#I wrote this in one sitting and i am not editing it

[graylinesspam]

The kid commander.

Ahsoka stands on the bridge of the ship watching the fighters scream past. Watching the plasma bolts bloom into smoking plumes of flame when they puncture a hull.

She relays instructions to the bridge crew. A steadiness in her voice that has no right being there. Men scurry around her. Rushing from one station to another. Carrying out her orders.

She is laying siege to a another vessel. Raining fire upon it. Hemming it in with her fighters. Breaking the hull open little by little. Putting just enough pressure on it so that the crew will surrender.

It's a dangerous game. Applying violence to someone without the intention of killing them. It's a lot like torture. If your subject was a ship instead of a body. Breaking it in the nonvital places so it can still recover enough to tell you what you want to hear.

She waves a hand to the closest CO as she gives her next order. Not bothering to so much as step away from the place she's chosen to stand. The place that gives her an optimal view of the battleground.

Skywalker is out there in his fighter somewhere. Still very much a part of this battle. But not leading it. Doing his favorite thing instead. Flying recklessly through enemy space confusing them into flying poorly and getting themselves killed.

"Sir, we're receiving a transmission from the enemy ship." A member of the comm crew shouts.

"Put them through." She says, stifling a self satisfied smile and tucking her arms behind her back in a regulation at easy stance.

The Separatist commander's face appears on the screen, looking like he might have been tossed around a bit.

"This is Commander Tano of the 501st legion of the Grand Army of the Republic." Ahsoka introduces herself according to protocal.

"Who? Where's Skywalker?" the man on the screen demands.

"The General has seeded command to me. I think you'll find I am more than capable of discussing the terms of your surrender." She sounds unaffected by the insult.

"I-I-I will not be surrendering to some child." He sounds almost too confused to be really angry. But plenty offended.

"Then perhaps we should give you more time to consider it." Before the man has time to protest Ahsoka raises a hand. The transmission cuts out abruptly. The fool's confused face frozen momentarily in shock as the signal breaks.

She doesn't flinch as the battle continues to rage around her. Her own men far outnumber the enemy. Their fighters have been beaten back behind their frigate already. Which is already smoldering all over, virtually without shields and on it's last leg. They have minutes until this battle is over. Whether by surrender or distruction.

Rex knows Ahsoka is hoping for surrender. Whatever her bravado says, she is a jedi at heart. But her also knows that she will blow the enemy ship to rubble, if she must.

Ahsoka cares about bringing her men home. Cares about it more than winning the war. More than enjoying the power trip she's indulging in now. With her shoulders broad and her chin up. Every man in the room following her word.

Not just because they have to. Because they are experiencing this all with her. She is leading them to victory and they know it.

The comms officer makes another announcement as another desk jockey in greys brings her a steaming cup. Ahsoka gestures with one hand and accepts the cup with the other.

"I will discuss the terms of my surrender." The Separatist grits out through his teeth.

"Excellent, we'll begin."

[writersrkive]

Don't shut up | Spencer Reid

summary: Spencer is used to people who constantly tell him to shut up, but somehow, he feels even more embarrassed and sad when he thinks you want him to stop talking after looking at the tired and confused expression you have when he's trying to help you. The thing is you hate when people do that to Spence and would spend years just listening to his voice.

gender: fluff

pairing: Early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: mentions of the team shutting Spencer up. Derek and JJ being a little mean to him when he's spreading information. Spencer being a cutie potato. Mention of a stomachache and its causes (mention of miscarriage as one of the causes, but nothing happens). Reader not being a native english speaker, but just a slight mention.

a/n: Dr. Spencer Reid is a genius.... I am not. I literally had to search for information and copy-paste here in some parts, so if there's misinformation, it's Google's fault, lmao. I wrote this yesterday when I was about to sleep, so I'm sorry if something is wrong with the writing (even though I already edited). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Spencer and you arrived early that morning. He hated being late for anything. He couldn't afford to be late if he wanted to stick as closely as possible to his assigned schedule, especially because he took public transport. On the other hand, you had no choice but to arrive early when you woke up at four in the morning thanks to a severe stomachache and couldn't go back to sleep.

That's how your conversation started. Your genius workmate was surprised to see you, first hour in the morning, when he walked in the office, even before Hotch arrived.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. You couldn't deny that the expression was too cute for your own good.

“Yeah… I think so. It's not even the stomach ache that bothers me, it's the fact that even if I was sleepy, I couldn't fall asleep again. You know? That happens to me a lot. Once I open my eyes, I can't go back to sleep. I've also been feeling mildly unwell for a week, but even though the medication is controlling it, it doesn't stop."

At this point, he already set up his desk, leaving his briefcase on his own chair to walk over to you and sit at your desk, next to the chair you were sitting in, to listen to you attentively and answer.

“The brain works with different phases of sleep: light sleep, deep sleep, and REM sleep. The cycle usually restarts every eighty to one hundred minutes, and we typically have four to six cycles each night.”

Hotch came out of the elevator and walked upstairs after both of you waved at him, and he let out a soft “good morning”. Emily arrived a few seconds later. You greeted her too, as she took place on her desk, but that didn't stop your conversation.

“So, it's completely normal that we wake up in the middle of the night because of that process, but if it is frequent, for three months or more, it may be a symptom of insomnia.”

Your view went to the floor, and your head nodded in a semi-unconscious movement, because although you knew that your sleep cycle was ruined by work, you had not come to that conclusion, maybe that was it.

“Now, the stomachache…” He said, taking one pen from your pencil case to concentrate. He usually never took other people's belongings or shared his own stuff because of the germs, but somehow, after a few years of working together, he had come to have a good amount of closeness with you to borrow some stuff from you. Months ago, it hadn't gone unnoticed by Penelope that Spencer had a box full of pens reserved for you, in case you needed one, nor the fact that he denied JJ one of them once, when the blonde girl needed something to write with quickly.

“The causes can be the most common, such as gas, indigestion, a muscle injury, or stress. Although there are also more serious causes: gastrointestinal infections, inflammatory bowel disease, irritable bowel syndrome, ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage..."

“Wow, what are you trying to do? Scare her?” Derek's voice invaded the place and Emily smirked.

“What? No, I'm just saying the possibilities…” Spencer whispered, looking down, a little worried that he might actually scared the person he cared more, besides his mom.

“It's okay.” You answer loud enough so your friends and coworkers would hear. “Thanks, Spence. I already went to the doctor, so I have none of… those.” I gave him a little smile. “But about stress…” The sentence hung in the air, so Spencer looked up and continued speaking automatically.

“Stress can cause stomach pain because the autonomic nervous system of the gastrointestinal tract reacts to the same hormones and neurotransmitters as the brain. This is because the digestive system is connected to the nervous system, and the enteric nervous system, which is located in the digestive system, is able to send and receive impulses and assimilate emotions.” He started to talk faster.

Your focus on the genius boy and his explanation was sincere, but maybe it was the fact that you didn't rest well, plus the fact that he was speaking too fast and not vocalizing all the syllables, that for a moment your brain didn't process what he was saying.

It was weird. At some point you didn't even hear words, just sounds from his mouth. That didn't happen to you for a really long time because you already had experience with the native speakers, even if english wasn't your mother language. The exhausting feeling of not being able to sleep well was definitely to blame.

While your brain was coming to that conclusion, Spencer could only see your furrowed brow, tense jaw, tilted head, and dissociated look.

“You want me to shut up, right?” That whisper was enough for you to come back to reality. His cheeks were red and his eyes looked a little sad, not to mention the way his mouth formed a line like whenever he felt awkward.

“Yes, please!” Derek answered instead, leaning back in his seat and looking up with his arms outstretched as if he'd had to deal with seven unsubs in the five minutes he'd been there, listening from his place to the information Spencer was giving you.

“Little genius boy got excited… again.” JJ said, looking at some documents in front of her, opening her eyes wide in an expression of tiredness and disinterest.

The young profiler stood up from your desk thinking about returning to his chair, a little embarrassed, but you took his pinky with yours —that way you wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable in case he wasn't in the mood for physical touch, something he refused unless it was you. Again, another special treat—. “Wait. It wasn't like that.” Hazel eyes looked at you intently, still with a bit of doubt. “I'm sorry Spencer. Yes, you got excited, but that's not something bad.”

“It isn't?” He questioned.

“No, but you started to speak fast, and the fact that there are some words that I have a hard time processing in English and I couldn't quite catch what you were saying because I didn't sleep enough, well, that distracted me. Would you mind repeating it again, slower?” This time, you were the one with warm cheeks.

“Oh. Are you sure you don't want me to shut up?” The boy was actually intrigued and a little surprised.

“Why would I want that?” The fact that your teammates often shut Spencer up when he tried to share extra information, or information that he had been asked about, was something you had noticed from the moment you started working with the team. You thought that was rude. You understood that sometimes Spencer got excited, gave information that was perhaps better saved for another time since you were investigating a case, or people could be tired and want silence, but the team either silenced him or made fun of him most of the time. Plus, there weren't many other things you liked more than hearing his voice.

The sweet, soothing tone of his words helped you sleep on the jet after a long case, or made you want to hear more about whatever he was talking about. Feeling like he was sharing with you, a mere mortal, some of the vast knowledge he had was nice.

“I'm always happy to hear whatever you need to say, even if it's about something I don't understand. And, right now, you are helping me a lot, so, please, don't shut up.” The crimson color returned to the tall boy's face, this time not because he was uncomfortable. Your kind and somewhat complicit smile made his heart race, like almost every time he was with you. Spencer knew that no matter how tired he got, he would never shut up if you wanted him to keep talking.

[mqrrstarr]

Hi!! ‘Tis the season! Can I request how Geta and Caracalla (separate please) celebrates Christmas (or really Saturnalia) with you? Any gifts of special moments they’d strive to create? I know they throw one hell of anChristmas party- Tysm !!

A/N: YIPPIE! MY FIRST REQUEST THANK YOU DEAR PERSON!! I’m going to write for my glorious emperor Caracalla bc he’s my precious angel and he’s such a cutie in my eyes who deserves all the love he can get. Will post a Geta version after!! - xoxo mqrrstarr

Christmas With The Emperor (1/2)

Emperor Caracalla x GN! Reader

how Caracalla would celebrate the holidays (Saturnalia / Christmas) with you!

Warnings: not edited, and it’s like half headcanons and half story, also I wrote about it Saturnalia first and then Christmas!!

GO READ GETA’S VERSION!!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Caracalla enjoyed spending time with you.

His cherished partner, the one who vowed to love forever. The holidays had come around in Rome, and Saturnalia was all the rage. Outside the palace and in the streets were lines of vendors, performers, and even cooks who were eager to feed the public. Caracalla always took comfort in this period of celebration, and as a devotee to Saturn.

“Darling, are you ready to leave yet? I don’t want to miss any of the activities!”

The man was giddy with excitement, and eager to see you in newly made red, purple and golden clothes, the traditional Saturnalia colors. You nodded and the both of you took off in Caracalla’s chariot with two guards along.

The wheels on the dirt roads guided you to where the main festivities took place, the sacrifices of young pigs to Saturn. Caracalla took your hand as you were his, and smiled as the public bowed down to the both of you.

“See? They bow to the most elite of Rome.”

He kissed you before providing his own sacrifice, a young pig provided by Geta. (Caracalla couldn’t bear the thought of killing his own pig, so hence Geta supplied it.)

Soon after, you left to go to the markets. You noticed how happy Caracalla was, his pale cheeks all rosy and his smile as giddy as a child in a candy store. It was good for him to feel this way. Signs of respect and gifts were thrown your way, and Caracalla eagerly accepted each and every one. You hesitated a little bit, as you did want to financially compensate the merchants.

“I suppose I must, Lord Saturn might ruin the Empire’s farming and harvest. Thank you for telling me.”

He’d give sacks of money to his guards to give the merchants, as he’d want to get home. Caracalla had spent time running around in the road and then wanted nothing but to eat and spend time with you.

“Darling. This was fun. Didn’t I tell you?”

He smiled.

“I’m eternally grateful to the Gods that they gifted me you, and that I live to witness our rule and life until the day it is over.”

He’s absolutely adorable and falls asleep in your arms. A few days later, it’s time for Christmas. The whole month of December was been exhausting. You’ve been busy helping Macrinus choose new gladiators, been meeting with the senate and Geta to figure out tax issues, and studying. On the other hand, Caracalla’s just been doing whatever Caracalla does.

Yet, Caracalla takes the time behind your back to get you the most lavish gifts ever. New robes, a shiny new pair of sandals, golden jewelry, and most importantly; himself.

You’d wake up after him, (which is surprising, as he usually wakes up after you) and he’d been sitting with the gifts under his tree.

(help I don’t think this is time period accurate but whatever)

“Surprise!! All the luxuries you wanted are here! Merry Christmas!”

He’d grab your hand and twirl you around, dancing in the room and kissing.

“I couldn’t ever imagine life without you.”

He paused for a second, clearly trying not to burst into tears. You caressed his face, as he looks up at you in this state and says,

“I love you. I know I am not worthy of your affection, yet you still give it. I thank you.”

You smile and reassure him that isn’t true. You take this chance to pull out your own secret gift for Caracalla and gift it to him. It’s a copy of his favorite childhood book, and a necklace made of both of your favorite gemstones.

This makes him burst into tears, and all you can do is hug him and cherish the moment between the both of you.

(GOD PLEASE HES SUCH A CUTIE 😭)

[heybaetae]

hi friends! 👋🏻

i am here with my little 2024 gif wrapped after being tagged by @jkvjimin, @cordiallyfuturedwight, @yooboobies, @taehyunghobi, @jinstronaut, and @btsjk-biased. i didn't expect so many tags, so i appreciate you all for including me and wanting to see me recollect some of the work i shared this year. i'll do so under the cut and leave comments wherever i see fit.

i've seen a couple different ways people have done this, so i'll do a variation of both. i'll list my favorite vs. most popular set per each month + some honorable mentions that i liked or were particularly proud of. feel free to go show any of the mentioned posts some love just as i plan to do with everyone else's some time after i post this!

JANUARY

my favorite - vmin holding hands ↳ because i'm Me and they are insufferable

most popular - thankful taehyung

honorable mentions - jimin at home, koo sprout

FEBRUARY 

my favorite - jikook...playing? ↳ i was mostly just continuing to test out panning gifs when i made this, but i liked it a lot because what the fuck is wrong with jimin

most popular - blue & grey yoongi in vegas

honorable mentions - hobi backstage, exhausted jimin

MARCH 

my favorite - bts debut solo albums as iphones ↳  this was the most labor intensive set i'd made probably since the first set in my social media series (aka the instagram feed...part two next year? i've already outlined the templates but hobi is holding me back) and mayhaps the most disappointing as far as steady engagement goes. it dropped off pretty fast and it really killed my spirit ngl...but we ball. i appreciate everyone who wrote really nice things in the tags <3

most popular - fri(end)s

honorable mentions - fri(end)s live film

APRIL 

my favorite - vmin stretching

most popular - favorite jungkook smiles ↳ i think this was requested by an anonymous person, but it sat in my drafts for many months and i thought "oh this could be an endless series for all the tannies if i'm ever running low on comp ideas". then i finally published it on a slow day and just never made another one. maybe some day lol

honorable mentions - ethereal jungkook, rawr xD jungkook

MAY 

i didn't post anything in may. actually, everything i posted in april was an old draft because i took a break during april and may (in other words: i ran away with my tail between my legs after the iphone set lmaooo)

JUNE

my favorite - life goes on vmin self-cam ↳ act surprised. i can't believe they let this sit on a hard drive for four years and then dumped it on me out of no where during festa, are you fucking crazy

most popular - jimin being small and cute

honorable mentions - smeraldo garden marching band, dino wrists jungkook

JULY 

my favorite - jungkook knows he's cute ↳ i also posted the before and after coloring of this because...girl 😭

most popular - taehyung filling the room with negative energy ↳ i would see that video edit all the time and was like...i need this as big gifs. lowkey the quality kinda slays

honorable mentions - ytc in busan jimin

AUGUST

my favorite - happy birthday jeon jungkook ↳ in my timezone his birthday starts at 8am on august 31st, so that's why i include this with august because it appears within that month in my archive. anyway this was fun and experimental and i'm glad i got it out of my system since i always wanted to try the google theme. i ended up merging it into the social media series because of the templates, but that was clearly a stupid move because if something says happy birthday in the caption people tend to abruptly stop reblogging it when the birthday is over so... 🤡

most popular - jimin struggling in connecticut

honorable mentions - sunscreen jungkook, giggly jikook, raggedy brothers, vmin in jeju

SEPTEMBER 

my favorite - maknae line sharing tae's glasses

most popular - park "believable ass" jimin

honorable mentions - jikook on the train, maknae line love gestures, jungkook being cussed out by jimin

OCTOBER 

my favorite - happy birthday park jimin ↳ another birthday flop but it's so cute

most popular - vmin in the car

honorable mentions - jikook clowning in the barracks

my recap stops there as i have nothing to show for november and december (with the exception of the yeontan tribute set and what i'll be posting for tae's birthday) as i stopped giffing at the end of october.

you can take a look back at everything else i made in my archive here :)

i don't know what the new year will hold for me as far as posting content goes, but thank you very much to those who never stopped supporting my work this year and the last four years since i started this blog. i've had a lot of feelings this year about my place as a gifmaker here and i've struggled a bit reckoning with the low engagement despite how much i know my work is loved by those who matter and never fail to let me know. i am working on reminding myself of this and i offer the same sentiment to anyone else experiencing the same feelings. you all deserve 100x more than what you get back.

for now though, my queue is gonna continue posting for me for a while. if i can get myself out of this funk by the time bts comes back, then i hope to provide whatever i can when the time feels right.

i think nearly everyone has been tagged to do this by now, but i’ll tag (unless you’ve already done it, just lmk or ignore me) @jung-koook, @kimtaegis, @btsiu, @namchyoon, @kookjinnies, @rjshope and whoever else wants to do this, please do and forward it to me or put it in my tracked tag so i can reblog it!

i love you all. happy new year 💜

[heartless-aro]

The thing is, I don’t care that much about the actual act of someone shipping aromantic characters nearly as much as I care about the biases and amatanormative beliefs that underlie so many people’s decision to do so. The problem isn’t that individual people ship aromantic characters sometimes. It’s the fact that shipping aromantic characters or expressing disappointment that a character is aromantic and thus “can’t be shipped” almost seems to be the default in fandom spaces. Aromantic representation, especially nonpartnering aromantic representation, is treated as something that will “ruin people’s fun” (see: the Hazbin Hotel creator explaining why she won’t say whether or not Alastor is aromantic).

And yes, SOME aromantic people can still date or have non-romantic partners. But the fact that some people are so vehemently against the idea of fictional characters being nonpartnering is still something to be questioned.

Because, really, that’s the crux of the issue. It’s perfectly fine if people like the idea of an aromantic character being partnering or romance favorable. In fact, it would be wonderful to see more characters written as partnering and/or romance favorable aromantics. But when someone ONLY shows interest in characters being partnering or favorable aros in response to those same characters being interpreted as nonpartnering, it often comes across less as a desire to have representation for partnering and favorable aros and more as an opposition to having representation for nonpartnering aros.

[reverintherevery]

[As I change all the he/hims into she/hers] I need to be the change I want to see in the world.

[corvidares]

okay, so i just finished re-reading Any Way the Wind Blows and this feels so blatant as to be smacking me in the face: simon is disabled.

now, the reason why that makes itself even clearer in this book than in wayward son (where he, of course, also has the wings + tail) is because simon is once again in the world of mages - despite doing his best to leave it behind. compared to wayward son, where hes basically and literally in the wild west. where theres magical beings everywhere, where simon practically fits in because he is one.

but ill get back to that.

ive seen a lot of really interesting points about what simon's wings represent and mean, and i'm not disagreeing with those. but in a very literal sense, they are a disability.

think about it like this: the world of mages (and Normals) is not built for humanoids who have giant webbed wings and a tail. simon constantly struggles with controlling these limbs, and their size makes it ten times harder. spaces are too small, furniture and objects are broken when he spreads them, and many a shirt or jacket are ruined.

he struggles to find a good way to deal with this - spell them away? wear them out by cutting holes in things? fold them extremely painfully into his shirt? even though this last one is treated like a solution for a little while, its far from ideal. who is simon doing this for? himself, or everyone around him? yes, of course Normals cant see them. and yeah, hes expressed discomfort about baz and penny spelling them hidden. but thats not the point. even with this botch job of a way to "wear" his wings, which succeeds at hiding them from Normals, simon still states a couple times that he knows people stare at him and his seeming hunchback. i mean, thats blatant.

(he eventually, with shepard's help, realizes a good way to work around this - zippers or buckles on shirtbacks - which very much feels like an aha! disability aid moment)

im not saying disability is based in how people look at you, or it only being a societal thing. (as in, when he wasnt in the world of mages, he wasnt suddenly 'not disabled at all') disability is a huge spectrum. but those things absolutely can be a part of the disabled experience.

but all of that doesnt even get to my main point: simon has no magic anymore. and in the world of mages, thats a huge deal. magic is like living and breathing, especially for baz and penny. its not something they question or have to worry about not being able to call upon. hell, even before simon lost his magic he was disabled, just to a different extent.

before awtwb, we dont hear much about mages whose magic is weak. but they come to the forefront now - which just solidifies that solid magical ability = able bodiedness.

smith is promising a miracle cure. a cure. think of it like bullshit orgs such as aut!sm spe@ks, wanting to "cure" autism - he wants to cure people. (and hes just as full of shit) why? because weak magic is seen as a disease, a problem, even subhuman.

take daphne, baz's stepmom. her quality of life is fine, great. her weaker magic doesnt seem to put her at a disadvantage. she manages her disability well. but in comparison to the norm, to what is expected of the average mage, shes got nothing. less than nothing. she feels shame over what she cant do.

smith's case becomes even more blatant when we see, at the end of awtwb, that he wants to essentially cull weak magicians. that they're holding back society. that theyre better off as powerless as Normals - who are blatantly seen as subhuman - than as weak mages. much like how ableist rhetoric puts forward that disability is a fate worse than death.

which brings us back to simon. he insists hes a Normal, now or always has been. baz insists hes the most powerful magician to exist. both of them are wrong.

and right. and right and wrong.

simon is some third thing - not a mage, not a Normal. akin to how disability is its own minority aside from race or ethnicity he has a foot in each world, and he always has. but now he cant achieve blending into either.

this is why the increasing presence and humanization of other magical beings beside mages is so important (thank you shephard!) how mages tend to seem magical beings is very ableist. theyre subhuman, theyre not to be trusted, theyre freaks, theyre dirty, etc. except oops, how can you keep thinking that penny, when this very nice one works at a cafe and helped you translate shephard's engagement terms?

even baz and the events of wayward son play into this - yeah, some vampires are horrible people. but plenty, like baz, are just people. with a range of experiences and morals and ways of living life. (take nicodemus) (i could make a point about how simon's stalwart acceptance of baz's vampirism helps baz comes to terms with it and how this is also super disability coded, but thats another essay)

in the beginning of awtwb, he decides to go to the extreme opposite of his chosen one powered life - to live as a Normal, and the second step (after cutting himself off from baz and penny) is getting his wings removed.

except he cant do it. and even having his wings touched is horribly uncomfortable. now, this partly has to do with how much theyre sensual parts of his body - same as his tail. but its also, separately, very intimate. theyre treated very clinically, like a fascinating specimen to pore over. im not trying to give niamh shit here, just saying what i saw.

but theyre part of him. people with disabilities often deal with being stared at and poked and prodded by the medical field (if theyre not ignored or waved off. maybe both.). even every day folks feel the right to touch disabled folks, or their mobility aids.

for a lot of people, mobility aids are a part of them - its like a stranger touching your face and thinking theyre doing you a favor. when instead theyre being weird as fuck.

simon's status as previous chosen one even plays into this sort of thing - people see him more as a figurehead, for what he can and cant do (including his wings!) than a person. hes a tragedy, hes a hero. hes inspirational, hes to be pitied. sound familiar?

the end of awtwb doesnt spell out whether simon ends up deciding to keep his wings (frustratingly). but they spell out that he would absolutely would, in my opinion.

simon increasingly treats them as a natural extension of his body. think of the scene where he flies about the watford goats. how he expresses his feelings with his wings and tail. and of course, how he learns to let baz loves each and every part of him: including his dragon limbs.

baz loves him, and loves them, not in a fetishistic way, but because its simon, and he loves everything simon is. not just what he represents or can or cant do.

[funsizedcrow]

sometimes i think about the fact that in 2021 over the course of 4 months i wrote and finished an entire 67k word rvb fanfic and then proceeded to never show it to anyone ever. who was i.

[jessicatredes]

The town square was packed tight with people, corralled this way and that by Peacekeepers, dependent if you could be reaped or not.  Livestock or spectator.  Children moved slowly through the lines, fingers pricked and papers blotted with blood.  The southern sun already high in the sky, clothes specifically worn for the reaping showing signs of sweat and dirt already.  Banners with the Capitol emblem shifted with the soft summer wind.  While the nearby processing plants were closed for the holiday, the smell of leather still lingered in the air.

The front of the Justice Building had been transformed into a makeshift stage.  Several sets of chairs lined the outside of the building, each separated by a tall vase filled with native bluegrass and wild flowers.  Two glass bowls sat on either side of a microphone.  Thousands of slips of paper filled them, each adorned with a child’s name in identical print.  A small tapestry hung over the stands the bowls were on, embroidered with a cow skull and Ad multos annos; a wish for a long life.

Once the area had become claustrophobic and the cameras were rolling, the mayor’s family and living victors emerged from the building.  All look defeated, except for the woman following up the rear in a gaudy, bright outfit.  A pantsuit in deep navy, with what looked like tinsel running through the fabric, matched the woman’s hair, pulled into a high ponytail.  

“Sit! Sit!  We’re beginning soon everyone!”  The woman fretted, flocking between the two sides of the stage. “Everyone!  Good posture and big smiles!” 

Cordelia Poverly, Capitol Escort assigned to District 10 for a second year in a row.  Her anxious behavior was probably due to her opening year as an escort ending within the first ten minutes of the game.  Two twelve year olds reaped, killed in the immediate bloodbath.   In an interview alongside their mentors, Cordelia chirped that not all debuts were stellar; no indication of remorse for the dead.

Another handful of minutes passed before the Justice Building’s belltower rung out ten times, signaling the hour and start of the reaping.  The Capitol woman threw her ponytail over her shoulder, a bright smile on her face before stepping up to the microphone. 

“Welcome, welcome!  What a glorious morning to celebrate the start of the 68th Hunger Games,” She paused for a small clap, looking back at the others on the stage.  They followed suit, though less enthusiastically, before she continued.  “As we all know, the Hunger Games are a solemn reminder, brought forward by the Treaty of Treason, to never repeat the Dark Days.”

The many screens dotted around the square, presently broadcasting Cordelia’s introduction, flickered to a film all were familiar with.  Scenes of war and disarray, narrated by President Coriolanus Snow, shifted to peaceful clips.  Prosperity.  Joy.  Families together and clear skies.  As it came to an end, the screens switched back to Cordelia.

“Wonderful,” She sang. “And now, before selecting our brave tributes, let’s remember our living victor’s who proudly represented District 10 in prior games.”  

Turning slightly, she faced half to the crowd, half to the right of the stage.  Six chairs lined this side, with four occupied.  Two instead had a small card embossed with the district’s emblem.  Cordelia listed off the living, clapping as each briefly stood and waved to the crowd. 

“Falabella Hackett, 43rd Hunger Games… Colter Barlowe, 39th Hunger Games… Lusitano Whitlock, 27th Hunger Games… Valencia Camacho, 22nd Hunger Games…

“Fantastic! Now,” Cordelia said, turning back to the front and clasping her hands together.  “For the main event.”

The tinseled woman moved away from the microphone, standing behind the bowl on the right side of the stage.  She slipped her hand in.  Dug around the slips.  Pulled a lone paper out.  Moved back to the center.  All this done while the spectators looked on, holding hands and breath.  The late morning sun baking the already restless crowd.      

“For our brave young lady…” Cordelia paused long enough for a true hush to fall over the district.  “Marlo Hackett!”

There was a second of stillness as the name settled over the crowd, creeping across their minds.  The last name, just briefly said moments before, began to register.  Hackett.  Prior victor.  A startling and hysteric cry was let out on stage.  Falabella attempted to stifle her outburst, hand covering her mouth as she turned away from the cameras that would be focusing closely on her.  

In the last rows of the pack of children, a small girl, only thirteen, stepped out.  She looked pale.  Wiped the sweat from her brow as the sun continued to beat down on her.  She half-tripped, caught by another girl before they released her just as fast, like they’d somehow be reaped as well.  Eventually she staggered up the stairs.  Ushered by Cordelia to her spot on the stage.  Marlo looked to her mother, tears streaking her cheeks.  

“What a reaction from our latest victor,” Cordelia said, placing her hands over her heart in faux pity. “As always, after a tribute has been selected, a volunteer may step forward.  Do we have any valiant girls in the crowd?”

A beat.  Stifled crying was all that could be heard at first, little Marlo rubbing her eyes constantly.  Another.  Falabella racked with sobs.  Cordelia surveyed the crowd, preparing to move on to the boys.  Then, before she could speak, only a few rows away from the stage, a single hand raised.

“I’ll volunteer,” a seventeen year old called.  Her eyes briefly met with Falabella’s, before looking back to the Capitol woman.  The front rows parted.  Staggered away, confusion on their faces. Volunteer? This was a girl from one of the community homes.  No relation to the Hacketts, and little to no reason she’d feel the need to replace Marlo.  No reason to sign herself to certain death.  

The teenager walked forward, back straight and head high.  She reached the top of the stairs.  Her vision felt tunneled despite her attempted confidence, sunspots dancing in her eyes.  She copied Marlo, wiping the sweat from her face in an attempt to look more put together.  During this, Falabella had rushed to Marlo, yanking her daughter away from the front and back towards her chair.  Clutched her to her midsection.

“Lovely, I don’t believe District 10 has had a volunteer in several years!” Cordelia said, pulling the new tribute towards the microphone.  “Please, introduce yourself.” 

The girl cleared her throat.  Eyes danced to the cameras closest to her, ignoring the harrowed faces across from her.  A cold dread seeped into her.  The reality of what she’d done sinking in.  She stepped closer to the microphone, voice not betraying her nerves.

“Sutherland Acosta.” 

[altruistic-meme]

WIP friday, i guess. let's go!!!

here have some food. i am truly trying my hand out at some heavy hurt/comfort. we shall see if i ever finish and publish it

[punch-love]

have u ever participated in nanowrimo?

Not only have I participated but I wrote 90% of my book in one day because someone said I wouldn’t be able to do it. I’d never do it again though - writing that much in twenty-four hours truly was all I could ever need from the experience.

[sereniv]

ok for rn i am going to try and get some art done and finish this crappy audio book.

read tags i said some stuff i should have just written here

[sysig]

Your Weekly TV Guide

On Monday you can expect:

2:30 PM: Star Control II - Helix

And Tuesday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Helix

Wednesday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Helix

Thursday:

2:30 PM: Original

Friday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Helix/Steven Universe

Saturday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Helix/SU +4:20 PM Bonus!: SCII/SU Shitpost

Sunday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Helix/SU

Thanks for tuning in! (Patreon)

[drill-teeth-art]

Wow! Here’s something incredibly personal.

This is Good Bi Gender. A comic I made to express some feelings I have about my gender. I don’t really have that much else to say about it. Here it is.

[Image Description: A digital comic made with sharp, angular abstract lines and only the colors white, blue, pink, and black. The featured character is all white, except for facial features and hair colors, which changes from panel to panel. The comic reads: Cover Panel: The text "Good Bi Gender", the words colored with the trans flag. It shows a glitchy person's face, half pink and half blue. Panel 1: White text reads: "Hello. My name is apparently irrelevant. And my pronouns are he/him and she/her. But you can't call me she/her. And here's why." Someone with a half-pink and half-blue shirt looks to the side. One eye is covered with hair, and the other eye is pink while the iris is blue.

Panel 2: The character sits happily, imagining facial hair and a masculine voice. "I don't want top surgery. I love my chest. And I dream about being on testosterone someday soon." The character looks at a phone, frowning. The phone shows the male symbol with an "X" through it. Text next to it reads: “People don't seem to think that the features I dream of are very pretty though... Or they think even worse of them than that…”

Panel 3: The character’s features are all pink, and sits in a blank frame. The character reaches over to a blue frame, frowning. “I don't like the animosity. I really despise it.” A photo of the character shows an all-blue frame and blue hair, with pink outlines and facial features. “To be a boy... I aspire to be one. I aspire to be masculine in all its handsomeness. All its prettiness.” Panel 4: The character sits in an all blue panel, but reaches back out to the pink panel. “And I'm still a girl too. I was so excited to have both. To love both. To have handsome femininity. Beautiful masculinity.” The frames break and connect, and pink and blue swirl together. The character smiles in between the frames, with one pink eye and one blue eye. “So excited. And yet I get asked…”

Panel 5: Two hands hold out two different pills to the character, one blue and one pink. They ask “Male? or Female?” using the male and female symbols.The character, facial features an array of pink and blue, looks between the two hands, distressed. “It's both! I'm both! They're not opposites. Not narrow boxes. I say I'm both despite the insistence that I can't be. And I know what I look like. I know I look like a girl to most. I know that if I say people can call me she, that's all I will get from most. Because it's "easier". It "makes more sense". To have my masculinity, I am often forced to be unflinching in it and it alone. To never use she. Because if I don't, I will never get to have he.” [The words "she" and "he" are italicized.] Panel 6: Text reads: “I'm still very happy to be so comfortable in my identity. To know, despite all that, that I am indeed a boy and a girl and both. But you know. Telling people to only use he/him for me. Guarding my masculinity all just to have it. All at the expense of the part of me who is happily and unashamedly a girl.” The character cries from one pink eye, the other hidden. The character holds a pink girl in a sea of blue, the girl crying out. In the midst of the blue, text reads: “Well, it fucking breaks her heart.” End ID]

Edit: @starberry-skies wrote an ID for the comic, so I added it to the og post with its permission!

[meelusinee]

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT ✦ M.R x READER

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time (part one to lovesick!mattheo)

SECOND PART HERE - lovesick!mattheo christmas edition

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, so tamino inspired word count: 3.7k warnings: just fluff again! along with easily flustered mattheo (+ teasing theo)

author's note: my second post!! i made a small playlist of tamino songs i used for mattheo in this. if you haven’t, please go listen to him (his music is so good). i based this off a small part of my first fic where theo sang to reader. as always, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love. 

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he  lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind. 

“I found something really interesting in this book  by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke. 

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms. 

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. 

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote. 

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.” 

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”  

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy 

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion. 

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself. 

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered. 

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return. 

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him. 

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered. 

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush. 

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

“I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics. 

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

if you would like to read the second part, click here!

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

[heartless-aro]

Some Thoughts on Acephobia, Arophobia, and Autonomy

Something I’ve noticed recently is that a lot of the negative reactions people get when coming out as aromantic and/or asexual tend to involve a very particular sort of invalidation, though it’s a sort of invalidation that takes many different forms.

Aspecs who are part of groups that tend to be heavily objectified, fetishized, or otherwise sexualized — particularly aspecs of color and aspec women — tend to have their experiences dismissed and disbelieved altogether. They get told that they don’t “look” aspec. They get people offering to “fix” them or “prove them wrong.” They get told that it’s a “waste” for them to be aro and/or ace.

Meanwhile aspecs who are part of groups that are desexualized or infantilized — such as disabled aros (especially those with intellectual disability), fat aros, and aros with facial differences — tend to experience a different side of the issue. They get told that they’ll “find someone some day” or that “you’re just saying that because you know no one wants to date you.” That or people say things like “Of course they can’t be interested in things like sex or romance! They’re so innocent. They probably can’t even understand that sort of thing.”

Of course this isn’t a strict dichotomy; things like objectification, fetishization, desexualization, and infantilisation can intermingle in a lot of ways. East Asian people, for example, are often fetishized and infantilized simultaneously. Likewise, someone who is both black and Deaf may experience both fetishization on the basis of their race and desexualization and/or infantilisation on the basis of their Deafness. I could go on listing more and more ways that desexualization, fetishization, and the like tend to interact, but the point is that aspecs can experience invalidation in both of the forms discussed above, to varying degrees, depending on the various identities which may intersect with their aspec identity (or identities).

This may almost seem a bit contradictory, at first, until you realize that both forms of invalidation are, at their core, a denial of the target’s romantic and sexual agency. The first form of invalidation is based on the idea that some people can’t be aspec because they’re “too desirable” to not be available. This is the sort of invalidation that says “you can’t be aspec because people want you and you aren’t allowed to say ‘no.’” Then there’s the other form which says that some people are aspec because they’re “undesirable” and because there’s no one “available” for them to have a sexual or romantic relationship with. This is the sort of invalidation that says “You aren’t really aspec. The only reason you’re saying ‘no’ is because you don’t have the option to say ‘yes’.” These both boil down to the same amatanormative, allonormative idea that everyone should want romance and sex, and that the only valid reason not to be interested in those things is an inability to attain them.

You either can’t be aspec, because people are attracted to you (so you’re obligated to put their feelings before your own) or you can’t be aspec because people aren’t attracted to you (so you’re clearly just defining yourself according to someone else’s feelings, rather than your own). Either way, there’s no winning. Either way, you’re told that you don’t have the right to your identity. Because when you identify as aromantic and/or asexual, you actively make the statement that your identity is not about anyone else but, rather, that it is about YOU and YOUR feelings and what YOU want, and what YOU choose to do with your life and with your body. And, consciously or not, a lot of people seem to be very intent on contradicting that notion.

I think that’s part of what makes it so empowering to identify as aromantic and/or asexual. The fact that “I’m asexual” and “I’m aromantic” are statements of your own autonomy and are open rejections of the idea that your life and your body exist for the pleasure of others rather than yourself.