 

The good ones just wanted to know how to make their soon-to-be spouse feel good.

It happened often enough that Roche had multiple versions of the speech – the three minute version, the ten minute, the half hour version, even one that was an hour long. He picked and chose which parts of the speech to include based on the knowledge and availability of his audience.

This audience? Very minimal prior knowledge, even about themselves. It was honestly kind of sad.

He was just in the middle of explaining how a soft touch to the back of the neck could make an elf melt into a puddle when he noticed Iorveth standing a few paces away gaping at him. 

“Are you teaching my men how to have sex!?” Iorveth’s voice was incredulous and high pitched and Roche kind of reveled in having garnered such a response.

“Well, nobody else has,” he shrugged, keeping his eyes on Iorveth even as his previously captive audience blushed and ducked down. “There’s only two ways to learn: experience, and being taught. And obviously experience is more fun, but it’s much better if you’ve been taught some stuff to bring to the experience.” 

He wasn’t sure if his words actually reassured any of them, because he couldn’t take his eyes off of Iorveth. Iorveth stared back at him with just as much intensity and he could feel his breath starting to come faster.

Isengrim/Eldain:

Okay, this WiP is actually part of the Love Breeds Love ‘verse, but it’s kind of concurrent with the rorveth plot of that. The two storylines will meet eventually and work out some of their trauma and issues, but we’re a ways away from that. ‘cause the FIRST thing that has to happen is the breeding lol. If pregnancy squicks you out, this is NOT the series for you. Seriously.

Anyway, this bit is after Isengrim and Eldain have partnered up for this “let’s get pregnant and save our species” event and after chatting for a bit, Eldain invited Isengrim up to his room to ‘hear him play’. 😉

As the last notes rang out, Isengrim’s eyes met his and Eldain found himself strangely breathless. 

“You’re very good,” Isengrim intoned and Eldain smiled on instinct. 

“I am,” he agreed with a wink. “Thank you.”

Isengrim was very close to him and Eldain found that all he could focus on was the slight distance between them. Then Isengrim licked his lips, and Eldain’s eyes snapped back to Isengrim’s face.

“We’re expected to have sex later,” Isengrim murmured, voice deep and washing over Eldain like a warm fire. 

He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes half-lidded.

Staring into his eyes, Isengrim stepped even closer and said, “we could get a head start.”

“For practice,” Eldain nodded, tilting his head back and licking his own lips.

“Exactly,” Isengrim’s whisper fluttered over his mouth just before Isengrim kissed him, and Eldain melted into the meeting of their lips, so soft and sweet and hungry.

Eventually, the pulled apart and Eldain shivered when Isengrim growled, “put your lute away.”

Later, he would think about how Isengrim must really have understood musicians, because as much as he wanted Isengrim to jump him, he absolutely would not be okay with his lute getting damaged, no matter what his horny brain said. But in the moment, he was mostly just desperate to touch, so he set the lute aside and seized Isengrim’s face, drawing him into another kiss.

Isengrim sighed into the kiss, guiding them to shuffle back into the bed until the mattress was against the back of Eldain’s knees and he had to either sit down or fall down. Instead of climbing into his lap like he’d half been hoping, Isengrim dropped to his knees and dragged Eldain’s hips closer to the edge of the bed, pressing his face into Eldain’s crotch.

“Fuck,” Eldain whispered shakily. “Oh, fuck, please!”

Given permission, Isengrim’s fingers were quick to undo his belt and tear down his trousers, letting them tangle around his knees. Then Isengrim pulled his hips closer again and glanced up at him before licking across his already-wet folds. Eldain shivered, hand reaching out to stroke through Isengrim’s hair, pushing long strands behind one ear and tweaking it.

Isengrim’s body twitched, but he was not distracted from his quest, exploring what kinds of sounds he could pull from Eldain’s throat and what sorts of movements made Eldain jerk and what made him gasp and what made him scream. 

Some time later, he felt dazed and hazy, body humming with pleasure and delight. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, reaching out to tangle his hands in Isengrim’s hair again. “Yeah, somehow I really don’t think we’ll have a problem later.”

Isengrim laughed, mouthing across Eldain’s chest. “No?”

Eldain huffed a laugh. “How is it no one every mentioned that the Iron Wolf is a fucking god in bed?”

Isengrim stiffened, not responding, and Eldain belatedly recalled that Isengrim… didn’t particularly seem to like his moniker.

“Sorry,” Eldain said softly, stroking through Isengrim’s hair. “I’m just a little surprised that the gossipmongers never got ahold of that one.” He tugged on Isengrim’s hair until Isengrim rose enough for Eldain to kiss him. “God knows after the one fucking time my people overheard me, they never stopped bringing it up.”

Snorting, Isengrim relaxed slightly. Eldain wagered he could get him to relax a lot more.

Meve/Reynard/Gascon

Ugh, I have so many WiPs for these 3 and yet, nothing finished. 😭😭😭 But amongst my list of WiPs is one that’s actually more Reynard/Gascon without Meve in the equation (sorta) and it was started for the @witcherkinktober‘s prompts “Dacryphilia | Dirty Talk | Sounding”. No actual porn here, but much discussion of it XD

General Reynard Odo regarded his strict self control with pride. Gascon, on the other hand, took just as much pride in attempting to poke through that control until Reynard blew up. Until recently, Gascon had assumed Reynard half-hated him for that, but someone – probably Meve – seemed to have let Reynard in on the idea of antagonistic flirting. 

Next thing Gascon knew, Reynard was backing him up into the wall and kissing him fiercely. Since then, Gascon had gained a delightfully well-rounded education on all possible permutations on how a stern general and a bratty bandit could fit together. And he loved getting wrecked by his silver fox of a general, he really did. But it would be nice if, on occasion, he could see Reynard lose control.

In retrospect, Meve was probably just sick of their shit, because she was the one who drove Reynard to act – and now it was Gascon’s turn.

“You called for me, Your Majesty?” Gascon announced his presence, pointedly not bowing. 

Meve turned to face him, tapping her fingertips together. “How old are you?”

Gascon blinked. “Why?”

The way she looked him over was assessing, but her narrowed eyes showed that it was not his appeal that she was measuring. “Reynard,” she said eventually, just as he was starting to get antsy.

“Uh… yeah? What about him?”

“You want to see him fall apart,” she said bluntly and Gascon’s face flushed bright red.

“Uh, I mean–” he cleared his throat, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Meve cut him of, clearly impatient with his embarrassment. “Reynard would never say it, but he wants that too.”

Taken aback, Gascon inhaled sharply, wondering if he could truly trust in those words. It seemed far too convenient for Reynard to wish to give up control to someone like him. 

“So,” she continued, “I am going to tell you what you need to know.”

Glancing around and half expecting this to be a joke, Gascon arched an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Sounding drives him wild. Every time, guaranteed.”

Gascon’s forehead creased. Sounding? What that some musical thing? “What is sounding?”

Meve sighed, lips pressed together. “I suspected as much,” she muttered to herself. “Perhaps we should start with what experience you do have.”

“I – what?”

“Sex,” Meve grunted, blunt and factual, “I’m talking about sex.”

Swallowing hard, Gascon really, really hoped that none of her guards could hear them. “It – you – why!?”

Meve rolled her eyes, apparently entirely comfortable with this conversation. She was very much alone in that, because Gascon had never been more uncomfortable. The queen was giving him sexual advice to fuck her top general. There had to be a catch. As far as he could tell, she didn’t even like him terribly much. She tolerated him because she had to, because without him, she had about two dozen men and absolutely no chance at all of reclaiming Lyria. So why would she give him advice to bag her second in command?

“For reasons that escape me, Reynard adores you.” She ignored Gascon’s surprised squeak. “Which is fine, except that you’ve got him lovestruck and distracted and frankly, I need my general at his sharpest. So fix it.”

Bewildered, Gascon sputtered wordlessly for several moments. “Fix what!?”

Her sigh was clearly disappointed and his gut clenched at the idea of disappointing her. “Fix him. Right now, you drive him to distraction. So I’m officially ordering you – go drive him out of his mind and give him everything he needs to be able to think straight again.”

Gascon’s jaw dropped. “You – are you serious!?”

Meve’s look was dripping with judgement. “Believe me, if I ever joke, you will know it.”

[nah-she-didnt]

okay, so all i want is for remus to have a crush on reader or whoever . you can do absolutely anything with this remus just has a really big crush on her and he notices things about her personality and all. fluff because I also want them to like kiss at the end of this all.

Okay here’s the deal anon, I owe you an apology because I’m almost certain that the following story is not what you had in mind. I headcanon that Sirius is gay and Remus is bisexual or pansexual (I also headcanon that Tonks is NB, and I do ship Remadora to a point, but that’s beside the point). So while this might not be exactly what you intended, it’s the story that came to me, so I hope you enjoy! 

Please Send Me Prompts My Inbox Is Sad And Empty 

Firsts

In the three previous years, James had partnered with Sirius in Herbology and Remus with Peter. This was generally how lesson pairs broke down between the four friends, partly because James and Sirius had so much fun goofing off together and partly because Remus wanted to actually concentrate on the professor during lessons. Fourth year, however, was different. 

The first day of classes began like any other. The bright September sun followed the four of them across the grounds into Greenhouse 2 for their first Herbology lesson of term.

“I hope we do Devil’s Snare this year,” Sirius grinned mischievously. 

“God, I don’t,” Peter paled, “imagine if it got you and never let go.” 

“Don’t worry, Pete,” James beamed as he threw glances to the group of Gryffindor girls ahead of them, also on their way to Herbology, “we’d visit you all the time, bring you biscuits, everything.” 

“Fuck off,” grumbled Pete. He’d been in a foul mood all day after their disastrous first Potions lesson where he’d managed to melt his brand-new cauldron. 

“Someone’s grumpy!” Sirius declared as they crossed the threshold into Greenhouse 2, “don’t worry, Pete, I’ll tell you a joke to cheer you up. Have you ever heard about the troll, the hag, and the leprechaun who all go into a bar-” 

“Remus?” 

Remus doubled back, not sorry to miss the rest of Sirius’ joke. Amelia Bones stood a few feet away, wearing a pretty blue hair ribbon to match her Ravenclaw tie. She was twisting her hands nervously over her stomach, and he noticed that she was blushing slightly. The effect the flush had underneath her freckles was quite nice. 

“Hi Amelia,” he squeaked, trying to sound more confident than he felt, “what’s up? How was your summer?” 

“Erm, not bad,” she smiled sweetly up at him, “I was wondering if…” 

“Oi, Remus!” Sirius called across the room, “Pete saved you a seat.” James and Peter snickered behind Sirius, clearly in on the joke to make him look a fool in front of Amelia.

Remus waved them off and turned his attention back to Amelia. “Sorry, ignore them. What were you wondering?” 

She went from pink to red at his words. “I was wondering if… you wanted to be my Herbology partner this year.” 

Remus blinked. “Oh,” he said, unsure if he understood her properly, “um, yeah, alright. You mean all year?” 

She looked stunned at his words. “Oh, yeah, if you wanted…” 

“I do,” he said quickly. To his annoyance, he felt his hand fly to his hair, just like James did when he talked to a girl. “Yeah. I’d like that, Amelia.” 

She beamed at him. “Great! Well, I guess we should get on with it, then,” and she gestured to a pair of empty chairs. 

--

And so they sat together in the Greenhouse. Their conversations were awkward at first. They kept running into long pauses between their feeble attempts at small talk. Remus always kicked himself when he couldn’t decide what to say. He couldn’t tell too many stories, so much of his life had to be kept secret. He couldn’t very well tell her why he looked so tired that one Wednesday after the Full Moon, nor where he had gotten a particularly nasty scar that stretched across the back of his right hand. He was sure she’d get bored of him eventually, but lesson after lesson there she was, smiling from the seat next to him. She didn’t seem to care that he had little to say, because after a few weeks she talked enough for the both of them. 

She told him about her mother’s work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Remus braced himself at this. He knew that the Department was none too friendly towards werewolves, but the topic never came up. She told him that she wanted to head the Department herself someday. 

“Yeah?” he grinned, “you want to work in magical law?” 

She smiled as she misted a rosebush with a spray bottle. “It’s the only thing I can imagine doing, you know, with everything that’s going on.” 

Remus nodded. That was one of the things he liked about Amelia. She had parents in the Ministry. She knew about the war that was surely coming, and she wasn’t afraid. She’d told him once that she’d give her life to protect others if it came to it. 

“Sounds like you should have been in Gryffindor,” he’d told her at this.

“Nah,” she laughed, “you lot are too aggressive. Give me a book over a fight any day.” 

Remus pretended to look wounded. “Not all of us are like that.” 

He stopped his work on the engorged Venus Flytrap in front of him and glanced sideways at her. Her large blue eyes studied him carefully as if she were making up her mind. “No,” she almost whispered, “I suppose you’re not, are you?” 

--

That night in the Common Room found the boys sitting around the roaring fire. James and Sirius played a game of Exploding Snap while Peter watched, clapping his hands and cheering loudly when one of the players had a particularly impressive move. Remus stared into the fire, the book he had been reading lay forgotten in his lap. 

“Moony,” James called, waking Remus from his daydream about Herbology that day, “what’s got your face look all crumpled like that?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” grumbled Sirius, “Bones. Again. Am I wrong?” 

Remus was sure his cheeks had turned dark red at this comment. “No.”

Sirius grimaced. “See? Told you.” 

James laughed out loud. “Remus? In love? I never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Not in love,” Remus argued, trying to regain some of his dignity, “in….like, I suppose.” 

“Like...you want to shag her brains out, do you mean?” Peter chuckled. 

“Don’t be gross,” Remus tossed his book at Peter’s head, which unfortunately missed. “She’s funny, that’s all.” 

“Funny?” Said Sirius incredulously, “I’ve never heard her be funny.” 

“Have you ever even talked to her?” Remus frowned. He didn’t know why Sirius was being so nasty.

“‘Course I have,” Sirius muttered, “she seems boring if you ask me.” 

“Well, good thing no one asked you, then,” Remus snapped. He wasn’t interested in dealing with one of Sirius’ moods today. Amelia was a nice girl. She had a good heart and she cared about the things Remus cared about. Sirius was just jealous for whatever reason. 

Sirius jumped to his feet. “Well, if you’re going to blab on about her all night, I’m going to bed.” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “What, and deprive us of your pleasant company?” 

Sirius glared at him, then stomped off up the stairs. 

James stared after his friend. “What was that about?” 

“No idea,” Remus gestured to Peter for his book back, then went back to pretending to read in front of the fire. Really, if Sirius had a problem with Amelia, who cared. 

But he did care. 

--

The ground had frozen solid already, a sure sign that winter approached. Amelia had insisted that they study for their Herbology exam down by the black lake. He wasn’t sure why they had to be outside, but she’d lit a fire that floated several inches above the blanket she laid out for them which provided a buffer of warmth against the brisk wind. 

“Name the Kingdom, Order, and Family of Crataegus, give its common name, and list its magical properties,” Amelia recited from her textbook. 

Remus screwed up his face in concentration. 

“Let’s see...Crataegus, also known as Hawthorn, Kingdom is Plantae, Order is Rosales, and Family is Rosaceae. In ancient times Muggles believed the Hawhotrn had magical properties of rebirth and fertility, and Wizards use its elements in draughts to strengthen the heart,” He glanced at Amelia, “how’d I do?” 

“Brilliant,” she beamed, snapping her book shut. She stretched her legs so that her shoeless feet reached towards the Black Lake. “Let’s take a break, I’m exhausted.” 

“Up all night reading, were you?” he teased.

She tried her best not to smile, but the corners of her mouth gave her away. “If you must know… yes. I couldn’t put down our Transfiguration textbook.” 

Remus gaped at her. “Oh come on!” he laughed, “there’s being studious, and there’s being a bloody nerd!” 

She looked at him in disbelief. “Traitor! I would have thought you, of all people, would understand.” Something changed in her face when she said this. She seemed to grow softer, more earnest. She looked at him as if he were supposed to gain some greater understanding from her words. 

Remus laughed nervously. “Well, I like bloody nerds.” 

“Yeah?” she whispered. She drew closer to him by the second, her eyes boring into his. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. He knew what she wanted from him, and he was pretty sure he wanted it too. 

Their lips met across the space between them. Her skin was warm, and her lips moved naturally against his own. It was a nice feeling, and he kissed her back with interest. His stomach swooped when she gently tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth. He lifted a hand to her cheek and rested it there, gently pulling her closer. 

--

“You WHAT?” 

Remus did not look up from his book. “We kissed. Alright?” 

James stared at him open-mouthed. “How!” he howled, like a child who had a toy taken away by a fed-up parent, “how are you the first one to kiss a girl of the four of us? You’re afraid of girls!” 

“Apparently not,” Remus grinned despite himself. It was true, he’d never been a flirt. But it seemed that James’ strategy of annoying girls until they liked him hadn’t quite paid off yet. 

“And how was it?” Sirius barked across the room from his spot on his four-poster. He still had that strange, hard edge to his voice. He’d been that way for a few weeks now. 

Remus shrugged. “It was nice.” 

“Just nice?” cried Peter, who looked like he was about to explode, “Come on, we need more than that!” 

Remus thought back to the moment down by the lake. “It was...unexpected.” 

“Was it everything you’d ever dreamed of?” Sirius drawled in a bored voice. 

Remus shot him a dirty look. “And if it was?” 

Sirius scoffed. “I doubt it.” 

“Look,” Remus said angrily, “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m sick of this. You’ve been sulking around me for weeks. I don’t know if it’s jealousy, or-”

“Jealous?” Sirius’ eyes flashed with anger, “you think I’m jealous of her?” 

Remus faltered. “No,” he stammered, “I meant-” 

But Sirius cut him off. “Of course, I didn’t mean,” he took a breath, “I just don’t want you lording it over the rest of us, alright? That you’ve got a girlfriend, or whatever. Us Marauders have more important things to think about.” And with that, Sirius tore the hangings around his bed closed with a huff. 

Remus stared at the spot Sirius had been feeling shaken. What had Sirius meant, “you think I’m jealous of her?” 

“Let him sleep it off, mate,” James said uneasily, glancing at the closed hangings around his friend’s bed, “he’s just in a mood.” 

“Fuck off, James,” Sirius called from out of sight. 

James sighed, threw Remus one more apologetic look, then began to get ready for bed. 

Remus sat quite still for a moment. Just minutes ago he could think of nothing but Amelia. Now, Sirius filled his brain. They fought so rarely, it was hard to believe that his kiss with Amelia had made Sirius so angry. After a while, Remus realized he was the last boy awake in the dormitory. Confused and upset, he got to his feet and turned out the light.

[ravenbrenna09]

Another Hogwarts AU when I should be studying

Hey, Lejla, @driesen-demaury, I don’t think we should be talking about my Hogwarts AU anymore, at least until Safe is over because I got inspired by our conversation earlier about Robbe cutting off his hair and Sander’s response and, so, yeah, here we go. 

Otherwise known as Robbe and Sander discover what the other has done to their hair over the summer. 

...

It was nice, to have them all back together, the four of them altogether. 

Over the past two months, over summer break, he had missed it all. Sure, he saw Jens every couple of weeks, inviting him down to the skatepark that they used to play at as kids and it was easy to just floo over to Jens’ house from the fireplace in the flatshare, before Robbe discovered that Jens came from a family of wizards and that Robbe was a wizard too. But he hadn’t seen Moyo and Aaron in months and Robbe had to admit that there was some part of him that missed their company and the sense of normal they provided. 

However, he did not miss Moyo’s jokes pointed in his direction, the casual calling of him names that poked fun of someone’s sexuality, or the instant shame that shot through Robbe’s entire body at the thought. He spotted that Jens’ eyes dart in his direction, but Robbe felt his body grow rigid and stone, like some sort of protective armor that was supposed to protect him. He had gotten so used to the flatshare, with Milan and Zoë and obligatory Wednesday night movie nights and resting his head on Milan’s shoulder when he was sleepy and hugging him and Zoë when they were emotional, that he had forgotten that it wasn’t normal.

That wasn’t behavior that he would display with the boys.

It was behavior solely dictated to the flatshare. 

But, he had known that. 

The subconscious fear of being teased by Moyo was why he had flinched away from Milan’s hug on the platform, nervously shifting from foot-to-foot, trying to avoid looking at the hurt expression on Milan’s face, the confusion. And, it seemed to hit Robbe all at once, right now, hours later, in a compartment with Jens, Moyo, and Aaron, laughing. Robbe knew how Milan’s hugs normally went, especially when Robbe wasn’t seeming his best, tight and comforting, almost always followed by a kiss on the side of his head. He hugged Zoë the same too, it was nothing special, but to Moyo, it would be. 

Because Robbe was a guy, and so was Milan, and the latter also happened to be gay. 

“Robbe,” Jens spoke, dragging him out of his thoughts. Robbe didn’t even realize he was standing and moving towards the compartment door. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, want sweets, I’ll be back,” Robbe replied, stepping out of the compartment before his friends could request sweets to buy with the money that he hardly had and turned right. That was the direction that sweet-cart lady went and he hadn’t seen her loop back around. He finally felt like he could breathe once he stepped outside, on the small balcony between train cars, and let out a breath, running a hand through his hair, momentarily forgetting that he had cut his hair over the summer. 

Oh, right. 

At the beginning of the summer, Jens and Robbe had bet. It was something stupid, something that Robbe couldn’t even remember anymore, something that had happened at a party while they were half-drunk and high beyond belief, but whatever it had been, the loser had to shave their head. And, Robbe was the unlucky one. For the first week, he had felt self-conscious with his shorter hair, but it was growing back and he was thankful, especially now that school had started up. 

But, the shorter hair had been something godsend, especially in the summertime where he was often outside, skating and working up a sweat. The less hair that he had sticking to the back of his neck from sweat or pushing out of his face as the wind blew, the better that Robbe ended up being.

The door from one of the train cars opened, emitting two people out on the balcony. They were talking and Robbe wasn’t paying attention, trying to close his eyes and make himself relax, hoping that the two would keep on walking, into the other train car, and not notice Robbe leaning against the bars, watching the grassy fields rush by. And, he heard the opening of the train car door, waiting for it to close and it finally did so he breathed out in relief, finally alone again. 

“What in bloody Merlin did you do to your hair?!” 

Robbe jumped in shock, pivoting to find two people still on the balcony. 

One of them was Senne de Smet, who had been sending Zoë owls, trying to invite her to parties. He was dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His brown hair was whipping in the wind, against his forehead, and there was an amused expression on his face as his brown eyes flickered over to the other boy on the balcony. 

Sander Driesen. 

The Slytherin stood beside Senne, dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a dirty pair of Doc Martins. He wore a Weird Sisters shirt, a silver band on his left pointer finger, and a green hoodie that was also pushed up to his shoulders. He looked tanner, if possible, and Robbe gulped as he heard his head racing, and his eyes flickered up, spotting and realizing that Robbe wasn’t the only person to change his hair. Sander’s brown hair had been dyed a bright white, just like Zoë did to hers, and his roots were beginning to show. 

Robbe hadn’t forgotten about that night where he had run from the Ravenclaw Common Room to be alone and found Sander in his favorite classroom, hidden away and smoking a joint. What a Slytherin had been doing in a classroom all the way near the Ravenclaw Common Room, Robbe still didn’t know, but the smaller boy felt his cheeks flush at the sight of him, the memory of that night, where Sander had boldly announced that he knew that Robbe had feelings for Jens. But, he knew that Sander kept his word. 

No one knew that Robbe had feelings for Jens.

Which is good, because Robbe had become dependent on Jens’ friendship. Especially after a summer of him fighting with his father over the phone and his mother in a mental institution. He doesn’t think he could lose his friendship with Jens too. 

Despite the fact that the two of them had only really had one conversation, Sander crossed his arms over his chest as though he was expecting an answer from the stunned Robbe, who was still struggling to get his bearings.

“Uhh,” Robbe spoke, unhelpfully. “I lost a bet.” 

“A bet?” Sander clarified. 

“You’re one to talk,” Senne cut in, helping Robbe out. 

“Yeah,” Robbe spoke, finally finding his voice. “You’re one to talk with the fact that your hair is practically white! You look like you are supposed to be a Malfoy.” 

For a few moments, Robbe worried that he might have been offended (even with Draco Malfoy switching side, the Malfoys had lost their standing in the years since the War), but a lopsided grin formed over Sander’s face, one brow raised, a challenge, as he breathed out, “Oh yeah? I’ll take that as a compliment. Scorpius Malfoy is a good kid.” 

Lucius Malfoy wasn’t a good man, but Robbe didn’t need to say that. 

Scorpius Malfoy was a good kid though.

“Anyways,” Robbe spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest, almost like he was trying to shield himself from Sander. In all honesty, he didn’t know why but he felt like he needed to, especially in a small closed space like the balcony between two train cars. “What’s the point if I cut my hair because of some stupid bet that I made at the beginning of the summer? I’ll probably just grow it out anyways.” 

“Good!” Sander exclaimed, mirroring Robbe’s stance. An amused, knowing look crossed Senne’s face, his brown eyes darting between Robbe and Sander. “You should grow it out!” 

Sander moved to leave the balcony, through the door that Robbe had first walked out of. He wasn’t going to say anything else and Senne grinned at Sander, slipping inside the open door. Sander was about to step through and the anticipation was killing Robbe. “Why?”

Sander paused, his foot keeping the door propped open. There was a look on his face, like he pretending that he didn’t know what Robbe was talking about when he replied, “Huh?”

“Why should I grow out my hair again?” Why do you care about something as simple as my hair?

Robbe couldn’t figure it out. Sander was two years older than him and, other than about ten minutes in a classroom where Sander admitted to knowing more about Robbe than even Jens did, the two of them didn’t have much interaction. Despite asking, Sander had never sent an owl to Robbe, which sucked because he had found himself wondering about it over the summer. 

A teasing grin formed on Sander’s features, turning to face Robbe fully with one foot still holding the door to the train car open, “Because I think you look really good with long hair.” 

Sander stepped out of the path of the door, his foot moving and allowing the door to slam closed, leaving Robbe the only one outside on the balcony as the wind whipped around him. He tilted his head back, gulping, as he tried to fight the flush working its way across his chest as dreams, ones that he thought he had finally suppressed, fought their way from the depths of his mind, Sander in the center of them. 

“Oh, get it together, Robbe,” he whispered, running his hand through his hair, thankful it wasn’t long so his fingers wouldn’t get caught in knots.

I’m not like that.

But, before the self-loathing could creep in, the door, not the one Sander just disappeared through, opened and the sweet-cart lady stepped out and Robbe remembered his original plan. The woman blinked at him with wide, concerned brown eyes that reminded him too much of his mom. “Anything from the trolly, dear?” 

“Do you got firewhiskey?”

The appalled look on the older woman’s face was almost amusing. 

“I’m kidding.” He wasn’t. “I’ll take a chocolate frog.” 

[dewitty1]

I could be wrong, I could be ready

harryromper @harryromper

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Bill Weasley, Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley, Andromeda Black Tonks, Teddy Lupin, Rose Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Portrait Fleamont Potter Additional Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, POV Alternating, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Romance, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, wizarding houses, House magic, Magic, Families of Choice, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter), Magical Theory, Brooklyn, Roller Coasters, Socks, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Professor Neville Longbottom, Curse Breaker Bill Weasley, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Godric’s Hollow, Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place, H/D Erised 2018, Community: hd_erised, Lovers to Friends, Don’t copy to another site Summary:

At first Harry wonders if they’ve managed to destroy his vaults and are trying to tell him in the most oblique way possible. But when he turns the page he realises they’ve found a vault. A vault in the name of Lily and James Potter.

The parchment trembles a little in Harry’s hand. He takes another gulp of wine.

Harry Potter left Britain after the war and didn’t look back. Ten years later, when Gringotts discovers a vault containing his parents’ belongings—including their badly spell-damaged wedding rings—he’s forced to face up to friends and family who’ve grown in ways he could never imagine, a wizarding London rebuilt beyond his expectations, and the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s the entirely unforeseen problem of Draco Malfoy.

Featuring pureblood wizarding traditions, ancestral magic, open mic nights, marriage equality, a diner in Brooklyn, and the return of Fleamont Potter.

Excerpt:

“I ran into Malfoy again, yesterday. Like, physically. Ran into him full-tilt coming back from a jog outside the Leaky. Bowled him right over.”

Hermione giggles, as Harry kneels beside her on the quilt. “On purpose?”

Harry laughs. “No, of course not.”

She pushes a plate of muffins towards him, and he breaks off a chunk of one.

“Who did he marry?” Harry asks, thinking about Parkinson. The way Draco’s hands, brushing himself off yesterday, were unadorned by rings.

“He’s not married,” Hermione answers, letting Hugo clutch at her finger, dragging it towards his mouth.

“Really? He always seemed the type to be married to some prim little witch who knows how to entertain properly. You know, the sort who’s really good at parties and small talk and never forgets anyone’s name.” Harry can just picture them both at society functions, glasses of champagne in hand. Malfoy looking down his aristocratic nose at everyone.

“That’s funny,” Hermione snorts, clearly delighted by something he’s said.

“What is?”

She gives him a strange look. “Harry, Draco is as gay as a maypole.”

Harry manages to inhale a crumb the wrong way and immediately sets to choking. It causes Hermione to laugh even harder. “You really didn’t know?” she asks, patting his back ineffectually. ”He dated Dean Thomas for over a year!”

And that is really not an image Harry needs in his head, all of Malfoy’s long limbs wrapped around… He shakes his head vigorously.

“No. How would I have known? I heard him talking about picking a kid up from school and I just assumed—”

Hermione’s laughter dies suddenly and the happiness slides from her face. “Teddy, Harry. He would have been talking about Teddy.”

“Why would Malfoy be picking Teddy up from school?” He tries not to make it sound scathing, but it doesn’t really make any sense. The two of them are related, sure, but in the “burnt off the family tree” kind of way. He can’t imagine even a post-war Malfoy being that interested in a Metamorphmagus from the wrong side of the Blacks.

Hermione sighs and gently tugs her finger back from Hugo, picking the baby up as he starts to fuss. She frowns at Harry, a sign he’s coming to recognise means he’s freshly disappointed her in some way.

“Draco looks after Teddy two days a week. He has done for years. Draco’s basically the father figure in Teddy’s life.”

If she doesn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, Harry thinks, she’s fallen pretty short of the mark. Hugo starts to cry, and Harry decides to take the excuse.

“Time for Hugo’s nap—I’ll leave you to it.”

“You should go catch up with him, Harry. You’ve changed a lot and so has he. It’s Wednesday, he’ll be at the Bent Wand tonight.”

Harry waves absently at her as he leaves. He doesn’t have any intention of catching up with Malfoy.

Except that her suggestion keeps gnawing at him as he heads back to the Leaky, and it won’t leave him alone as he eats a bowl of bland soup at the bar. He asks Kim, the waitress, about the Bent Wand and she gives him directions to a new street opened up after the war. He has no interest at all in seeing what Malfoy’s up to, but the idea that British wizards have caught up with the modern world enough to have gay bars out in the open is sort of intriguing. He could just go have a drink there. It doesn’t mean he has to talk to Malfoy. In fact the thought of not talking to Malfoy and finding an attractive wizard to work out the week’s frustrations with is sort of appealing. And so before he can reconsider he’s wandering past a new Wheezes branch and round the corner into a charming little street he’s never seen before called Equal Alley.

The Bent Wand looks like more of a pub than a bar, and there’s a foreboding-looking bouncer standing at the door. “Tap your wand,” he says, indicating a brick in the wall. Harry does so, and a blue plastic wristband appears on his arm.

“All Ages night tonight,” the bouncer says, by way of explanation, and steps to one side to let Harry in.

The pub is warm and busy, with groups of people clustered around tables and around the bar. The crowd is younger than Harry was expecting. Two boys who look like they’re still Hogwarts-age walk past him holding hands. The taller one is wearing a t-shirt that reads I Like Wizards / It’s None of Your Business. Harry waits behind them at the bar.

“Where’s the sign up sheet?” one of them asks.

The bartender points over their shoulders. “Draco has it over by the stage.”

Harry turns to catch a glimpse of Malfoy’s blond hair, surrounded by young people over by a large amp sitting on a low stage.

Harry orders a pint, and while the bartender is pulling it, he asks, “Sign up sheet?”

“Shout Out. It’s an open mic night for youth. Happens here every Wednesday.”

Harry is reluctantly impressed. It’s more or less the last thing he expected when Hermione mentioned it. He assumed the Wand would be some snooty wine bar with an overpriced cocktail menu and Malfoy holding court in a booth being rude to people who weren’t as attractive or wealthy as him.

“Some of these kids look like they��re still in school,” Harry says, anxious to derail that train of thought as quickly as possible.

The bartender nods. “Hogwarts lets them Floo down for the evening. It’s an approved extracurricular. Draco over there takes responsibility for getting them back afterwards.”

Harry tries to imagine anything like this being possible during his school days and can’t. It took him leaving the country to even understand that the confused knot of feelings he had about his own attraction to wizards was fine and normal and nothing he needed to hide. It certainly wasn’t something they ever discussed in school. Though to be fair to Hogwarts, he supposes, they had quite a lot else on their minds at the time.

He takes his drink and perches on a stool at the corner of the bar with a view of the stage. When Malfoy stands up, clipboard in hand, Harry’s forced to admit to himself that he looks really good. Which is a preposterous sort of thought, because Malfoy’s only wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. But there’s something about the way the dark skinnies hug his legs, the form-fitting tee, even the faded grey lines of his Dark Mark. Harry finds that he can’t look away.

Malfoy greets everyone there like old friends and invites a blue-haired witch in her twenties up on stage as the evening’s emcee, before taking a seat at one of the front tables. The talent on display is mixed at best, but the enthusiasm is contagious. Passable cover songs delivered on guitar, overwrought poetry, a slightly ill-considered rap. Harry finds himself clapping wildly, beaming at the thought of these young people having the space to express themselves. He’s ordering another pint when Malfoy pulls up the stool next to him as if they’re old friends. He hadn’t even seen him come over.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Draco sounds curious, rather than mean. Harry realises his hair is cut much shorter than it had been in school. It suits him.

“What, you thought you were the only queer wizard in our year?”

Malfoy laughs, reaching for a drink the bartender has made for him without asking. It looks like a gin and tonic. “Please. That cat’s long out of the bag. Ever since the Weasley wedding guests flapped their traps and the Prophet dedicated a full week of issues to The Boy Who Lived a Lie.”

Harry folds in on himself a little at that. It’s not that he hadn’t known it made the press here at the time, of course; he just hadn’t seen any of it. He’s pretty sure it was ugly. Andromeda always made a face when the subject came up.

As if he can read the dark turn Harry’s thoughts have taken, Malfoy leans in conspiratorially and says, “I may or may not have kept a few newspaper clippings for my personal collection. Some of the photos were very inspirational.”

It startles a laugh out of Harry, and Malfoy gives him a pleased smile. His ears pink up a little and Harry finds himself fixated on the smooth skin over his clavicle. Harry straightens up. Clearly, the pints are going to his head and he should leave. Flirting with Draco Malfoy is an objectively terrible idea. Draco’s tall and lithe and gives the impression of being all coiled power. Like a snake, but probably twice as dangerous. Harry can easily find far less menacing opportunities to pull, with a lot less emotional baggage.

“What brings you to London? Other than knocking people over in the street and lurking around queer youth nights in bars?”

Harry snaps his gaze back up to meet Malfoy’s. He doesn’t seem to have noticed Harry’s inner turmoil, or if he has, he isn’t letting on. “Gringotts found some things belonging to my parents so I needed to sort that out. I’m only here for another day or two.” He doesn’t say any more. Harry knows Malfoy’s father was sentenced to be Kissed. Talking about their parents or the past in general seems like a no-go. In fact, just the two of them sitting side by side in a bar having a conversation seems like something that should bend the universe in on itself and cause it to implode.

“This is impressive,” he manages, taking a deep breath and reaching for a change of subject, gesturing around at the pub night. “Creating an environment like this.”

“Thank you,” Malfoy nods. “Times have changed a lot since we were their age, but not so much that it’s not important to give them all the support we can.” He knocks his drink back in several swallows that leave Harry staring at the long, pale column of his throat. Harry desperately wants to mark it up.

“Go easy,” he manages, aiming for teasing. “You’ll be on the floor at that rate.”

“It’s soda, Potter,” Malfoy smirks. “Someone has to get the children back to Hogwarts in one piece.”

Harry is just wrestling with why that idea seems disappointing when Malfoy gives him a long, considering look. It’s as if he’s weighing every aspect of Harry, and it’s ridiculous, but Harry suddenly doesn’t want to be found wanting.

 Draco seems to reach some sort of decision as he stands and leans right into Harry’s personal space, his lips warm against Harry’s ear. “Though if you want me on the floor, I don’t have to get the students back to school for an hour or so.” Just the words alone have Harry letting out a small groan and adjusting himself in his jeans. Malfoy pulls back, grinning wickedly at him. This whole moment is absurd. 

Unthinkable. 

Harry can’t possibly go through with it. But Draco is the brightest spot in the room and he can’t look away.

“Where?” he breathes, thinking about just tugging Malfoy to him and Apparating them right back to his room at the Leaky, although that seems a bit obvious. 

And really who can wait that long, there’s got to be a perfectly good toilet somewhere in this pub. 

But Malfoy just smirks and walks away, toward a door at the back of the bar marked Emergency Exit. Harry hastens after him.

He finds himself in a service lane behind the building, immediately pressed against a brick wall. If Malfoy’s jeans looked tight from across the bar, now he’s close enough for Harry to feel it. 

“Someone will see,” Harry bites out, as Malfoy makes quick work of his belt buckle.

Malfoy laughs. “You think gay wizards built Equal Alley and didn’t disillusion the hell out of every dark corner?” And then Malfoy sinks to his knees and Harry can’t find himself able to care anymore.

[unorthodoxsavvy]

vibe check me! (also are you a murderino omg my mom is too she listens to that podcast all the time and has been to a few live shows)

I am! I would love to go to a live show, but, ya know... I’ve had a true crime/horror blog on here for a few years and I really enjoy posting on there.

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Comments:

It always fills me with a warm fuzzy feeling to know that DnP blogs still follow me because even though I don’t watch what little content they put out and I ended up having to unfollow a lot of people for my own mental health (who know following 4,000+ blogs was going to feel too cluttered) I love the phandom and even though we’ve changed a lot over the years, I like to think we’re all in a happier place than ever at least in terms of them. 

[alindakb]

How Love Hurts - Chapter 3.1 - by Alinda

Sweat drips from Draco’s hair when he steps into the elevator. He wrings his hands together and tries to ignore the people around him. He can’t deal with the anger and hate in their eyes today. Not now when he’s going to ruin everything, now he’s about to lose one of the most important people in his life. Scorpius would be proud of Draco for doing this, just as Astoria if she was still with them. Draco is sure of it. He just wishes knowing that would make what he’s about to do easier. Scorpius believes it will all be okay, and Draco really hopes his son is right. That it will not be the end of the friendship between Scorp and Albus. Those boys have been inseparable since their first trip on the Hogwarts express. And Draco hopes that the coming Christmas break isn’t going to be the first time they won’t be allowed to visit each other.

Draco steps out of the elevator and starts the short work to Harry’s office. Emily, his secretary is in her usual spot. She gives Draco a short nod, giving him the go-ahead to enter. She’s one of the view people that doesn’t treat him like crap in this office and it’s nice. Draco opens the door and finds Harry behind his desk, his head bent over the file in front of him. Harry looks up, irritation written over his face that transforms into a smile as soon as he registers who it is that just entered his office.

“This is a surprise,” Harry says. He puts down his quill and hangs back in his chair. His body relaxes and Draco hates that he’s the reason for it, knowing it won’t last long today.

Draco swallows the lump in his throat and closes the door behind him. Harry nods at the chair that stands to the side for when Draco stops by for lunch on Wednesdays. Not that it’s ever Draco that sits on the chair. No somehow Harry always has an excuse to get up when Draco comes so that Draco can steel Harry’s desk chair for the small hour he’ll be around.

Draco shakes his head this time. There’s no need to get the chair, he won’t be staying long. And if he sits down, jokes with Harry as he would normally do, he won’t say what he needs to say. What he promised his wife on her deathbed he would tell Harry.

Harry frowns at Draco but doesn’t comment on it. He waits for Draco to speak, just like Draco does with him when Harry tries to talk about the war, about the things that still haunt his dreams.

Draco looks to the side, afraid to see the disgust in Harry’s eyes that will be there once he knows. He’s not sure he’ll ever open his mouth, say the words out loud. The only person who ever heard them was his own son. And this is different, Harry doesn’t have to stick around once he knows.

“Draco, you’re scaring me,” Harry says. Draco looks back at him. Harry’s lip is stuck between his teeth. His eyes are watery and his fingers fidget with the file on his desk. Draco knows he has to tell Harry. That he has to explain what the man means to him. Even if it means losing him forever. There’s no way Draco can just keep being his friend, not when the urge to reach out and touch him is this strong.

“I,” he starts. His voice sounds wrong, like he hasn’t used it for days because of a cold. Fuck why is this so hard? Draco swallows again. “I need to tell you something. Something I should have told you from the start.”

“Okay,” Harry responses. “I’m listening.” A soft smile sits on his face and Draco heart breaks. He wants to kiss this man, wants to be his. But instead, he’s going to lose the friendship they have built over the last couple of months.

“Scorp told me to tell you that I don’t expect anything of you. Because I don’t. It’s okay if you don’t want to hang out anymore, I’ll stay away from you, from your children. Whatever you want. Just please don’t take it out on those boys.”

“Draco.”

“No, Harry, I need to say this. Please let me just say this.” Tears slip from Draco’s eyes and he hates himself for feeling so vulnerable.

Harry nods and waits for Draco to continue. He’s still fidgeting with the file and Draco wants to step closer and grab his hand to make him stop.

“The thing is, and I know it shouldn’t matter. But it’s an issue in the wizarding world. Man, even the Muggles make an issue of it from time to time. Fuck Harry, I wasn’t allowed to feel this, be this way for so long. Only Astoria and Scorpius know. Fuck, I’m making no sense at all, do I?”

Harry just shakes his head. He tries to smile at Draco, but it doesn’t last.

“What I’m trying to say is that,” Draco wavers, shakes his head and then looks Harry in the eyes. “I’m gay. There I said it. I, Draco Malfoy are a homosexual.”

Harry nods again. His lips press together in a slight grimace and Draco looks at the ground. He can’t do this. It’s too much to see the expression his father had when Draco told him on Harry’s face. And it’s going to be there, Draco is sure of it. But he can’t stop now, he said part one, now part two needs to follow.

“And I love you,” Draco whispers at the ground.

The room is still. Draco hears the clock tick, hears Emily’s heels walk down the hall, hears his own heartbeat in his chest. He looks up at Harry. Harry opens his mouth, only to close it again. He shakes his head softly, his eyes avoid Draco’s.

“I tried just being your friend. And I’ll keep trying if you want me to. But I need you to know that I love you. I love everything about you. Every time you smile at me I want to kiss you. I want to hold your hand when we walk around the river. And I know I can’t have that, that you’re straight, and with Ginevra. And that’s okay. I just want you to know how you make me feel.”

“I don’t know,” Harry says. And Draco can’t hear it. Can’t hear the rejection, the end of their friendship in words. It’s too much.

“It’s okay, Harry. You don’t have to say it. I’ll go, keep my distance. And if you ever feel you can be my friend again. Well, you know where to find me.”

Draco turns around and walks out of the office before Harry has the change to say anything else. He almost runs towards the elevators, hurries out of the ministry with tears streaming over his cheeks. Draco doesn’t care who sees it. Doesn’t care what others will think of him now. It’s all over. He kept his promise. Scorp can be proud, Astoria can rest peacefully. And Harry can continue his life without a man drooling over him.

[verus-veritas]

CYOC: “Best Friends” (2/3)

(Had to repost the second part of “Best Friends” since it got flagged. For what I have no idea...) /Verus

I loved burning rubber barreling down the road in my new car. I roared into the student parking area, fish-tailed the car and skidded into my (Tony’s) usual parking spot. I got out, peeled off my driving gloves, tossed them into the car, locked up and headed for my locker and first class. I was relieved to see that no one noticed anything different about me… why should they? I was now what I changed myself to be. As I got the requisite books from my locker, Ginny came up behind me and said “Hi” in her usual perky way. “Hey, there” I replied.

“How did the library go last night? Sorry you didn’t go the the movies with us.”

“Yeah, well that would have been nice, but I really needed to get my research done for Monday’s paper… otherwise a pretty dull night. Say, where’s Dennis?” It was so weird looking down at her rather than straight into her eyes.

“He’s over with the coach talking about the game Thursday night. You free for lunch again?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there like always. Hey, nice dress… new?”

“Nice, huh. Yeah, got it at the mall over the weekend. Thanks for noticing. Well, I’d better get to class; see you at noon.” With that she smiled, turned and sauntered down the hall toward her classroom.  

I needed to get to class too, but first I needed to take a leak. I popped into the restroom, stood at the urinal and fished out my cock and let go. I stared down at my new big dick and chuckled; I just loved handling it. Finished, I washed my hands at the sink all the while staring into the mirror at my Tony Paster face and my leather-jacketed torso. So far, so good. No one’s called me names or pushed, kicked, shoved, tripped or even touched me in an unfriendly way… definitely not my usual school day beginning. Well, I changed all that. Now, they know that “I” would beat the hell out of them, if they even considered it. That kinda crap would never happen to me again.

My 11:00 class finished 15 minutes early and as I was walking down the hallway toward the school restaurant, Tiger, one of Tony’s minions came up to me, pulled me over to the side and whispered “Now ??” I looked at my watch and said:

“Sure, I got a little time, why not.”  He cracked a big smile and we nonchalantly walked over to the far corner restroom that was almost always empty since it was more out-of-the-way than the others. We both entered into a stall and he immediately was on his knees nervously unbuttoning my Levis. When I changed everything I not only made Tony gay, but his two minions as well. They were still Tony’s friends, but secretly paid me to fuck them or let them give me blow jobs. I thought it was only fair after what they collectively put me through. Tiger did his job well and after getting a copious amount of my “Tony” cum he was sucking back to the cock head, not wanting to miss one single drop of my man juice.

Once I was buttoned up again, he handed me a $5 bill and panicked “Remember… nobody knows about this, right?” I pocketed the 5 and said:

“Just our little secret.”  Both Tiger and Bert instinctively knew that if they EVER let on this was happening, they could get hurt. ‘Course, in their own minds, it was their idea and fear of being discovered, not mine. They didn’t even know about each other.

As I was entering the restaurant, Tony Paster in my old body stopped me.

“Saturday still on?” I smiled and patted him on the shoulder and said “Sure, like usual.”  Tony nodded and replied as he walked off “and remember you still owe me for last time.” In this new reality, Tony was a friend, though not particularly close. He, too, was secretly gay and still a wizard mechanic with the cars and engines. He was my master mechanic and got to work on my car every other Saturday morning and for payment, all he asked for was that I let him suck my dick. Fair compensation I thought. The bully was gone. This new life was seeming pretty good for me. No one bullied me, I looked hot, I had great friends, the Jackson scholarship was all but mine. Yes, everything seemed to be so… “perfect.”

Lunch with Ginny was a pleasure as usual. Clara joined us and we talked and talked and talked. I liked them both. They seemed to genuinely like me as I was and now am. They weren’t judgemental about what I was or what I looked like.   I asked about Dennis again and Ginny said he was lunching with the coach. I was beginning to think he was avoiding me. The rest of the day went fine as did the next day, Wednesday. I was now totally into being the new me and I liked it. I was still the straight “A” student but everyone respected me… or maybe they just feared the new me… whatever. I was never a threat and I liked this leather look. I got a hard-on just knowing I now owned Tony’s body and were wearing his clothes. Wearing his boots particularly turned me on and I was constantly looking down at them and watching how the boot leather at the toes rippled when I wiggled my toes. I also loved the feel of wearing the black leather jacket and I never took if off, even in class.

I found out after Tuesday’s lunch that Travis still didn’t like me or want me around, but it wasn’t because I was a nerdy loser, but now I “looked like a thug.” He and his opinion didn’t bother me any more. Dennis and I had a few more short talks quietly between classes and I could tell that all this still bothered him greatly. He still couldn’t get used to “me” and he tended to stay at arm’s length, never buddy-buddy touching like we used to. That bothered me a little, but I realized that I had to give him time to get comfortable with “me.” Just as I had gotten comfortable with myself, every morning.

I roared into school on Thursday morning and just as I got to my locker Ginny came up to me with a worried look on her face and asked “Are you okay?”

I turned to face her and replied “Hi, sure, I’m fine.” I caught that look on her face. “Yeah, I’m fine, why shouldn’t I be? Ginny, why shouldn’t I be… what’s up… what’s wrong?”

“Well, I just thought you’d be upset, you know, real down.”

“Upset, why should I be upset… Ginny, what is wrong?  Why would I be upset?”  Now, I WAS getting upset.

“Didn’t Dennis tell you? Don’t you know? I thought you guys talked to each other about everything.”

Now I WAS upset. “Ginny, just tell me what’s up. What was Dennis going to tell me?”

“Gee, Steve… I’m really sorry, I really am. Yesterday afternoon the school notified Dennis that HE was going to be awarded the Jackson Scholarship on Friday at the assembly. Steve, I’m really sorry. I thought Dennis would have told you.”

What she just said hit me like a Mack truck. I was stunned, paralyzed. No emotion or reaction at all. I managed to keep my composure and feigned a small laboured smile.

“Don’t worry. Dennis knows how much that scholarship means to me. He’ll just refuse it, that’s all. He’s already going to be offered six athletic scholarships. That’s why he didn’t tell me. Don’t worry about it. He’s so busy with the State Championship game tonight, he just hasn’t caught up with me yet to tell me.” I just looked down at her with those soulful but pretty eyes. She looked back up at me and then just grabbed me and hugged me for all she could. I hugged back and then pulled away just enough to then kiss her on the cheek. I whispered “Thank you Ginny. I love you. You’re such a good friend…”

“GET YOUR GOD DAMN FILTHY HANDS OFF MY GIRL!!!” Ginny and I turned around to see Dennis standing there, beet-red face, ready to fight.

Ginny let me go and started toward Dennis. “Dennis, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?… What are you saying? Steve and I were just talking… he was just hugging me, we always do that.”

“I don’t care what you always do!” I don’t want HIM near you.“ Dennis was boiling mad and shoved me away from them.  

Ginny was dumbfounded. "Dennis, what’s gotten into you. Steve is your best friend.” I started to say something, but Ginny stopped me and told me to move on… 

“Go to class. I’ll take care of this… GO!”  I turned and went on my way trying to figure out what just happened.  I forgot myself just how upset I was about the scholarship news.  

Ginny was now getting mad. “Dennis Popejoy. Just what the hell was that all about? What’s gotten into you?”

Dennis was still mad and standing there flailing his arms until he just froze with his arms tightly crossed over his chest and biting his lips. ”Ginny, THAT’S NOT… you just don’t know. Things just aren’t what they look like. I can’t tell you… but I don’t want you near him any more!“

Ginny just froze there with an incredulous look on her face. ”What? YOU don’t want me to do WHAT?!“

"I can’t tell you. You just don’t know about all this. Please, just do as I ask…”

“Dennis Popejoy. Steve is my friend and I don’t know what you think things look like or don’t look like, BUT I will see and talk to him whenever I feel like it! Steve is also your best friend and I don’t know what this is all about. You’re mad at him for some reason or other, but I’ll tell you this. You find him and apologize. You talk all this out and make friends with him again… OR ELSE!”

"Or else??”  Dennis began to panic.

“Or else… We are through!!”

“Through? But…”

“No buts. You set things right or that’s it.” With that Ginny spun around and marched off leaving Dennis stunned, but angrier than before.

Just before sixth period Dennis found me. “Steve, sorry I pushed you… I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. We really gotta talk. How ‘bout we meet at the 'hole’ right after school. We gotta be quick 'cause I have to get to the field to suit up for tonight’s game, okay?”

I just shrugged and said “Okay, I’ll see you there.”

The 'hole’ was a secret meeting place Dennis and I had accidently discovered years ago off of Baker Road that we used when we just wanted to talk really privately. I don’t think anyone else ever went there anymore. It was an old vandalized brickhouse among the rocky hills with an entrance that was impossible to know unless you just knew of it. I knew that Dennis still was not at ease with my new reality, but I didn’t think he was THAT angry with me.

I had been waiting there for about ten minutes sitting atop my souped-up car with my booted foot propped up on the front bumper when Dennis drove up in his convertible sports car. Dennis jumped out of his car and sheepishly walked up to me always trying to avoid looking directly at me.

I waited a few minutes for him to say something, but when he didn’t, I just started in. “Okay, Dennis what’s with you today?… jumping on me that way?”

Dennis fumbled a bit with his cowboy boot kicking the ground and then just blurted out. “Steve, I’m sorry about today, okay? I just lost it when I saw you… "Tony”… hugging and kissing Ginny. I just went ballistic. Steve, I just can’t deal with all this… with you… with you being this way… with you looking like Tony. I JUST CAN’T!  I can’t handle all this anymore,  I just can’t…“

"Dennis, what’s wrong with all this. Everything is going great. No more Tony the bully. No more problems, no more enemy. I’m feeling just fantastic. I’m finally being on my own, I’m not afraid anymore. Everything is just fine. I’m still Steve, your best friend… nothing about that has changed.”

’FINE?! FINE??! Nooo… everything is NOT FINE.  And no, you’re not Steve, at least not the same Steve I knew. To me you’re Tony Paster. When you say something, I don’t hear Steve my friend… I HEAR TONY. When I see you,  I don’t see Steve… I SEE TONY. When you were hugging and kissing Ginny, all I saw was Tony hugging and kissing… That bastard, Tony. To me, you’re Tony… NOT Steve! Travis says you’re nothing but some white trash thug.…… Oh God, I just wish you would have zapped me too, so I wouldn’t know any differently. Steve, we’ve always been friends and I have to tell you that all this is wrong. You have to believe me. Have I ever lied to you, cheated you… done anything behind your back? Haven’t we always been straight with each other?”

There were several seconds of quiet nothing and I just stared down at the ground. White trash thug… Like needles shoved under my skin, I was hurt… really hurt. “Is this where you tell me about being awarded the Jackson Scholarship?”

Dennis’ head snapped around and looked at me with an astonished chagrined look. “You know about that?”

“That’s what Ginny and I were talking about this morning when you jumped me.” Dennis didn’t say anything.  “You’re going to refuse it aren’t you? You know how MUCH it means to me! Aren’t you??”

Dennis was flustered and refused to look at me directly. "I’m sorry Steve. My father insists that I accept it. He wants the prestige that goes with it. He wants me to be a lawyer or something… not just a “jock student”. Besides, that’s different from all this other stuff… Steve, you keep saying that you want to be like me. Well then, BE like me… I sure as hell wouldn’t do something like this… this black magic or curse or whatever. Just change everything back. I just can’t deal with it anymore. ust change back and give me this thing or whatever it is and I’ll hide it somewhere where it’ll never be found again. NO… just give it to me and I’ll smash it to bits so it won’t ever hurt anyone again. Steve… let’s just go back and be friends again. I just can’t deal with the way you look now… and won’t. Either put everything back… or… we’re through.”  

More hurt… deep, deep hurt. “Go back?! Go back to being a nerd, a nobody? A nobody that gets pushed around? Now, I guess I won’t even be able to go to a good college. You’ll be the golden boy, as usual; popular, good looking, stud jock star, a prestigious university, getting a degree that will get you just about anywhere. You’ll leave here with everything while I get to stagnate in this town with just about nothing. You’re my best friend… just about my only friend and I just can’t bear to lose even that. What choice do I have?…..…..

…But, you’re probably right… I should be more like you and just be myself… be the best self I can be.”

I unzipped the pocket of my leather jacket, reached in and pulled out the iridescent object, stared at it for a few seconds and showed it to Dennis. “You win.” I quietly mumbled.

“That’s it?… that little thing… that’s it?” Then Dennis went to his car trunk and returned with a hammer.

“Don’t worry Steve, everything will be all right. You’re not a nerd or a nobody.   You’ve got a fantastic mind and you’ll do just great… just wait and see. I just want us to be best friends again. You just change everything back and then I’ll just destroy this thing.” I stretched out my arm with the object in the palm of my hand so he could really see it and Dennis reached out and took hold of the object. Everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to work out for the best…

(End of part two)

Source: “BEST FRIENDS” by berlinstud on CYOC.net

[su-o]

Like some elaborate, irresistible confection, a soothing balm for frustrated Brexiteers, Downton Abbey swishes gracefully into a cinema near you this weekend, bearing more tales of kindly nobs, harmless misunderstandings and pathetically grateful servants. Though the TV series finished four years ago, nothing much has changed at the fusty Yorkshire estate, whose staff and owners are excitedly preparing for a visit by King George and Queen Mary.

Downton's nostalgic vision of a racially homogenous, redoubtably harmonious Britain in which all shoes were shined and everyone knew their place must be a pleasing fantasy for fans of Boris Johnson and Jacob Rees-Mogg, but in fairness to the show's creator, Julian Fellowes, he has always tempered patriotic sentiment with investigations of more controversial themes, such as bereavement, marital breakdown and the plight of gay people in 1920s Britain.

Fellowes even tackled the dreaded 'Irish Question' via the dashing conduit of Dublin actor Allen Leech, who made his debut in season one playing the chippy Irish chauffeur, Tom Branson. As Tom ferried Downton's owners to garden fetes and other vital social engagements, the War of Independence raged across the Irish Sea: he was a republican, and not shy about sharing this inconvenient truth.

Through the series, Leech's character has experienced more than his fair share of ups and downs, but he's still knocking around Downton, and in the movie takes on a major and at times heroic role.

"He does, yeah," Leech (38) agrees when I meet him - later that day, he announces that his American actress wife Jessica Blair Herman is expecting their first child. (At the end of our interview, he beams broadly and says: "I don't know when you're publishing this, but my wife's pregnant, and we're going to reveal that on the carpet later, so keep it under your hat.")

"Before we got the script, the one thing I really wanted to see was that he would get an opportunity to do something, because he had faded a little bit into the furniture towards the end of the TV series," he continues.

"I was really surprised when I got it, because I hadn't expected I'd have quite as much to do.

"When Hugh Bonneville read it, he rang me and said 'you have more plots than an allotment'."

Without giving too much away, Branson may find love again, and perform an unexpected heroic service.

"I'm a bit worried though - you've seen the film, he does this thing at one point, and I mean I did have a little think about it, because I don't know how it's going to go down at home!" says Leech.

"Julian said it's not really about the royals, he does it for the family. That's what he always says."

For Leech, reuniting on the shoot with long-time cast members like Bonneville, Michelle Dockery, Jim Carter and Maggie Smith was special. "Because we've enjoyed the show's success together, there is that sense of family, which is really lovely.

"But as Jim Carter says, we are like a family but the great thing is we only have to be around each other for 12 weeks at a time."

Twelve weeks doesn't sound like loads of time to shoot a complex feature film, but Leech says it was plenty. "When you know the characters so well, you're almost hitting the ground running, it's like putting on an old pair of shoes, there's a comfort there, an understanding, so you just go straight into it."

Downton Abbey's success has been astonishing: by the end of its TV run it was achieving per-episode viewing figures of 10 million in Britain, it's been sold all over the world, and in America it's absolutely huge. But Leech and the rest of the cast had no sense of this at all when they started making it.

"I remember Jim Carter saying at the end of the first series 'we'll see you on the next gig', as in definitely not another series of this.

"I think it just caught the zeitgeist of the time, with austerity and all, and people just wanting some kind of escapism."

Leech had even less expectation than the rest of the cast, having been brought in late on to audition for the role of the chauffeur.

"I had done a movie with Julian called Time to Time, weirdly enough with Maggie and Hugh in it as well, and when I came in to read for Downton the character was called John Branston, he was from Yorkshire, he was just a chauffeur.

"But when I auditioned, Julian went, 'I have an idea', and he changed it to Tom Branson, and made him a socialist and an Irish republican. It gave the character this whole extra level."

Leech is well aware of how much he owes the show. "I've never had an experience of success in my career like Downton, it's massive here, it's massive in America, and it has opened all sorts of doors for me. Like, the producer of The Imitation Game said to me, 'I didn't know who you were, but my wife's a huge fan of Downton', and it was the same with Bohemian Rhapsody. I'm very grateful to the show for what it's done for me, and that's one of the reasons why coming back to do this film was really special," says Leech, who moved to Los Angeles three years ago.

"I love LA," he tells me. "I lived in London for 12 years and I kind of felt like I wanted a change after Downton, and it is a big change, but I have to say I love the lifestyle."

Raised in Killiney, in south Co Dublin, Leech became obsessed with acting after playing the cowardly Lion in a school production of The Wizard of Oz.

"I had this moment where I realised this was what I wanted to do. And a lady called Maura Cranny, she saw that I had a real love for it and did private classes with me in (St Michael's College) on a Wednesday with a friend of mine, we used to do duologues and all that, and it was amazing, and she was RADA trained, and she taught me all the classics in a way that no child of 12 or 13 is getting.

"After that I just loved it so much and then I wanted to go into college, and Dad and my Mom said, 'Look, as long as you get a degree...'; they were understanding, but you know the age-old thing of something to fall back on if the acting doesn't work out. So I did drama and theatre studies. But I kind of always pushed for it, it was always something I felt really passionate about."

Leech was just 16 when he appeared onstage with two-time Oscar-winner Frances McDormand in a Gate production of A Streetcar Named Desire.

"I didn't really understand who she was," he says, "but doing that show at that point in my life was such an amazing experience. Liam Cunningham played Stanley, and John Kavanagh, who became a great mentor of mine, was also in it.

"When we were at the Golden Globes a few years back for The Imitation Game, and she was up for Olive Kitteridge, the Downton cast were there as well, and I said, 'should I go up to her?' and they said, 'yeah go on'. So I went up and I said, 'Ms McDormand, you probably don't remember me', and she was like 'Allen Leech'. Then she turned to her husband, who's one of the Coen brothers, and said, 'Look, it's our boy, whenever we watch Downton we're like, there's our boy'. That was so cool!"