before it became a complicated mess

anonymous asked:

Can you write a fluffy Drarry getting together drabble where they've both been hanging out with Teddy, and they're not together. But like, Teddy doesn't realize because they act like a couple already, and he asks why they don't do couple-y things like Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, and it leads to Drarry. I absolutely love your writing, and I'm glad you've gotten your spark back. It sucks to be a writer with no inspiration (been there, done that).

thank you so much!

My Writing


Harry arrived at Andromeda’s house to see that Draco was there once again. He had been there hanging out with Teddy the past three times Harry was there. It was nice. The two of them actually got along now, and they enjoyed spending time together and with Teddy.

Harry smiled to himself before greeting Draco and Teddy.

“Hey you two.”

Both Draco and Teddy turned to see Harry standing at the door.

“Harry!” Teddy shouted happily and ran over to give him a hug.

Harry chuckled and hugged him back before looking at Draco with a smirk.

“Do I get a hug from you, too?”

Draco’s cheeks turned pink, and he playfully rolled his eyes before turning away to begin picking up Teddy’s toys.

Harry’s smirk grew as he walked up behind Draco and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“By that I meant, please give me a hug, Draco.”

“Shut up,” Draco mumbled, blushing even more, but smiled at Harry.

Harry continued flirting with Draco throughout the night, and he found Draco’s reactions to be extremely amusing.

The three of them then moved to sit on the couch just to chat for a while, and Ron and Hermione somehow came up in the conversation.

“The two of them are going out to a fancy dinner tonight. Hermione is really excited because they haven’t been on a date in a while.”

Draco nodded in understanding, and then Teddy cut into the conversation.

“How come you two never go on dates?” He asked.

Harry smiled down at Teddy.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you two are together, just like them, right? So why don’t you guys go out to fancy dinners?” 

Harry chuckled. Teddy, only being seven years old, must have mistaken Harry’s teasing flirting as them actually being a couple.

He glanced at Draco to see him looking down at his hands and his cheeks a shade of bright red.

“We’re not together, Teddy. Not like Ron and Hermione.”

Teddy cocked his head in confusion.

“But you act like they do. Like giving each other hugs and stuff.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well it’s just…different.”

Teddy then turned to Draco.

“But you like Harry, don’t you, Draco? I head you telling my grandma about him just last week.”

Draco looked at him with wide eyes and refused to look at Harry.

“W-Well I…he’s nice and…I-I like him as a friend, but we’re not…” Draco trailed off, not wanting to embarrass himself even more.

Harry smiled to himself and decided to let this slide…for now.

They played board games for a while until Teddy got tired and wanted to go to bed.

“So,” Harry began as he and Draco walked out of Teddy’s bedroom. “You like me?”

Draco wanted to slap the smirk off of Harry’s face.

“No, I hate you, Potter. You know that.”

Harry’s smirk only grew, and he stepped in front of Draco so he couldn’t continue walking.

“Mm, it doesn’t seem that way.”

Draco huffed and tried to step around Harry, but it was to no avail. Harry just moved with him, and then backed him up against the wall.

Draco quickly became a flustered mess.

“I like you too,” Harry whispered before softly pressing his lips to Draco’s.

Draco gasped as their lips connected, but then quickly responded to the kiss by wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck.

They stood there kissing for what seemed like forever until they were interrupted.

“I thought you weren’t a couple!” A small voice nearly shrieked.

Harry whipped around to see Teddy standing there, looking at them with wide eyes.

Harry grinned at him.

“It’s complicated, Teddy. Just go back to bed and don’t tell your grandmother about this, okay?”

Teddy nodded hesitantly and walked back into his bedroom.

Harry then turned back to Draco to resume their kiss.

I think I’m on tenterhooks about the KS season…finale? thing? 19. chapter 19. For the wrong reasons. 

Cause it was certainly an effective shock to remind the reader so nastily of the fallout of YoonBum’s actions when the person he’s stalking ISN’T a serial killer. The question is now what the plot’s gonna do with it. Like, that….needs to be addressed. And we need to get out of Bum’s head again to really properly do it. And all this is complicated by the problem that we now have two murderers motivated by misogyny in a comic that’s until veeeery recently been totally anemic in its portrayal of women. So that’s an uphill climb. And if we’re just heading into the two of them doing murders together until the cops come in to clean up the mess…I’m not really here for that. 

This isn’t Hannibal, where it eventually built the two up as equals before they became Murder Husbands and whatnot. If the story continues on with this trajectory, where Bum’s a murderer and the eventually he kills Sangwoo, or they both die, or he gets rescued and then continues doing the murders, whatever, then we end with a story where Sangwoo wins even if he dies. And I don’t just want him to die. I need him to lose, and for hims to be revealed not only as monstrous but petty and small. To strip any glamour away.

Most importantly, if Bum isn’t conflicted or trying to escape any more, then the dynamics of the story switch from Sangwoo vs Bum, Bum vs Self, and Sangwoo vs Seungbae to a far more simplified inside the house vs outside the house. With the number of tension elements the first arc of the story juggled, that shift would be really disappointing.

Fools (Part 8)

Next part will be the finale to this mini series! Thank you so much for reading and keeping up with this series!~

Group: BTS

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader/Taehyung

Word count: 3314

Plot: Jungkook gets jealous when you start hanging out with Taehyung// also inspired by Jungkook and Namjoon’s cover of Fool.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 ||  Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Finale

Originally posted by hellosarang

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The “gendered” status under patriarchy is the problem, not the womon who falls within one or another limiting “type” on the basis of the toxic standards laid down on us by men for their own gain. 

My girlfriend has long hair because she is a runner and can tie it back out of her face easily this way. She does not have long hair because she is a patriarchal dupe. She has her hair long so she can do this activity which makes her body stronger and her psyche happy. It’s not a “gender performance” in its intent. If she could exit patriarchy and leave behind those connotations, she would. She does a hell of a lot to take down the machine. If anyone thinks this makes her inherently different from a butch womon who has short hair, buddy you are drunk on jender juice. They will be treated differently in the patriarchal society. They are not inherently different “genders.”

As a girl I “dressed like a boy” for a variety of complex reasons–some healthy expressions of female self-possession and resistance and some reactionary shame-based impulses to hide my body. Then as a teen I transitioned FTM and found myself at the rock bottom of an intense pecking order due to inborn traits I could not change with T or surgery. When I detransitioned I tried to be “femme” for a variety of complex reasons–as a signal of defeat; trying to put the transition behind me; trying to prove that I could achieve this if I wanted to; trying to master this thing that had kept me a failure and an outsider all my life; trying to retain a place in the gender-happy queer scene I had been part of until that point, which only had room for people with extreme “gender expressions;” trying to keep my relationship with a womon who wanted/required this performance from me; channeling all of the body-checking and ritualistic body-behaviors that I had practiced during transition into new form; creating a mask, so that it wasn’t really “me” interacting with the world; self-harming through the torture/self-abuse practices we call “beauty;” enabling dissociation; humiliating myself because I thought humiliation was kinky therefore good; trying to believe I was someone worthy of being adorned; trying to believe my body could be a sensual place; occupying an infantilized position as a reaction to trauma; forcing the world to confront my “freak” body instead of hiding it away in shame (and angrily confronting men daily for the way they reacted to it); “you want target? i’ll show you a target!”; showing the world once and for all how totally ridiculous it is when I try to comply with its fucked up demands; thinking that the falseness of it showed clearly that I was not really female; and many others. I’m still making sense of it all.

I have now come back to something like the place where I was as a girl, when I resisted patriarchy and asserted my right to possess myself, but before I conceptualized myself as “trans.” I think I’m doing all right with respect to these things, these days. I wear what I wear for function and comfort and to be nondescript because I am made uncomfortable by attention–and because most self-adornment is not psychologically healthy for me. There was a time post- “femme” era when I wore nondescript women’s things primarily, because men’s stuff gave me a trauma response because it reminded me of transitioning. Transition was traumatic in itself, even though it was also a response to trauma, and trying to wear men’s clothes became distressing. (I can’t explain that. I know it sounds silly.) I’m past that now, obviously, but I had to first understand that I am actually female, before it became okay for me again. My head was messed up on jender juice, really messed up for a really long time. As all of us are, and it is a delicate and highly personal process, coming to terms with how to navigate this in as healthy a way as possible under the circumstances.

All sides of these experiences have been complex and complicated for me, but I have actually been the same person the entire time. I have always been a womon, I have always been a lesbian. Same person.

It is a peculiarity of having a body/manner that is up for interpretation, not definitively, inherently read as butch or femme but subjectively interpreted by all comers. But from this vantage point I very much do not trust either the naturalizing of our experiences in patriarchy as inherent “genders” within lesbian community, or the denial that these “gendered” experiences in patriarchy have disparate impacts depending on where we fall according to the male-defined measuring tools, often due to our bodies alone regardless of our behavior.

It is their practice of measuring us that is the problem. It is the use of this measurement against us as a whole. The women who are measured up differently than you are not the problem. In lesbian community no womon has been helped and supported in her struggle to make her way through all of this mess, by being treated like she is the problem.