Somebody Pls Lock Me Out Of Tumblr I Have Two More Essays Due And Haven’t Even Started The Reading

NEVER get into anything thats heavy on color symbolism bro . for months you will not be able to look at the color blue without instantly thinking of Squingle Dinglus

so yall might know zlibrary, the online library eith TONS of free books right?

well, the web recently shut down so know you can’t access the books through the website. but you can actually still use zlib in a way through their telegram.

just access their single login page (search zlibrary and it should appear. you might need to scroll down though) and login or make an account. after logging in, you should get links to their other websites, but we’ll use the code at the bottom (slash start [code]) 

go to their bot on telegram (Zlibrary1[underscore]bot) and start the bot. copy and paste the code from earlier to the bot. you should be able to access books by sending the title or author afterwards. they’ll send you a message of matches from the library, just scroll til you find the one you are looking for and click the code underneath (slash book [book code]). it’ll automatically send the code back to the bot. the bot will then send u the pdf file of the book!

hope this helped!

THE LITTLE SCRUNCH IN WALKER’S EYEBROWS AKDNWISNSBMS

#that's my percabeth

REBLOG THIS TO GIVE THE PERSON YOU REBLOGGED THIS FROM A GOLD STAR BECAUSE THEY’VE BEEN STELLAR TODAY AND THEY DESERVE IT ⭐️

“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

“could never tell you what happened the day i turned seventeen. the rise of a king and the fall of a queen”

but it’s sirius leaving at seventeen (6th year, i hc that he was born in 1959) and reggie finally being accepted as trans (ftm) just so the black family could still have a male heir

I AM SO EXCITED YALL DONT GET IT

i’m assuming this is jude using the slang kicking the bucket which means “to die”

cardans responseeeee is taking me out, i missed them

btw i think they meant to write boots not books

41 more days…

this is amazing wtf

jegulus fic where james is a youtuber/streamer who does all sorts of pretty crazy pranks and people ADORE him because he's totally shameless.

one day he gets dared to crash a wedding and oppose it, pretending to be in love with either the groom or the bride.

and even though his editor (and bestest friend) remus told him that that's fucking insane, james still chose to do it bc he's a menace. but he does promise to cut it all off if things get messy.

james gets everything ready and, after stalking some of his old school classmates, he finds that one of them is attending a wedding (it's mulciber, who james remembers to despise back then, so it's a win-win situation), which means his plan is all set.

by fate, and fate only, this wedding is regulus' and some girl's his parents chose for him (and mulciber was invited bc his family is very close to the black's)

and obviously, this is a clear forced marriage, regulus would rather kill himself than marry a girl, he's as gay as they come.

[for sake of the plot, sirius and james don't know each other at all, didn't go to school together either, and sirius didn't run away and is also livid with his parents for marrying reg off, but there wasn't anything he could do]

so! prank day, james is live the moment he, very dramatically, stands up and proclaims his love for this.... regulus guy, and how he knows he promised to not come but he just couldn't handle the thought of the love of his life being married to someone else (his followers thought he was going to claim to love the bride, but james found the groom way too cute and he just couldn't hold himself back, he's just a guy)

the 30 seconds of pure silence and shock that follow are almost enough to make james break character and start laughing like crazy.

regulus, who's flabbergasted by the way, knows immediately that it's a prank. however, this might as well be a sign of the gods, because, what are the chances that this (very handsome) random man, chose HIS wedding out of all, and targeted HIM to be the one he "loves"? way to many coincidences.

also, did he mention the dude is unbelievably fit?

he makes a choice right there.

using all his acting abilities, he makes a whole scene tearing up and running to him. it's so well done, james for a second believes they are actual lovers.

hell breaks at that moment, walburga goes absolutely nuts along with orion and their side of the family. the bride's family start a fight, and between the commotion regulus sees his brother laughing maniacally after their mother yells at regulus to stop playing games or he will get disowned.

james, who thinks that this is now along the lines of things getting messy, is about to announce it's all a prank, when regulus sees right through him, panics, and just whispers "im going to kiss you now, sorry" before snogging the life out of him.

remus, who's the camera guy, cuts the live right there.

james, oh james, he doesn't quite hear the screech walburga lets out because this backfired so bad, but jesus chirst can this regulus kiss. this is love at first sight. love at first prank, if you may.

regulus knowing stuff is about to get bad, just grabs james' hand and runs for it. james just follows, he's dizzy. remus also follows because he's NOT getting involved in all that, he's actually quitting james.

sirius follows too, if his little brother is finally disowned, there's no reason to stay, thank you very much.

anyways, this whole idea was just because i want james followers to see his channel thumbnails going:

CRASHING A RANDOM WEDDING 💍 PRANK #56

to

how i met the love of my life ; Q&A

and

REG AND I ARE GETTING MARRIED (im sealing all entries so no-one can crash it) — VLOG

bye

Draped in Devotion

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theo always acts like it’s an inconvenience. The way his sweaters disappear into the abyss of your wardrobe, but when you walk into a crowded room wearing something that still carries his scent, his patience stretches thin, because everyone can see what he already knows. You’re his, and you always will be.

Theodore Nott had never been one for loud proclamations of affection. His love was quiet—woven into fleeting touches, stolen glances, the way he always positioned himself between you and potential danger, even if that “danger” was just Malfoy’s sharp tongue or an overeager Ravenclaw looking at you for a bit too long.

His love was also threaded into the fabric of every sweater and shirt that you stole from him.

Or, rather, that he let you steal.

Theo liked to pretend it annoyed him—huffing when you walked into his dorm wearing one of his favorite jumpers, grumbling under his breath about how he’d never see it again. But deep down, he liked it.

No, he loved it.

He loved seeing you wrapped in something that smelled like him, the sleeves always too long, the collar slightly stretched because you’d tug at it absentmindedly. He loved how his clothes clung to you in ways that were so entirely different from how they fit him, how they told the world in a thousand unspoken ways that you belonged to him.

And yet, he still put up the act—because it made you smirk, made you tease him, made you kiss him sweetly as if you were thanking him for something he hadn’t even protested in the first place.

It started on a cold winter evening in the Slytherin dorms.

Snow had blanketed the castle grounds, and the fire in the common room was flickering lazily, casting warm golden light against the emerald-draped walls. You were curled up on Theo’s bed, wearing your own uniform, shivering slightly despite the thick blankets.

Theo, who had been reading beside you, let out a long, exasperated sigh before tugging off the sweater he was wearing. He tossed it at you, expression flat but eyes gleaming with something warmer than the firelight.

"Take it," he muttered, feigning reluctance. "If you’re going to steal my things, you might as well do it while I’m watching."

You had grinned, tugging it over your head, inhaling deeply at the scent of him. "Oh, I’m definitely keeping this one."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled you into his side, fingers playing with the hem of the sweater as if memorizing the sight of it on you.

It became a habit after that.

Every time you stayed in his dorm after late-night study sessions, every time you dragged him away from his potions homework just to lie on his bed and talk, every time you snuck into his room under the guise of “forgetting something”—you left with something of his.

It was almost a game, at first.

Until it wasn’t.

Until Theo realized that he looked forward to it. That on mornings when he walked into the Great Hall and saw you sitting there, sipping your tea, wearing his sweater, something settled in his chest.

Possessiveness wasn’t the right word for it. It was something deeper than that.

It was his. You were his.

And no one could miss it when you walked through the halls wrapped in pieces of him.

One morning, after a particularly long night spent in his dormitory, you slid into your usual seat at the Slytherin table, still half-asleep.

You were wearing his deep emerald sweater again—the same one he had given you weeks ago, the same one you’d never returned.

The moment you entered, eyes flickered toward you, lingering for a beat too long. The realization hit slowly, like a flame catching onto parchment—the Slytherins knew exactly whose sweater that was.

And so did Theo.

He had been pouring himself tea when you sat down beside him, but the moment his gaze landed on you, his hand stilled. His jaw tensed, lips pressing together as he let his eyes drag over the familiar fabric draped over your frame.

You could see it—the way his grip tightened around the handle of his cup, the flicker of something dark in his gaze.

Draco, who had been lounging across from you, smirked. "You’re doing it on purpose now, aren’t you?"

You feigned innocence, tearing off a piece of toast. "Doing what?"

"Parading around in his clothes like a bloody banner," Blaise chimed in, sipping his coffee. "You do realize half the idiots in this school were holding onto the delusion that they had a shot with you, right?"

Theo still hadn’t said anything. He was watching you, waiting.

So you turned to him, tilting your head slightly. "Is there a problem, Nott?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, setting his tea down with a little more force than necessary. Then, he leaned in close, voice dropping just for you.

"You don’t ask for them anymore," he murmured.

Your lips twitched. "Do I need to?"

His fingers brushed against the hem of the sweater where it rested against your thigh. His touch was light, barely there, but you felt it like a brand.

"You could at least pretend to give them back."

You grinned, reaching for your own tea. "And deprive you of the pleasure of seeing me in them? I wouldn’t dream of it."

Theo let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. But when he sat back, his arm stretched out behind you, his fingers resting lightly against the curve of your hip.

And that was it. No grand declarations. No loud possessiveness.

Just a touch. Just a look.

But it was enough.

Later that evening, you found yourself back in his dormitory, curled up against his chest as the winter wind howled outside the window. The sweater was still draped over you, and Theo’s fingers traced along the hem absentmindedly, his touch warm against your skin.

"You never actually get mad when I take them," you mused, shifting slightly so you could look up at him.

Theo sighed, carding a hand through his hair. "You do take them often."

"You give them to me," you corrected.

He didn’t argue. Instead, his fingers slid under the fabric, ghosting along your bare skin.

"You could just ask me for them," he murmured. "I’d give you anything you wanted."

Your breath hitched. He always said things like that—effortless, unguarded truths that made your heart stutter.

"Where’s the fun in that?" you teased, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

He made a low noise of amusement, his lips brushing against your temple. "Just promise me one thing."

You hummed, nuzzling against him. "What’s that?"

His hand splayed against your back, holding you closer. "If you’re going to keep stealing my sweaters," he murmured, "just make sure I get to see you in them."

Your lips curled as you tangled your fingers with his. "Always."

Theo sighed, but there was no exasperation in it this time—just quiet, content surrender.

Because you weren’t just wearing his sweaters.

You were wearing him.