#Ill probably reblog this later if i get any new ideas

[yourl0cal1ncorporealb3ing]

Agere/Agedre music!

Creators/Soundtracks:

Childlike Wonder (I love their song caretaker)

Ocean queen musical/LDShadowlady (Based off the minecraft series empire which is rlly good)

Madilyn Mei

Kero Kero Bonito

Rainbow Rocks

Disney

Songs:

Buttercup by Jack Stauber

Oh Klahoma by Jack Stauber (Its a bit sad)

Lights On by Kyle Allen Music

If i were a fish by corook

Little Space by Sxye

Drop Pop Candy by Reol (English ver by JubyPhonic)

Good Morning by Omori OST (Vocals ver by OR30)

airplane mode by limbo

Ponyo On the Cliff by the Sea from Ponyo

Duck Song by Bryant Oden

Sat On the Floor by Caleb Hyles

[orii-blogs-stuff]

Guys~!

Got a new developing au I'd like to share with all of you.

Consider this: Demigods in Yurgenschmidt

So since the Gods are real, they're pretty bored in heaven doing work 24/7 so sometimes they would come downstairs to have a bit of 'fun' by hooking up with mortals leading to the existance of demigods.

During the Ancient times Demigods (and their mortal parents) would be reveared by the nobility of Yurgenschmidt (and commoners) due to them being divine-adjacent but as Yurgenschmidt became less and less religious that stopped happening and those demigods at the royal academy would get eye-rolled at cuz them passing all their subjects on the first day? Must be because their mommy or daddy is a God who gave them a power boost, not because of their own intellegance or anything.

So the demigod population at the RA slowly decreased and decreased until there were none left and the knowledge of Demigods existing decreased and deacreased until no noble remembered what demigods were or that they exist.

in modern times, most (if not all) the Demigods are born from God/Commoner mortal unions and is kept a secret from the Nobility that there's a thriving demigod population in each Duchy. The commoners know that there are Gods and that they exist because it's quite common to hear a very wealthy man/woman visiting the commoners neighbours or an Aunts or brothers, lavishing them with gifts and when the aunt becomes pregnant the rich man/woman leaves and 9 months later the baby is born with super powers, or incase of a guy, the rich man/woman leaves and then 9 months later there's a knock at the door, no one's outside except for a sleeping baby who looks like a mix between the commoner and the rich man/woman.

So, How do the demigods drain themselves of excess mana? They do so by partaking in their parents domains. Child of Unheilschneide? They make sure the water supply is kept pure from illness causing stuff and poisionous chemicals that may seep into the water. Children of Bluanfah and Efflorelume? Ensure good harvests, ofcourse, not everyone has such easy ways to partake in their parents domains and not build up an excess of mana in their systems. Since there'no wars, children of Angriff have to make due by protecting feilds from dangerous feybeasts or take down trombes. Children of Beischmacht might become expert seamstresses when it comes to making bed sheets or carving beds or know which herbs coul make one fertile or barren. It's how they differ from the devouring, the demigods have only 1 (very strong) attribute and enough mana to rival a zent or archduke candidate and don't need feystones to remove excess mana from themselves unlike the Nobility or the devouring.

So why do I think all the demigods would be from commoner parents? Simple. The Gods think Nobles are boring. Here me out: no hand-holding before marriage for Nobles while commoners are ok with kisses before engagement, with how stringent Nobles are about propriety, it's gonna be hard for God's to meet up with any Noble lovers they might want to take cuz if you don't have a proper introduction to said Nobles in Noble society, your probably gonna definatly get executed depending on how low status you are (and the Gods most definatlypretend to be low status Nobles cu everyone knows everyone in the high status nobles), also it must feel super weird when Nobles use their names as euphemisms, like, schuzaria be getting turned off because this mortal keeps referring to her private parts as 'geduldhs chalice', also Nobles are followed everywhere by their retainers, kinda hard to wisk their lovers away to a secluded spot.

I'm thinking the Demigods have their own school? Maybe? Do you guys think that's a good idea?

Also How do you guys think Rozemyne and Ferdinand would react to Demigods existing?

Feel free to add any of your headcannons in the comments or reblogs, I would love to hear what others think of this au.

[tiredflowercrown]

Rant under the cut

Pls don't reblog

I'm am so sick and tired of being this exhausted and fatigued. Because one week I will feel perfectly fine and like I'm on the other side of the hill. Then the next I feel like I can barely move or eat or do any of the things to help stay alive. I am constantly fighting a battle with my mind and how I interact with food, which sucks because i don't even have a term to use for it cause it's not an ed, the term better used is disordered eating. But how do you explain that to people. My parents don't get it because they are the same way and see nothing wrong with it. This past week I've been forcing myself to eat just for my meds to work properly. All I'm eating is fucking applesauce and cheerios, and I'm having to force that down. It's the worse because I feel hungry and have the urge to eat, I just can't. Everything is bad and things that might be good are contaminated and icky and moldy. Even if I know that they probably aren't. Every time I try to describe this my parents keep saying well its your brain you control it. Like no shit it's my brain. However, my brain can and has, in fact, made me throw up because it didn't like the food I ate. Just about every calorie I have in a day comes from soda. THATS NOT GOOD. Especially when I forget to brush my teeth just about everyday. And I know snice drinking is easier that I should get protein shakes or something but the idea of new is so terrifying that I can't do it. I know that there's powders you can add to food to get more nutrients, but again I can't add them. If someone else were to add them then tell me later that would be fine and then maybe I could do it on my own. But my parents insist that I have to do stuff like this on my own because I shouldn't burden people with that responsibility. I know I'm probly malnourished of some sort, but getting the testing to find out is both scary and expensive. I'm already about to try and see if there's a medical reason outside of my mental illness for my forgetfulness. I can't afford to many medical bills rn and neither can my family. They're saving for trips for my grandma because it's probly the last trips she'll take. I've had to fight so hard to get the diagnosis that I have. And my mom is so sure it's one thing but it doesn't match my symptoms and it could still be a problem with that organ but I don't want to go through several rounds of testing. I also am not sure if I even want there to be something wrong with me because knowing that and too what length it affects me could restrict how I can work or go to school. Just ugh. Wish I hadn't been born in a screwed up body.

[theautistichalflinghole]

Fanfic concepts that im like 99% sure I'll never write (because im not a writer [yet]) but im writing them down in the hopes that someone will/has

they say you should manifest what you want so im just gonna write ideas, post it when i fall asleep and then add to it later with reblogs (if any of these exist or get written please reblog or ask to let me know and I will love you forever)

a fic with any combination of kujou sara/ei/yae miko/sangonomiya kokomi where sara is injured in battle and put into a coma or some sort of vunerable life threatening status, hurt comfort obviously becuase i cannot handle unhappy endings, preferably pre relationship so some realizations can occur, this probably wouldnt be too hard to find but there are some specific scenarious I imagine within this one such as: ei finding out about saras injury and shooting across inazuma in the form of lightening to get her, a little bit of political conflict if she were to get injured in watatsumi and is in kokomis care, and i did say any conflict but preferabbly all four??

kaebedo meeting as kids (rhinedottir wants to socialize her new experiment or kaeya goes about wandering the palace and finds him, what have you) and then recognizing eachother (or only albedo doing so) when A joins the knights

ORRR consider bebe kaeya meeting a prototype of albedo (rubedo fic writers im looking at you) who looks exactly the same so he is freaking out and albedo has no fucking idea why (and then, once they start dating, rubedo shows up and does... something)

razor/bennet/fischl sic fic where bennys bad luck makes it so he and fischl have medical procedues scheduled on the same day, and everyone else except for razor are busy while theyre in recovery, cute little sic fic opportunity, this can honestly work for any sort of illness or medical issue that makes you loopy or in pain but i personally would love t4t4t where fischl and benny are both recovering from un reschedulable top surgery

i know i literally just said i hate unhappy endings but consider... xiaoven ( or honestly any ship w/ xiao but thats the one i like) where xiao always expected to die and leave venti in mourning so he pushes him away.... and then venti fucking dies (or goes into eepy time for a while if you want amiguous or happy ending)

just more venti sleep fics, but specifically venti unexpectedly goes into one of his sleeps and his partner has to wait for him, not knowing if hell wake up in a few days a few years a few hundred years or ever... also consider venti falling asleep with his partner saying theyll wait for him, and then them being long dead/gone (opportunity for a reincarnation fic) (this one defiently exists in some form with multiple ships but like... papa me want more movie, also hard to fine because like what tags do i even search for with this is there a tag for venti goes to eepy?? "a mirmir venti (genshin impact)" )

Scara ship fic (chiscara??? please???) where they truly do not remember scara at all, no random tears no familiar feelings or suspicion, hes been entierly wiped. a bit of angst and mourning from scara before he decides he cant accept this and tries to make the first move and they slowly fall in love again. (Literally every fic ive read of chiscara has childe make the first move and I understand its because scara is the most emotionally constipated man to ever be written but I feel like them already being in a relationship pre wipe+ the backstory of him having lots of time in sumeru to heal would make it not tooo ooc)

[dhs-in-distress]

*looks at your reblog* 👀 Oh? Tell me more

(Omg I only found this accidentally cause I‘m new to having 2 blogs I‘m so sorry that I‘m only answering now, I swear I didn‘t even know this ask existed until now, but I‘m so happy you‘re interested ok aNYWAY-)

So that post I reblogged reminded me of a scene I wanted to write into that one TFA OC fanfiction I never finished so I’ll just talk about that (with a bit of context for comprehension‘s sake, but hopefully not too much cause all of the context would be like 50 pages)

(Oh also this is specifically about Scatterbrain/Scatters/SB/the one guy who‘s been infesting my brain like a parasite for the past 1.5 years)

So like basically Scatters has two main problems.

1: a dead boyfriend who got killed by the Cybertronian equivalent of the police, and

2: a „past“ in the stockades, where he got put after attacking the guy who killed his boyfriend, and which made him develop an extreme fear of getting things plugged into his medical port (and medical equipment in general) as a result of things they did there.

… Needless to say these two elements don‘t mix very well, both with each other as well as with just, being a functional person in general. If you add his other other problem with vulnerability and admitting to his fears and faults and distress, everything just goes to shit.

If you now put him in a situation where he has to be medically treated (by Ratchet btw, that info becomes important later) as a result of severe „bleeding“, and subsequently also get an oil/energon transfusion via the port, you get that post I reblogged, with some extras too! So I’ll just go into detail under the cut about how that’d play out, it’s kinda long and cringe and only makes sense to me and I‘m probably also the only one who gets this emotional about it cause this guy‘s entire psyche is like, in my brain. Anyway- proceed at your own risk :))

At first he‘d start being more and more aggressive, refusing to open his port at all and saying that he „doesn‘t need“ the transfusion, then going over to yelling about how he „doesn‘t need to do anything you tell me to actually“ when he starts to run out of arguments to cover up the fact he‘s just very afraid of all of this. This would however only result in aggravating Ratchet, ending in him getting Bulkhead to physically restrain Scatters to finally force open his port and get the transfusion going already, because he really does need it. And yeah… the physical restraint coupled with the forceful intrusion doesn’t help at all with differentiating this experience from the stockades. Having already been out of it due to his low energy levels, now with the added reminder of these other two factors, Scatters starts hysterically crying and begging to „make it stop“ and just fully reliving his imprisonment at this point. Obviously Bulkhead doesn’t have any idea what‘s going on, and while Ratchet can make an educated guess (from experience cough cough), that doesn‘t help much with figuring out how to make him stop having an episode.

(I feel the need to mention here that I believe in the popular(?) theory(?) that the bots have next to no idea what mental health/illness even is, let alone how to treat it when it gets bad)

Anyway, they just try to get all the fuel levels into a normal range as quickly as possible, after which everything is removed from Scatters immediately. This does get him to stop begging and screaming, but he‘s still crying, shaking violently and very obviously not all there yet. Bulkhead gets him off of the operating table they‘d had him on, and half pushes half carries him out of the medbay and just, outside, in an effort to get him to calm down somehow. I‘d imagine he‘d also be very overwhelmed in that moment and would like to get someone out there with him to help, but since he‘s the only one in team prime Scatters „tolerates“, doing that would probably just make things worse, so he endures. Scatters then starts clinging to Bulkhead‘s arm when he tries to pull away, mumbling both to and about his dead lover until he eventually becomes fully aware of his surroundings again, pulls away and stares at Bulkhead for a solid minute before saying the classic „if you tell anyone about this I will make you swallow your own wrecking ball istg“ and running away to have the rest of his „moment“ somewhere else alone.

So yeah the post I reblogged just reminded me of the medical torture flashback thing, because calling out for help at all, let alone screaming, begging, crying… physical touch that isn’t violent… opening up like that in general, aren‘t really things that Scatters does. He‘s the „I hate every form of intimacy and emotional honesty and would literally rather perish than let anyone know how I feel, why I feel that way or let them help me with my troubles. Fuck you, die.“ kind of person.

I hate him he‘s so terrible he‘s suffering he‘s so unwell someone get this bitch a therapist please someone kill him actually it‘s fine he gets better by the end of everything hahahhaahaaaa.

(I just accidentally deleted the entire paragraph about how his obsession with and unhealthy idolising of his dead lover are like,, core parts of his character and how everything links back to that and how his entire arc is about learning to accept that guy‘s death and how to be his own person again and not tying every action to „what would he want? What would he have done?“ and letting go and not acting like his life is completely over whenever he gets reminded of everyone‘s mortality and letting himself love other people and not feeling guilty about it and and and and- basically I‘m pissed I deleted that and can‘t get it back and that THIS is the only substitute I can come up with. Kill me.)

(Oh also there‘s smth about letting himself feel other things again cause like hate and longing are pretty much the only things he‘s felt for like 1 million years so yh I really shouldn‘t have named him Scatterbrain of all things huh cause the one thing he is is singleminded (and unable to let go of one thing/person). Oh well.)

Ok this was all really really long and unnecessary I hope your brain isn‘t melting out of your ears. I certainlydid tell you more though haha…´:]

[plagueislost]

Hii, for the artist ask game: number 4 and 10 is something I'd love to know :3

i wrote A LOT for this ask, sorry! i wanted to do the questions justice, yknow how it is.

4. piece you wish got more love?

Ive found from experience that original art tends to not do very well on social media, which kind of makes me sad. It's not much of a problem for me (because most of the stuff i post is fanart anyways) but i can't help but think that part of the reason i rarely ever draw original pieces or make OCs is because of the lack of feedback i get on social media. I know tumblr is supposed to be the fandom website, and maybe id have a different experience on another site, but it is disappointing when i post something original that I'm very proud of and it barely manages to get more than 20 notes, whereas something i like less easily surpasses 100 just because of the tags i put on it. i think the most recent example of this is this piece, which admittedly did get quite a few notes for an original piece, but definitely would have gotten more had it been fanart of the same caliber. this is also not to blame anyone or make anyone feel bad about not reblogging original art (god knows im guilty of that too, and art piggybacking off the popularity of other works of art are of course gonna get more notes), its just something ive noticed from my time on social media.

10. how do you deal with artblock?

i dont get art block very often, but when i do, its ANNOYING. it mostly manifests in me having a bunch of motivation for a part of my process that i cant get to without doing the stuff i have no desire to do (does that make any sense?). like, ill have a strong urge to render an artwork, but no ongoing WIPs that are at that stage, meaning i would have to sketch and color and shade a whole new piece before i could satiate that urge, or do the steps out of order which could mess up the flow and end look of a project. when i get like this, i find its best to try and translate those desires into different activities and take a step away from art. for example:

if i want to sketch, but nothing comes out right digitally, ill find a scrap piece of paper and a crappy pen and make thumbnails until i cant think of any other iterations of the ideas in my head. if one of them turns out good, ill take a picture and transfer it into my software, but only go over it a day or so later so i can have fresh eyes.

if i want to color, but i have no sketches currently ready for coloring, ill go into my photo editing program, find some random old photos that i never edited, and post-process them until i get something im happy with.

if i want to shade, but have no colored artworks ready for that, ill usually do a study of a photo ive taken, because most of the time me shading is really me wanting to see how light and shadow interact in certain scenarios. i actually did a whole AP portfolio on that because i liked shading and lighting so much!

if i want to render, but ive got no pieces ready for rendering, i find its easiest just to find a tedious activity where i can be a perfectionist but also feel like im the smartest person in the world. this generally turns into me cooking some big meal because its constantly engaging but also not that difficult. i know its probably weird for it to not have anything to do with art but this is just what works best for me, and i get the bonus of a nice meal at the end of it!

if i get the more classic kind of art block where everything sucks and nothing i make is good, i find its best to go back to the media that inspires me to make art, and not worry too much about having made something by the end of it. generally the media that inspires me ends up, well, inspiring me, and i can remind myself that art is a voluntary practice that i do because its fun, not because i want something out of it. if it doesnt manage to inspire me, thats okay, i can just tell myself im taking a break and live life for a bit.

i hope that was helpful, and i really enjoyed answering these questions! if anyone else wants to ask a question, the artist ask game is here.

[shepherds-of-haven]

I hope you’re having a great day Lena! I was just wondering if we could have any fluff facts about the shepherds as a whole! Like fun tidbits of how they interact with each other, what some of them do if they have the same day off, does anyone host weekly game nights?? I hope that makes sense! Reading the recent short story on Patreon I love seeing how the characters interact with one another and now I need moreeeeeee🙏

Ooh, great question! I’m feeling curiously tapped dry at the moment, so I’ll probably have to reblog this as more ideas come to me; I’m so happy you’re enjoying the short story, btw!! 💖

Some group dynamic headcanons:

Many of them steal clothes from each other. Briony wears a cute sweater of Shery's (she asked), Ayla gets cold so she just takes one of Red's jackets from a chair (she didn't ask), Chase gives Tallys his scarf one day and Riel corders Trouble a pair of gloves from a fashion line he favors because his old ones are holey and they get into an argument about it... This leads to some recruits mistakenly thinking that the captains are all involved in some sort of mass relationship because they keep walking out of each other's rooms wearing each other's clothes. (The recruits believe a lot of really dumb stuff, if you couldn't tell. They LOVE gossip. It's like a competitive sport in the compound)

There is a weekly card game night, initiated and organized first by Chase, but it grows bigger over time, with snacks, cakes, drinks, and new games being procured! I'd actually say it's more like every ten-fourteen days or so than on any set weekday, and is typically proposed by anyone who senses that they or others need to blow off some steam. They all tend to meet in a private common room and either just chill and play some card games and casually drink and listen to music, or they get LOUD and raucous and play more risque non-card games (like Question or Command/Truth or Dare). The loud nights are more like once a month or bi-monthly, though! They take place in the captains' lounge so dumb recruits don't get to join! It's rare that they're in there all doing the same thing, though: maybe half will be at the table playing card games while others will be broken up into smaller groups, say arm-wrestling in the corner or playing chess at the smaller table or reading, but they're all there! Game nights are almost never held unless everyone is there, which is extraordinarily difficult to schedule, but they all make an effort to make it happen--even those who first had to be dragged into it, like Blade or Riel!

Speaking of chess games, Red and Riel have a standing game where they complete at least four more moves every night that they're around and able to meet up after dinner. Planning their next move helps them both break up the monotony of the day, and it's something they enjoy immensely. However, whenever he gets called away on a mission, Red gets sick with worry that Riel's been cooking up all sorts of schemes while he's been gone, so sometimes on the road he has, like, a schematic that he doodles on trying to anticipate Riel's next move, and it's very nerdy and ramps up in joking Anxiety. Riel, graciously, goes easier on him on nights after he comes back from long trips, though he denies it

Similarly, Blade and Trouble have a standing training session once a week where they just beat the crap out of each other. This is generally where they do the majority of their talking

Briony and Ayla first had an agreement that they would get the other one up if they overslept (Briony tends to be the one who oversleeps while Ayla is better about being up at dawn, but Ayla is really grouchy if she went to bed late and Briony is the only one who can handle her), which morphed into doing runs and sparring together at dawn and having breakfast frequently!

The girls have a standing spa night once a month where they all get together in a room (usually Shery’s) and basically do sleepover stuff and relax and chat and catch up for a few hours. This also sometimes involves showing each other new outfits that they bought that month! Sometimes there are even group baths in the big common bath, but these are rarer because Shery is shy and Tallys doesn’t like sitting in hot water getting pruny

Chase and Trouble drag Red and Halek to go drinking with them around once a month; sometimes Blade is persuaded to go if Trouble can get the drop on him and punch him hard enough to wind him. It’s complicated

Riel and Shery, of course, have tea together once a week! You’re not allowed if you can’t bring a chill vibe (Riel’s rules). Tallys, Lavinet, Halek, and Red are occasional visitors; Briony is allowed on a good day. Blade would be allowed but he has 0 interest

Similarly, Lavinet hosts a weekly brunch, either in a courtyard or at some restaurant in town! Typically it’s a girl thing and Ayla, Briony, and Shery are the most consistent attendees, but Chase has snuck his way in there often, and Riel, Halek, or Red pop up occasionally!

Tallys and Halek cook together! It’s not all that often and doesn’t seem to have any set way of materializing--it just happens somehow--but they both very much enjoy it! Sometimes they cook dinner for the whole group and have a little dinner party that they both secretly get excited for! Sometimes Shery bakes the dessert!

Riel noticed that Tallys has a little garden that she spends time weeding, so he sends gardening tools or special seeds when he thinks she needs them and she leaves baskets of vegetables or vases of flowers in his office. All of this is done without exchanging a word

Chase sporadically teaches Briony acrobatics and things like tightrope walking, just randomly whenever they’re both idle. She teaches him how to gut people with bare fists and also sometimes they paint! 

Caine caught Red grazing in the pantry late one night and now it’s like a Thing where they pass each other in the kitchen and Red sort of just looks the other way re: Caine’s bedtime and what on earth he’s doing up so late and Caine doesn’t tell anybody that Red is just absent-mindedly eating a loaf of bread at 2 AM because he was too busy working to remember to eat dinner. It’ll be like, “there’s some turkey leftover from dinner in the cold box” “oh hey, Caine. thanks. ...so, what’s the news from the midnight watch tonight?” “i’m going to go hunt ghosts on the seventh floor with my friends!” “...okay! have fun!”

Lavinet has a monthly shopping trip where she updates her wardrobe, and it is very common for others to accompany her around the city and just shop while they drop! Common partners are Shery, Briony, Riel, Chase, and once memorably Blade, who didn’t know what he was in for!

Trouble and Ayla are wildly competitive and keep arm-wrestling each other for money; this becomes a bi-weekly sporting event that is eagerly attended and bet upon by third parties

There was ONE group karaoke night. ONE. Most of them got so blackout drunk that they swore to never do it again. Even now, several of them go green whenever they hear a popular bar song (“Don’t Piss Where You Plant Your Flowers”) being sung, especially badly

The game of "telephone" gets really bad in their group. It's like, Shery will say to Briony that she's worried because she thought Riel looked a bit peaky and feverish. Briony will say in passing to Trouble that Riel is getting sick and Shery is worried. Trouble will say to Tallys that Shery is worried sick because Riel is bedridden. Tallys will be mixing herbs and Chase will ask what for and Tallys will reply that Riel is sick, but because she's mixing herbs, Chase will surmise that the sickness must be quite advanced, and will later say, "Damn, have you seen Riel? Seems like he's really sick." Red will interpret this as "I have seen Riel for myself and have determined that he's extremely ill." At least four people will bust into Riel's room, expecting him to be on the verge of death, despite the fact that they saw Riel that morning. Riel will be fine and very annoyed at the intrusion.

They rarely go out as a group to bars and establishments outside of the compound (too chaotic as well as risky, for one thing, and also, recruits don't need to see their superiors like hanging out of bushes and dancing on tabletops drunk out of their minds, and also, "Mages can't drink" (lol)), but when they do deem it a worthy occasion (Trouble's birthday, say), the girls are very punctual when getting ready, and the boys are almost always extremely late due to various shenanigans (Chase forgot that he put a booby trap on Red’s door, covering Red with flour, or a cat somehow slips into Trouble’s room and steals, like, a detonator or an important key, and they have to go chasing it across the city). This has led to the girls coming late on purpose in order to even out their arrival, but mysteriously, this has only led to even later start times, meaning they often don’t get started until like 10 or 11 PM when the most well-intentioned souls meant to be in bed by midnight... that never happens, either!

One such night once led to them ending up on a ridge in the Sun’s Embrace, like a mile outside of the city, in order to watch the sun rise together, because hiking in the dark while blasted out of their minds sounded like a really good idea. They all made it, and the dawn was spectacular, but the moment was ruined when Tallys said softly, “It’s the beginning of a beautiful new day--” punctuated by Trouble abruptly throwing up in a bush and Riel just flat-out passing out

[charmixpower]

What if everyone is so out of character because they are dealing with PTSD after everything that they have been through in S1-3?, teenager should not be the ones saving the whole magical dimension they didn't even ask to do it, they just randomly got involved in the whole mess, but before they were so busy with school to think about it (I belive Alfea and Red Fountain are super demaning) but now that they are graduated they are such a mess that they don't know what to do. The first time I watched S4 I got the idea that the girls wanted to stay on earth because their obligations as guardian fairies where to heavy to bear and they wished for a break, but they know that they can realy scape from them.

Back then I got the theory, that S4 was a farewall for the original winx club and the start of a reboot with a new group of girls leaded by Roxy, that is why her character ovelaped with Bloom, and the girls wanted to stay on earth because the new club was going to protect the magical dimension, but evantualy the writers give up on the idea, and instead of scraping and redoing the episodes they just got ahead and messed everything, that would be why they killed Nabu and pretended Brando proposal didn't happen, so the six girls could stick together for more seasons

~~

Ehh, no

Stella encouraging Bloom to cheat cannot be explained away with PTSD. Bloom stealing Musa's dream cannot be explained away with PTSD. That literally not being Musa in any way shape or form cannot be explained away with PTSD. Aisha's personality being sanded down cannot be explained away with PTSD.

Like I get what your saying, and I agree that season 4 should of been the season of dealing with the conquences of the past three seasons but like you cannot explain the nonsense in season 4 as PTSD

Riven suddenly acting like a 16 teen year old and the writers pretending that season 2 didn't exist cannot be explained away with PTSD. Nabu being a one note Mary Sue, born to die, cannot be explained away with PTSD. Timmy getting jealous of Tecna off all people apparently flirting cannot be explained away with PTSD. That's also not Helia cannot be explained away with PTSD. No comment on Sky, uhhh he's fucking weird

The idea that Bloom would want to stay on earth and run away from her responsibilities is something that she'd totally do! She does that like multiple times. Having a whole season dedicated to her getting overwhelmed and running to earth only to realize that she won't be able to go back to a normal life yada yada Roxy would be very interesting! It makes no sense for the other girls

Like...Tecna especially. Girl doesn't run away

I also love the idea that season four would make for an amazing break season for everyone to reflect, but I also want to see them attack adult hood in their own way?

I don't think they'd all want to stay on earth?? Because why wouldn't they want to get away with their own families and dreams! Musa, Tecna, Stella, and Flora had really big dreams in the first three seasons! And I think watching them pursue their individual passions while coping with the past three seasons would be a lot more interesting than throwing all of their interests into a blender

I cant even see Aisha running form her responsibility even tho that's why she's in the show in the first place. Sure she'd definitely avoid the media and such, but why would she try to abandon the planet that's probably still going though it for earth! She should be worried half to death about Andros after Valtor kills so many people

And uhhh

I just saw a Winx confessions post about that idea that's gonna be reblogged later today but~ a more nuisanced opinion? I think Roxy getting her own team with the way Winx was going would be much better, as it would be less insulting. Plus is would complete the Roxy~Bloom character arc! Very fun

It would also fit the fact that I don't think that Roxy should of joined the girls, ill explain this opinion in a second, and I think the fact that Rainbow first marketed it like that then realized that it was a horrible idea was just peak dumbass energy for this company

My reasoning is that Roxy would either have to play catch up with all the girls, or skip all the hard parts of Enchanix and such and just gain stronger transformations which just sounds cheap as fuck not gonna lie. People have been pissed that Roxy instantly gains Believix (which that's technically not Believix but whatever) because it feels unearned. Now please image either Roxy running though the first two forms or her just gaining later transformations without getting Enchantix at all. I don't like it ngl. Roxy getting her own spin off show where she gets to be the main character and gain transformations in her own time instead of being forced to play catch up with a well established group that is 4 forms in would be much better in my opinion

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader

So, back in the day I wrote this story on Quotev. And it was one of my first stories that got into the popular section and I am really proud of it. The only problem is.... It was written in 2013, uber cringe-ville. If you wanna try to find it, be my guest but be warned: the main character is an OC, she has “I’m NoT lIkE oThEr GiRlS” syndrome and there are some weird ass love lines added in. So, I am reviving and rebranding that story so it may live a better life, like witness protection. Anyway, hope you enjoy

* I wrote it in first person just because I thought it would be easier to read

(Y/N)’s family is killed in a fire that seems to plague Beacon Hills, moving in with the Stilinski’s was bound to cause hijinks, but what happens when she gets involved with the the illusive Derek Hale?

TW: Kidnapping, some violence

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At first glance Beacon Hills seems like the perfect community. It wasn’t until later that I would realize that everything I ever knew was a lie. 

~

I slowly slipped out of the front door and locked it behind me. Sneaking out wasn’t my usual schtick, but it was the last day of summer and for the first time I was going to live a little before starting to work at the Highschool as a volunteer coach for the lacrosse team. It was my first time ever sneaking out and just the idea of it made my heart pound, but the anxiety turned to adrenaline as I made my way out without either of my parents noticing. They were both incredibly heavy sleepers, there could be a parade outside their door and they wouldn’t wake up. 

The party would mostly consist of most of the men’s and women’s lacrosse teams, and what would a lacrosse party be like without the team captain?

Walking down the sidewalk, I thought more about college. UCLA was a choice, or a community college too. Most kids would have gone straight after graduation, but I decided a year off would be good for me to de-stress. But honestly, I was just more afraid of the change. That and leaving my best friend, Stiles, behind was a little hard to fathom. We had known each other our whole lives. Another thing was…would he be okay? After losing his mom… who knows. But then there was also Michael. Michael was my boyfriend, and I loved being with him for the last four years. He really hadn’t mentioned plans for college, just working in the family business. What the family business was, I never knew. 

About a block down the road is when I heard the howl. My instincts first go to fear, wolf in the darkness. But then logic comes in, there had not been wolves in California for decades. It was probably the neighbors husky. 

The autumn chill had no mercy, whipping my hair into my eyes, I stopped on the corner of Fifth and Main, pulling my jacket closer and waited for the wind to pass. When it did, the figure in front of me made me gasp. But the shock subsided soon after. 

“Mikey,” I sighed in relief, “Why’d ya sneak up on me like that? Almost gave me a heart attack. What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you.” He smiled. Ominous certainly, but this was probably just another one of his pranks. 

“I guess so, I thought you said you weren’t going to the party.” 

“We’re not.” That’s when a chill ran up my spine. Something wasn’t right, he wasn’t acting like himself. His goofy smile was gone and replaced by a dark looming presence that I wasn’t comfortable with. It was like he was a completely different person. I took a slow step back. 

“Come on, this isn’t funny.” He said nothing, only matching my step going forward. 

“Michael.” With every step I took back, he took one forward, matching my increasing pace. With no other choice in mind, I chose to run. But as my back was turned, he grabbed me by my middle with one arm and pressed a cloth to my mouth with the other. Without thinking, I breathed in, the chemicals in the cloth slowly numbing my senses and my body. I tried to fight the darkness entering my vision, but it was no use. I was done to my knees, Michael right behind me. 

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” Were the last words I heard before the darkness took over. 

~

“Sweetie, time to get up.” My mother’s voice rang in my ears. 

“C’mon mom five more minutes…” I grumbled. 

“(Y/N), you need to wake up.” Her voice is more urgent. I finally opened my eyes, seeing my mother, her body engulfed in flames. 

“Wake up!” 

My body jerked as I woke up, leading to soreness in my arms and legs as a few things became clear: 

1. I was tied to a chair, and 

2. I didn’t know where I was. 

The events from last night slowly started coming back and nothing made any sense. Michael had never been controlling or abusive. Was I so blinded by the relationship that I hadn’t seen the signs? No, there were no signs. As far as I knew, Michael had no history of mental illness so something like dissociative identity disorder didn’t make sense and it wouldn’t explain the behavior either. 

There was a bandana tied around my head, keeping me from any sort of speech. From the layout of the place, it looked like an apartment Michael had, but everything was different. There was a tack board hanging in the living room with so many pictures of myself and my parents, shots that looked like they were taken without us knowing. There were scrawlings but they were too scribble-like to make out. 

The door opening brought my head to look towards the source. Michael walked in, shoving his phone into his back pocket. 

“Well good afternoon, sleepy head.” He closed the door behind him and made his way over to the chair I was bound to. 

“Alright, I’m gonna take the gag out but you can’t scream.” He smiled. 

I nodded along. With one hand, he pulled the gag from my mouth. 

“HELP! HELP ME!” I cried, hoping one of his neighbors would hear and call the police. 

“Shut up!” He slapped me across the face, the stinging pain only added to my screaming for help. 

“I said shut up!” He pulled a knife from his pocket, pressing the tip of the blade against my cheek. This new threat silences me, leaving me breathing heavily through my nose, tears making their way down my cheeks. 

“See, was that so hard?” He stood up and made his way across the room to the box TV on his floor, “I’m sorry for the mess, but with all my planning I hadn’t had a chance. I’ve been planning a big surprise and it’s finally done.” I didn’t speak, only continued to watch his movements. 

“I figure, even if you didn’t listen, you can still have your surprise.” He pressed the round power button on the screen and it fizzled to life. 

“-the same arsonist on the loose? Coming back to breaking news, the second house fire in six years occurred in the early morning today. Firefighters were called out to the residence of (Y/D/N) and (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) where their home had gone up in flames.” There was footage of my home up in flames, streams of water coming from the firemen below. “ Both (Y/D/N) and (Y/M/N) were found dead, seemingly from being crushed by a falling support beam in their basement. Their daughter, (Y/N), has not been found and is considered missing. If you have any information on her please call Beacon Hills police.” My photo came up on the screen. 

My heart sunk into my stomach and my throat ached to scream and sob. Michael turned off the TV then and looked down at me. 

“I’m surprised they found the bodies with how hot it was.” He said nonchalantly.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered. My parents were the nicest people in the world and treated Michael like he was a part of the family, why would he do this?  

”Don’t worry, (Y/N/N). It’s all a part of the plan.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

“I’m gonna head to bed, been out all night. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” He made his way to her bedroom and closed the door behind him. 

Finally, I completely broke down. Silent cries poured out. My parents were just gone in a puff of smoke. And all at the hands of someone we trusted. Someone that I trusted more than anything. 

After the grief quickly came anger. I don’t know how or when, but I am getting the hell out of here.

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Read part 2 here!

Likes, Comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Message me comment to to added to the General Tag or the tag list for this series!

[therealvalkyrie]

Through the Mirror: Part 1

my body, my music

Pairing/setting: Detective!Levi Ackerman x Female!Ghost!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls

Summary: When you’re murdered one Tuesday morning, can Levi piece together the true circumstances of your death with your help from beyond the grave?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dead body, descriptions of blood, swearing, mentions of violence

AN: Welcome to my new series because I have no self control and can’t finish projects before starting others! Lemme just start off by saying updates may come pretty irregularly because I do have a lot of other WIPs to work on, but! I’m really excited about this idea and have a whole lot planned:) I seriously hope you enjoy. After all, who doesn’t love a good murder mystery? Drop into my DMs/askbox/comments/reblogs to let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

“Ah, shit! Hello!? I’m standing right here!”

The woman completely ignores you, stepping carefully over the puddle of blood and across your tiny living room. You cross your arms and pout. She ignores that, too. 

“‘Scuse me, boys, let the experts take it from here,” she quips, gently pushing past the two detectives and crouching next to your body on the ground. 

It’s ugly, but she’s probably seen worse, you muse from where you’re leaning against the door jamb. It’s only been lying there for a couple of hours, so at least you haven’t bloated to something out of an NCIS episode. Must smell horrid, though, judging by the mask the head detective has pulled over his face.

“So, you said the landlady called at about 7 am?” the ME inquires, cocking her head up to look at the detectives, nylon gloved hands held at the ready.

“7:07 exactly. Said a neighbor made a noise complaint, she came up to check it out, found signs of a forced entry, and called us.” It’s the taller blonde who speaks up, reading from an off-brand pocket notepad in his left hand. The kind you’d find on sale at Staples after Back-to-School season.

Interesting. You lean your head against the wall, eyes trained on the trio. You’d pegged the ill-tempered shorter one as in charge. Maybe he’s just the quiet type. 

“Hmm, alright. Moblit, get off your ass and come take the pictures before we move her,” the woman calls to someone behind you, and you turn just in time to get a face full of Moblit’s chest as he walks towards you. 

You cringe back with a “God, seriously?” to no response.

“Yes, sorry, right away, Hange!” Moblit hurries past- no, through -you, sidestepping the ottoman and the blood. It feels weird, like a strong wind, but not altogether unpleasant to have someone walk through you, you suppose. You look down at your chest to watch your misty body re-settle into itself before looking back at the group in your living room.

Were it not for the gruesome accents of blood flecked up the walls and your body riddled with stab wounds, you’d chuckle at how all four of them struggled to navigate the space. It’s cramped enough when it’s just you, fitting only a couch, a chair, a coffee table, your fern (Boris), and a narrow IKEA bookshelf. With the four of them plus a dead body, it’s like watching a freaking clown car.

“Sorry, excuse me, Captain, oh, was that your toe—?” Moblit’s struggling the most, having to move to capture different angles with his bulky camera. When he steps on the shorter man’s toe, he positively blanches, fumbling over himself to apologize while the ME laughs openly.

“God, alright, just,” the Captain pinches his delicate nose between a thumb and forefinger, then decides it’s better to wait in the kitchen. “C’mon, Gin, let’s chat in there.”

The Captain and the blonde detective both pass through you on the way back to the kitchen, but you only sigh and shake the tingly feeling of being incorporeal out of your fingers before following them.

“So,” the man called Gin takes the initiative, flipping back through his notebook and standing by the fridge. “I got statements from the landlady and two of the neighbors, numbers 303 and 304 down the hall. 301, directly across the hall, didn’t answer, but I got contact info from the landlady.” He pauses to read and scratch at his whiskery beard. “It was 304 who made the noise complaint, said she heard yelling this morning at around 5:45, and that she normally wouldn’t’ve said anything but it was, quote, the fourth goddamn time this week and I work the goddamn night shift, I deserve some fucking rest, unquote.”

You grin. Mrs. Sheffield was never one to mince words, something you appreciated when your ex-boyfriend got too loud and she took it upon herself to give him a piece of her mind. You catch a glimmer of a smile on the ornery Captain’s face above where he’s pulled his mask down before he gestures for Gin to keep going, keeping his thoughtful gaze fixed on the floor and his back against your countertop.

“Then after she called the landlady, she went to bed, only to be woken by us two hours later.”

“You said she called the landlady at 5:45 and that she works the night shift?”

Gin double checks his notes. “That’s right.”

“And she works at the hospital?”

“Yes, as a scrub nurse on the night shift.”

“But the night shift at the hospital ends at 6:30.”

“It was her night off,” you and Gin say at the same time before you catch yourself. They can’t hear you, anyway. This’d be a lot easier if they could.

Gin plows ahead. “But she says she keeps the same sleep schedule so she doesn’t, ah, fuck up her circadian rhythm.”

The Captain practically snorts at this, itching for a second under his silk cravat (can someone say pretentious) before settling back into a listening silence.

“303 says he didn’t hear a thing. College kid, looked exhausted. Said he was asleep the whole night after he got in at,” a page flip, “11 o’clock last night. Wasn’t much help, but looked genuinely upset when we told him about the murder. Wanted to know if there was anything he could do. Oh, but he did, uh, hang on,” more page flips, “He did tell us that he heard her and her boyfriend arguing a lot. Which is consistent with what Mrs. Sheffield told us.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct into thin air. 

“A lover’s spat gone wrong, then,” Mr. Pretentious Captain muses. You huff in annoyance. A lover’s spat. If that’s all that this is written off as you’ll have some serious PD haunting to do. Chris may have been an angry, loud, disruptive manipulator, but he wouldn’t murder you. He didn’t murder you. “Any info on the whereabouts of the boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyf—!”

Blondie cuts you off, “Not currently, but we do have a name: Chris Henderson, works in admin down at the University. Lives across town closer to the Bridge.”

“Send some uniforms to bring him in for questioning. No arrests yet, tell ‘em to keep it friendly.”

“Right, I’ll put Dreyse and Bodt on it.”

“Dreyse, really?” Captain Cravat gives Gin an incredulous look. 

“Hey, she may look like a ditz but she gets the job done. And she might get him to let down his guard,” Gin argues, grinning. 

“Fine. I’ll meet them at the station, you stay here and make sure that mousy-haired dunce doesn’t fuck up my crime scene.”

“Hey, who’re you callin’ mousy-haired, short stack?” Hange actually sticks her whole head through yours this time, to butt into the conversation, and you shriek and jump away to the other side of your tiny kitchen, now sandwiched between Blondie and Shortstack. The latter twitches and swats at the air by his ear, as though to dislodge a fly, narrowly missing yours. You give him a weird look then turn back to listen to the ME. She’s leaning into the kitchen at an alarming angle, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the end of the gurney you assume is carrying your body. You shudder at the thought of being toted around in a dark, musty, humid glorified coat bag. Ugh. 

“—takin’ this baby”-she slaps the gurney twice and you flinch-“back so I can get started on the autopsy, Moblit’s staying to take more pictures and collect forensics. If Eld’s stayin’ here with Mob, does that mean you’re catching a ride with me, Levi?” The question is addressed to Captain Grump on your right, who gives a heavy sigh and pushes off the counter. 

“I guess so. I get to choose music though.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she’s wagging a finger, grinning. “My body, my music!”

“How about my body, my music?” you suggest, following Levi. “I deserve it after the day I’ve had.”

Again, Levi twitches and swats aggressively by his ear, nearly hitting you full in the face this time. 

“You hear that, Gin? This place got a mosquito problem or something?”

“I do not have a mosquito problem!” and “No, sir, I don’t hear anything.” overlap in the air. 

Captain Levi only grunts, then starts spouting instructions, which Gin notes down. “I want footage from any cameras in the building, and from the shops next door and across the street. I want statements from residents both upstairs and downstairs. I want names, addresses, and numbers of next of kin on my desk by noon, and lastly, I want no one, save for myself, you, shitty glasses, and mousy-hair, in or out of this apartment. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good. I’m leaving you Braus to help and to show her the ropes of this kind of thing. Even though she’s on the case, she will not set foot in this apartment. I don’t trust her not to leave breadcrumbs in the bloodstains.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect an in-person report before shift-change this evening. See you then.” Then, he’s sweeping out of the kitchen in pursuit of Hange and the gurney, leaving you to scurry after. As you exit your home, he shoots a young auburn-haired woman in a crisp white blouse and wool slacks a look. “Braus. You’re with Gin. Don’t go in the apartment.”

She straightens up from leaning against the wall with a jolt and brushes croissant crumbs off her front. “Yes, Captain Levi, sir!” It’s slightly muffled by the pastry stuffed into her mouth.

“Tch.”

It’s fascinating watching how Levi and Hange manage to navigate the gurney down the narrow, twisting stairs of your walk-up apartment building. They’re both clearly used to this sort of thing, communicating only in short phrases and grunts when they encounter an obstacle. Occasionally, you offer up a pointer and watch as Levi becomes increasingly irritated. 

“Watch out for Mr. Laslow’s cat, he likes to sneak up on ya!”

“Hange, do you hear— shit!” Levi hops to the side, narrowly avoiding the tabby tail as Tubbins McGee whisks past.

“It’s only a cat, Levi, dunno what’s got you so worked up today,” Hange teases, grin echoing your own as you chortle from the landing above them. 

Eventually, they spill out onto the sidewalk and into the bright mid-day, and Hange groans loudly, stretching with both hands on her back.

“Ugh. Remind me not to die in there, I’d hate to put someone else through that.”

“Boof, tell me about it,” you commiserate. 

“Noted,” Levi snarks. 

Hange removes jingling keys from her pocket and unlocks the ME’s van parked along the sidewalk with a beep, then opens the back doors and steps in. You follow, leaning against the cool metal siding to watch.

When they both load into the front seats and the engine turns over, you lean forward between them to listen in.

“So,” Hange starts, smoothly pulling out into the road behind a silver minivan. “I’ll be able to give you a more solid answer in a couple hours, but my initial estimated time of death would be around 5:45 this morning.”

Levi nods, staring out the passenger window while he answers. “That lines up with the neighbor’s story.”

“Theories so far?”

“Well, there’s the boyfriend,” he muses, lifting a hand to rub his chin.

“Too obvious,” you say dully, not bothering to amend the lack of “ex” yet again. “Next theory.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutter, almost too quietly for you to catch: “Too obvious, hmm? Next theory....”

You’re momentarily flabbergasted, hand falling through the faux-leather seat back in your shock. Can he actually hear you? You shake out your hand while it re-materializes, tuning in to the conversation as Hange’s responding. 

“—a little far-fetched, don’t you think? I mean, has there been any of that activity in this area recently?”

“Mm, I’ll have to touch base with Petra. If there has been, I think it’s worth looking into.”

“What is? Wait, go back,” you frantically plead, leaning further into his airspace. But Hange plows on. 

“Oh, it’s Petra, now, hmm? Not Raggedy Anne anymore?” Her tone is teasing, and she glances over to Levi for a reaction. 

He doesn’t give her one, just stares out the window pensively before reaching for the radio dial. The stereo blares up into an Oldies station, and you make a disgusted face along with Levi. 

“You listen to this shit?”

“Hey, my dead body, my music, sweetcheeks. Don’t like it, you can thumb it back to the PD.”

“How about my dead body, my music?” you suggest again, reaching for the dial at the same time as Levi does. Just as his slender fingers touch it, your hand passes through the whole front console and the oldies are replaced with a terrifyingly loud static screeching. 

“Christ, Levi, what’d you do?” Hange shrieks, lunging forward to punch the radio off as you remove your hand. 

“Nothing! It just went berserk!”

They bicker while you stare at your offending palm. “Huh. Didn’t know I could do that.”

If you can actually interact with objects, at least to some degree, and if it turns out Levi can hear you.... This whole thing might be easier than you thought.

[blueunoia]

❤ ──── ·․ under watchful eyes (pt. 3)

━━━   SYNOPSIS: the reader and arvin are forced to go to a pre-marriage counselling session with reverend teagardin. 

━━━  WARNINGS: teenage marriage, allusion to sexual harassments.

━━━  NOTES: This one was little short, sorry! I’m gonna try and make part four longer. I don’t condone any of Arvin's action he clearly has severe anger issues at least and mentally ill as a result of his traumatic childhood at worst. Hope you enjoy!

━━━  WORD COUNT: 1,253

━━━  PART(S): part four

✦·․  ──── ❤ ──── ·․·✦·․·✦·․ ──── ❤ ──── ·․·✦·․·✦·․  ❤ ․·✦·․·✦·․· ──── ❤ ──── ·․·✦·․·✦·․ ──── ❤ ────  ․·✦

            The room was filled with tension. You sat in your nicest clothes, shifting around in your seat. Arvin places his hand on your knee, and you can feel it's warmth through your tights; you stop turning and look over at him. Arvin had his shoulders pulled back and back straight. He looks uptight and uncomfortable. He never sat like that. His jaw was clenched, too, as his gaze went back to the man you were both waiting to speak. 

Reverend Teagardin. He grabbed his cup of coffee and brought it to his lips before clearing his throat. "So," he began, "You two would like to get married? That would help things, I'm sure."

Arvin scoffs but bites his tongue. He doesn't want to be here, but your parents required it until they'd let him marry you. Arvin nods. "Yes, sir."

Reverend Teagardin looks over to you. "I suppose that would be nice. Of course, your families asked me to talk to you two before. Marriage is a big deal, you know, that's a lot of commitment for people so young."

"People are age get married all the time," you say, "and Arvin and I have been together for a while. We love each other too." 

Teagardin nods. "Well, that is important. It's just sometimes you'll want to explore other people," his gaze was on you as he said it. You look away from him, and Arvin gives a glance to you. He didn't like how he said that. 

"I don't want anyone else," Arvin says quickly. "Never will."

A small smile finds itself on your face but quickly fades away as the Reverend stares you both down. "Well, are there any concerns you two have about marriage?"

You and Arvin look at each other for a moment before he speaks up. "I mean, there's obviously money, but my Grandma is gonna let us live with 'er. We have a little hutch on our property, and I'm gonna fix it up to have our own space. And I have a job lined up in the summer, so we'll have our own money."

Reverend Teagardin nods, "That sounds like a good plan, Mr. Russell," the compliment sounds forced. "Y/N, do you have any plans after marriage? Do you two want children? I know many young couples like you often get married under specific circumstances, so maybe we'll see one soo-"

"Shut your mouth, you bastard!" Arvin lurched up at Reverend Teagardin. "Y/N ain't knocked up! We just love each other, that's all."

Reverend Teagardin stood up, "I'd watch yourself. If you hadn't pulled this little stunt, the two of you wouldn't even be seeing each other."

           Arvin shook his head and went to round the table, but you grabbed his arm. "Both of you stop it!" you stand up and look at Reverend Teagardin. "Now, all three of us know we don't actually need your permission to get married. If we wanted to, we could go up to the courthouse and have it over within five minutes, so what's gonna happen is we're going to walk out, and you'll tell our parents you think this is a great idea. If you don't, I'll tell 'em about you watching Arvin and me that night. Understood?"

            Reverend Teagardin gave you a stern look before shifting his gaze to Arvin. With a huff, he nods. You and Arvin leave, not stopping to talk to your parents. While you wait outside, Arvin grabs you and brings his lips to yours. "I don't think I've ever seen that side of you, sweetheart," he kisses you again. "I gotta say I like it."

        You giggle. "Well, you better stay in line, mister, or you'll see her again!" 

Arvin laughs with you and brings you back close to him. Holding you gently, he wasn't usually this affectionate. After he proposed, though, you could see a change. He seemed happier. 

           "Y/n! Come on, we have to get home!" you heard your mother yell from the other side of the parking lot. 

         You pull away from Arvin. "I love you," you tell him. "I'll see you at dinner." Arvin nods at you and quickly kisses your hand before letting you leave. His grandmother and Lenora came up to him, and they all went to the car. Arvin couldn't help but notice how Lenora kept looking at herself in the mirror. She had been acting different lately. Arvin saw her dressing nicer, putting more time into her hair, and she even borrowed a light lipstick from you. 

         It wasn't like Lenora to act like that. She didn't like makeup beforehand, and she had been spending less time at home with Arvin and Grandma. Maybe she had gotten a boyfriend, but Arvin swore she would've mentioned it to him. 

           As they rounded the corner, Arvin couldn't help but smile as he went inside. The two of you were getting married, and soon enough, you'd be living together. It was everything he wanted. In all honesty, it was the only thing he actually knew he wanted. You were the one thing he's so sure about. It was Saturday, so he didn't have to worry about school or anything like that, just get his chores down and head to work around twelve. His Grandma made him clean up a little, she wasn't the type to just make Lenora do it, but as he swept the floor, he heard something wrong. 

          Vomiting. Arvin pushed open the bathroom door to see Lenora on her knees in front of the toilet, her head laying on it as she moaned in pain. "Arvin," she said softly, her throat hurt too much to speak loudly, "Go get Grandma." 

         Arvin quickly found his grandmother bringing her back. Lenora assured her she just had an upset stomach, maybe even a stomach bug, and so she went off to bed. His grandmother made Lenora tea, and by the time he left and came home from work, Lenora was back in her room working at her homework. 

          "You feeling better?" Arvin asks. 

         "A little," she said. Lenora looks over at Arvin and gives him a small smile. "So, you happy to be engaged?" 

        Arvin smiled like an idiot and shuffled on his feet, embarrassed. "You know I am," he mumbled. 

         Lenora laughs. "Isn't it excited? I bet Y/N is excited to pick out her wedding dress. I can't wait to see it."

        "Don't have to wait long. She's gonna take you when she tries them on, you  know?"  

          Arvin hadn't seen Lenora smile so bright. "Really?" she asks excitedly. 

         "'Course! She'll probably make you 'er maid of honor too." 

        Lenora was ecstatic. 

        Though it didn't last too long because by the time you came by, she was throwing up her stomach again, but Arvin felt at peace for the moment. His sister seemed happier than ever, Grandmother was excited about the wedding too, and he was gonna spend the rest of his life with the woman of his dreams. Nothing could bring him down.  

        Then two months later came. Arvin held his wife's hand, both dressed in black as rain poured just as fast as his grandmother's tears. It wet the ground that his sister lay underneath. Unspoken and nonmoving. With one thing on his mind. It wasn't the same thing that plagued his mind two months ago. It wasn't a wedding, you, his sister, or his future. It was a prayer. A simple one at that. One that you shared. 

        A prayer for the right time.  

✦·․  ──── ❤ ──── ·․·✦·․·✦·․ ──── ❤ ──── ·․·✦·․·✦·․  ❤ ․·✦·․·✦·․· ──── ❤ ──── ·․·✦·․·✦·․ ──── ❤ ────  ․·✦

I hope you enjoyed part three! It was a little short. I haven’t been feeling very motivated lately, just kind of in a funk. But it’s a new week and I’m gonna try and do more! Starting with writing part four and hopefully getting it out by the end of the week. I have a plan for when this series will end and I think it will be around five to six parts. 

Don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment!

━━━  MASTERLIST

[jrueships]

Any new thoughts on any of your ships you would like to share 👀

HII ok so i KNOW I got this ask from like. Forever ago and im SORRY but college has been up so ive been busy but DONT LET MY SLOWNESS DISCOURAGE U FROM ASKING ME ASKS AND STUFF !! I LOVE GETTIN THEM ILL JUST ANSWER SLOWLY CUZ I DONT WANNA HALF ASS NOTHIN AND THEN REGRET IT LATER

but anyways ... YES i DO !!!!!

okay so lowry and deebo rumored to both seek being on the lakers then BOOM russ girlbosses his stupid way inside 'somehow' (... bruh) so they go to other places. Is the two package deal still on??? No! And that's okay!

at first i was kinda disappointed they didn't try getting on the same team (the heat) because i wanted to see them play together again BUT!!! i think like... romantically this just goes to show how GOOD they've adjusted to being long-distanced BOYFRIENDS !!!

Like they're FINE with not being on the same team anymore/same state or whatever ! They've learned and communicated how to make long distance relationships WORK ! They trust each other and love each other no matter What !

Though demar DID want to stay in the country so he can make visit trips easier tho!!

But anyways ... the main thing IM thinking of is what the fuck the heat gonna get up to!!!! Their goofy goober filled team!!! I'm not a big carer for Tyler herro and Jimmy but like.. we can't ignore how Jimmy made sure to keep his emotional support cracker on the team OKAY?? but anyways ANYWAYS ... imagine Jimmy friendly teasing demar about deebo being states away from his bf. like JIMMY would send 'saucy' pics of him and kyle in swim suits on a beach somewhere idk and Jimmy has his arm around kyle and he's chad staring into the camera. kyle doesn't really care like he's just having fun and Jimmy ALWAYS takes stupid fuckboy selfies so he doesn't really see it as a big deal. All the more freedom for Jimmy to send demar all these photos of him and kyle having fun together WITHOUT demar, just as a teasing 'haha I got your boyfrieeend!! might kiss him 😳 who knows <3 !!' And those are literally some of the captions on the pics he sends privately to demar. he might post like One public pic of him and kyle hanging out real close just to see how many 12 year old kyle demar shippers he can make mad LMFAO

And when demar gets them, Jimmy expects him to be all like 'haha ok' and then go get high and watch house hunters all sad and shit secretly just to mess with his mind because Jimmy is a little big shit like that .... but he DOESN'T !!! because he trusts kyle COMPLETELY and he KNOWS how Jimmy loves to do dumb shit for attention and temper, so he just replies "hope bam doesn't find out about this." And that's all he needs to say to make Jimmy block him for two weeks

ALSO UMMM this is just me being a SAP but.... demar and kyle probably discussed where they'd go team wise on free agency and after talkin over that they both wanna go to separate teams, it's all cool. They agreed and they're cool with it and they can love each other from so far because their love is just THAT strong! they like skyping each other while they do random chores around their respective houses and sometimes spout out a random funny idea or joke.

But I ALSO think... because im STOOPID and WEEK .. that they also chose to be on different teams because they wanna 'secretly' see who can win each other a ring first. So they can PROPOSE with it. Like yeah kyle already has one but u KNOW his short ass keeps that shit to himself. He probably tries giving it to demar all the time but deebo is a king who don't need no pity ring!! But they're older now and sweeter and softer and they wanna find new ways to tease each other!! So yeah deebo probably went to the bulls thinking 'imma get this ring and give it to KYLE and PROPOSE to his fat ass' and kyle probably entered the heat huddle like 'yall we GOTTA get this ring so i can propose to my stupid boyfriend' IDK i just like to think of it as a fun race to love!!!

So yeah!!!! That's like! Some of em! A few!! When I can coherently think of some more, I might add a few reblogs, who knows !!! Thank u SM for asking and sorry for the late af answer LMFAO

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

From Eden: Two

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, mentions of mental illness; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The mc suffers from agoraphobia. After a new neighbour moves in across the street, her home becomes even more of a prison.

Note: Yo, so here’s part 2! I hope you all enjoy. As before, there is a transcript at the end for anyone having issues with the images.

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Transcript:

Sunday

I called Dr. Tisha this morning. I told her about the neighbour. She said it was nice of him to help with the garden but ignored me when I mentioned the broken gate. I don’t know if she believed me. It didn’t seem like it. 

She’s coming by tomorrow to check on my progress. That means I can’t keep those magazines on the dining table anymore. The last time she made me throw half of them out. She didn’t listen when I told her some were so old they were priceless. Sometimes it feels like she doesn’t listen to me at all. Well, what do I pay her to do then?

I haven’t been back outside. I should water the garden as it’s only getting hotter but I don’t appreciate the unwanted audience. An intruder!

Later

I still haven’t found the courage to venture out. I made sure the bike lock was still in place from the front door. It is. Though, if that man’s metal hand could break the old lock, it will likely shred the chain lock. 

Thinking about it makes my heart race. I should go lay down. I’m dizzy and the humidity is making me sick to my stomach. Or maybe it’s something else.

Monday

Dr. Tisha came by early today.

I showed Dr. Tisha where I kept my medicine in the bathroom cabinet, the pills divided into the days. I check off each day on the calendar so I don’t forget either. She said that was good. The last time she was here, it was because I’d stopped taking the pills so I hope this made her happy.

Then she walked through the house, she said she was happy to see the top of the table this time. I laughed but it wasn’t really funny. Then she went to the kitchen and checked all the drawers. 

She found some books hidden under the sink and asked if I’d ever read them. I mean to but haven’t yet. She took them to the guest room where she found the bins of books stacked in the corner. Better than last time when they were a pile on the carpet. 

She said I have too many things. Too many things that aren’t mine. She says it’s okay to be sad about grandma but that holding onto all her stuff won’t bring her back. Like I don’t know that! I do know! But she left me these things so yes, they are mine.

Then we went to grandma’s old room. It’s the same as it was. As it’s always been. Dr. Tisha frowned and went to my room next. 

She asked me about the broken bed frame. I told her it was nothing. I made sure to replace the duvet I’d dragged out the couch to sleep without threat of rolling onto the floor in my sleep. Not that I sleep very much.

She opened my closet and found the magazines. That didn’t impress her either.

We had tea in the kitchen and talked. She asked me how I was feeling. About side effects and all that. Besides the occasional bout of nausea and vivid dreams, I’m fine. She agrees.

Then she asked about the tall shelf of vinyls in the living room. Which one is my favourite? I told her the old Vera Lynn record reminded me of grandma and it was still on the needle.

Then we argued. She wants me to get rid of the ones I don’t listen to. And the magazines in my closet! And she wants me to go through all the books, too. 

She also suggested that I think about redecorating. I told her I didn’t want to do any of that. I like the house the way it is. Who is it hurting if I have a few extra books laying around?

She calmed me down after I raised my voice. She made me count my breaths and explained that I don’t have to get rid of everything, just a little. She says it would help with my progress. And, she said, I could probably make a healthy profit off a yard sale. 

Well, I don’t care about the money, I don’t want to have a sale. I don’t want to deal with people and them thumbing through grandma’s thing for pennies. 

Dr. Tisha said she’ll make some signs and we’ll have the sale on Saturday. My task for the week is to decide what to sell and prices. We argued again but not very long.

When she left, I started crying. Everywhere I look, I see grandma and this place is empty enough without her.

Tuesday

Lorena showed up today.

I gave her my list, it wasn’t very long. She asked about the bike lock and I asked if she could stop by the hardware store and get a new mechanism. She asked me if I even knew how to fix it. I said I’d figure it out.

I told her about Dr. Tisha’s idea for the yard sale. She said it was a great idea. I still don’t agree but she offered to help me sort through the guest room. I shrugged and asked her how long she’d be at the store. She said the usual and left.

I waited by the door. I watched the front gate for her return. She had the combination to the bike lock now and could let herself in. I just wanted her to come back and drop everything off so I could be alone.

When she did return, she wasn’t alone. I saw her at the gate, fumbling with the lock. As the gate shifted open, a metal arm reached past her to push it all the way. The man held a paper bag in his other arm as Lorena carried the other.

He was smiling as he spoke to her and let her pass. He followed her to the door and he saw me before I could back away from the slated window in the door.

“Open up,” Lorena called as she tapped the door. 

I didn’t know what else to do but open the door. When I did she handed me her bag and reached for the one the man held.

“Sorry, but… I can’t let you inside.” She said glumly. “But thanks for the help.”

“No problem.” He glanced past her and I tried to hide behind her but he’s taller than her. He’s very big up close. “You have a great day. Both of you.”

“You, too.” Lorena said and he strode away.

When the gate clattered closed I waited until I was sure he was gone. I dropped my bag and rushed to check the lock. He’d secured it. Good.

I went back to the house and locked the door too. Lorena already had both bags on the table.

“He didn’t mean any harm,” She said as she unpacked the groceries. “He was just helping me so I figured--”

“You shouldn’t have let him in.” I told her.

“He was only in the yard. He didn’t come into the house.”

“I could have helped you.” I said.

“When’s the last time you went past the gate?” She asked as she pulled out a small plastic bag and slid it across to me. It was the new lock. “That should fit, if you can figure it out.”

“That’s not the point, Lor,” You slapped the table. “You let him into my space. A stranger!”

“He’s your neighbour. I’ve talked to Dr. Tisha and you know you’re supposed to be working on your socialising. This yard sale will be a good first step.”

“This yard sale is bull shit,” I was so angry I could have yelled. “I like being alone. I like it here. This is my home and these are my things!”

“Calm down.” She set down the carton of milk and neared me. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re right. I should’ve asked before I let him past the gate.”

I felt so tired. Suddenly weak, like the air had been let out of me. I felt bad for being so mad with her after she went all the way to town for me. 

“I’m sorry I got upset.” 

She forgave me and I forgave her. She convinced me to fill one bin for the sale before the end of the day. She left shortly after. Her and Shelby are going to see a movie. I’m watching one too. An old black and white movie Grandma had on her shelf of cassettes. It’s interesting but the edges are fuzzy and the audio is muffled.

Oh, well, I’m tired. And I’ll be sleeping on the couch anyway.

Wednesday

I tried to fix the lock today. I haven’t been outside that long since last week. The garden needs to be watered.

I took out grandma’s old toolbox, the tools half-rusted but intact. I got what was left of the old lock off easily but the new one was more of a task to get in. I had to open the gate to get it in. The holes for the screw were off-kilter but I couldn’t turn the lock enough to get them to line up.

Then he showed up. That man. Bucky. The lock slipped out as he scared me and my screw driver hit my shoe. My toe still hurts.

“You need some help?” He asked.

I shook my head and tried to close the gate on him but he was already picking up the mechanism and screwdriver.

“I can do it.” I sound like a dying mouse. I reached for the lock but he didn’t even seem to notice. “Hold the door steady and I’ll just--”

“I can do it myself,” I said louder but he still didn’t seem to hear me. Or chose not to.

He reached around the gate and pulled it closer to him. I grabbed the bars and he slid the lock into place. His metal fingers shifted it and aligned the holes.

“Do you have the screws?” He asked.

I found the box on the bunch of rocks just beside the gate. I handed him each long screw and he easily twisted them into place.

“There ya go,” He gave the screwdriver back and smiled.

I closed the gate, as good as pushing him out of the yard. He let me but looked confused. I took the key from the box and slid it in the slot. I turned it and the click slowed my racing heart.

“I still don’t know your name,” He said.

I didn’t tell him and left him there. You think he’d get the clue.

Thursday

It’s not even 5am. I woke up in a sweat. The fan is dead and the house has grown stolid, even as the night air slips through the open window.

I thought I’d closed it more but it is wide open and the power is out. There is an eerie silence as the buzz of the fridge is entirely gone and the house is pitch black. 

I swear I saw something move in the window. Maybe a bird?

I tried to get back to sleep but it’s too hot. I guess I’ll just sit and wait for the sun to rise. It’s already starting to.

I want to go out in the garden today. I just hope that man doesn’t bother me again. I hope the lock is still in place.

Friday

Well, yesterday was fine. The power came back on at noon as I watered the garden and trimmed some overgrown plants. The freesias had grown despite my neglect. 

Today was just as boring. I read at the patio table for a while but then the phone started ringing. Dr. Tisha was checking in. She said she put the signs up yesterday and hoped the turn out would be good. She asked me how much I got done. I lied and said a lot.

Now I’m going to go sort through the guest room and toss a few records on top to get her off my back. I guess I’ll just have to hide under the table tomorrow.

Saturday

Everytime I think I’m doing better, it all goes so bad! 

Dr. Tisha and Lorena arrived early to set up the yard sale. They unfolded a table just inside the gate, leaving it wide open, and helped me arrange everything on top of it. I was nervous and tired. I didn’t sleep very much.

I waited nervously and the first customer showed up. Gladys, an old friend of Grandma’s. She bought an old pin cushion and the Miles Davis record. I should have kept that.

I watched mostly as Dr. Tisha and Lorena took the money and helped people, both familiar and not. 

Dr. Tisha made me introduce myself to them at least. I hated it but they were mostly friendly. A woman with two children, I think she said her name was Essie? She said she liked my shirt. That was nice.

But then he showed up! I ignored him at first as he played with the ornamental cowbell. He took that and a few records from the table. He didn’t even seem to notice Dr. Tisha or Lorena as he came to me.

I kept my head down as I lined up the thimbles beside the painted sewing box.

“How much for the records?” He asked. 

I didn’t say anything and went to the other end of the table. He followed and I turned back and went back to the other end again. He followed me. Again.

“Now,” Tisha stopped me. “What are you doing? He asked you a question.”

I looked up and blinked dumbly. “What? I didn’t-- I was--”

“Bucky,” Lorena greeted him as she neared. “Tisha, this is the neighbour who helped with the groceries the other day.”

“Oh, hello,” She held out her hand as she blocked me from getting away. “I’m Tisha.”

She introduced me then and told me like a child to say hello. I did, quietly.

“Are you… the one who gave her the flowers?” Tisha asked.

“I did.” He smiled. “But I guess she already has enough.”

“She’s shy,” Tisha lowered her voice. “She’s working on it. Now,” she turned to me, “how much do you want for the records… and bell?”

I didn’t know what to say. The man watched me and I felt as if I would melt.

“Come on.” Tisha poked me. “We talked about this, right? This is your sale.”

“Ten dollars each,” I doubled the price. “And twenty for the bell.”

“That’s a bit pricey,” Lorena said. I shrugged.

“Sounds fair to me,” The man took out his wallet as he leaned the record on the table beneath the bell and used his leg to keep it from falling. “I’ve never listened to these bands before and I’m trying to expand my library.”

He held out the money. Tisha had to elbow me to get me to take it. I snatched it from him and counted it. Another elbow as Lorena kept me from turning away.

“Thank you,” I said to him. 

“I hope you enjoy the records,” Tisha offered gently before she pulled me aside.

She took me closer to the house as Lorena watched the table. She lowered her voice. “What’s going on?” She asked.

“Nothing.” I lied.

“Nothing? Why were you so rude to him?”

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t know him.” She insisted.

“I don’t want to.”

“Look, I know you’re uneasy around men, but he was nice. And he’s your neighbour. You’ll be seeing a lot of him so I think you should at least try to be friendly. And remember what I said about friends?”

“My only friend is dead.” 

I was so upset I ran inside. And now I’m locked in my room, waiting for them all to just go away.

[nevermindirah]

I am but a sad little trans man who absolutely wants to know your thoughts on immortals capabilities to transition because I have thoughts and they make my depressed little trans heart hurt because how in the world could they transition if their bodies heal everything?

Hi! Sending you hugs because I've been struggling with the exact same thoughts! I wrote this lil meta last month but I don't like it and my brain keeps interrupting things like my job and trips to the grocery store to get me working on this puzzle.

From what we see in the movie, our elderly friends have regular-human healing, just faster and MORE, plus magic. We have canon evidence of how this works with wounds/injuries and can infer from there about how their immortality would handle infections, genetic/physiological/autoimmune/etc disorders, malnutrition/dehydration/etc, mental illnesses, and dental stuff, as well as things that bodies do that aren't necessarily bad but often need medical care — like pregnancy and gender transition. (I’m not a medical professional, just a nerd who loves a good Wikipedia rabbithole.)

Let's start with an easy one. Nile's hand healing after she stuck it in the fire is just a lickety-split version of what would happen to a regular human with a small skin wound: clotting, inflammation, rebuilding, healed.

When Nile yeets herself and pharma bro out the window of the topmost tower, we see the same thing happen again but bigger, plus we see several of her bones pop themselves back into place, and presumably any blood vessels that got torn up magically correct themselves under her skin. Humans have been surviving injuries like major bone fractures for a very long time but a bone that heals without medical intervention to realign the fractured pieces might heal at a new angle, meaning it doesn't work as well anymore, and it might cause damage to surrounding organs/tissues and leave a lot of scar tissue or a chronic wound. But Nile only needs Booker and Nicky keeping her upright for barely a minute and then she's walking around on her own just fine.

A large wound that breaks deeply through the skin, like Nile's sliced throat or Booker's exploded abdomen, can be survivable for a regular human if it doesn't irreparably damage critical organs and if you can get medical attention before you bleed out, but even with modern medical intervention the results are rough. Jay and Dizzy aren't wrong for being deeply weirded out by Nile's flawless neck: even with the best plastic surgeons in the world on the case, closing up a wound like that will leave scar tissue that affects both appearance and function.

So, we've got immortality magic moving bones back into place, restarting stopped hearts and lungs and brains, rebuilding major structures like arteries and intestines, healing up wounds without scar tissue, pushing out bullets, and otherwise handwaving the big stuff. But it's not a magic wand, it’s a process, and bigger wounds take longer. It's like these people's mitochondria have little gnomes in there with schematics to rebuild their bodies to factory default.

From how these bodies handle wounds we can infer that they'd handle pathogens / infectious diseases the same way: inflammation, white blood cells attack, byebye plague see you never. And if these bodies are resetting bones and rebuilding organs, they're probably also correcting genetic disorders and shifting around physiological problems like bone spurs. So let's keep on inferring.

What if, instead of every death erasing hormone replacement therapy and gender-affirming surgery and leaving a trans immortal detransitioned over and fucking over again, what if the magic that governs immortality considers dysphoria-causing body parts just like any other wound to heal?

What if Booker is a trans man, and he's got that sweet muscle mass and that height and that beard that comes all the way up his cheeks because he's been on the wonder drug that is testosterone for over 200 years? What if immortality was all "we see you've been hung from the neck until dead, and your eyes have been pecked out, and also you have all these hormones that turn your body into a shape that makes you miserable — we're gonna fix all that" and then regenerated his pecked-out eyeballs and unsnapped his neck and undid the results of months of insufficient food AND ALSO started pumping him with the fantasy version of HRT so his chest started to reduce and his fat redistributed itself and his beard started coming in?

Who's to say that's not how it works?

All my dysphoria is social — I'm fine with my body for the most part and I CANNOT STAND when people assume things about my gender, because of my body or for any other reason. We see pretty clearly with Booker that mental illness isn't magically healed the way physical injuries are, and I think that's because the causes of mental illness are a combination of physiology/chemistry stuff and things like our beliefs about ourselves and the world, our experiences of trauma, and our experiences of getting our needs met or not. If I were immortal I could maybe break up with my SSRI, but it wouldn't stop me from getting misgendered — I'd still have to find a way to cope with the ongoing trauma of that. Having to navigate hundreds of cultures' ideas about gender when my gender is "uhhhhh" sounds like absolute hell for me, no thank you, do not want.

But for my fellow trans people whose dysphoria is primarily body-related, and for my social-dysphoria pals whose gender is something nearly every human being would recognize and all they need is to pass, how about let's make an executive decision that immortality includes HRT for anybody who needs it, with no psych eval or begging your insurance company or poking yourself with needles, and just like with wound healing it's like regular HRT but faster and more. HRT so powerful and so magical that it gives you the best possible version of the results you want and none of the results you don't. If I had the option to go on HRT for just like one or two changes but not the whole battery of things I would fucking do that, and if I were to join our elderly friends, maybe I could.

This might be easier on transmasc immortals than transfeminine ones, because testosterone's effects are basically impossible to reverse. But also you can't just keep waking back up after repeatedly drowning for 500 years, so fuck it. We're making an executive decision here.

Estrogen that grows your breasts and softens your dick but doesn't lessen your ability to orgasm. Immortality magic that makes your beard go away and maybe shrinks your height an inch or two or six. Maybe Quynh is trans and one time a few thousand years ago she got injured in battle worse than Booker's grenaded belly and she woke up an hour later with a vulva and a uterus and now her body is just like that. Factory reset.

I subscribe to the "God made wheat and grapes but not bread and wine so humans could share in the act of creation" model of transness and I personally feel very weird about the idea of immortality magically giving a trans immortal cisnormative genitals the same way it resets bones. There's no one right way to have a pussy or a dick, you know? Maybe Quynh woke up from a catastrophic gut wound in like 800 BCE with a constructed vagina rivaling the best our modern money can buy, without a uterus but with a clit that's just as magical as anybody else's.

I've been thinking about writing a Book of Nile fic with trans man Booker, which is why the two of them are most of my examples here. It would include porn, because apparently I can't write more than 1500 words about them without writing porn, so I need to think more about what's going to feel good for me and other trans people who might read it and won't accidentally facilitate cis people objectifying us. Like, I've thought in a lot of detail about what a clit enlarged by that many centuries of testosterone might look and feel like, and that specific experience is not mine so I'm treading carefully.

Cis people are welcome to reblog this! Fellow trans folks are welcome to join me in the act of creation on this post ;)

[kyber-queen]

Like Real People Do (Rex x Reader) Pt. 3

Summary: Jedi!reader and Rex fall in love but are separated by the war. They meet again two years later, weeks before the Siege of Mandalore. In this chapter, Rex and Reader are prepping for a mission on an outer rim planet. Some fluff, slight angst, Rex gets to use a lightsaber because I say so. Italics signify a flashback in this fic. 

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Mentions of children/family planning ??, insecure Rex, k*sses, mentions of blasters n violence against droids, mentions of alcohol

Author’s Note: I’m not gonna lie this is probably my favorite chapter yet. It’s a little longer, but I think it’s worth it :) Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!

Previous | Next

****************************************

After your less than satisfying encounter in the maintenance closet, you had made an early retirement to your quarters to sulk. You slept, but your dreams were ridden with visions of a certain bleach-blond captain. You awoke the next morning ill-rested and heartsick.

You showed up late to your first tactical meeting with the upper ranks of the 501st in a disgruntled mess of dark undereyes and wrinkled robes. If Rex noticed your sleep-deprived state, he made no mention of it. You had positioned yourself strategically in the back of the room, precisely so if you peeked between the admirals, you could clearly see Rex discussing troop formations with General Skywalker. His structured brow was furrowed, and you noted the way he gestured at the maps as he made his point. He was so much more confident now, so much more self-assured than that often-anxious shiny you remembered from training drills two years ago. Maybe that was why he gave you the cold shoulder yesterday—had he outgrown you? Two years was a long time, especially during a war. Did he find someone new? Your heart burned at the thought. You hadn’t even tried to move on—at times, at your lowest points, you considered it, but you never gave up on him. You had broken your code for him. You had broken it every day since you met him, and yet here he was, the picture of cordial indifference. You were attached, deeply and painfully. Did he still care about you?

“Commander, I can hear your gears turning—any input?” Skywalker looked at you expectantly.

You eased your tired features into a placating smile. “Looks good to me, General,”.

“Perfect. Rex, you’ll go with the commander. I want you two waiting just outside the village. The Separatists should arrive within around two hours of landing. Comm me when you see the Separatist forces coming, and you guys cut down as many of the first wave as possible. I’ll circle around with the rest of the 501st and we’ll finish off the rest from behind. All clear?”

You nod in assent as Rex answers with a decisive, “Yes, sir,”.

***

Rex was going to have to have a conversation with his general after this. Your very first mission with the 501st, and Skywalker had paired you with Rex on a glorified stakeout of all things. Rex was pissed. He had decided as soon as he found out you would be consulting with the 501st that he would keep his distance. He knew it wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t seen each other in years—war makes love near impossible. He was more upset with himself for falling for a Jedi. It was against the law for either of you to have an attachment to each other. Rex had fallen in love, and it was a stupid, shitty idea. He had spent the better part of two years trying to bury his memories of you, and just as he was beginning to succeed, here you were creeping back into his mind. Just the sight of you threw him back to two years ago—back when he was really, truly happy. Rex was built for war, nothing more. The problem with you was that being with you made him think otherwise. When you were together, you would always talk about ‘after the war’. Rex knew that as a clone, there really wouldn’t be an after. You, with your altruism and soft smiles and gentle touches were everything Rex didn’t need.

Rex walked to the pod that would take the pair of you to the Separatist-threatened planet. You were already seated. You thumbed the grip of your lightsaber, and Rex recognized the gesture—it was a habit whenever you were nervous. His eyes were locked on you, debating whether or not he should say something despite his earlier promise to not get involved. You broke the silence for him.

“I can feel you staring, Rex. Talk to me,”.

You could always tell what he was thinking. As your friendship first blossomed, it unnerved him, but as your paths intertwined more and more he found it a comfort to have you understand him so well without him even saying a word. Rex met your eyes, and his stomach clenched. You were still so beautiful. He looked away

“Just thinking about the campaign, sir,”.

Your heart ached. Every bone in your body was screaming, ‘I love you, I love you, I love you,” and yet he called you sir. He addressed you as a superior, another link in the chain of command. He really had moved on, hadn’t he? You bit your lip, the sharp pain of your teeth against the tender skin attempting to draw your attention away from your torturous thoughts. You had a mission to complete. You peeked out the porthole, and you saw the terrain approaching far faster than normal.

You landed with a crash. You were jostled from your seat, your head smacking the metal wall painfully. As the ringing in your skull crescendoed, you took stock of your darkened surroundings through your blurred vision. The lighting in the pod must have been damaged during your landing. You ignited your lightsaber, illuminating Rex with its soft glow. He stood up and rolled his shoulder experimentally, his nose scrunching in pain.

Your brows furrowed, “Are you alright?’

“I’m fine,” He grunted. He felt his way along the walls. “Exit’s been jammed shut, though,”

You searched his eyes in the dim lighting, another pang of longing reverberating through your chest. You dismissed the sensation and plunged your lightsaber into the wall of the pod, freeing yourselves. You emerged from the battered pod, your head pounding as your eyes adjusted. It was bright, with the triad suns beating down on you relentlessly. You checked your positioning system—you had landed a mere 15-minute walk from your stakeout site. You watched as Rex eased himself out of the pod. He groaned, his hand cradling his right arm. You handed him his positioning chip, and the two of you set off towards the village outskirts.

You noticed his hand lingered on his right shoulder, and he would grimace from time to time when it jostled. You reached your hand out to his plastoid-covered shoulder. “Rex, let me—”

“I’m fine,”.

His tone was sharp and dangerous, affecting you like a slap to the face. You sucked in a breath, and walked the rest of the path in silence. The planet was beautiful—you were surrounded on all sides by strange golden grasses that swayed with the breeze. Its beauty did nothing to distract you from the man by your side.

You arrived at the meeting point and immediately settled yourself against the large boulder meant as your cover. Rex sat across from you, leaning against a smaller rock. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes for a moment and swallowing thickly. You traced the sharp line of his jaw with your eyes, following down to the thick cords of muscle in his neck. You contemplated another attempt at offering him some bacta spray, but considering his earlier response, decided against it. When did Skywalker say the Separatists would arrive? Two hours?

You spent around an hour in silence. You meditated, as General Secura had taught you. Time moved thickly around you, your aura burning bright as it cut through the hours and seconds. With your deep focus came little flashes of memories.

You saw Rex, smiling. His golden skin was warm against the soft sheets. His thumb traced the apple of your cheek. You grinned.

“What do you want to do, Rex? After this is all over?”

He paused, his hand resting heavy on your jaw. “I don’t know, cyare. Guess I never really thought about it,”. His eyes flicked over your gentle smile and bright eyes. “I’d wanna be with you, though,” he whispered. You’re everything he could ever want. He’d never loved anything so much, and he knew he’d never love anyone else the way he loved you. What the hell did he do to deserve you? “What about you?”

“My parents—I barely remember them now—had a house on Naboo. We could live there, just us. No war, no fighting. It’s so beautiful there, Rex. The grass is long and tall—as a child, I’d play outside for hours just soaking up the sunlight. It’s a good place for raising children,”. Your face heated as you said the last part.

“Raising children, eh?” Rex tilted your chin, and you lifted your gaze to his eyes. You nodded slowly. “With me?” His eyes shone in the morning sunlight, his brow furrowed.

“Yes, Rex. Who else?” Rex’s expression eased, and you pressed your lips to each of his cheeks, followed by a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. Rex sighed contentedly. He had no clue why you were with a shiny like him—he was one of a million genetically and physically identical men. He was sure that eventually you’d realize just how much better you could do than a clone, but until that day he’d savor every precious moment with you.

“You’re gonna be a great parent, one day, cyar’ika,”.

“You will, too, Rex,”.

You jolted out of your trance. It was just your luck that Rex had infiltrated the one escape you had from your relentless thoughts of him. You opened your eyes to find him studying your face. He averted his gaze quickly.

“Rex,” you called.

He fiddled with the straps of his armor.

“Rex,”.

He dropped his hands to his sides with a harsh sigh. “Would you just stop it?”

You were stunned. “Rex, I—”

“I spent two fucking years trying to forget I ever loved you. I was nothing, I was nobody, and you were this—this ideal being. I had no fucking clue why you gave me the time of day, but I let myself fall for you anyway. When we left for our tours, I broke. You were the first real thing, the first good thing I ever had, and you were gone. I was sure I was gonna die over there—and you wouldn’t have even known if I had. It was so much easier to believe that you had moved on, that you were through with me. Now you’re here and you’re alive and I—” his voice broke, “I don’t know what to do,”. He met your gaze, and his eyes glistened. His voice was barely a whisper, “You were always the rational one. Please tell me what to do,”.

Your wide eyes watered. You turned your head to the golden fields and let out a tiny sob. What the hell do you answer to that? Just as you opened your mouth to speak, you spotted what seemed to be a thousand metal heads just over a rolling hill. The separatists. You hastily wiped your eyes and took a deep breath. This would have to wait.

“The Separatists are here,” your voice wavered more than you would have liked. “I’ll comm the General,”. You sniffed, rubbing your eyes again. Get it together, you thought. You were a Jedi Master, for gods’ sake. Ever since returning to Coruscant, you’d been an emotional trainwreck. You were starting to see why the council discouraged attachments.

You allowed Rex a moment to collect himself, turning to face the oncoming droids as the two of you prepared in silence. The metallic clang of their footsteps grew louder and louder. Rex slipped his helmet back on over his head and unholstered his blasters.

“It’s your call, Commander. When d’ya wanna go?”

You looked back over your shoulder at him, and you were instantly thrown back to the hours of training exercises you had completed together. You grinned.

“Think you can take down the battle tank over there?” You motioned to the gargantuan hunk of steel situated right in the middle of a sea of battle droids.

The competitive edge you had so dearly missed was back in Rex’s voice.

“You know I never miss,”.

“Race you there,”. And with that, you were off. The two of you flew down the hill, cutting down the droids as if they were made of straw. You swung, decapitating a droid and ducking as Rex put a blaster hole through the one taking aim at you from behind. You worked well together, always did. The rest of the 501st seemed to be making easy work of the droids from behind.

“Rex, blaster!”

Rex tossed one of his blasters into the air, and you force-pulled it into your grasp in an instant. You fired off three quick shots at one of the tanks, damaging the traction treads. Rex looked over at the tank, and recognized the maneuver you had initiated in an instant. He took off for the tank, and called your name once he was just yards from its base.

“Saber!”

You switched off your saber and hurled it in Rex’s direction. He had barreled past at least ten lines of troops, snatching your lightsaber from the air before igniting it and plunging it into the battle tank’s generator while simultaneously firing off a few rapid shots at the droids. The droids’ main attention, as planned, was on you, and you were beginning to feel the heat. You force-pulled your lightsaber, still ignited, from Rex’s grasp and into a line of battle droids before its heavy weight met your palm again.

“Blaster!”

You tossed Rex his blaster, and he caught it with ease. With your lightsaber in hand, you began cutting a path to Rex, who had holed up against the decommissioned tank.

“Need to get me one of those,” Rex motioned to your lightsaber with a grin.

You shook your head with a laugh, deflecting a blaster shot as Rex took aim at the next line of droids.

It was your fault. You got distracted. Something about the focus in Rex’s masked stare as he picked off the droids one-by-one pulled your attention away just long enough for one of the droids to press the cool metal of its blaster against your neck. Before you could react, Rex fired two quick shots into its head.

“Told you, cyare, I never miss,”.

You missed this. The nicknames, the banter, working together like this. It felt good. It felt like coming home. You snuck one last glance at Rex before sprinting out from your cover to cut down the next row of droids.

Rex was fucked. Did you realize he called you cyare? It just slipped out—something about being here with you, fighting next to you—it brought him back to two years ago. He shook his head, firing at a droid that had pointed its blaster at you. He was done with pretending he didn’t care. He still had no idea what to do, or where this would go, but he could figure that out later.

You finished off the last droid, looking back at Rex with an easy smile before waving to General Skywalker. Rex jogged over to you, pulling you back behind the tank and away from the prying eyes of the rest of the 501st.

“Rex, wha—”

He ripped off his helmet, letting it fall to the ground as he pulled you into a kiss. His hand fell to the small of your back, and you practically collapsed into him. His lips were hungry against yours—he was all tongue and teeth and desperation. He needed this. You needed this. You raked your nails through his close-cropped hair, drawing a little groan from deep in his chest. His hands were everywhere—your hair, your neck, your waist—

“Rex, where are you? Are you injured?”

For the second time today, Rex was going to kill his general. He pulled away from you reluctantly, his hand lingering on your waist. You take his hand, and press your lips to his palm.

“We should go,”. Rex nods. “Meet me in my quarters tonight—you still like firewhiskey?”

“Rex—are you over here?”

You meet Rex’s eyes, and he smiles. A real smile. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“See you tonight,”.

********************************************

Like Real People Do Taglist: @pinkiemme @callme-eds @dinpoe 

[antihero-writings]

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch11)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Alright everyone I'M BACK ...And I'm so so SO sorry that I took so long to update. Over the past few months I took my first real break from posting fanfiction overall in a long time.

Before I posted this chapter, I actually ended up heavily editing some of the previous chapters, which I'd like to inform those who read the originals about first. (Currently only the Ao3 version, and the reblog version of this fic with the picture on top are up-to-date.)

* I made Tom overall more polite. I was of the belief that his politeness was not an innate trait, and without memory, he would be a bit more unpleasant, and then we could see him grow with time. I do still believe it's not an innate personality trait, but a couple things made me realize he really should act differently in my fic. * I made Snape treat Tom better in the interrogation chapter. Both at the beginning and end. I liked the ending with the Levicorpus spell, and I do kinda miss it, especially because it informed Harry's reactions, but I think it was just too mean, especially because of something I'm going for later. * I added a conversation with the other boy in the hospital wing. (By the way, if you go back to read that and can think of more things they should talk about, don't hesitate to let me know!)

...I think those are all the big things! Feel free to offer feedback on the changes if you read them!

I'm so sorry to everyone who was hoping for faster updates. I truly do appreciate your comments and support deeply, and hope that you will continue to read and still enjoy it. I would still love to hear what you think!! <3 <3

Chapter 11: The House of Books

“The summer? With you? And Harry Potter?”

Tom had been examining the objects Snape had brought him—objects which had apparently once belonged to him—and blinked, raising his head to look at him.

“Believe me, I am not thrilled about it either.”

“No, it’s not that—well, it is—it’s just…” He paused, running his fingers along the clothes laid out on the bed before him, then squinted up at Snape. “I’m trying to discern why this is a good idea.”

Snape looked away, seemingly wondering that himself.

“I think, with time, you’ll find that our headmaster has a very unique sense of what is good for others. He believes uncomfortable situations often serve for people’s betterment.” He looked off to the side and muttered, “Whether or not they agree.”

“What sort of ‘betterment’ does this serve?”

“I suppose he would like the three of us to…”—He exhaled—“get along.”

Tom raised an eyebrow a second time, as if to say Us? Really?

“Futile though it may be,” Snape added.

Tom bit his lip, internally assessing the situation as he also returned to assessing the objects.

It wasn’t ideal—that didn’t need stating. Tom had a difficult time fathoming why Dumbledore—who seemed to bear him no ill-will—would want him to live with one person who had a rather insurmountable grudge against him, and another who didn’t seem to like him much better. He wanted them to ‘get along?’ `Surely that couldn’t be it. There had to be more to it.

Was Dumbledore really so naive as to think they’d grow closer instead of hate each other more? Not that he quite understood why they hated each other in the first place.

“Is there a reason I can’t stay here over the summer? I wouldn’t mind.”

Clearly Snape would have preferred that as well.

“You no doubt heard at the Feast that there has been some question as to whether Hogwarts is entirely safe. The Board of Governors likely wouldn’t approve of a student staying over the summer until they are able to deny these suspicions. Also, the headmaster wants you to learn magic over the summer, and due to few teachers possessing a proclivity to stay at Hogwarts during this time, we must make other arrangements.”

Tom’s breath bated at the reveal that he’d be learning magic, his mind beginning to buzz. He tried not to let his excitement leak into his voice:

“You’ll be teaching me magic?”

“Do keep up.”

“So…” He sat back. “What’s Harry going to do?”

“Mister Potter will be…taking up space as usual, I presume.”

Tom stifled a laugh; he hadn’t been expecting such a response from a professor.

“You don’t like Harry, do you?”

“I’m not…particularly fond of him.”

“Is it too forward of me to say it doesn’t appear you’re particularly fond of me either?”

“I pains me to say you’ll have adequate time to learn there aren’t a great many things I feel an extensive amount of fondness for.”

Tom could already see it now.

“Consider it a trial period, of sorts.” Snape swept around the room as he altered the direction of conversation. “If you are able to succeed over the summer, you may continue your schooling at Hogwarts when the next year begins. How much you learn, and how quickly, will determine the year in which you are placed. That is, if you’re placed in any year at all.” He looked down his hooked nose at him like that was both the most likely option, and the most preferable.

Tom could tell hidden behind his words was the idea that this ‘trial period’ was about more than just how adept he was at magic. He’d didn’t need telling that he’d have to be careful in more ways than magical.

“Do you have any other business to attend to before we leave?”

“Wait, we’re leaving now?”

“I don’t come to the hospital wing for pleasant chats if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tom bit his lip. In all honesty he would have liked to stay and explore the school more, but he could tell Snape wasn’t the kind of person one could negotiate such things with.

He turned back to the items that were supposed to be his.

“Is this really all I have?” He asked softly.

Sure all the essentials were there: clothes, books, toiletries and the like, but nothing more personal. No pictures for his nightstand, or even a keepsake to remind him of home, of family. Nothing that could tell him a little more about himself.

Snape paused a moment before he replied: “All of which I’m aware.”

Tom didn’t say anything. Merely put everything back in the trunk and followed Snape to the door.

“Don’t you have anything to bring home with you?” Tom asked.

“Don’t you think a skilled wizard such as myself would have methods of sending it to its proper location?”

They spent the walk across the grounds in silence, which could probably be considered steely, though Tom didn’t mind. The grounds around Hogwarts, and what little he saw of the castle, were altogether beautiful, and empty conversation would only have dulled his enjoyment. He turned around, walking backwards, a smile creeping upon his face upon at the sight of the castle in its full glory. He came to find this wasn’t a school, this was a palace, a haven.

A—

The word home rose to the surface of his chest.

It occurred to him this was the first time he’d smiled since he lost his memory. Really and truly smiled.

The feeling wasn’t half bad.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You like it?”

Tom cleared his throat. “It’s nice I guess.” But he couldn’t stuff the smile down, couldn’t quite figure out what this feeling was.

He must be a student, surely. Otherwise, why would he feel such fondness for the place?

He didn’t think Snape would reply, and was surprised to hear, barely audible, “I always thought as much.”

They arrived at a wrought iron gate with winged boars on either side—(really living up to the name, Tom supposed. All they needed was a decent amount of warts on them). Once they had passed through it, Snape stopped abruptly and held out his arm. It seemed he was expecting Tom to take it.

Tom wasn’t quite sure why he ought to do this, (and was rather offput by the thought of touching this man). Still, he did as he was told and—

He felt like he was being pigeonholed through a pipe. When the journey ended he was in an entirely new location, and wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t feel sick.

"Apparating for the first time can often make one feel unwell,” Snape informed the doubled-over Tom in a way that didn’t signify he really cared.

As Tom regained his bearings, he thought for a moment, in the same way he quite liked the walk along the grounds, he probably would have rather enjoyed traveling across the countryside. It struck him, that, while this sort of travel certainly got the job done, if wizards had a type of travel more like flying; allowing one to see the view, but also get where they needed to go quickly, he would like to learn it.

The new location, however, was far drearier and less pleasing to the eyes. Rather than an enchanting (and probably enchanted) forest, bordering sunny grounds, and a castle whose majesty was unmatched (at least in his current memory), this was a grimy, cobbled street, like a dull pencil: grey, disappointing, and without its sharpness.

He was almost certain the place was non-magical in nature. He couldn’t believe anyone magical would allow their cities to collect this much grime and…boringness. Identical brick townhouses lined those streets, their chimneys spewing smoke into the air, causing a low cloud of what could be either smog or fog to hang over the place, making the air warmer and more humid than necessary. Snape’s house was the last in the row, (at least, he assumed it was Snape’s as it was the one they were heading towards), and across from it he could see a black river winding through the mist.

Snape flicked his wand, unlocking what was presumably his front door.

Often houses have a certain, indefinable smell to them, but when Tom stepped inside this one, he found it wasn’t so indefinable: parchment, and old shoes, and maybe a little bit of neglect.

He could have fooled himself into thinking he’d walked into a bookstore. The walls were lined with books, the sofa and armchair in the corner creating a false sense of coziness—(‘false’ because nothing about this man said ‘cozy’). It had the air of being one of those spaces that is cluttered, but to call it anything but ‘neat’ would be an insult. Like a library of a devout scholar: cluttered with knowledge, yet, despite the fact that the shelves are puking pages, it all seems somehow perfectly in place.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Snape said in a tone that told him he didn’t want him to be comfortable at all. “Take care not to touch anything that isn’t yours.”

Tom’s eyes lidded. “So…don’t touch anything at all?”

“You’re catching on.” Snape smirked.

Tom rolled his eyes, not entirely sure Snape was joking.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

The words ‘your room’ were clipped, like the thought that it would belong to him for even a summer was repulsive. Though Tom could tell that before they arrived.

He opened a small door in the wall, which Tom would have thought another room, or perhaps a closet, but turned out to be a set of stairs.

After journeying up them, a hallway whose wood was in dire need of staining, dusty portraits whose stern eyes followed him as he walked by, and a decorative table with an empty vase upon it, greeted him.

The advertised room was small, and a bit stuffy, and a few of the floorboards creaked, but something told him he’d slept in worse conditions before.

Though it was a small house, they were able to keep to themselves. Snape was busy resettling into his house, and disinclined to give him a tour, and Tom, not having much to get settled in the first place, spent the time exploring his new surroundings.

He wandered around the library that was the downstairs, and the dingy hallways that were the upstairs. He took care not to enter what he assumed to be Snape’s room, as well as a few other locked rooms. He didn’t want to get on his bad side…if he even had a good side.

He quickly found he didn’t mind being around books. He had affinity for them, especially when their contents had to do with magic.

“Are these all about magic?” He asked Snape when he passed by.

“Some of them. It may surprise you to find most of them aren’t.”

“May I read them?” He asked, remembering Snape’s warning not to touch anything, as well as the fact that this was a ‘trial period.’

“If you cannot find ways to entertain yourself.”

“I’m sure I can. But you seem like the kind of man who appreciates silence.” He put his hands behind his back and smiled too pleasantly.

Snape pursed his lip.

They spent their time regarding each other as wolves encroaching on each others territories: they weren’t happy to be sharing the same space, but they couldn’t do anything but growl low until one of them made a move.

Later, when Snape made dinner, the action drew his attention from his book. Tom watched with fascination as Snape waved his wand with ease, and the ingredients floated and melded together of their own accord, like Snape’s wand knew what to say to them.

“Will I be able to do that?”

“A whole world of magic and you want to be able to make dinner?”

“Well—” Annoyance flared in Tom. “Of course I’d prefer to know much more exciting, dangerous things…but yes”

“Children are not allowed to use magic outside of school until they come of age…but, yes.”

The word ‘children’ in that condescending tone didn’t make him feel less annoyed.

“How come I’m able to do it, then? You’re able to teach me during the summer.”

“Dumbledore has his ways.”

Tom could tell he wouldn’t get any more information than that.

While they ate, Tom chanced a few more questions, and was surprised to find that it tasted quite good, and he thought he remembered someone once telling him good food does wonders for the soul.

He was glad to find that, despite Snape’s obvious distaste for him, and seemingly all things his age, he was cordial enough, and he certainly didn’t mind keeping to himself.

Tom was just thinking about asking when he’d start learning magic that evening, when a stack of books almost as tall as him landed on the table.

Flicking his eyes across the titles, he saw that each and every one of them something to do with magic.

“I expect you to have these read before before Potter arrives. Only then will I start teaching you magic.”

Tom leaned to the side to look at Snape and tried not to smirk.

“You sure this is everything? It doesn’t seem like quite enough.”