deacing:

cockingly:

So I’m sick for a couple of days and when I decide to brave the into the Great Hall, people won’t stop going off about Sierra, Brianna, and Deac. What the hell happened.

I’m sorry! It’s…all my fault, I’m sorry. 

The hell it is, nothing is ever your fault, buddy. So stop saying sorry.

So I’m sick for a couple of days and when I decide to brave the into the Great Hall, people won’t stop going off about Sierra, Brianna, and Deac. What the hell happened.

explodingly:

cockingly:

“Sod off,” he repeated, glaring at her. Later McLaggen would smack himself for allowing himself to get so verbally beaten by Weasley and doing nothing to defend himself but he really couldn’t give a shit at the moment. He felt like dying. That’d be nice. Die out of this sick body and get reborn into the healthy athletic guy he usually was. How the bloody hell did he even get sick in the first place? Ugh, fuck biology and all its dynamics. “Oi!” he protested when she took the tissues out of his nose. Didn’t she know those kept him from leaking disgustingly? Oh Merlin. He covered his nose with his hand, his glare being replaced by a mix of panic and pout. She was obviously having way to much fun with this. But his eyes widened when she mentioned losing muscle mass, darting down to his stomach and back to her. “It won’t!” he persisted. “My abs will be as hard cut as they were two weeks ago!”

His face settled into a uncharacteristically grumpy expression as Weasley tugged the covers off. Anthony looked down at his chest, poking it to make sure it had the same firmness it usually did. “I’m not going to get flabby,” he insisted childishly. His mouth dropped in mortification at the word ‘tampon.’ How dare she! She was making fun of him! She really was getting a kick out of this wasn’t she?

“I find that highly offens - ” Anthony didn’t even finish his sentence when she smacked a cold wet towel on his forehead, seemingly out of nowhere. Oh, Merlin, that felt GOOD. He let out a contented groan and sunk back against the pillow, even though she’d made him prop up. She smacked his stomach, as if to scold him before handing the Pepper Up Potion. He grabbed it from her, looking at her with newfound appreciation.

“Oh Merlin, Weasley, you are a goddess -” he babbled as he attempted to open the bottle, struggling a bit since his hands were SO DAMN SWEATY.

“Yeah, if you keep sulking around like this, you will so get flabby,” Dom teased, rolling her eyes. “You’re just gonna turn in to a fat lump and no one will ever shag you again, and it’ll be just tragic, won’t it?” This was the most fun she’d had in a long time. Call her evil, but seeing people beaten down just brought her joy sometimes. Schadenfreude. Again, she really just wasn’t in to being Mother Theresa. Mother Theresa was celibate. Gross.

Her heart sort of leaped in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat because he was looking at her in this way that made her blush, and her head spin. And she couldn’t even kiss him, which was what she would usually do in this situation, so she just brought her hair around to her front and worked on plaiting that while he struggled with the bottle. She pushed it all down inside of her and locked it in a trunk and threw the key in to the black lake. “I know,” she grinned, sighing and putting a hand to her chest. “But if you didn’t know that already, I’ve been doing something wrong. Which I definitely haven’t been, because I’m awesome.”

Dom snatched the bottle from him, and opened it with her teeth, handing it back to him with another roll of her eyes. “Pathetic. You’re so pathetic.” She put her hands on her hips and watched him drink, and watched the tension in his body slowly dissipate. Stepping forward, she pressed her lips to his forehead to check his fever. It was something her mum had always done. “God, you’re hot. Temperature wise, because Merlin knows you’re not looking your best right now,” she laughed. “You’re just gonna have to wait it out, I guess. I mean. I dunno, do something to distract yourself. I mean, you can’t shag, and you can’t drink, and you can’t play Quidditch, so what can you do? I mean, I’d give you a strip tease if I didn’t think it’d only serve to depress you.”

Ant made a gagging noise when she said the f word. Ugh flabby ugh he didn’t even want to think about that gross gross gross! “You suck Weasley,” he croaked out. “I am NOT going to get flabby. And I’ll have you know that it’ll be just as tragic when the shag of your life disappears - ” His seemingly witty replying was cut off by another fit of coughing. Bloody brilliant. Coughing was shit because coughing made his chest ache and his throat feel all funny and it was absolute shit. 

This bottle was testing him. In his normal state, Anthony would’ve been able to open it with his bloody pinky finger but it just wouldn’t budge. He swore, his already fever flushed face turning redder with aggravation, until suddenly it was taken out of his hands by Weasley. He blinked, watching dumbly when she opened it with her mouth and handed it back to him. “How did you do that?” he asked, seemingly astounded, not even paying attention to the fact that she’d insulted him. He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank, wincing a little at the hot rush the liquid brought, but feeling the ache in his body slow ebb away. He looked at Weasley with a grin that was a little more like his smug self before looking dumbfounded. “When did you braid your hair?”

Anthony blinked when Weasley came over and pressed her lips to his forehead. He involuntarily closed his eyes. When was the last time he’d gotten kissed on the forehead? His mum did it to him when he was younger but around the time puberty hit, he ducked away to avoid most of her kisses. Deacon was the one who got showered with them. It was weird. It was strange. It was…intimate. Weasley pulled away before he could even start to make sense of his fever addled thoughts. He opened his eyes and glared weakly at her. “Of course I’m hot. Always hot.” He slumped back into his pillows with a sigh. “Bloody hate being sick.” He twitched a little at her comments. She was right though, no shagging, no drinking, no Quidditch. Everyone was useless shit when they were sick though so. Ugh.

i’m too lazy to go back on the dash to see who i owe replies to FIRST so i’m just responding in random order but here’s my list

• damien/jules
• billy/hugo
• mcweasley
• della/dale
• dale/megan (DID YOU STILL WANT THIS KP?)
• brendon/deacon

things i want

• jules/slusho
• jules/nott in detention
• dale/lourde
• ant/deac
• ant/sierra and ant/bri
• billy/everyone (esp meggers)
• brendon/everyone (to flesh this fucker out)

explodingly:

“Oh, my God,” Dominique sarcasmed, raising her eyebrows. “I am so offended right now. Wow. Wow, McLaggen, you’ve cut me so deep, I just don’t know what I’m going to do anymore. I could die right here on the spot, and you’d be to blame. Wow. Just. Wow.” She shook her head, shrugging, as she rolled to sit on the edge of his bed. Effectively dodging a huge sneeze. She burst out in to a round of laughter, throwing her head back and covering her hand with her mouth.

“You’re pathetic,” she managed through giggles at his half-hearted attempt to get him to leave. She reached over to yank the tissues out of his nose. “I, as any other self-respecting woman, am trying to subvert the patriarchal paradigm, but honestly, you are the most pathetic creature right now. If I were not to help you, I would essentially be leaving a small animal to die.” She shook her head as she looked at him. Alright nurse Dominique. Jump in to action.”By the way, if you continue to lay here,” she dropped her voice down to a whisper, “you’re gonna loose muscle mass.” Obviously not that quickly. But his reaction was priceless.

“Okay, so, contrary to popular belief, sweating a fever is not a good idea.” She ripped his covers off, revealing his shirtless body, which she obviously took a moment to look at. Prepared to help? Yes. Mother Theresa? No. She grabbed his hand and yanked him forward off the pillows, rolling her eyes as he winced and coughed and gagged. “Man up, McLaggen. Or do I need to borrow some tampons from Molly?” She rearranged his pillows so he could sit propped up, and went to the bathroom to wet a towel. Upon her return, Dom draped it over his forehead and went fishing through her bag quick-smart. “Here,” she said. “Pepper-up potion. It’ll only be a temporary fix, and you’re not supposed to use it for colds, but it usually helps me.” Oh, she was such a god. Such. A. God.

“Sod off,” he repeated, glaring at her. Later McLaggen would smack himself for allowing himself to get so verbally beaten by Weasley and doing nothing to defend himself but he really couldn’t give a shit at the moment. He felt like dying. That’d be nice. Die out of this sick body and get reborn into the healthy athletic guy he usually was. How the bloody hell did he even get sick in the first place? Ugh, fuck biology and all its dynamics. “Oi!” he protested when she took the tissues out of his nose. Didn’t she know those kept him from leaking disgustingly? Oh Merlin. He covered his nose with his hand, his glare being replaced by a mix of panic and pout. She was obviously having way to much fun with this. But his eyes widened when she mentioned losing muscle mass, darting down to his stomach and back to her. “It won’t!” he persisted. “My abs will be as hard cut as they were two weeks ago!”

His face settled into a uncharacteristically grumpy expression as Weasley tugged the covers off. Anthony looked down at his chest, poking it to make sure it had the same firmness it usually did. “I’m not going to get flabby,” he insisted childishly. His mouth dropped in mortification at the word ‘tampon.’ How dare she! She was making fun of him! She really was getting a kick out of this wasn’t she?

“I find that highly offens - ” Anthony didn’t even finish his sentence when she smacked a cold wet towel on his forehead, seemingly out of nowhere. Oh, Merlin, that felt GOOD. He let out a contented groan and sunk back against the pillow, even though she’d made him prop up. She smacked his stomach, as if to scold him before handing the Pepper Up Potion. He grabbed it from her, looking at her with newfound appreciation.

“Oh Merlin, Weasley, you are a goddess -” he babbled as he attempted to open the bottle, struggling a bit since his hands were SO DAMN SWEATY.

weasleycommadom:

Oh, this was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. The best thing that had ever happened in the history of the entire universe combined. Anthony McLaggen was sick. Sick. Literally reduced to a whimpering mess because he had a bit of a cold. Pah-thetic. Absolutely pathetic. He had ‘man flu’. A phrase that her sister had taught her when she was young, talking about Teddy. It was a ‘man flu’ because whenever men got it, it was just a whole lot worse. Because men were weak. Weak! And like Dom didn’t already know that.

But now she, Dominique Weasley, woman, conqueror, got to rub that in McLaggen’s face. Which was brilliant. Ha! Ha. Ha. The minute she’d found out he was back in his dorm, she decided to shimmy right on down to his room and laugh. Just laugh. She jumped out of bed, throwing on her Weasley Sweater, bright blue with a white ‘D’ in the middle, and black leggings and ran, giddy like a kid on Christmas, to the boys hallway.

She was planning on knocking on the door, really only hoping to make the noise reverberate around his skull, but she decided against it and just barged right in there. She was met with a tissue box being thrown almost in her direction. “Horrible aim,” she chided, as she caught the box in one hand. “Heads up,” Dom laughed, before she threw it right back at him, hitting him square in the forehead. “Oops,” she laughed as she bounded over to his bed and plonked herself down, grinning. She crawled up next to him and put up an exaggerated frown. “I said heads up!”

Anthony made a face, nose wrinkled up in annoyance, at the sight of Weasley. Usually he - and his dick - would be more than happy to see the gorgeous spitfire of a girl but he honestly wasn’t in the mood. And just seeing Weasley reminded him of the fact that when he was sick, he couldn’t shag. His cock didn’t work! Damn everything to the fiery pits of hell. “Sod off,” he replied hoarsely, hating how his stuffed up nose made his voice so damn nasally. Donna Kirke had told him before he’d slipped his hands under his skirt that his voice was probably the third sexiest thing about him. Now it was definitely the most UNSEXY thing about him. God.

He let out a groan when the tissue box hit him, slumping back on the pillows. “No,” he groaned, turning away from her when she slipped up next to him. “I really really really really don’t want to see your face right now. No offense. I don’t want to see anyone.” Just then he sneezed, a really huge, really unattractive sneeze. Merlin. Merlin. He reached behind and grabbed a couple of tissues, rubbing his nose on them. He glared at Weasley over the tissues.

“Get. Out.” He would’ve sounded a lot more threatening if he didn’t have two tissues up his nose and if he didn’t sound like he was holding enough phlegm for the country of Prague to have. 

Anthony was sick. Not sick as in, I’m sick of this bullshit, he was legitimately sick with a fever running high, snot dripping from his nose, and coughs wracking out of his body. Yes he was sick and it sucked. It royally sucked. Being sick was the worst thing in the bloody universe and he cursed every magical being in the universe for passing the damn flu to him. “Suck it up man,” Alfie told him with a grimace, setting aside a huge tissue box and lemon lozenges beside his bed. “You need to stay in here - Pomfrey’s orders.”

“Fuck Pomfrey,” he croaked but Alfie was already out the door, not wanting to deal with his sick friend. A sick McLaggen was a whiny McLaggen. And a whiny McLaggen was probably the worst thing to deal with in the universe. If Ant was thinking clearly, he might’ve felt sorry for everyone that he’d bitched to so far - the entire Gryffindor house, Madame Pomfrey, and Professor Flitwick. If he actually cared. But he didn’t. He tossed and turned in his bed - he was so damn hot and sweating and disgusting - he was disgusting, Merlin help him. He was Anthony McLaggen, body like Adonis, hair like silk, reduced to a sweaty, snot-filled excuse of a human being.

And worst of all, he couldn’t get it up. Just the thought that he couldn’t reduce a girl to a whimpering mess with just a flex of his muscles made him SO DAMN IRRITATED. 

There was a the sound of the door opening, and in a hissy fit, Anthony grabbed the tissue box and tossed it in the direction of the door. He didn’t want to see anyone right now, absolutely no one.

ooc: i am here, poke me if you want to do something u wu