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mourningliliesmorningglories · 13 days

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"I don't really give a damn about the way you touch me when we're alone"

"You're ashamed of me." Remus' voice is barely there but it's cold and unfamiliar. Sirius stops in the corridor and all of a sudden it's darker, the scars on Remus' skin glimmer in the low light. No one wrote a book on this, because if they did, Sirius would know. All that occupies his mind is this condition. It feels like a restraint around him, like a tough pill to swallow. Sirius still sees Remus, he still sees the quiet moments they've shared, he still feels his hands on his skin. What he can't help, however, is seeing his shadow in the shape of a wolf.

"You can hold my hand if no one's home."

Sirius reaches for his hand yet Remus makes no move towards him. "I could say the same to you. But I don't. I won't." He's still, illuminated in the lamp light, breathing heavily. “Only one of us is a monster, Remus. And it’s not you.” Rationally, Sirius knows the moon is only days away, that this is so much harder for Remus than it would ever be for him. This time it hangs over both of them. Remus’ footsteps echo away from Sirius. Sirius can’t help but feel like it’s unfair.

"Do you like it when I'm away?"

Sirius feels on edge the whole of the full moon. He sits by the window the whole night, praying for a glimpse or a howl. Something, anything to indicate that Remus, his Remus, was okay. He knows it’s one night. One night, twelve times a year. The condensation from his breath pearls on the glass, illuminated by the moonlight. Sirius feels like the moon is mocking him - I’ll always have him in a way you never will. And Sirius should feel guilty. He really should. But Remus is his, wolf be damned.

"If I went and hurt my body, baby, would you love me the same?"

Sirius wakes up at sunrise. He doesn’t know when he drifted off to sleep but he knows Remus will be back. So he runs. Remus is asleep, caressed by soft sheets he knows Madam Pomfrey has transfigured. He’s lightly bruised and a stitched up laceration graces his left forearm. Sirius can’t help but think he’s beautiful. Sirius always thinks Remus is beautiful. Radiant. Like the moon. He crawls into the bed, jostling Remus awake. He blinks slowly up at the other boy. Sirius holds his breath. Remus concedes. He always does with Sirius. He pulls him in by the waist, and they sleep. Silly boy. He thinks this is what he wants, but he does not understand how it will hurt.

#harry potter #marauders #i couldn’t stop thinking of them and this song #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #im mr loverman #AND I MISS MY LOVER MAN #that is not this song but still applicable #sirius finds out about the wolf thing #remus is tired #remus is scared of rejection #remus is angry and i think more people should characterize him that way but this is a discussion for later #this is not my best work #but i digress #it is out of my system #i also think sirius doesn’t have to be immediately approving of the wolf thing???#they are both young it’s a lot to digest

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 1 year

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Top 10 secret facts about the guy named Scum Fuck

If you find yourself alone with him, get the hell out

If you are not prepared for Scum Fuck to start laughing at your jokes, it will be a very bad time

Not only is Scum Fuck a complete douchebag, he is also almost single-handedly responsible for the death of the "I'm the one who can't get laid" meme

Despite his name, he's quite good at getting laid. It is not a secret fact.

Scum Fuck loves nothing more than seeing his followers get angry.

When Scum Fuck is angry, you are going to want to know why.

There is no good reason to be angry about Scum Fuck. When Scum Fuck is angry, someone who isn't even following him should also want to know why

Scum Fuck did not have to die. He did not have to die. He did not have to die. He did not not have to die, and yet he did.

#scrumpyfan43 #this is not my best work #poke-chann

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dancingacrossthemilkyway · 10 months

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The pain is worse some days. This is normal, Jon knows, but the knowledge doesn’t make him feel any better in the moment.

It’s made worse by the fact that it can be such a bone-deep ache that medicine barely takes the edge off. At first, Martin had insisted they go to the doctor on the bad days, but Jon had waved him off. He’s had enough experiences with doctors to know how utterly useless they are for this kind of thing.

Chronic pain has always been his life; this is simply another addition to it.

They’ve carved out a fairly decent life for themselves in their somewhere else. The flat is nothing special but it’s home to them and their two cats. Martin works full-time at the uni library and Jon’s only recently started to dip his toes back into a job. Waiting for a major chest wound to heal took far longer than he expected, and it’s on days like today that he wonders if he shall ever be free of it.

Of the very physical memory that reminds him of the way he betrayed Martin.

It’s only a part-time position in the local library, the public one - he’s quite done with academia, thank you. The pain comes on about an hour into his four-hour shift, an ache at first that has him rubbing absentmindedly at his chest. Then it spreads, crawling like rot to infect each of the marks on his skin - a less-than-subtle reminder of his mistakes. There’s no discernible reason for the worm scars or the slash across his throat to throb as they do, but unfortunately that doesn’t change the sensations themselves. He tenses, muscles taut, which only sets off the muscle spasms in his low back.

He really should go home, he knows this. But it’s only a four hour shift, one he’d agreed to pick up after calling out for a week due to a flare-up of whatever autoimmune disorder his body has chosen to plague him with (he had been in the process of getting tested before Elias beat Leitner and left him bleeding all over Jon’s office). So it’s guilt that keeps him there - the guilt of leaving after so recently agreeing to work, and the guilt of not bringing in any money.

Naturally, he pays dearly for this choice. Every nerve edge is on fire by the time he stumbles through the door of their flat, the noise of a quiet ‘mew’ as grating as that of the din of the bus he’d taken home. Martin waves at him, preparing to stand but Jon simply kicks off his shoes with a shake of his head and staggers to the bedroom. After ensuring both cats are sufficiently locked out he collapses heavily onto the mattress, eyes wet with tears bred by the pain of pushing himself too hard. Everything hurts and his brain is screaming at him in overstimulation. He sends a simple text to Martin (Everything is fine. I am simply in need of some time alone; if you need to come into the room, please make sure the cats remain outside.)

He lays there unmoving for hours feeling nothing but his misery.

Eventually Martin comes to bed, tiptoeing around the room so as not to disturb him. Unnecessary, as Jon is awake, but he appreciates the sentiment. The very way Martin gets in bed is as gentle as possible, and he gives Jon a wide berth. While it hasn’t been this bad before, Jon assumes Martin picked up the true depth of the situation by one simple fact: Jon never forbids the cats from entering the bedroom.

Some indeterminate amount of time passes, Jon getting more restless by the minute. Surely he doesn’t want physical contact, right? The very thought of Martin touching him sets him on edge, and yet the need is there, sparking under his skin. Eventually he finally rolls over and headbutts Martin’s elbow, pressing against it. Martin inhales but doesn’t move, letting Jon worm his way around until forehead is against forearm firmly.

Finally, Jon feels at peace. The pain is still there but his mind quiets, blissfully calming down from a state akin to walking through fire. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, and Martin gives an encouraging hum. Jon presses into him further and eventually falls asleep.

#this is NOT my best work #it’s all telling no showing #but I will vent how I please gdi #posts it here so I can forget it ever existed #TMA #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #jmart #jon sims #milkywaywriting

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ilhansens · 1 year

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(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞ click on the source link of this post to find #157 gifs of tuba büyüküstün from season 2 of the television series rise of empires: ottoman (2022), as well as the rules you must abide by in order to use them. all gifs included were made by me and are size 268 x 170. content warnings include: knives. ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜)

NOTE: this fc is turkish, please name them accordingly or don’t use my gifs. anyone i find using my resources while breaking my rules WILL be blocked.

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trickstarbrave · 11 months

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the hortator and king of resdayn is having a very important meeting with his advisor right now. requires absolute privacy due to the sensitive nature of their discussion. please dont interrupt

#nerevoryn #indoril nerevar #voryn dagoth #morrowind #dagoth ur #this is not my best work #i wanted to try dif face angles #and theyre Hard #my art #maybe ill fix this up later

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impishtubist · 6 months

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We're all on that Ineffable Wolfstar hatefuck train. Love it.

In the scenario that the two "couples" cross paths to try to make their exes jealous, what does that jealousy look like?

[I'd love to see the clash of the saviour complex and the martyr complex.]

Hmmmm I think @lynxindisguise will be better at answering this, but I will take a crack at it:

Remus: talks about how bendy Crowley is in bed (the man literally has no joints okay)

Crowley: tells Aziraphale about all the sinfully delicious restaurants he's been taking Remus to

Sirius: tells the story of how Aziraphale banished two businessmen to the Sahara for trying to buy his shop and then Sirius blew him behind the counter (being feral is a turn-on for him, okay, his ex tried to kill a man in front of 3 thirteen-year-olds)

Aziraphale: talks about the late-night motorbike rides Sirius takes him on and how things can get a bit heated during them (it's Remus's job to give Sirius a handy while he's trying to fly his motorbike, okay, no one else is allowed).

#this is not my best work #lynx come save me #divorce!!#ineffable wolfstar

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mama-mozzarella · 9 months

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Blue hair and pronouns? More like pube hair, I still go down

#196 #r/196 #guys im TRYING okay #this is not my best work #text post

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harlowcomehome · 2 years

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hazel getting her flu shot 🥹

Flu shot

A/N: This features a infant Hazel, if you would like me to do an older version of Hazel I can do that as well.

You, Hazel and Jack all had appointments to get your flu shots. Last year you and Jack had opted not to get it, which inevitably led you both to get extremely sick and neither one of you wanted to risk it this year. Especially having a young baby, it was usually recommended for a baby six months or older to get a flu shot anyway. Being a first time mom meant that everything made you nervous, but you really weren’t sure how she was going to react to the shot.

Of course, Hazel was keeping up with all of her recommended shots, you knew that she didn’t like them and she cried every single time she has ever been poked. It broke your heart, but you knew you were doing the right thing for her. You had heard that sometimes infants took the flu shot a little harder than the other shots, you were just worried that she wouldn’t feel good afterwords.

“She’ll be fine! Just remember this is a good thing.” Jack assured you and you weakly nodded.

Jack went first, he wasnt nervous or worried about it. Needles weren’t anything to him, you were always so envious of that. “Are we done already?” He asked with a grin and the nurse just laughed “Yupp, you don’t even need a bandaid! You’re not a bleeder!” The word “bleeder” made you instantly woozy so you sat down quickly before you fainted. Jack held Hazel while you got your shot, you kept your eyes tightly shut and took a deep breath. For some reason being poked with an IV when you were giving birth felt a lot easier than this.

When you were done it was finally Hazels turn, you knew she could feel your anxiety because she started to cry before anything even happened yet. Jack looked over at you worried, he knew that anytime Hazel cried it would make you cry too. “It’ll be okay” he rubbed your lower back in circles.

Hazel got her shot and began to wail. She wailed, like well… a baby. You held her close and rocked her until she settled down. “ I feel like a bad parent.”

“You’re not babe! You’re the best! You just possibly saved her life! Yay science!” Jack joked.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his silly little joke. “Yay science!” You echoed and he laughed.

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x reader #dad!jack #tayanese #this is not my best work

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warp-speed · 1 year

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I bought some alcohol markers. The grey pack is working out great. The colored markers not so much.

#this is not my best work #akasha #queen of the damned #aaliyah #interview with the vampire #art #drawing #my art

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sub-urbanwitch · 8 months

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Smoke on the wind

Ah, Alastair. Why do you consume 18% of my waking hours? Better question, why haven’t I drawn you yet?

I think it is mentioned once or twice that Alastair uses pipe tobacco, but I took the creative liberty to replace it with a cigar. This is partially because my own father smokes cigars with religious frequency, and mostly because they’re easier to draw.

I experimented a bit with harsher lines in my shading. Normally I lay down lines where I want them and use the blur brush on them, but these I partially erased with the airbrush tool. I think it turned out better on some areas than others. This is also the second drawing in a row that I’ve left the lineart black. I do not hate it, and may continue.

#Art #magisterium #alastair hunt #this is a spiritual redo of another attempt at him #But ugh that one is so bad I can’t bring myself to post it #I chose the colours to be reminiscent of the silver mask’s cover #Also the air motif to call back to him getting devoured #this is not my best work #but honestly #i don’t hate it to the point I won’t share it #Trying to get better at posting crappier art #Because I know I am a perfectionist

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butchedshauna · 1 year

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#grace van dien #gracevandienedit #gvdedit #the binge #this is NOT my best work #like lowkey sucks #but her hair needs to be seen by everyone tyvm #mine.#chrissy.#also 100% a chrissy look #w the hair clips

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mercarimari · 9 months

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On the Edge of Losing You (FEYSAND PART 3)

A/N: Well it's here guys! About two and half weeks late and I didn't even bring Starbucks. But here you go. I had fun with the idea, even if I feel like it's a little all over the place. Part One was written by @starfall-spirit and part two was written by @thegloweringcastle, You can find both parts and other amazing works over at this link on @azrielshadowssing

Morning came and found the Archeron sisters gathered at the table covered in breakfast platters. They’d been awake for hours, sleep had come and gone as quickly as it come. Feyre hadn’t been able to maintain more than an hour or two at a time, and she’d given up after the third time she’d woken up. She’d thought on the words that her sisters had presented last night. On Nesta’s logical and calculated plan. The warmth of her sisters had been pleasant in the height of her panicked thoughts. She’d come to one solid conclusion, she was not marrying Tamlin. And the quicker she was far away from him the better off she’d be. Rhys had been right, and she felt like she’d ruined so much the night before. Ruined it, and fixed it, and broke it again?

Elain had suggested that they elope. And it was a tempting idea. More than tempting actually. And maybe she wanted to be a little petty herself. Maybe. “Would it be cruel of me to dump him at the altar?” Feyre asked. He’d hurt her, and it was perhaps a dark thought. There had been a part of her that thought she loved Tamlin, but the more she thought about it as the night passed. She didn’t love him. She felt like she owed him for everything that he’d done for her, for her sisters. And he’d manipulated her into it. Had manipulated her into believing that she loved him. That he could change, that he’d try. But he didn’t know how to try. Nesta grinned a near feral expression. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need to talk to Rhys. I like Elain’s idea.” Feyre said, “And I want to see if he’d be interested in doing something like that. I mean— If what you’re saying is true, maybe I will leave this island married.”

“Okay, so you’re going to try to elope with Rhys, how does that play into dumping Tamlin at the altar? Get to the juicy details.”

Nesta seemed near ravenous for the details of her unhinged plan. So she laid it out for the two of them. She laid out every twisted detail of it for her sisters, and watched as Nesta’s face shifted with each delightfully cruel detail of it.

“That is so wrong, Feyre.” Elain said, “You could just elope with Rhys and go home, and leave it at that.”

“I think your plan is his just desserts. Just promise me you’ll be careful, it could get really dangerous— really fast.”

Feyre nodded, “I know. And I will be.”

~~~ They had finished breakfast and Feyre had set out to find Rhysand. She still hadn’t reached out to Tamlin yet. She didn’t want to talk to him. Not yet. She wanted to make sure everything else was lined up the way it was meant to be before she went back to him.

Was it wrong of her to scheme like this? Maybe. Should she be the bigger person and just put an end to it now? Probably.

But Feyre was tired of being the bigger person. The only thing that had ever gotten her was a relationship she felt obligated too, and more misery than she knew what to do with.

Fuck being the bigger person.

Tamlin was a manipulative bastard who had hurt her. And she wanted him to hurt too.

She found Rhys standing on the beach staring out at the water, and Feyre watched him for a moment or two before she began her approach and announced herself. "Rhys."

He turned to look at her, and she could see hurt mingled with some sort of relief in his eyes. So she gave them a moment more of silence, before she said, “I don’t want you to walk me down the aisle.”

“What changed your mind?” He asked, curiosity piqued.

“I don’t want to marry him, Rhys.” Feyre breathed, “I don’t love him, I’ve never loved him. He had me convinced I did, which is absolute bullshit. I love you.” The words that should’ve been said a long time ago. Feyre Archeron admitted it out loud. Rhysand raised a brow at his best friend, eyes glistening in the sunlight on the warm beach. “Say it again…” His voice sounded raw, “Please.” “I love you, Rhys.”

They shared a moment in the sand on that secluded part of the beach. He kissed her with the ghost of a returned I love you on his lips. And when that moment ended, she told him her plan in all of it’s glory.

~~~~

Feyre Archeron was dressed in white. Pristine, beautiful and nothing like how she felt in that moment. There were good parts of her that were screaming at her for how wrong it was for her to be sitting here getting ready to walk down the aisle to a man she did not love.

Elain however stood there braiding flowers into her hair with a smile. “You look beautiful, Feyre.”

She couldn’t help but smile at her reflection in the mirror. She did look nice with her hair pinned up and arranged with flowers and diamonds that twinkled like stars in her hair. She wondered what Rhys would have to say about it. She’d find out later, she supposed. But for now, she needed to focus on getting through this sham of a wedding. She needed to focus on all the ways that she needed this plan to work. Even if it went horrifically poorly.

Last night she’d convinced Cassian to help her, since Rhys had refused to walk her down the aisle, even after everything. At least it had been her choice, and when Cassian had heard everything as it was planned out— He’d been damn near overjoyed to play his part in the downfall of the Tamlin.

“Thank you.” She smiled, “You did an amazing you job on me today.”

It was getting later, the sun was beginning to lower in the sky. The perfect sunset beach wedding. She’d always wanted something like that. And now that she had it, it was with the wrong person, and she wanted to curse herself to hell and back for falling for Tamlin’s tricks.

Nesta poked her head into the room. “You have less than five minutes to be ready to walk. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Feyre nodded at her sister, with a deep breath. Last night had been it’s own adventure. Last night had been the set up for the rest of her life. And yet, she still found something in herself that felt wrong about doing things this way. If she was having second thoughts. She needed to have them now. She could just get Rhys, and they could leave. It could be over, just like that. Not another thought or word on it. But if she didn’t make it clear to Tamlin that she was done with this— Fuck. Just… Fuck. “Feyre, you’re thinking so loud I can hear the gears turning in your head.” Nesta said, entering and closing the door behind her. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. I can have Cassian call Rhys and the two of you can go. You don’t have to make a big deal out of this.” She didn’t want to. All the planning they’d put towards it, “I can’t breathe in this dress. I thought I wanted it, but he picked it.”

Tamlin had chosen everything hadn’t he? Every little tiny piece of this wedding he’d manufactured for control. “Feyre, get out of the damn dress. Take your hair down. I’ll handle Tamlin.” Nesta didn’t leave any room for argument. She never did though. That was the thing about Nesta. She was an indomitable force when she wanted to be. Feyre listened to her sister, and tore her way out of the gown that felt wrong on her skin. She slipped back into her white sundress and flip flops. It felt better. Safer. Right.

“Get out of here, I’ll have Rhys meet up with you. I’ll take care of everything else.” Feyre leaned in to hug her sister. Gathered her things, and made her way out the beach front patio doors. And she left Nesta to handle the rest of the mess as she would. However she would.

~~~

It had been the better part of a week since the disaster that had been Feyre’s wedding. Feyre had run minutes before she was meant to walk down the aisle, and Nesta— Nesta Archeron had decided that she was going to milk her almost brother in law’s misery for all it was worth. Cassian had even taken video, for the definitive proof of execution.

They all sat together now in the living room of Rhys’ apartment, where Feyre had spent the last several days moving all of her things, while Tamlin had not so gracefully accepted his defeat. The video played. A soft instrumental the guiding light for Feyre’s march down the aisle, a march that never came.

Tamlin scanned over the beach as if he could find any sign of her, his expression churning the more time that passed without her presence. Nesta made her way down the sandy aisle at hastened pace, and stopped right in front of him. “You’re not going to find her. I’d stop looking if I were you.” “Where is she?” Tamlin demanded. Lucien grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from Nesta as he made to step towards her. “Well if my calculations are correct, Feyre and Rhys should be getting on a plane back home now.” “What?!” The blonde male roared. “You heard me. You’ve been left at the alter, Tamtam. Feyre decided after you less than spectacular behavior the other night, that she didn’t like how things were and that she was done with you.” She shrugged, “Though, I’d have thought that her not showing up would’ve been answer enough. I’ll put it plain and simple for you in front of everyone here. Leave my sister alone. If you so much as look at her again, I will personally ruin you. Am I understood?” Tamlin’s face went pale, Nesta turned back towards the camera. A smile and a nod later, and the feed cut off.

Feyre leaned against Rhys where they sat together on the couch, he lifted his glass of wine, and she said. “To the people who look to the stars and wish.”

"To the stars who listen and the dreams that are answered." Rhys replied. Feyre clinked their glasses together, the words an echo through the space.

#acotar #feysand #acotar writing circle #feyre x rhys #a court of thorns and roses #this is not my best work #but I'm sorta proud of it.

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