Throwaway

I don’t want to identify with anything. So this is a little account without activity of mine.

[etchif]

"It's stupid that men are allowed to be shirtless in public while women aren't" yes true✅️ "it's also gross when men do it they should also have to cover up" what. no. no. wrong conclusion❌️

[throwawayforpurposes]

Okay so. I know this is correct. And I agree with you.

But. I know. I promise I know but I don’t like seeing anyone shirtless. And I get it on a beach or sth. Sure. I get it. There. Absolutely go wild. Go nude if you want. It’s a beach. And if you’re in a space like a sauna or somewhere where shirtlessness and even nudity is allowed. Go nuts man. Twerk nude. Idc.

But when I am out in the city in summer. Why are you taking your shirt off. You’re in public. Public indecency. Why. No. Put it back on. No. I know it’s hot outside. But have some decorum please.

I bet this is some puritan bullshit I’ve internalized. I bet this is probably something bad. But I will die on this hill. Public indecency is entirely unwarranted. Men in normal spaces should be fully clothed like everyone else. At least wear a fucking crop top. Thats what they were invented for.

[illmetkismet]

Hey prev, your addition to this post is something I see ppl do all the time, and I'd just like to suggest that if, in response to something you see on tumblr.com (or in real life!), you have a thought that you know and understand comes from some bullshit you've internalized, bullshit that you yourself have an inkling is probably 'bad', your next step should not be to voice the shitty opinion that comes from that thought, but to take a moment to reflect on where that shitty thought came from and perhaps to start to dismantle the shitty scaffolding in your brain that is holding that thought up.

Just publically declaring, "I know this is a shitty thing to say and think," doesn't make it fine and good to then go on and declare the shitty thing. Not to other people, and not to yourself. All you're doing is continuing to live your life unexamined, clinging to ideas you suspect are probably harmful to you and others, instead of trying to do some self reflection and growth.

Don't let learned disgust override that nascent suspicion I see you having - that maybe your feelings about the semi-clothed human body have been shaped by fucked up Christian ideas, and that maybe you need to do some work to overcome them instead of automatically reinforcing them in public because ew, men's chests are indecent!

[throwawayforpurposes]

My problem is. I don’t think my opinion is wrong.

The only reason I keep saying it’s probably wrong is because I know about all that and how christianity did permanent damage to peoples view of human bodies. I know all that. And I know that maybe it would be “better” if I didn’t think the way that I did.

But I don’t feel like my opinion is wrong. I think my opinion is valid. Thats why I voiced my opinion. I feel like I’m okay. I feel okay in my stance. I believe in it.

I know it is probably in many people’s opinions “a bad thing to say and think” I know. I know. But I feel this way. And I don’t think I’m wrong. That doesn’t mean I think my opinion should be the only one. Or that I am universally correct or whatever.

I just wanted to say what I think. I’m sorry I did. I should just shut up I know. I don’t understand why you were so passive aggressive. I apologize.

[etchif]

"It's stupid that men are allowed to be shirtless in public while women aren't" yes true✅️ "it's also gross when men do it they should also have to cover up" what. no. no. wrong conclusion❌️

[throwawayforpurposes]

Okay so. I know this is correct. And I agree with you.

But. I know. I promise I know but I don’t like seeing anyone shirtless. And I get it on a beach or sth. Sure. I get it. There. Absolutely go wild. Go nude if you want. It’s a beach. And if you’re in a space like a sauna or somewhere where shirtlessness and even nudity is allowed. Go nuts man. Twerk nude. Idc.

But when I am out in the city in summer. Why are you taking your shirt off. You’re in public. Public indecency. Why. No. Put it back on. No. I know it’s hot outside. But have some decorum please.

I bet this is some puritan bullshit I’ve internalized. I bet this is probably something bad. But I will die on this hill. Public indecency is entirely unwarranted. Men in normal spaces should be fully clothed like everyone else. At least wear a fucking crop top. Thats what they were invented for.

[marigold-hills]

@into-the-jeggyverse | prompt: roar | words: 759

NSFW minors do not interact please

In the lazy quiet of the morning, the chime of the incoming text message is like a sudden roar of a deadly, wild animal.

James should know just by that - maybe a lion’s roar is, after all, a warning to the unsuspecting gazelle. A head start, a countdown to being devoured.

James wouldn't put himself in the position of prey, but Regulus didn’t ask him, made the decision for him, unilaterally decided.

Barty: did Potter fall for it then?

Barty: if I owe you that 50 quid I hope he at least did a good job

Barty: if not come by after, you know no one can fuck you like I do anyway

(The night before their fingers were intertwined, foreheads together, lips only apart enough to give space for words to form: Jamie, and please and so good, just like that, so good for me. Then later: again, again, again, and next time I’ll take my time with you.)

They’re phones are identical. James didn’t notice until he picked up what he thought was his. Regulus must not have noticed when he took the wrong one with him to the kitchen.

(Let me make you coffee, he said, so sweetly, so unlike the usual cold shoulder he would give in response to James’ advances. You deserve it after last night. And this morning. Keep it up and I’ll make you coffee every day.)

(It’s a deal, James responded and thought of all the dusks and dawns ahead.)

“One coffee, sugar and milk, because you’re a heaven,” Regulus comes back into the bedroom, hair still bed-mused and dressed still only in James’ T-shirt. Nothing different than he was when he left. There’s still that spread of pink across the delicate arch of his cheekbones.

(Last night James kissed him right there, right over the little freckle that sits under his left eye.)

“You took the wrong phone,” James tells him. Surprised himself when his voice sounds the way it always does. Like nothing had changed.

Regulus laughs at himself and switches them, takes his phone from James’ hand and then sits in his lap, legs on each side of James’ thighs.

(Last night he rode him like this, perfectly tight and perfectly eager, eyes bright and pleading. Fuck me, fuck into me, he begged, breathy and lovely, please, I need you. Need you Jamie.)

“Sorry. I accidentally read your text,” James tells him. The space between Regulus’ waist where his hand should be and the bed where his hand is feels like magnets repelling each other.

“Barely a night together and you're already going through my phone?” Regulus teases. “If I knew you’d be so jealous—”

He stops because he’s read the texts. That lovely pinkness disappears. Regulus is always pale, but not this pale.

“Jamie…”

“You fucked me for £50?”

“No, wait— not like that, wait.”

James doesn’t push him off, but the feeling of Regulus’ skin on his own becomes unbearable.

(Last night, he kissed the delicate spaces of the inside of Regulus’ thighs, each and every beauty spot and line and perfection. The scar he got on his knee as a child, the one by his hipbone from a drunken stumble.)

James doesn’t have it in him to put his hands on Regulus and lift him up. He doesn’t think he’d let go, if he did, and there’s something in him that won’t stoop to begging. He wishes he found it the night before. “Can you get off me please.”

Regulus, at least, gives him that. James gets up from the bed (rumpled sheets, a tear where Regulus bit into the night before to muffle his cries as James had him on his hands and knees) and puts on his trousers.

His wallet is in the back pocket. He carries cash with him because you never know - something could go wrong, someone could need help, someone, apparently, could count up how much James’ heart is worth.

He puts £50 on the bedside table.

“Jamie please, just— I’m so sorry, I didn’t, that’s not—”

He thinks to ask why Regulus is crying, why there are tears in those beautiful eyes of his, but they look the same as the ones he coaxed out the night before (just one more time for me, you can do it, show me again how you look when you come).

In the lazy quiet of the morning, the starting of James’ car engine sounds like the last roar of an animal dying, calling out to leave one last mark on the world.

***** I don’t know why I wrote this. Please don’t hate me.

[silverlullabies]

Two completely separate servers came to the same conclusion, therefore it’s canon. Activision took inspiration from me

(I want royalties)

[throwawayforpurposes]

On Jegulus and fci recs.

I read this story here and oh my god. I want more. I want more jegulus smut and angst.

Any recommendations? Literally anything welcome. Tumblr, ao3, heck even wattpad if necessary.

Post by @marigold-hills

💬 16  🔁 24  ❤️ 386 · @into-the-jeggyverse | prompt: roar | words: 759 NSFW minors do not interact please In the lazy quiet of the morning,

[marigold-hills]

@into-the-jeggyverse | prompt: roar | words: 759

NSFW minors do not interact please

In the lazy quiet of the morning, the chime of the incoming text message is like a sudden roar of a deadly, wild animal.

James should know just by that - maybe a lion’s roar is, after all, a warning to the unsuspecting gazelle. A head start, a countdown to being devoured.

James wouldn't put himself in the position of prey, but Regulus didn’t ask him, made the decision for him, unilaterally decided.

Barty: did Potter fall for it then?

Barty: if I owe you that 50 quid I hope he at least did a good job

Barty: if not come by after, you know no one can fuck you like I do anyway

(The night before their fingers were intertwined, foreheads together, lips only apart enough to give space for words to form: Jamie, and please and so good, just like that, so good for me. Then later: again, again, again, and next time I’ll take my time with you.)

They’re phones are identical. James didn’t notice until he picked up what he thought was his. Regulus must not have noticed when he took the wrong one with him to the kitchen.

(Let me make you coffee, he said, so sweetly, so unlike the usual cold shoulder he would give in response to James’ advances. You deserve it after last night. And this morning. Keep it up and I’ll make you coffee every day.)

(It’s a deal, James responded and thought of all the dusks and dawns ahead.)

“One coffee, sugar and milk, because you’re a heaven,” Regulus comes back into the bedroom, hair still bed-mused and dressed still only in James’ T-shirt. Nothing different than he was when he left. There’s still that spread of pink across the delicate arch of his cheekbones.

(Last night James kissed him right there, right over the little freckle that sits under his left eye.)

“You took the wrong phone,” James tells him. Surprised himself when his voice sounds the way it always does. Like nothing had changed.

Regulus laughs at himself and switches them, takes his phone from James’ hand and then sits in his lap, legs on each side of James’ thighs.

(Last night he rode him like this, perfectly tight and perfectly eager, eyes bright and pleading. Fuck me, fuck into me, he begged, breathy and lovely, please, I need you. Need you Jamie.)

“Sorry. I accidentally read your text,” James tells him. The space between Regulus’ waist where his hand should be and the bed where his hand is feels like magnets repelling each other.

“Barely a night together and you're already going through my phone?” Regulus teases. “If I knew you’d be so jealous—”

He stops because he’s read the texts. That lovely pinkness disappears. Regulus is always pale, but not this pale.

“Jamie…”

“You fucked me for £50?”

“No, wait— not like that, wait.”

James doesn’t push him off, but the feeling of Regulus’ skin on his own becomes unbearable.

(Last night, he kissed the delicate spaces of the inside of Regulus’ thighs, each and every beauty spot and line and perfection. The scar he got on his knee as a child, the one by his hipbone from a drunken stumble.)

James doesn’t have it in him to put his hands on Regulus and lift him up. He doesn’t think he’d let go, if he did, and there’s something in him that won’t stoop to begging. He wishes he found it the night before. “Can you get off me please.”

Regulus, at least, gives him that. James gets up from the bed (rumpled sheets, a tear where Regulus bit into the night before to muffle his cries as James had him on his hands and knees) and puts on his trousers.

His wallet is in the back pocket. He carries cash with him because you never know - something could go wrong, someone could need help, someone, apparently, could count up how much James’ heart is worth.

He puts £50 on the bedside table.

“Jamie please, just— I’m so sorry, I didn’t, that’s not—”

He thinks to ask why Regulus is crying, why there are tears in those beautiful eyes of his, but they look the same as the ones he coaxed out the night before (just one more time for me, you can do it, show me again how you look when you come).

In the lazy quiet of the morning, the starting of James’ car engine sounds like the last roar of an animal dying, calling out to leave one last mark on the world.

***** I don’t know why I wrote this. Please don’t hate me.

[throwawayforpurposes]

I love you and this hurt so good.

[throwawayforpurposes]

On the problematic Nature of the Harry Potter fandom.

Any input by anyone is welcome. I particularly like takes that have a mixed stance or a clear argument if on one side.

Please don’t yell at me I am scared.

I haven’t been in the Harry Potter fandom in a long time. Essentially not since I read the books in primary school. I heard about JK’s transphobia and of course thought thats horrible. But at the time. I just decided. Wellp. I am not interacting with Harry Potter anymore anyway.

But recently a friend of mine told me to read “All the Young Dudes” by MsKingBean89. And I did. For her sake. And then I kind of slipped into the whole Harry Potter and Marauders stuff on here. And I don’t know.

If I’m honest it all makes me queasy. I loved the books as a kid. They were my everything during a time where my life was really difficult (family stuff). And I look back on that time with a smile on my face.

I don’t know how to handle this new interest though. As a kid I wasn’t aware of all the shitty things in Harry Potter. To me as a seven year old. It was the best book on earth. It was my escape from the real world.

But now I am old enough to see that Cho Chang… is horrible. Oh my god I am asian what the fuck is this bullshit. I mean. I hated Cho as a kid don’t get me wrong. But you know. I didn’t understand.

And then the characterization of the people in AtYD made me so sososo so uncomfortable. The writing is absolutely impressive. But I the marauders… are bullies. Like. They did genuinely bad things. And the fanfic seemed to just pretend it didn’t happen. Changing the canon is fine of course. But a way I would’ve preferred it would’ve been having lily stop them. Or everyone learn from it in a way.

But thats beside the point. I started seeing both the pro and the con arguments. Each usually accompanied by hatred for the other side. People yelling that all these marauders/HP fans were actively supporting transphobia. And the others yelling that fanfic doesn’t give JK money.

I… I am very scared and torn and I don’t understand or know and I…yea. I don’t know what to do or think.

So my solution is to post this. And have people probably yell at me. Lets recap on the arguments for both sides that I’ve seen so far.

Pro:

Fanfic doesn’t add to JK’s wealth

Fanfic actively makes characters trans or other minorities and is therefore not transphobic

We’re not buying any merch or anything.

We have made the characters and stories our own and it is within artistic expression to warp the work one is writing about.

JK would hate us making characters trans.

Maybe things that are just so nice (like the marauders fandom) don’t need to die as fast as you think is ‘natural’

Any place where one can find community is inherently good. Why do you hate us so much. Are you just bitter?

Con:

Any interaction with the Harry Potter universe (including fanfic and fanart, even if it doesn’t directly add to JK’s wealth) adds to the clout of the HP series and therefore is supporting JK’s transphobia.

The Harry Potter fandom needs to die. (This one is my take) Everything needs to die. A natural slow death of course. But it slowly does feel like we’re keeping grandma on life support beyond what is good for her. Things must die to make space for new things. I too. Will die to make space for new things.

The Harry Potter books are children’s books. We must grow up and stop liking a bad children’s book.

The characters in the marauders fandom (and probably also elsewhere) have been warped beyond comprehension and are essentially different characters wearing the same names.

Oh god the like the misogyny and other issues that lie hidden in the marauders fandom is insane. I don’t even think most people notice. Maybe thats the feminist in my heart flaring up but oh god.

I am trying to portray the two fighting sides in my head. It’s scary. I’m scared.

Please add any arguments pro and con that you have or have seen. Any opinion is welcome. I just. I need people to argue (in a civil manner please) so that I can understand and get past this.

I will go back to not being that big of a Harry Potter fan again. It will pass. This is temporary.

Oh also. How ethically ok is it to read the HP books to my brother? Should I not do that? Would that go against the fandom dying? Would I be a part of the crew keeping it alive? God I hate that JK is a bad person. Cant she just be good. We wouldn’t have this issue.

(Well the feeling of keeping grandma on life support for too long would still be there. But at least then grandma is a good person.)