speaking of references there is a joke in here that probably only my mother and i will get

Bête Noire (M)

» prince!junmyeon, 11.1k, can i request smut w/ the reader and either junmyeon or yixing?

warning: smut (again vanilla, first time for both), mentions of death, violence, torture, medieval concepts, witchcraft, pagan ideas and a bunch of other things you can expect

part of the royal!exo au series

He's not in love. He has to keep telling himself this as the pair of you just keep watching and looking and it is so intense. He’s not kissed someone before so he doesn’t know if he should kiss you but his mind is a mess and he thinks that he must kiss you.

Originally posted by kyungsuhos

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

hey, can I get some advice? I've been working on a book for the past few years, and 2 of the main cast are jewish (the protagonist and his older sister). their faith isn't the main focus of the book, and the brother doesn't really practice, but I want to include it as an important part of their lives. what are some aspects of being jewish that you wish were included more in fiction? is there anything I should know (dos/don'ts)? thank you!

hm, this is a really broad question. i’ll do my best with general answers but please send me follow-up questions so i can be more useful (off-anon is better so we can have more of a conversation).

DO include:

  1. a sense of justice and duty to improve the world.
    whether or not you are religious, being jewish means a lifelong devotion to improving the world. jews have been involved in every civil rights movement you can think of. look into the jewish values of tikkun olam, “repairing the world,” and tzedakah, literally meaning “justice,” “righteousness,” or “fairness,” but used in practice to mean “charity” or “generosity.” these values extend beyond the purely religious and are a fundamental part of jewish life.
  2. an inclination to analyze and debate.
    jews are stereotyped as nerdy and argumentative, and there’s a real reason for it: judaism highly values academic debate. judaism is characterized by struggle, not only with our oppression but with everything. we are taught to struggle with tradition even as we celebrate it, to struggle with authority even as we respect it, to struggle with g-d even as we love him and he loves us. jews will sit down and talk about one word choice in one passage of the torah for six hours, exploring every possible meaning.
  3. specificity.
    if you want your characters to be accurately jewish, you’ll have to be more specific.
    what ethnicity are they? are they ashkenazi (european jews), sephardic (jews descending from spain), mizrahi (MENA jews), beta israel (jews descending from ethiopia)? are they converts? are they mixed?
    what branch of judaism do they belong to? are they orthodox, conservative, reform, reconstructionist? are they hasidic?
    the answer will change what foods they eat, what music they listen to, what language they speak at home, how they practice certain holidays, how men and women interact with each other, how modestly they dress, whether or not your male character shaves, what superstitions they hold, whether or not they’re allowed to get tattoos, how they interact with their elders, and more.
    obviously if these things aren’t directly relevant to your story there’s no reason to get excessively specific. there are constants throughout judaism, and aside from hasidic jews and orthodox women, most jews dress like whatever the norm is where they live. but do the research anyway, because if your character is supposedly sephardic and drops yiddish into their speech, that makes them, and you, less credible.
  4. religion.
    i know you said the protagonist doesn’t really practice. i personally encourage you to change this. you don’t have to write about them going to synagogue or anything but maybe have them kiss the mezuzah as they enter their home, have them keep kosher, have them wear a magen david, a kippah, maybe even tallit.
    yes, this will mean more research for you, but heres why its important imo: antisemitism targets the religious element of judaism just as much as it targets the ethnic element. antisemitism has most frequently appeared throughout history as jews being forbidden from practicing our religion, being forced to remove religious garments and eat treyf and have our synagogues barred or demolished. even now, religious apathy in american jews is in large part due to our forced assimilation. not long ago it was dangerous to be religiously jewish in public, so families started raising their kids less and less religious for their safety. every jewish character you see on TV is the kind who practices hanukkah and not much else. it would be wonderful if you could at least imply a difference.
    if you don’t feel there is a way for you to do that sensitively (i’m assuming you’re a goy or you probably wouldn’t be asking me this), that’s fair, but i hope you will consider it.

DON’T include:

  1. the obvious stereotypes.
    duh. no greedy bankers, no misogynistic or lecherous men, no doting or overbearing mothers with long island accents, no feeble nerdy men whose failure to live up to white masculinity is the butt of a joke. no mean adjectives attached to characters’ beautiful down-turned noses or lovely dark curly hair.
  2. nazis or nazi allegory characters.
    you haven’t mentioned the antagonists of your story, but just to be safe: if youre not jewish or romani, steer clear of nazis. seriously. jews have had enough of nazis.
  3. criticisms of judaism.
    i’m assuming you know this since you were sensitive enough to ask about representing jewish characters, but for the crowd: if you’re not jewish, it’s not your place to criticize judaism. somewhat related, but please don’t use your jewish characters as your mouthpiece for issues regarding israel and zionism. those conversations are way less intra-community since they affect others, but you cannot claim to hold a jewish point of view on them by having your jewish characters express “their” opinions.
  4. the word “jews.”
    i notice you didnt use this word in your ask! good. just like referring to women as “females” or trans people as “transgenders,” reducing jewish people to an adjective is a subtle but insidious way to strip our humanity. i know i’ve been saying “jews” a lot for convenience, but that’s a luxury i get as a jew myself :p
  5. resentment towards their family/community.
    if their parents are in the picture, i encourage you to write them as good parents. there are abusers in every culture, but there is a huge stereotype about jewish parents being abusive/manipulative (jewish mothers, in particular). leave the fiction about abusive jewish parents to jews. likewise, don’t have other authority figures in the characters’ jewish community mistreat or bore them.

that’s all i can think of for now. i hope this has been helpful at all, and please feel free to send me follow-up questions!!! good luck with your story.

anonymous asked:

Hey I know you guys like roadrat and I wanna love it, but... Isn't Mako kind of a jerk to Jamison? I mean JR has some really cute lines about RH but like his are mostly about shutting him up. There's like one where he says to be good (1/2)

and that’s it. At first I thought it was just banter but I can’t find anything that shows he feels anything but annoyed (or slightly friendly) towards JR. Even in Going legit there’s nothing promising.  So yeah. Mano wtf (2/2)

((Ho boy, this one is going to be an essay *cracks knuckles* Ok, so first and foremost, yes, Roadhog is a mother fucking ass to Junkrat in the voicelines. Pretty much every single response to him is to tell him to shut up. So, yes, there is a definite argument to say that he doesn’t actually like Junkrat, and I think that is DEFINITELY valid. Buuut I have my own take on it.

Keep reading

Recap/Review 12.20: "Twigs & Twine & Tasha Banes"

THEN: Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.

Shit, you guys, they’re taking us back to the pilot. It’s a risky move, showing this particular scene, because it reminds us of how awesome the show was back in the day. This scene has always been one of my favorites, with Sam blowing off Dean’s concern and then Dean repeating what he said but adding the oh-so-telling information (though we didn’t know it at the time) that Dad was on a hunting trip and Sam not breaking eye contact with Dean as he quietly asks/tells Jessica to excuse them for a minute and damn. I love this scene.

Anyway. The rest of the “Then:” hot witch twins, Ketch wants to know the secret behind Sam’s shiny hair, Cas, the Colt.

NOW: A lovely woman who looks way too young to be Max and Alicia’s mother drives up to an inn in a large old house, where she encounters a nasty older woman with a big ring and a big attitude (although I did think “what a delicate constitution you must have” was clever). She offers to cleanse her aura, saying it looks “a little muddy,” and I suspect this is a witch’s version of a southern woman saying “well bless your heart” - they both translate to “why don’t you fuck off and die?” The younger woman is Tasha Banes, here on both business and pleasure (but probably ending up with neither). She does some witchcraft using the order “reveal,” and ends up in an apparently very malodorous cellar, where she’s quickly stabbed through the abdomen. Like I said, neither business nor pleasure is getting accomplished here.

Title card!

Sam and Dean are in the bunker, freaking out about Cas. (Also, they’re both proving my point about Dean being the better dresser, since he’s wearing a nice solid grayish-greenish shirt that probably does things with his eyes when he’s not in a dark bunker, while Sam’s in an unflattering blue and red plaid.) Dean’s venting and chewing on his nails, which almost never happens. Sam’s quietly trying to figure out how to fix it. Dean says he’s always been able to forgive Cas’s missteps in the past, which, well, okay, maybe not but let’s move on. “But last night, I did not recognize the guy staring back at me.” Like that’s a first. Like Godstiel and Leviathan!Cas never happened.

Winchesters in distress. I like it.

Keep reading

Baby, It’s Cold Outside [Joshua]

Genre: Christmas/HighSchool!AU/Fluff

Word count: 860

Originally posted by shwua

Christmas lights were twinkling, creating patterns of colourful dots on the plain walls of Jisoo’s bedroom. You turned your head from looking absentmindedly at the ceiling to the face of your boyfriend who, to your surprise, was looking right back at you. Smiling contentedly at him, you yawned and whispered, “What time is it?”

“That’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Don’t be silly, Jisoo,” you muttered as you sat up and stretched out your stiff limbs. “You know I’m not covered for being out after 7pm.” Leaning over the boy, you looked at his alarm clock which displayed in bright numbers 6:45pm.

Although you would rather stay in the heaven that is your boyfriend’s arms for the rest of the night, that would not be okay with your parents. For the lack of a better word, they were not really accepting of the fact you were in a relationship. Even though Jisoo made your head spin like snow whirling brilliant trails in a wintery storm, and he warmed your heart as though it were chestnuts on an open fire, your mother and father wouldn’t open their minds and hearts to the idea. ‘You’re too young!’, they’d insist. ‘You have to focus on your studies!’. Of course, that didn’t put you off the idea of calling the Joshua Hong your own.

Keep reading

Maid To Serve

TITLE: Maid to Serve

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Thirty Six

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that you have been sold to a slave trader to pay a debt. One day you are bought and given to Loki as a gift. He ignores you at first, but he slowly begins to notice your attention to small details in your daily tasks and your funny little quirks. He tries everything he can to seduce you, and the more you resist the more intrigued he is.

RATING: Teen and Up

NOTES: Well this got darker than I thought it would. I better out a trigger on this chapter for drugging. 

“And you have allowed this?” Loki stood in utter shock at what King Njall had just told him.

“I have no proof.” He argued. “Those that are targeted, they are not of great note in society, a few tavern wenches and cheap labourers, transient and uninteresting, no one cares to greatly for them.”

“You are aware these are your children you speak of?” Loki stated in disgust at the king’s attitude.

Keep reading

so, this situation has come to a close already (and has been closed for a good two days now) but the second of the two people that jonghyun followed on twitter in order to have private direct conversations with chose to post screencaps of their conversation on her blog to share with the internet yesterday (kst). the conversation is somewhat similar to the first but obviously also differing considering the change in person jonghyun had it with. this will be the last post that is made on this subject but i felt that it is (as it was with the first) very important to be shared. jonghyun himself stated in the conversation below that he had no problem with her sharing the conversation and that there is nothing in the conversation for him to be ashamed of, so. a little refresher: the conversation that criticism stemmed from came from an out of context quotation ripped from a conversation with dear cloud’s nine which can be found here. jonghyun’s apology / post about the criticisms on both his instagram and twitter can be found here, and a translation of the first conversation can be found here. the conversation is very, very long - much longer than the first -, so everything is being put behind a cut! 

Keep reading


Happy Birthday princelingmeow! Here is your fic which I have been sitting on for weeks.

The prompts were: “This love would be your downfall.” and two of them going at it in a semi-public place– just private enough that nobody but the third person will walk in on them– in hopes of tempting him to join in.

About 3000 words, no warnings. Bit of suggestiveness. Eruriren.


This love would be your downfall, he found himself thinking, and mine, and so I will not speak of it, nor even look in your direction longer than I am expected to.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

what about sam is really really sick but he doesn't wants to acept it so he doesn't say anything untill things gets out of control and know it's up to peter to take care of him.

ok so I had no intention of finishing this tonight, but then u-got-my-dick-message got all pushy so I did. You better fucking enjoy this unedited, one-in-the-morning mess.

Also, nonnie, sorry this took! Things have recently taken a turn for the worse and I haven’t gotten the chance to write it til now. I was gonna make it all angsty but I needed some cheering up so, you know, fluff. I’m not even titling it because I’m lazy. 


Every year, Sam gets the flu. Whether it be because of his low immunity, or the cursed public school system, or because he always seems to get it after participating in the school fair’s kissing booth, he gets it, nonetheless, and it’s always a bitch to deal with.

Keep reading

Why HopuRai? (head canon)

As promised in my Ship Wars post, my head canon for “Why HopuRai?” As I said in that post, our preferred ships say far more about us and our views on love, lust, and intimate relationships than they do about the intentions of the game designers, stories, or characters. Also, let me reiterate, I’m not bashing anyone’s ship. While I’m a die-hard HopuRai fan, my eldest daughter much prefers the Vanille/Hope pairing (although we’d both place Vanille with Fang before we’d place her with anyone else). These are just my thoughts in my space shared for inspiration, respectful discussion, whatever for those interested.

Keep reading


So, some of ya’ll white gays are very upset with me and my latest True Tea Video where i answer the question about whether or not RuPaul’s editing/show is anti-black. Now despite the fact that I made a point of saying that I respect Ru for what he’s done and respect Ru for how he’s mainstreamed so many aspects of Gay culture, some of ya’ll are mad. Ya’ll act like I came into your house, slapped your mother and took your daddy into the other room and had loud sex with him with the door open and THEN I ate yo icecream.

So I figured that I would break this down for ya’ll since for some reason it isn’t as obvious to you as it is to me. 

Some of you people only know of RuPaul from Drag Race, and that’s cute for you, I guess. I don’t blame you. In reality, RuPaul didn’t have much cultural relevance at the time of Drag Race’s first season in 2009. So most of ya’ll missed the height of his career and popularity. RuPaul CERTAINLY blazed trails and  was part of the mainstream. However, part of being mainstream is appealing to majority groups and in America, that means engaging in Antiblackness. 

RuPaul is probably best known for his song “Looking Good and Feeling Gorgeous”, but many people might not have seen the music video- so allow me to give you a bit of a break down of it. 

The music video starts with RuPaul dressed in special FX makeup as a large black woman with wild hair, holding a bucket of fried chicken while eating a Banana. in this character, she rants about how she “goes at home at night and cries herself to sleep” because of how ugly she is. She speaks about how she wants to be pretty because she’s “pretty on the inside and wants to be pretty on the outside”. Harmless right? Then she goes on to say that she “wants her nose to look like a Jackson’s” she wants them to “lighten her skin” and to look like “Beyonce”. Now, to the average white consumer these things don’t really sound that out of line. However, within the black community, colorism is a huge issue because of how white supremacy has framed whiteness as a thing to aspire toward. In this segment, RuPaul is embodying a classic blackface stereotype, the Mammy. And RuPaul has a very interesting history with Blackface, but we’ll get to that later. 

In the next scene we see Ru on a Turn table as a dark skinned womanhaving all of her flaws pointed out. Notice her dark skin and her more noticeably natural hair texture. 

After a bit of surgery, Ru Reemerges. 

Instead of a large darkskinned woman, she has now transformed into a tinner woman with lighter skin and blonde hair. 

And her white doctor approves!

Now, this is really just a very light example of what I’m referring to when I discuss RuPaul’s anti-blackness. Yes, plenty of queens of come onto his show and snatched trophies and that’s all good and all, but there are endless examples of anti-blackness on the show. What’s interesting to me is that I’ve seen the show since it’s beginning. I gagged when they referred to season 1 as the “lost” season! I’ve seen the show shift and I’ve seen the show change and I still watch it now mostly out of habit. But as I grew as a person who became more passionate about social issues, I couldn’t help but notice the amount of anti-blackness on the show and more than on the show, within the fanbase. The original question that I received was about the fanbase and less about the show. The fanbase is extremely anti-black and I find that ironic because RuPaul is black. Let me show you a tweet that I saw just yesterday from a former crowned queen. 

In my video, I say that RuPaul feels to me, at times, like a white man in blackface. What do I mean by that? I mean that RuPaul seems to only connect to his blackness through the usage of stereotypes and the expectations that white society has of black people. RuPaul reminds me of that black friend we always hear about when a white people says something hella racist. They’ll never be offended by it or call it out because, after all, it’s just a joke and we should just “get over it bitch”. In this conversation, people are constantly telling me that RuPaul is black so how can he be anti-black. These people are usually white so it doesn’t surprise me how they may not have an insight into this: Anti-blackness among black people is rewarded by mainstream society. When a black celebrity has come out and attacked black movements like Black Lives Matter, how does white society respond? Do they criticize them? Do they argue against them? Do they tell them they’re being disrespectful? No. They CELEBRATE them. And further than that, they use them as tools against black people who are speaking up and fighting against their oppression. So black people can be, and often are, anti-black because it serves them. It’s a way that they can, even if just superficially, get ahead of the game. It allows them to be “not one of those black people”. To be completely transparent here, I know what this feels like because I was one of those people for a very long time in my life. I was a good black girl that wasn’t like the others and it made me feel special to be embraced by white society. And then I woke up and realized that I am a tool for them.

RuPaul is a tool for every white gay person against any time they are ever called out for racism. It’s very telling that the fanbase is so incredibly racist, yet the show is hosted by a black man. Shouldn’t that seem off to you? Shouldn’t that seem strange to you? Do you know why it doesn’t? Because whatever little racism you express, you feel like RuPaul would sign off on it- when in reality he just isn’t calling it out or curving it. But even further, RuPaul has been, like many LGBT people of color, put into this position of feeling like he can only support either the gay community or the black community. Part of that is cosigning on the problematic shit white gays do. 

Meet Shirley Q Liquor

Shirley Q Liquor is one of many blackface characters played by a white man named Chuck Knipp. He has released several songs and you can hear one here. Ru Paul had the following to say about Shirley Q Liquor. 

“Critics who think that Shirley Q. Liquor is offensive are idiots. Listen, I’ve been discriminated against by everybody in the world: gay people, black people, whatever. I know discrimination, I know racism, I know it very intimately. She’s not racist, and if she were, she wouldn’t be on my new CD.”

When she says her CD, she’s referring to a remix of her song Supermodel, in which she has a verse on. Now, anyone who is even slightly aware can tell that Shirley Q Liquor is in black face, embodying an anti-black stereotype of a black woman and presenting it to mainstream gay audience which is usually mostly white. Here are members of Queer Eye For the Straight Guy posing with Shirely. 

Oh, but I know what you’re saying: these things all seem old. That outdated mid 2000s fashion is everywhere on this post! 

When I recorded that episode of True Tea, I had no real idea who was going to be on Season 8. I, of course, had my sources and knew already, but I wasn’t sure. So when I knew for sure that Bob The Drag Queen was on the show, I was reminded by a bit of a tiff we had a few years ago over the following picture. 

This was actually my introduction to Bob The Drag Queen and it bought up a lot of interesting questions. I wrote about it twice on my blog and Bob responded a few times via his blogs. Those blogs were hard to dig back up for some reason (probably deleted them because of the show), but his response essentially amounted to saying that black people upset or offended by his blackface act are insecure with their blackness. This is a very typical thing that blackface performers who perform for white audiences tend to say. That I am simply insecure with my blackness because he’s performing a blackface number for a white audience without critique. And the lack of critique, to me, is the issue. I can’t say I’m 100 percent against the idea of a black person reclaiming blackface. I think it’s been done and done really interestingly well by some artists. But the difference between those artists and Bob is that those artists utilized Blackface as a way of criticizing tropes, while Bob, Shirley and Ru all invite white audiences to laugh at stereotypes of Black Women. At the end of the day, each of them men can take these costumes off and go on about their lives, but they will never deal with the repercussions of stereotypes that are constructed to attack, demean, dehumanize and disrespect black women. While I don’t approve of Shirley Q Liquor, I understand why he, as a white man does it. White men have done this historically and gotten away with it. But Bob and Ru are both black men. Black men with black mothers. 

Now, everyone is entitled to like what they like and perform how they perform, but here’s my thing: When you’re black and you have an audience and you have a voice and you’re given opportunities that many aren’t- why not use that platform as a way of uplifting black people? What’s been very interesting about the response to my video and the very distinct divide between race on this issue. White gays are PISSED at me for this video, while a lot of black people who support the show agreed with me. And guess what? They’re the ones who actually have to live with anti-blackness. We’re the ones who actually have to deal with the repercussions of it all. So we feel it and even if we love Ru (as I do), we still recognize that there’s anti-blackness that is prevalent in the show and in Ru’s career. 

It’s saddening to me that so many gay people have so little resources that RuPaul is truly their end all be all. I am critical of Ru because, I suppose, there’s a part of me that believes that he can do better. Unfortunately though, I have learned time and time again that RuPaul only truly cares for maintaining himself and his own career. None of what I’ve said overrides any of his accomplishments nor his huge contribution to culture. But I think it’s worth criticizing and acknowledging. In reality, most mainstream black men have had to engage in anti-blackness in order to get where they are. That’s a part of operating within a white supremacist structure. To a non-black person RuPaul represents diversity and progress, but to many black people, he represents someone who has done great things, but has utilized anti-blackness so often that it’s hard to truly identify with him. RuPaul has blazed a lot of trails, but he hasn’t blazed mine. 

To Hear You Play

Summary: Phil ends up at a romantic restaurant all alone, luckily the piano player, Dan, is the perfect eye candy.

Genre: fluff, au

Warnings: minor swearing, implied smut

Words: 3,145

A/N: Wow, this was a long one! I hope you guys enjoy it :)

The soft sound of piano music filled the air, candles flickering on the tables, the whole place screamed ‘romantic’. Unfortunately, Phil was eating alone. There was something depressing about eating alone at a fancy, romantic restaurant, even if you were only there to review the food for your blog.

It was taking too long for his dinner to arrive, and Phil was sick of the atmosphere already, why had he thought this would be a good idea? It was obviously the kind of place you take a date to. He was debating just dashing out, this second, and going out to Starbucks instead, when his wandering eye latched onto the boy playing the piano.

Even in the dimly lit restaurant, it was clear that he was gorgeous – and just Phil’s type. Dark brown fringe cut into a style that mirrored Phil’s own, leather jacket and black skinny jeans that were obviously out of place in this world of dress shirts and ties. Phil didn’t feel the need to leave the restaurant quite so soon.

The piano music was breathtakingly good. It was fluid and emotional and raw. So even after Phil’s long awaited food was gone and he had no reason to be lingering, Phil found himself watching the piano boy.

The restaurant got a good review.


Phil found himself going out to eat much more than his blog demanded, spending more time at the romantic restaurant than he would care to admit. He couldn’t help it; he loved listening to the piano music almost as much as he loved watching the boy’s fingers fly across the keys.

It was a Tuesday night, which meant that Phil was seated at his usual table, which was tucked away into the shadows, but close enough to the small stage that he could study the piano player. He was sipping a coffee, having poured so much sugar into it that it couldn’t really be considered coffee, waiting for the piano to start. The piano player, whoever he was, was late.

Phil’s inner musings were interrupted by the chair across from him scrapping across the floor. Phil though he must be dreaming because piano boy was sitting across from him. He was even cuter up close, with coffee colored eyes and dimples. He was dressed in a black shirt, its long sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

“Can I sit here?” he asked, though he was already sitting.

“Yeah, no one’s sitting there,” Phil said, mentally slapping himself. Piano boy probably thought he was weird for coming to a romantic restaurant all by himself. Why couldn’t Phil just seem like a normal person for once?

“Yeah, I know,” the piano boy said with a grin, his teeth shinning like the keys he played so well, “I see you here all the time.”

Phil knew it was his turn to speak, but his brain had short-circuited. Piano boy noticed him?

“And I know you can’t be here for the food, because, honestly, it’s not that great,” he continued. Phil laughed, his nerves settling. Sure, this guy seemed funny and awesome and perfect, but he was probably just as nervous as Phil.

“No,” Phil said, smiling softly, “it’s not for the food.” He may have been wrong, but he thought that piano boy was blushing.

“I’m Dan,” piano boy said, leaning back in his chair and fixing his hair.

“Phil,” Phil said.

“Why do you come here, Phil?” Dan asked, his tone suggestive.

“To hear you play,” Phil said honestly. Dan didn’t appear to be expecting such a straightforward answer, and he leaned forward again.

“Really?” He asked, sounding excited. Phil found himself nodding.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Phil asked, finding his voice.

Dan grinned again, and god was he attractive, fussing with his hair some more, “Hell yeah, I would kill for some Starbucks right now.”


The two boys found themselves at a small Starbucks just down the road, both ordering the same Carmel drink and joking about good taste. Dan led Phil to a small, leather couch, sitting close enough that their thighs touched.

“Do you go to university here?” Dan asked, sipping his drink.

“Yep,” Phil nodded, “I’m getting my post graduate in Theatre, Film, and Television. What about you?”

“Oh, um, it’s my gap year,” Dan said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Gap year?” Phil asked, surprised. Gap year referred to the year after high school, making Dan only eighteen years old. “You look older than eighteen.”

“It that okay?” Dan asked, “That I’m only eighteen?” Phil thought about it for a minute. He really liked Dan, and even if his mother would kill him for it, Phil found himself nodding.

“I don’t have a problem with it,” he said honestly. Dan looked relieved.

“I was really worried you’d say I was too young, or something,” Dan admitted, “Because I knew you were older.”

The topics changed to less serious things, like favorite movie and TV shows and how much they liked the new season of Doctor Who. They had a lot in common. Dan was telling a story, his arms waving, when he was interrupted by a phone’s vibrating.

Dan pulled his phone out of his pocket, glancing to see who it was.

“Shit!” He said, suddenly, “I totally forgot I was supposed to work the late shift tonight.” Dan launched himself off the couch, turning and offering Phil a hand. Phil let the other boy haul him up, his hand tingling where Dan held it. “I’m really sorry I have to leave so soon,” Dan apologized, not moving his hand from Phil’s.  

“Can I come listen to you play?” Phil asked, blue eyes wide.

“You want to come listen to me play?” Dan asked, surprised. Phil nodded and Dan shrugged, “sure, come on.”


“You were amazing,” Phil said as he walked Dan back to his apartment. Dan was blushing, their hands brushing as they walked.

“Thanks,” Dan said, “I’m glad you didn’t leave at the coffee shop.”

Phil felt himself blush, “Me too.” In a sudden rush of confidence, Phil reached over and wrapped his fingers around Dan’s. The younger boy squeezed his hand, but slowed his pace.

“This is my place,” Dan said, gesturing to the small apartment building he had stopped in front of.

“Can I give you my number?” Phil asked.

Dan nodded, handing over his phone. “That was the most fun I’ve ever had,” he admitted.

“Me too,” Phil said with a small smile.

Dan glanced toward his apartment while Phil typed his number into Dan’s contacts. “Do you have to go?” Dan asked, “Or do you want to come inside?”

“I would love to come inside.”

Dan’s apartment was small, but comfortable.

“Sorry for the mess,” Dan apologized as he shoved dirty dishes into the sink.

“Its fine,” Phil said, in fact it was cleaner than Phil’s own place.

“Super Mario Cart?” Dan asked, leading Phil into the lounge.

“Sure,” Phil replied, “you’re going down.”

Some hours later, after Dan had creamed Phil during every race, and Phil knew that it was late and he should have left an hour ago, the two boys lingered in Dan’s doorway.

“I’ll text you,” Dan was saying.

“You better,” Phil said with a grin, trying to muster up the courage to kiss the younger boy. The pair lingered in the hallway, the silence falling around them.

Dan cleared his throat, shifting as if he wasn’t sure what to do or say. “Bye,” he finally settled for, giving Phil a small wave.

“Bye,” Phil repeated, mirroring Dan’s wave as well as his words. Turning, Phil headed down the hallway toward the lift, glancing back just in time to see Dan smack himself in the face.

“I should’ve kissed him,” Phil muttered.


Phil found himself walking the now familiar path to the restaurant. He hadn’t posted on his blog since he saw Dan for the first time, but Phil couldn’t really bring himself to care.

A bell jingled cheerfully as Phil opened the door, breathing in the familiar scent of fruity wines and baking bread. Dan was already seated at the piano, his hands flying with practiced ease.

Earlier that morning Dan had texted Phil, asking if he wanted to join him for dinner after he got off work. Phil had agreed, of course, but showed up an hour before Dan would be done, so he could listen to the now familiar music.

Sitting at his usual table, ordering a cup of hot chocolate, Phil waited for Dan to finish.

“You came,” Dan said with a smile as he dropped into the seat across from Phil forty-five minutes later.

“Of course,” Phil replied, “Where to you want to go to eat?”

Dan scratched the back of his head, “do you want to come back to mine? I can cook.”

His caramel-coffee eyes were wide, and it occurred to Phil that Dan probably didn’t have a lot of money for going out to dinner.

“Sure,” Phil said with a grin, “what are you making?”


It turned out the extent of Dan’s cooking was pancakes.

“You have to flip them,” Phil said, snatching the pan. Holding it out in front of him, Phil tossed the pancake into the air. Catching it in the pan, Phil smiled smugly at Dan.

“Was that a challenge?” Dan asked, smirking.

When the next pancake was ready to be flipped, Dan grabbed the pan. Tossing it in the air, Dan promptly dropped it onto the floor. Covering his mouth, Phil giggled at the look on Dan’s face.

“I win!” Phil declared.

“Whatever,” Dan grumbled.

Even with Dan’s poor pancake flipping skills – he dropped at least two more – they end up with a good amount of pancakes. They are the best pancakes Phil’s ever eaten.

“That was delicious,” Phil said as he lay across Dan’s couch, his long legs dangling over the end. Dan was sitting on the floor, his head level with Phil’s chest. Phil’s hand was itching to tangle itself in Dan’s hair.

“Those were the best pancakes ever,” Dan agreed. “Mario Cart rematch?”

“You’re on!”



It was late; the two boys had abandoned video games in favor of going outside. It was a clear night, thousands of stars twinkling in the sky. There was a park not far from Dan’s flat, and Dan had pulled Phil along on of the paths that Phil could barely see. Now they were laying in a clearing, the soft grass tickling the back of Phil’s neck.

“Hey, Phil,” Dan said, sitting up on one elbow.

“Yeah?” Phil said, sitting up to mirror Dan. Instead of saying anything, Dan leaned forward, pressing his lips to Phil’s. It was gentle and sweet and maybe a little messy because neither had very much experience and over far too soon. Phil’s lips were tingling, kissing Dan was the best thing he’d ever felt.

“Was that okay?” Dan asked, blushing. Instead of answering, Phil captures Dan’s lips with his own. Their mouths moved together, sparks of electric seeming to fill the air. Pulling away, both breathing heavily, Phil rested his forehead against Dan’s.

“That was perfect.” 


It was a Tuesday, which meant that Phil was at his usual table, listening to his boyfriend play the piano. It had been almost a month since Dan had kissed Phil for the first time.

Today was special; today Dan was coming with Phil to meet his parents after Dan got off work. Phil was nervous, he knew his parents would like Dan, of course they would, but they would not like the fact that he was only eighteen.

Both boys were dressed nicer than usual, Phil in a nice dress shirt and black skinny jeans, Dan in a blazer over one of his wacky t-shirts – he even remembered a belt.

As Dan finished, the last of the music hanging in the air, he stepped off the small stage only to be greeted by an arm around his waist and a kiss on the cheek.

“You were great,” Phil said, smiling at his boyfriend.

“Thanks,” Dan said, blushing slightly, “Where are we meeting your parents?”

“At the pizza place down the road,” Phil said, using his arm around Dan’s waist to pull his in the direction of the door.

The pizza place was small, painted red. It was mostly empty, with only a handful of customers. Phil’s parents were sitting at a booth, both nursing a cup of coffee.

Grabbing Dan’s hand, Phil pulled him over to his parents. He could feel Dan’s hand sweating in his own, and gave Dan’s hand a small squeeze.

“Hi Mum, Dad,” Phil greeted, “This is my boyfriend, Dan.”

“Hi,” Dan said, giving a slight wave with the hand he wasn’t clutching Phil’s in.

“Hello, Dan, it’s lovely to meet you,” Phil’s mother said.


Phil had been right; his parents had really liked Dan. When Dan mentioned his age, Phil’s mother had narrowed her eyes, but Phil jumped in that it was almost Dan’s birthday, so really, he was almost nineteen.

“I think that went well,” Dan said as they were lounging in his flat afterwards.

Phil nodded, “I told you they’d like you.”

“I was still nervous,” Dan admitted.

“You spoon!” Phil said with a laugh, “Now it’s my turn, right?”

Dan grinned at him, “yeah, I can’t wait to hear what my family has to say when they find out I’m dating a twenty-two year old.”

“You make me feel so old,” Phil groaned.


It was Dan’s birthday, and Phil had insisted on taking him out to dinner. Now they were making out in the backseat of the taxi, and Phil reminded himself to tip the driver extra for not saying anything. Dan’s hand was fumbling with the buttons on Phil’s dress shirt. Phil had the driver take them back to his place, because it was closer. Dan had never actually been to Phil’s flat, and Phil was trying not to be nervous.

Dan’s lips on his were a great distraction.

The cab slowed to a stop, and Phil all but tossed the driver a handful of pounds, not waiting for change. Pulling Dan with him, into the flat, their lips never separating, Phil pushed Dan’s blazer off, leaving it on the floor where it fell. Dan had finally succeeded with the buttons and Phil’s shirt, and only pulled away from the kiss to pull his t-shirt off. Phil followed his lead, and slipped his own shirt off.

“Bedroom?” Dan asked, breathless. Grabbing Dan’s hand, Phil pulled him further into the flat.


The next morning Phil awoke to the soft sound of breathing. Blinking sleep from his eyes, Phil realized why he felt so warm. His arms were wrapped around Dan’s waist, their legs tangled. Dan’s face was inches from his own, brown eyes still closed as his chest rose and fell with every breath.

Gently climbing out of bed, so as to not wake the younger boy, Phil wandered into the kitchen.

By the time Dan walked out of Phil’s bedroom, rubbing his eyes, Phil was finishing the pancakes he was making.  Dan was still shirtless, and Phil tried not to let his eyes linger on the finger shaped bruises that spotted his boyfriend’s waist.

Dan’s hair was curling at the end; something Phil thought was incredibly adorable.

“Morning,” Phil said, waiting for his coffee to cool.

“Phil?” Dan asked, “Why is your kitchen a mess?”

“What’s wrong with my kitchen?” Phil said, glancing around. Dan’s only response was to raise his eyebrows.

“Why are all of your cupboards open?” Dan asked. Phil just shrugged. “And the sugar all over your counter?”

Stepping forward, Dan closed the distance between them. Bending down, Phil rested his forehead against Dan’s. “At least I don’t have piles of clothes everywhere,” he teased.

“No, but what about all of your socks?” Dan asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Actually shut up!” Phil said, mock glaring at his boyfriend.

“Make me,” Dan shot back, placing his hands on Phil’s waist, pulling him even closer.

Pressing a quick kiss to Dan’s lips, Phil turned back to the breakfast he was making. Dan pouted as Phil pulled away, but smiled when Phil handed him a cup of coffee.

“I could get used to this,” Dan said.


Dan had taken to staying at Phil’s flat more than he was at his own. Phil didn’t mind, he loved having Dan stay with him, loved falling asleep in Dan’s arms. Phil loved everything about Dan. He loved the way Dan made fun of him for not being able to make a cup of coffee without spilling sugar everywhere, loved the way Dan would forget to straighten his hair, loved the way Dan would hog all of the blankets so that they had to cuddle all night if Phil wanted under the duvet.

He just hadn’t told him yet.

Phil was sure that Dan knew how he felt about him. It wasn’t like Dan had said anything, either.

They were once again at the restaurant where they had met. Dan was on stage, about to start playing, and Phil at his usual table. It had been six months since they talked for the first time.

Dan stretched his arms, cracking his fingers. He glanced around the restaurant, and cleared his throat into the microphone. A handful of couple’s heads shot up, snapping toward the stage, Dan had never spoken before he played.

“I would just like to say,” Dan said, clearing his throat awkwardly, “that I wrote this song myself. I actually wrote it for my boyfriend, so, um, Phil this is for you,” then he began to play.

The song was beautiful; it was the most beautiful thing Phil had ever heard. Dan pressed the keys softly, the music filling the air. Usually quite conversation would filter through the restaurant, today the audience was spellbound.

“That was gorgeous,” Phil said, later, as Dan stepped off the stage. Dan blushed, his face glowing bright red.

“Thanks, I was just going to play it for you at home, but…” Dan explained, before Phil cut him off.

“Home?” Phil asked, feeling a grin fix itself onto his face. Dan blushed again, shoving his hands into his pockets.  

“Yeah,” he said, “home.”

It occurred to Phil, then, that maybe he and Dan had been saying ‘I love you’ all along. It was just hidden inside other phrases such as a joking ‘I hate you’ or ‘it’s late, go to sleep’. He didn’t want to hide it anymore.

“I love you,” Phil declared. Dan reached up, pressing their lips together. Pulling away, he grinned shyly.

“I love you, too,” Dan said, chewing on his lip.

Phil held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. Dan wrapped his fingers between Phil’s, smiling at the older boy.

“Let’s go home.” 

anonymous asked:

Cisco and Hartley were together for awhile and it was okay. But Hartley grew up with so many bullshit preconceptions about people who aren't rich, straight, smart, and white from his parents and he never managed to work past it, so his relationship with Cisco imploded in a spectacularly ugly fashion

Thanks, anon! Keep sending, I’m enjoying exploring this. Also, obviously, some warning for ignorant prejudiced comments inside. Not very Hartley-friendly.

The worst part is they’re in bed when it all comes out.

Not actively fucking or anything, just laying there doing some separate reading which usually would turn into comparing notes which would turn into debating which would eventually turn into fucking. But still, the bed is Cisco’s safe zone. The bed is where they can talkin quiet, non-hostile voices and he can say corny things thatHartley, yes, laughs at, but without that mocking edge.

Keep reading


Chapters 1 - 16

+ + + + + + + + +

“Jennifer!” My mother screeches with a laugh, swatting my hand away, as I steal another cookie from the cooling tray.  "They’ll be none left for the boys tomorrow if you eat them all now!“

"I’m sorry,” I spurt out, sending a few crumbs flying from my full mouth.  Gooey chocolate sticks to my hands and I lick up every last morsel, moaning at the sweet taste lingering on my tongue.  "You make the best desserts, Mama.“  My southern twang peeking out from hiding, as a satisfied grin overtakes my face.

Keep reading


A Short Guide* to Malcolm’s Back-Story and Private Life:

*Only, it’s not that short

1.  In 307, we find out Malcolm became Director of Communications in 2003 after booting out Steve Fleming.  This is further confirmed by Ollie in 407 when he says Malcolm had been on permanent transmission for the last eight years.  This means when we first meet Malcolm in 2005, he had only had the job for about two years, but had presumably been in a deputy role before that, perhaps running the Number 10 press room (i.e. the job Jamie has when Malcolm was his boss.)

 2.  In 407, we find out for absolute sure Malcolm doesn’t have any children, although I would say his total mishandling of the Nicola and Ella situation back in 301 and 304 was already a pretty big clue in that direction.  The other things, well, Malcolm’s feeling extremely sorry for himself, so who knows how accurate he’s being about having no friends, especially since he very specifically wants Ollie to know he’s NOT a friend – for good reason – but what I find interesting is he doesn’t say anything about a wife.  Since he mentions friends, he’s not just talking about his (lack of) legacy, he’s speaking of his wider (lack of) life and to make no mention of his marital state seems an odd omission to me especially considering…

Keep reading

theotakux  asked:

Speaking of double standards, why is it considered normal for a woman to own vibrators/dildos, but comedic, shameful, or embarrassing for a man to own any sort of maturbatory aid?

That one is a mystery to me as well.  Perhaps it’s tied to the outdated notion that men aren’t “real men” unless they can get laid (of course, it’s not like there isn’t the female equivalent of the “lonely cat lady” or perpetual “ugly girl”).

We have such fucked up ideas about men and women, and so many double standards that it’s all the more irritating when these modern faux “feminists” keep squawking and simpering about how they’re “so OPPRESSED!”, despite the fact that:

  • Women wearing mens’ clothing?  Perfectly acceptable.  A man wearing women’s clothing?  “Weird”, or “creepy”, and generally frowned upon.  Same goes for men using makeup, even if it’s to cover a blemish.
  • Portrayals of lesbianism in the media appear to be more generally accepted than portrayals of male homosexuality, to the point where it’s sometimes even a selling point of a film (Black Swan, anyone?).  Hell–there is literally an entire, extremely large subgenre of exploitation cinema known as “women in prison” films, and a great many of them feature lesbianism.  Films featuring gay men are often relegated to the indie circuit, and when one does achieve mainstream success, it ends up becoming the butt of joke after joke for years after (don’t even pretend that you’ve never seen something referred to as “Brokeback _______”).  In the greatest insult of all, gay men have had to shoulder the brunt of the stigma regarding HIV/AIDS.  Know what the media dubbed it when it started becoming widespread in the news?  The “Gay Plague”.
  • We encourage girls to do anything they want, including “boy things”, but we treat little boys like freaks if they enjoy anything “feminine”.
  • As I’ve said before, the way we treat girls vs boys (nurturing one while expecting the other to be self-reliant) literally affects them on both a psychological AND biological level.
  • Women are “allowed” to show emotion without being judged for it.  If a man cries, he’s thought of as less of a man.  One can only wonder how many boys have heard from their fathers, “DON’T LET ME HEAR YOU CRYING, OR I’LL COME UP THERE AND GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT!”.  A woman cries, and the entire world stops to comfort her.  As a woman who has used this unfairly to her own advantage in both avoiding a speeding ticket and getting things that I wanted, I am still more than willing to admit this.  Women receive more sympathy overall, period.
  • Speaking of “period”, we can get away with using ours as an excuse for being a total bitch (though, let’s be honest here–there’s a measure of truth to this one.  A very large measure of truth).
  • As is being clearly demonstrated by a certain faction of tumblr, we can use our gender as an excuse to vilify anyone that disagrees with us.  “WHAT??  YOU DON’T AGREE WITH ME???  THEN YOU’RE A MISOGYNIST!”.  Of course, this doesn’t exclude women that disagree with us either, because then we can use the ever-popular excuse of “internalized misogyny”.
  • If a woman commits a crime, the courts are more likely to show her leniency than they would a man.  This includes robbery, assault, and even murder.  That link also includes a link to a big-ass list of privileges that women have over men.

So of course we don’t shame women for having sex toys.  We’re not allowed to see women as anything but perfect angels.  They’re not allowed to be thought of or portrayed as violent, pitiful, inept, uneducated, lazy, spiteful, or anything that might cause someone to get hurt widdle fee-fees.  You’re not allowed to negatively comment on anything about a woman, even if it’s for her own good (the fact that posts exist on this site telling people that doctors are wrong for suggesting they lose weight is fucking ridiculous).

We want women to be happy being fat, but a fat man is a recipe for comedy, and a lightning rod for ridicule.

We want women to be free to have hair wherever they please, but we laugh at “neckbeards”, and call guys with moustaches “gross” (even trying to make “no-shave November” a “women’s issue”, instead of a harmless joke about guys not wanting to shave their faces every fucking day.  Have you felt the hairs on a guy’s face, girls?  Those motherfuckers will be left over after a nuclear holocaust.  It’ll be cockroaches, and male facial hair, fighting each other for dominance of the planet).

We make fun of pretty much fucking everything that guys like (football fans are apparently all “fat guys in grease paint”, despite the fact that there are a surprising number of female football fans, my 62-year-old mother included, as seen in the pictures at the bottom of the link).  We make jokes about a fucking HAT, for fuck’s sake.  Meanwhile, if you make a joke about ANYTHING that happens to be popular with teenage girls, you’ll probably be receiving death threats within the hour.

We’re looking at men having a libido as “perverted”, and a woman having a libido as “empowered” (which is a giant load of horse shit, because this site alone is filled to the brim with a LOT of fuckin’ perverted women.  I know–I’m one of them).

Basically, we don’t allow men to be human, but we allow women to be ABOVE the trappings of humanity.

That’s grade-A, certified bullshit.  If you’re a woman, you’re just as damned, weird, creepy, sexist, and flawed as everyone else.

So for fuck’s sake, stop fucking reinforcing old horse hockey that shoulda died out with the poodle skirt.  You’re just making life that much harder for the trans, agender, and non-binary people that you pretend to put on a pedestal while simultaneously throwing under the train.

Smells Like Home

“Do you love him?” Sam met his brother’s eyes. “I don’t mean to ask if you love him like a brother, Dean, I mean do you really truly love him?”

Green eyes fell to the floor as he contemplated how to answer the question that he always feared. A million and one ways to deny it ran through his mind, but this time he was too tired to speak a lie. He was too exhausted to worm his away out of a question that even he never answered in truth in his own thoughts. Years of misguided denial had built up an urge to always say no, to always hide the feelings that he knew would destroy him if given the chance.

Keep reading

lily + marauders headcanons

so like, lily’s interpersonal relationships with the other three marauders are super important to me. because she’s more than, ‘oh, that’s my mate’s girl.’ they’re friends with james, and they’re friends with lily, and james and lily just happen to be dating. so here are a few of my headcanons, how / when they each became friends with her and what their friendships were like. enjoy. 


They really become friends in third year. It’s late one night and they’re two of the few students still in the common room. Remus is reading a book, probably fiction or a biography, and Lily is doing homework but she is so stressed out. She ends up slamming her hand down and letting out a groan so Remus asks if she needs help.

Her first response is a stubborn and frustrated, “No!” Followed quickly by a sigh and a defeated, “Yes.” So Remus goes over to her table and looks over her papers.

“This is the problem you’re working on?” He points to her parchment and she nods. He looks over her scrap paper and chuckles.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“No, look. You’ve already got the answer, here.”

It turns out she was just so frustrated that she hadn’t realized she’d already figured it out. From then on they do a lot of homework together, Remus keeps her stress levels down and Lily keeps him on track. (Because really, without guidance Remus could start off doing a paper on Gillyweed and end up learning the intricate mating rituals of a minute subculture of mermaids.)

They get on really well. They just click. Remus is the one who understands most of her muggle references. Sometimes they’ll get to talking and laughing so hard about some sort of muggle joke, habit, show, ect and James will get a little jealous. Just because he’s the only child of a wealthy family and is so not used to being left out of anything. They are also always each other’s backup when it comes to tiffts with James. Lily and Remus are def the ones who will just out of the blue ask the other some random philosophical/existential question. Like, they’ll both just be sitting beside one another, studying away, and Lily will just put her quill down on her Arithmancy parchment and:

“Hey, Remus?”

And without looking up Remus will just, “Hm?”

“What are numbers? Like, really?” Remus stops his homework too and just stares off at the fireplace, thinking. Lily continues. “I mean, they aren’t tangible objects. And who gave them meaning? When did we collectively decide what three meant?”

Remus finally jumps in with, “Yeah…and how is it that they so accurately describe certain relationships between aspects of different structures?” And they’re both just sort of staring past each other, going over these thoughts and Peter, who’s been at their feet, lying on the floor doing his own homework is just like

“Really guys?”

Whenever something goes wrong or gets out of hand with the others they will turn to each other for help. As such, the opposite is also true. When the others have an idea for a prank or something of the sort but can’t quite figure it out, they always go to ‘The Council’, and Remus and Lily can usually work out the kinks for them.


They don’t become friends friends until right before Lily and James start dating. The boys all had a habit of just sitting around insulting each other, each one trying to top the last. So they’re all sitting around the common room one night, it’s probably late, and just being obnoxiously loud while insulting one another when Lily walks by. She says something to the effect of,

“Honestly, is this the only thing you lot can think to spend your time doing?”

And Peter, always one to never know when to stop, retorts with, “It’s better than staring at your bloody face all day!” And he totally doesn’t mean anything by it, he was just in a groove. But the other three aren’t laughing and James is looking very,

“Omg, what did he just do? Lily’s totally going to hate me.”

And Lily looks pissed but comes back with, “I’d rather look at my face than have to stand anywhere close to you and smell that horrid breath of yours.” And no one really says anything because they think she’s actually offend but then she smirks and they realize that she’s totally game and start laughing along.

Peter is the brother that Lily never had, and in the most lovable but annoying sense of the word. They steal food from each others plates, make faces at each other, come up with the most disgusting names for the other, blame the each other for everything, have elbow nudge fights for no reason…and they love it. It often falls to Sirius and Remus to play defacto parents to the two of them.

“Padfoot! Lily called me a Bubotuber face!”

“But Peter called me a Flobberworm first!”

“Did not!” And Peter shoves Lily’s shoulder, but she shoves his right back.

“Did too!”

And it’s driving Sirius mad and he’s just, “Enough, from the both of you! Apologize to each other or you’ll no get dessert at dinner!”

But they’re also the ones to exchange, “Are they bloody crazy?” looks when James and Sirius get up to something…well, crazy.


Their real friendship started a little bit after James and Lily got together. Sirius had always liked Lily enough, she was smart and funny, and most importantly, she could handle James exceedingly well. It’s just that when they actually started to date, James spent a whole lot more time with her, time that was taken away from Sirius. It got to the point where he was just pouting all of the time, because either Lily was with them, or James was off with Lily and Sirius was alone. After a few weeks of this, Lily had had enough. One evening, she and James are sitting on his bed and she’s explaining to him a popular television show (let’s be honest, it was probably Doctor Who) when Sirius walks in. He frowns at the two of them.

“Oh, didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just…grab my books.”

And Lily looks to James and mouths, “sorry” before sighing. “It’s okay, Sirius, I was just telling James that he needs to buy a brush or something for this hair of his.” James looks at her, confused, but Sirius gives a snort.

“Oh, he owns one, I’m just not sure he knows how to use it.”

Lily laughs and crawls out of the bed. “Tell me about it. And don’t even get me started on his wardrobe.”  Her and Sirius are now standing by one another.

“Oh, Merlin! Do you know he tries on at least four pair of trousers every morning, just to make sure his bum looks nice?”

And James is just looking, slightly offended, and very confused. “I’m still right here!” But Lily ignores him.

“You’re kidding? What about his table manner though? How horrible are they?”

“Right? It’s like, I know damn good and well his mother taught him better than that!”

The two fall into laughter and Lily links her arm with his. “Speaking of table manners, would you like to get dinner with me?” And Sirius laughs and agrees to accompany her to the Great Hall. As they’re leaving, Lily looks back over her shoulder and smiles at James and it’s then that it clicks with him.

Lily is who Sirius goes to for advice, be it small or big. If they decided to team up during the insult game, everyone else might as well quit, there’s no stopping them. They have weekly beauty rituals, including facials and manicures. When James is being a particularly obnoxious prat, they are quick to team up and knock him down a few pegs but also tend to plan the biggest surprises for his birthday. They bond over the turmoil with their siblings and will always listen to the other after a bad fight. Lily intercepts howlers from Mrs. Black and rushes them out of the room so Sirius won’t have to hear it. If Lily feels a letter from Petunia might be particularly bad, Sirius will read it first and relay it’s words in a kinder tone. They teach each other about the muggle /  wizarding world to the point where Sirius will sometimes act as though he were an authority on muggles and Lily as though she were one on wizarding traditions. He teaches her Wizard’s Chess and she teaches him Monopoly. At one point they probably tried to combine the two.