#every single story in history is based on this urge

[dozen-reasons-in-this-gun]

It should be legal to kill your dad

[talesofadragon]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

Summary: Theodore Nott came to learn that an inciting incident can alter the course of history. Lucius Malfoy’s fall led to Draco’s dark mark and the death of Dumbledore. The rise of the Dark Lord urged Harry Potter into hiding and Death Eaters into prominence. And then there was Amycus Carrow, with his tainted hands on Y/N, who forced Theodore Nott to do the unforgivable.

Warnings: Sexual assault, attempted rape, graphic description of violence, panic attacks

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Non-Slytherin!Reader

Genre: Angst | Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 5.8K

All Masterlists | Theodore Nott Masterlist

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢��𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐬. The lines between the two flow steadily, each following its own cadence. And yet, despite their distinct course and the light years between them, they somehow find a way to draw parameters of joint space. Somehow, someway, they eventually overlap—meeting each other at the apex of catalysts and the twists between junctures to shape history and write the present.

Today starts like most stories do: quaint and subtle, setting the tone for an inciting incident that will tip this fable on its axis.

It’s a typical day, or as typical as it could get during Y/N’s last year at Hogwarts. She’s sitting at the far end of her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, donning the same apprehensive expression as all her classmates. The turmoil that governs the halls is a jarring contrast to the flourishing and effervescent school of witchcraft and wizardry Hogwarts once was.

In this mangled reality, there are specks of the idyllic tales she’s heard about, and witnessed, growing up. Slytherins and Gryffindors sustain their infamous rivalry while in search of their individual purpose, purebloods hold themselves on par with Merlin himself, and more often than not, students find refuge in a forgotten nuke in Hogwarts when the burden of magic becomes too heavy to bear.

In the first drafts of the story, Hogwarts held its students under one embrace. But now, as we’re nearing a hazy end, an isolating veil drapes over the school, fracturing it into fewer than four houses and dividing it more than ever before.

“Now, as Barty Crouch Junior has so tirelessly shared, you have already been acquainted with Merlin’s three most formidable spells,” Alecto Carrow, one of Voldemort’s trusted Death Eaters explains. Her heels dig into the marble floors of the classroom, their screeches ricocheting across the walls in warning. 

“The Unforgivables,” her brother Amycus eagerly finishes. His yellow teeth wither under the dim light of the darkened sun as his arms open wide. It’s unsettling how he and his sister welcome such misfortune so openly.

As it happens every single time the Carrow twins revel in the darkest boulevards of magic, Y/N shifts in her seat until she’s nearly imperceptible. Each time, her eyes rove the expanse of the classroom, seeking out the comfort of peculiar hazel eyes. Within just ten seconds, her wandering gaze comes to rest on the idle brown walls, a weight of defeat settling upon her.

Upon her reluctant return to Hogwarts this year, Y/N was met with a torrent of unimaginable changes, starting with students being separated not only based on their house but also their blood status.

Purebloods became a procession of peacocks—majestic, refined, otherworldly. Only allowed to flick around with students of the same upper class. 

Half-bloods, on the other hand, belong to inconsistent ideologies. They teeter on the precipice of honor, waiting for Death Eaters like Umbridge and whoever else is in the Ministry to decide their fate. 

Muggleborns, it's best not to get started.

Y/N doodles a few meaningless shapes, swirling her quill around the parchment as she thinks of Theodore. Lately, it's become increasingly difficult to talk to him, let alone spot him, with all the changes in place.

Her classmates know she’s not paying attention and that she's only pretending she has her nose buried deep in her notes. Her quill, which scratches against the parchment, is nothing but a ruse to get the Carrows off her scent. 

This class truly has nothing to offer except for a modicum of nostalgia and a barrage of abuse, so if the Carrows are so gullible to believe that Y/N is actively listening, then so be it. 

By now, she takes it a step further, looking up to meet the eyes of the young children brought forth by the Carrows. She’s mastered the art of stoicism to a T, gazing at their expressions without showing a measly emotion. But every single time, she finds herself transported eons back to a time when things were drastically better.

Her memories vary, depending on whatever catalyst she encounters. She recalls seeing a girl with ginger waves once, and her mind acted on autopilot, bringing her back to the times she and her friends would huddle in their common room to animatedly talk about the latest Weasley prank. 

At the previous hints of pink, she remembered Umbridge when she was finally escorted outside of Hogwarts grounds. 

And today, her memories are not too different. Bittersweet at best and wistful at most. 

She finds a boy biting down on his lower lip. He’s a Gryffindor, judging by the color of his tie, more so by his audaciousness when he decides to lift his head and contain his fear. His eyes are hazel, edging closer to honey brown underneath the dim light of the classroom. And her mind is cruel enough to conjure the image of Theodore hovering above her naked body with lustful hazel eyes and abused fiery lips. 

Theodore doesn’t particularly fancy his eye color—he doesn’t quite fancy much about himself. He’s not oblivious to his popularity, but unlike Draco Malfoy, who shines like the stars, Theodore Nott glows like the moon in a dance of subtlety and intensity; a paradoxical luminosity that always leaves Y/N in awe. 

He never particularly bothered her during their first couple of years at Hogwarts, which explains why they never interacted until their fifth year. Back when Umbridge was foul toward the student population, especially vile toward anyone of lesser blood. 

Dennis Creevey, who had been a first-year at that time, fell victim to her malice. His penance for being born to muggle parents was bloodily etched on his hand. Y/N tried to help him, even though her own hand was hurting just as badly. The healing spells didn’t counter the dark magic infused in the quills, and while she could handle the pain, the poor eleven-year-old couldn’t. 

"May I?" a voice softly breathed from behind her, causing her to jump slightly. She turned to see the unexpected sight of Theodore Nott, dressed in an emerald green tie and an aura of pristine silver. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, and her hands trembled, a reaction heightened by the delicate hints of cinnamon swirling in the air.

When Theodore pulled out his wand, Dennis cowered. And to her surprise, Theodore’s face fell. Yet he quickly covered his crestfallen expression with a mask of pure stoicism.

Y/N’s gaze meandered away from the Slytherin and settled on the young Gryffindor. “It’s okay, Dennis,” she recalled herself saying at the time, even though she hadn’t mentally given her words the green light to tumble out of her mouth. Both Dennis and Theodore seemed equally surprised, turning their heads her way. “He’s not going to hurt you.” 

Maybe it was the softness of Theodore’s hazel eyes, or maybe it was how he abstained from touching the boy's bruised hand and elected to kneel to his level. To this day, Y/N doesn’t know what exactly made her fall for Theodore at that exact moment in time. 

Yet, all she knows in certainty is that she’s in love with Theodore Aurelius Nott. Pureblood, Slytherin Elite, Son of Darkness. But what can she do if one glance at his hazel orbs leaves her drowning in the depths of his moonshine?

“Miss Y/L/N!” 

Y/N’s head jerks when a protruding voice disturbs her reverie. She chances a glance at the front of the classroom, finding Alecto Carrow’s lidded eyes on her. Bright and sage, a stark contrast to the malevolence nestled within them.

“Yes?” Y/N wonders aloud.

“Given your diligence in recording the theoretical aspect of The Unforgivables, I believe it’s time for you to engage in the practicalities of said lesson,” Alecto announces with a tone that leaves no room for negotiation or refutation. 

With a sharp nod, she ushers Y/N out of her seat, beckoning her over until she's two steps away from her. Y/N stands idly, unaware of whether she's going to role-play as the tormentor or the tormented. But her internal questions are answered the moment Amycus Carrow shoves the Gryffindor boy with hazel eyes into her line of sight.

"Go on." Alecto wears a sinister expression as she levels Y/N with a taunting smile. "Demonstrate your aptitude to the class.”

Y/N doesn't step back nor does she shy away. She clings to the apathetic front she's adopted from her boyfriend, her gaze falling on the young boy, and her thoughts drowning out Alecto's sharp voice. By the time Amycus asks her to draw out her wand, she's mustered up enough confidence to answer with a terse "no."

“What do you mean no, you insolent brat!” Alecto bellows, being the first to succumb to her temper. For a snake, she is known to be as hot-headed as a lion. 

“I refuse to perform any curse on anyone,” Y/N clarifies, purposefully refraining from calling her “professor.” And if she had half a brain cell, perhaps she would’ve figured it out. 

“Is that so?” Alecto challenges. 

“Yes.” 

“Very well, despicable half-breed. You know the rules. You’re either the rodent or the snake. Guess you’ll always be the former.” 

She's calm and aloof on the outside, but Y/N is dreading what’s coming next. She’s never fallen victim to the Cruciatus, though she has heard all about it from Theodore and his friends—even once from Harry. 

She watches with steady eyelashes as Alecto draws her wand and points it at her. Although the curse is released, and screams reverberate across the walls, both Alecto and Y/N remain silent.

To Y/N's horror, the young Gryffindor boy thrashes on the ground with clenched fists and agonizing wails. Above him, Amycus stands like a conductor, his wand beckoning the crooked notes of the boy's voice to rise to a crescendo.

Finally, the screams die down, extinguishing and feeding the anguish of every student at once. Amycus turns to address the class, dismissing them all except for one. “You go ahead, Alecto,” he directs toward his sister. “If the little mouse wishes to squeak, then she’ll have to suffer graver consequences than what you have to offer.” 

Whatever Amycus has in mind seems to appease Alecto. Her expression is mirthful as she grabs the robes of the young Gryffindor boy and sweeps him out of the class, using his body as a cleaning broom. 

The students all file out, their glances lingering on Y/N. As the last of the students leaves, Amycus turns to the young girl. 

“Your wand, Miss Y/L/N,” he demands. Y/N debates not giving it to him, but she knows if she doesn’t, he’ll come and collect it himself. So, she reluctantly hands it over. “Ah, pretty little thing. What’s the core?”

“Dragon heartstring.” 

“Fitting for a spitfire like you.” 

“I thought I was a meek little mouse,” Y/N counters, making Amycus grin. 

“You are a lot of things, little girl,” he replies as he twirls her wand in his hand. “The wood?” 

“Larch.” 

“Enlighten me, Y/L/N,” Amycus voices out. If Y/N’s a mouse, then he seems to enjoy being a cat. His long and calloused fingers trace her wand while he circles her, trying to break her resolve. “What does the wood say about you?”

The question strokes her ear, carried by Amycus’ ghastly voice. Y/N stills, not seeing where he’s going. She jolts as Amycus taps the wand against her thigh, particularly the exposed skin between her skirt and stockings. 

“It’s best paired with wizards and witches who possess hidden talents,” she replies tersely. 

The hum coming from her side indicates that Amycus is listening—paying attention, though, not so much, considering he’s rather preoccupied with poking her skin with her wand while rotating around her. 

He’s playing with his food, Y/N tells herself, knowing this is just another trick of his. Somewhere in his sadist brain, his senses are sparking with delight at the prospect of Y/N’s discomfort, relishing the power he has over her.

A part of her wants to jam her wand in his eyes, pluck his eyeballs out, and proceed to stuff each in his nostrils. But another part of her stands idle, not even blinking as he keeps up his ministrations. 

Amycus smiles, taking up more of her personal space. Y/N’s senses are lit on fire as he traces her wand across her body. “Is your mouth a part of those talents, filthy witch? You don’t talk much, but rotten girls like you must know how to use their mouths.”

“To scream, I presume,” Y/N breathes. Her quip hits Amycus right in the face, and the maniac grins. His face is painted with a nefarious glee, that of a predator eager to feast on its prey. 

SA and Attempted Rape Content Begins Here. Skip Through This Scene by Scrolling to "Scene End."

The unsettling sensation against her ribs dissipates when Amycus pulls the wand away, but the apprehension still lingers. As she mentally prepares herself for the inevitable pain that comes along with the Cruciatus, Amycus’ hand cups her chin, and his molten lips crash against hers. The sensation is so crippling and unfavorable it sends her tumbling back into the table.

The pressure on YN’s cheeks intensifies until it becomes sharp and metallic. Fingers dig into her flesh, paving a path for Amycus’ tongue to follow. Though her hands slap against his chest, legs flailing around, he continues his exploration in the depths of her throat. 

It feels like he’s finally thrown her off a cliff, yet with all the energy Y/N can muster, she pushes his body away and slaps him across the face. 

He looks at her with unadulterated rage. Y/N forgoes reading his face in favor of bolting toward the door. But before she reaches the handle, she’s yanked back by her robes. The fabric tears, as does her heart. Amycus then throws her on top of the teacher’s desk and catches both her wrists in his hand. 

“Pitty your blood is impure, little witch. If you had to match your filthy mouth with something, I’d rather it be your pussy than your blood.” 

“Get off me,” Y/N enunciates with a quiver in her voice. It seems to feed Amycus’ wicked desires because she suddenly finds him nipping at her neck in pure delight. 

“You’ve disobeyed my direct order. When witches are bad, they’re punished.”

“You’re sick!” 

“And you’re delicious.” 

Y/N takes a deep breath, burying his face further in the junction between her neck and shoulder. His kisses are filthy, heavy, frigid. They make her body feel like ice—they make her feel as if she's been snatched and thrown into the depths of the Dark Lake. 

Amycus' hands grab her waist and flip her over until her gaze meets the darkness of the desk’s wood. If the sensation of the wand against her thigh left acid in her mouth, then Amycus’ fingers left her with bile overwhelming her senses.

“What a pretty little ass you’re hiding under here. It was made to be ruined.”

Y/N doesn’t have time to panic. In fluid movements, Amycus lifts her skirt, rips off the shorts she typically wears beneath, and spanks her ass. 

She yelps, struggling against the hand against her back that’s keeping her on the desk. She’s hit one more time and then two and three. The slaps are forceful and fiery, leaving her skin scalded and singed. 

A roar erupts from the depths of her soul when she feels a finger easing her thong. The force of her scream catches Amycus off guard, enough for Y/N to elbow him and dive to the ground for her wand. 

“Cruc—”

“Oh, so now you want to cast it!” 

With ease, Amycus manages to slap Y/N’s wand away. He ruthlessly places his palm against her stomach, pushing her back to the ground. 

Her head aches from the force of the blow, a scream barrelling through the space between her lips when Amycus towers over her, digging his obsidian nails into her skin. 

“It’s a shame that the most delightful toys happen to be the filthiest. Maybe this will teach you and your kind that you will forever remain beneath us.”

Y/N cries as Amycus incapacitates her lips. She squirms underneath his body, vaguely aware of the fabric he’s tearing in half, though oblivious to what clothing item it belongs to. 

She tries to non-verbally cast a spell, but her mind is too distracted to focus on the incantation. All she knows is that she needs to get Amycus off her. And yet, no amount of strength in her hands or her spells manages to draw him to a stop. 

His spit traces her lower lip, tantalizingly closing the distance between her mouth and collarbone. Y/N shudders, bellowing at the thought of his saliva trailing her skin. 

She wails, screams, and shouts until she realizes that Amycus probably cast Silencio without her knowing. Though futile, she tries to push his body weight off her, even resorts to kicking his ribs. 

It doesn’t work... until by some miracle from Merlin himself Amycus’ body flies toward the back wall, releasing her.

Scene End

Y/N gasps, pushing her palms against the tiled floor and lifting herself to a sitting position. Her chest heaves as she looks at the discarded fabric of her skirt, the scattered buttons of her shirt, and the remains of her robe that are haphazardly strewn across the room. 

Faint sounds register at the back of her mind. A heavy breath, mirroring her own, emanates from behind, accompanied by an erratic heartbeat that matches hers. Amidst it all, she picks up on Amycus’s forlorn groans, muffled by the surrounding darkness. Resilient ropes now bind his hands and feet, rendering him completely motionless.

“Get Y/N out of here,” a voice orders. It’s far away—at least, Y/N thinks so. But despite the fog around its edges, she can somehow sense the enmity lacing it. 

Before she can process the shadows creeping closer to her side, a robe is draped over her shoulders as arms wrap securely around her.

She thrashes against the man holding her, trying to repel his hands from her body. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he says in a low octave. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. I promise you. He can't touch you anymore.” 

The voice carries a bit of an edge, yet it’s the most soothing sound she’s heard all day. Her lips quiver as she internally fights with her thoughts, head spinning and shaking in defeat. 

The halls around her move fast, time seemingly irrelevant at this point. She’s crying and mumbling incoherently, burying her face in the fabric of this stranger’s clothes, which smell like a familiar blend of mint and citrus. 

The robe is wrapped tighter around her shoulders, and she receives a faint squeeze as she’s brought up a staircase. Words are whispered, a door is opened, and voices mingle with one another until a delicate tone enters her headspace.

“Draco, who’s that you’re carrying?” 

“It’s Y/N,” the male voice, the one belonging to Draco, replies. Draco kicks open a door and places Y/N on the bed. She wails even more at the action, curling herself into a ball—at this point, she doesn’t know if she should be relieved or terrified.

“What the hell happened to her?” 

“Lower your voice, Pansy! Can’t you see she’s scared enough?” 

Pansy stutters for a few seconds before asking again, “Who did this to her?” 

Draco hesitates, looking between the two young women. “Amycus,” he replies. And though it’s barely a mumble, it’s enough to send Y/N spiraling. 

Pansy’s jade eyes tread carefully as they peer over Y/N’s frail body. She sees the red marks on her hands and the blood that seeps from the cuts on her face. “Cruciatus?” she asks, but something in her tone makes it obvious that it’s just wishful thinking. 

“No,” Draco answers. Y/N’s sniffles and shudders fill the air as Pansy and Draco exchange silent glances. Y/N clutches her throat, rubbing it to try and get herself more oxygen. 

“What do we do?” 

Draco's footsteps echo as he retreats toward the door. “You're going to her clean up. If Theo hasn’t killed Amycus yet, I’m going to join him in his pursuit.”

There was something in that last line that clamped agony around Y/N’s heart, squeezing like a vice. She wept, only vaguely conscious of Pansy’s soothing touch in her hair and the remnants of Draco's anger looming around the room.

The mirror in the bathroom captures two girls in its glassy frame. One of them is put together while the other looks worse for wear. Y/N stares at her wild reflection, moroseness painting her irises. A tiny sob escapes her barely parted lips, and Pansy decides to tear Y/N’s attention away from the broken girl staring at them through the mirror. 

She softly holds Y/N's hand and helps her to the shower, turning her head when Y/N undresses and then carefully cleans her blotched skin. Once they’re done, she lends Y/N some pajamas and underwear, giving her the privacy and space to change into them before helping her dry her hair.

Wordlessly, Pansy leads Y/N away from the mirror. Her grip is firm as she swings open the bathroom door. Y/N squints against the sudden invasion of light from the room beyond. Her gaze takes in the expanse of her surroundings and the rich emerald hue of the Head Dorm's walls. Then, her eyes lock on two men. One with platinum blond hair and the other with brunette locks, both embracing the shadows with deadly intent in their fiery eyes.

She bristles, caught between shying away and clutching the attention she’s receiving from them. Y/N doesn’t dwell on their appearance for too long, afraid to develop the ability to read their eyes and stumble across the shame and pity possibly nestled within them. 

Pansy whispers something under her breath, which Y/N fails to hear under the barrage of despondency she finds herself in. She feels Pansy’s hesitant touch on her forearm, briefly catching her and Draco retreating away, the door to the room closing behind them in a soft thud. 

Silence runs freely around the room, undeterred by the confined space. Its loudness disturbs Y/N, forcing her to wince. She wills herself to say something, but all the words are lodged in her throat, searing it from the inside out.

Theodore takes a deep breath, the sound piercing the stillness in the air. But his words don’t leave his mouth the same way his gaze never paces beyond a fixed point on the ground. 

“Why are you not looking at me?” Y/N asks. She’s surprised that she’s articulated her thoughts even though she doesn’t have enough strength to speak.

Theodore shakes his head. “I can’t”. His words have finally forced his gaze away from the ground, although he’s refusing to settle it on her.

“I wouldn’t look at me either. I get it.” Y/N sniffles. Darkness clouds her sight. She’s tired and aching, barely finding her grip on reality. 

She wants to scream, and she wants to cry, but it’s like she doesn’t know how. Like her mainframe has been hijacked and forced to shut down. 

Something in her periphery catches her attention. Theodore is now standing before her, hands trembling by his sides. They move to embrace her waist, to hold her shoulders, to cup her face; but they never do. They only trace invisible lines that mirror her figure. It’s then that she notices the fray in his gaze. Instead of the rejection and the indifference she expected to find, there’s dejectedness, misery, and pain. 

“I would look at you forever if you let me,” Theodore answers with his hands hanging in the space between them. “If you would still allow me.”

“Touch me,” Y/N retorts. Hold me, find me, fix me, love me.

And Theodore does just that with unprecedented gentleness. He traces her cheeks with his thumb and pulls her by the waist closer to his side. His nose nuzzles her neck, breathing in her scent. His lips press against the shell of her ear, his warm breath penetrating her soul and sending a fond tingle down her spine. 

He touches her, not like she’s a porcelain doll or a bomb about to detonate. Theodore touches her like she’s the most precious piece of art he’s ever encountered, and he’s afraid that even one stumbled breath could force her colors away.

“I love you,” he confesses. A loan tear accompanies his declaration, inscribing the words on the fabric of Y/N’s soul. “And I am so sorry. So sorry, my love, for what my absence and negligence have put you through.”

“Theo…”

“No, Y/N. Don’t. Don’t try to say anything.” 

Theodore wipes her tears, gently tucking some loose strands of her hair behind her ears. Y/N nods, allowing her boyfriend to hoist her in his arms and carry her to bed. She hides her face in his neck, absorbing the lingering traces of his sandalwood perfume. 

When he places her on the bed, she notices the change in his demeanor as soon as she tangles her legs with his and rushes to press his hands against his chest. Her eyes fill with tears, and she fails to prepare herself for the rejection that she’s afraid might be rushing her way. 

To her astonishment, Theodore pulls her into a tighter hug, as if seeking a connection beyond the surface, binding together not only their skin but also the intricate layers below—souls, hearts, atoms.

“Did he…” Theodore pauses, choking on unspoken words. “Did he go far?”

Y/N shook her head. “No. You and Draco came just in time.”

“Barely,” Theodore denies. A stolen glance gives Y/N a clear view of his clenched jaw and crestfallen expression. The war may be looming, yet to find its way to the Wizarding World, but it has already made a dominion in Theodore’s features. 

“Just in time.” Minutes pass while Y/N is cocooned protectively in between Theodore’s strong arms. They encase her, filling her being with the placidity and the tenderness that was robbed of her some time ago. Her eyes close, darkness not as fearful as it seemed now that Theodore’s hands are weaving through her hair, and his voice is carrying a tender lullaby. “How did you know?”

Theodore’s hands falter and the lullaby ends on an abrupt note. His arms pull Y/N closer to his chest as he ruefully explains what happened, “A Gryffindor boy found me. He was frightened and jittery. At first, I thought it was because Draco and I were standing together. Then he said something about Defense class, the Carrows, and the Cruciatus. Your name got suddenly tangled in the gruesomeness of it all, so I rushed to the class as far as I could." 

“They wanted me to hurt him,” Y/N whispers in a small voice.

“I know.”

“I couldn’t do it.”

Theodore looks at her with glassy eyes. “I know you would never.” 

His hands sooth Y/N, featherless touches easing the altercation in her soul. She meets his gaze, heart shattering at the pain he harbors. She knows it’s not easy for Theodore to be a silent witness to torture and heartache, understanding his unconscious pursuit of absorbing pain and rooting it in his very being.

“Please,” she begins, “please, Theo. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I’ve failed you.”

“You haven’t.”

He declines vehemently, “I promised to protect you from the darkness, within me and beyond me. And I have clearly done neither.”

You had no way of knowing! Y/N argued in her head. You, alone, cannot stop this madness! So many rebuttals swarmed her head. She wanted to pelt Theodore with every single one of them until some sense got knocked into him. “Darkness,” he says so loosely as if he’s ever exposed her to any of it. 

All her memories of Theodore exuded radiance, softness, and peace. He’s only ever steered her away from the darkness, whether it was from Umbridge’s rage back in their fifth year or Bellatrix’s terror at the end of their sixth. 

To hear him speak of himself like this, as if he’s one of them, a shadow branded by the mark of death, hurts her more than everything Amycus did to her. 

“What did you do to Amycus?”

The name causes Theodore’s heart to falter beneath the palm of Y/N’s hands. Her eyes trace the veins of his neck, astounded by the voraciousness of their color as his anger escalates. “Do not say that vermin’s name.” 

Darkness, Theodore would call it if he sees himself now. And yet, all the world is witnessing according to Y/N is a darker shade of love and concern: just as sincere, a lot more warm. 

“Carrow,” she concedes. “What did you do to Carrow?”

“I wanted to kill him,” Theodore answers, studying Y/N’s face for a reaction. “I almost killed him.” If he was looking for disgust or worse, fear, he couldn’t find it.

“And why didn’t you?”

“Draco called for Snape.”

Y/N hums, absentmindedly reaching for Theodore’s hand. He hesitates when he feels her fingers entwining with his, his entire body tensing up. Y/N whines, and he takes a deep breath. His fingers lace hers, squeezing her hand before bringing it to his lips. 

“Are you in trouble?”

“No, treasure. No one but that scum is. Snape said nothing. He bound his hands and escorted him to his office.”

“Good,” Y/N replies.

“That’s not all,” Theodore intercedes, catching her attention. She shifts in his arms, waiting for his next words with a bated breath. “We’re getting out of here.”

“What?” came Y/N’s question, loud, sharp, and clear. It resonated across the room, its intensity surprising her.

“I didn’t kill him,” Theodore admits. He’s moved now, body peering away from Y/N’s hold to better study her features. She keeps them the way they are, with no sign of the acrimony or the resentment she suspects Theodore is looking for. “But I uttered the curse. Draco countered it somehow, and it rebounded. Hit the wall instead. It cracked it, the same way I cracked every single bone in his body and watched him bleed.”

As the words fill the space between them, Y/N rushes to grab Theodore’s hands. She inspects them, surprised to find them bruising. How did I not notice this? She whimpers at her late realization—her neglect. But now that his marred skin is beneath the scrutiny of her gaze, she notices that the blue and purple hues are rather dull in comparison to his story.

Almost as if Theodore understood her silent concerns, he says, “Cruciatus.” Y/N bristles, though her body is traitorous. It jolts, feeling the residue of the invisible needles and acid-laced knives. “Sectumsempra and a number of other curses that flew out of my mouth without thought when I saw you lying on the ground, bloody, bruised, broken. Torn apart by a mediocre middle-aged man, who deserves nothing but to be decapitated, torn limb by limb, until there’s not even a speck of his ashes left on the—”

“Theo,” Y/N calls. Her voice quivers, mirroring the tremble in her body provoked by those words. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry,” Theodore sniffs, head bending down. 

Y/N rushes to answer, shaking her head violently. “No. I can’t… I can’t watch you tear yourself apart over something you had no control over.”

“I—”

“Listen to me! Listen to me and not the lies inside your head. Does it hurt? Yes. Does it burn? More than a Fienfyre cast by the Dark Lord himself. But you weren’t there—no, Theo, come back to me and stop traveling in time inside your head.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Theo defended. “Merlin, Y/N. I was supposed to be there! To stop all of this from happening. You’re in pain more than I am. So, stop subduing my anger!”

“I’m subduing your self-deprecation! I’m not blaming you, and I will not fan the flames of your anger. You had no way, no way, of knowing Carrow would do this.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” he answers with a little less fight and a lot more shame. 

“And you did, Theo,” Y/N assures, bringing herself closer to his side. “You got me out. You saved me. In time.”

“Barely!” Theodore screams, a deluge of tears running down his cheeks and burying his resolve in their undertow. “But I will save you this time. I’ll get you out. Both of us. I’ll take you away, somewhere you won’t be judged for your blood or your mistake in choosing me.”

“You’re not a mistake,” Y/N refutes, begging him to see. “Look at you. You call yourself a vision of darkness when your love and care are shining through.”

“My love is darkness, viciousness, and cruelty.” It’s almost as if he’s the one begging her to understand.

Tears cascade down Y/N’s cheeks, the saltiness and bitterness of them incomparable to Theodore’s words. “Your love is fierceness,” Y/N professes, taking Theodore’s breath away, “seamlessness, and warmth.”

“I made you live through pain,” Theodore pleads, hoping she agrees. But she doesn't.

“And I will live after it. With you.”

The confession shatters the last of Theodore’s resolve. He pulls Y/N closer, resting his chin atop her head and enveloping her in a secure embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he cries. His fingers weave through her hair, gripping the back of her head, anchoring himself in her presence—convincing himself that she’s here. “You are so strong, treasure. Stronger than life and death, brighter than light, and fiercer than shadows. I love you, my Y/N. And I swear on your head and on my mother’s last breath that I will protect you even if I have to do the unforgivable. No one will ever hurt you ever again.”

“I know,” Y/N nods as Theodore kisses the crown of her head. Each breath he takes, every word he utters, stitches through her soul, mending the threads of herself. “And I love you all the more for it.”

“You’ve endured a war. I’ll be damned if I let you face another,” Theodore promises, capturing Y/N’s lips and seamlessly merging his soul with hers.

Tomorrow remains uncertain, and control extends only so far across the horizon. Yet, with Theodore by her side, Y/N finds the darkness considerably less formidable. Even if he's willing to commit the unforgivable to shield her, forgiveness is a given. His love is the tranquility that follows the tempest, and she's ready to navigate through destruction with Theodore.

I never expected to write about a topic as painful and sensitive as SA or rape.

Hearing the multiple accounts of women around me made me see how these experiences are prevalent yet scarcely communicated. When I wrote this piece, it was with no intention to diminish the seriousness of the issue but rather use this platform as a conduit to raise the matter and bring it to light. Whether you’ve been personally impacted by this disheartening situation or witnessed someone close to you go through this, I want you to know that you are not alone. You are incredibly brave for enduring this, and there is no reason to feel ashamed. You lived through it and will live after it with even more fierceness and courage than you've ever had.

If you ever feel like talking, please know that I am here to listen, without judgment or reservation. 🤍

All-Fandom Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

[tiredassmage]

7 & 8 for the swtor asks? :)

Saving this for after work was the correct choice (and also I overslept, oops >.>) bc bOY WERE WE BUSY. So thank you, this kept me a bit more sane, lol.

ask list here!

7. Which player voice actor is your favorite and your least favorite?

To probably no one who has seen an ounce of my content ever, I'd listen (and... have... by playing) to the Male Agent for hours. I think I'm up to 3 male agent ocs and the urge to make more? Constant. Inescapable. More than likely inevitable, tbh. I'm a glutton for the punishment of Imperial Agent story, apparently. Just leave me where I lie, there is no saving to be done.

Female Smuggler gets an honorable mention as well because I adore her. I adore the humor of smuggler. I adore the sass, the take no shit.

THEY HAVE THE RANGE!

Anyway, my least favorite is... probably either of the Jedi Knights, I think. Side by side, they don't feel as distinguishable from one another as some of the other classes. The job is done; I've played both at least through the class story and I wouldn't mind doing it again just looking at voice acting, but I feel like other classes have a bit more pop and variety. Or maybe I've just played my Knights too predictably akdfnlksdnflsdf.

8. Name your top favorite companions.

Oh man. Oh boy. How do I pick??? Y'know what, maybe I'll choose violence. Maybe I'll pick my favorite from every class. I've played them all. I could do that. (It's just as daunting to consider as it may be to read.)

Preface: I think my faves are largely story-based in my reasoning - I like their story, I like how they're engaged in the story, etc. Very rarely do I swap companions because of a felt need in gameplay given everyone's capability to do anything, but I have done so for story reasons.

Okay, I decided I'm insane enough to try to pick one from each, so since that's quite a list, find that beneath the cut:

We'll start with Agent, my beloved, and Vector. The Friend The Agent Needs. No more need be said. I want to hug them. I hope he's having a good day. One day, I'll do his romance, too. Dot stop playing male agents challenge. (I'm such a creature of habit.)

Bounty Hunter's a tough call because I found myself fond of practically the whole damn crew. Real found family vibe. Idk if I love one of them so much over the other as much as I just appreciate the crew's dynamic overall so, so much. The level of interaction and mingling with the crew just felt so much higher or hit so much harder than a lot of the others that I'd rank BH as a class story relatively high on my list solely for companion interactions.

For Sith Warrior, again, to little surprise if you've heard me open my mouth, Malavai Quinn. Ironically and slightly unironically my "he did nothing wrong" bastard. I'm, unfortunately, so incredibly attracted to this smart idiot of a man. The repression of feelings to explosion of passion and dedication in his romance is chef's kiss kind of shit. They're lying if they're trying to convince me that this man isn't a disaster bisexual. He's just. So insanely pretty. I'll forgive him even if I ever make a character that won't.

I think Talos is probably my favorite Inquisitor companion. Whoever said we were robbed because we don't have an Inquisitor x Talos romance in-game? You're so right. Dude has a cool name. Love this history nerd. He's so incredible. I am so pleased he was still being bright and bubbly on Elom. Miss him.

Trooper is hands down Elara. Constantly tip-tapping like a very excited, happy dog when I see I can talk to best girl. I love her story. Her romance is incredibly sweet. She's the single thing that got me through a 2nd Trooper playthrough.

Smuggler's another no competition in favor of Bowdarr. I want to give this Wookie so. many. hugs.

Kira Carsen for Jedi Knight. Again, no competition. The friendship is so, so sweet.

And Jedi Consular is a tough one to round out on. I have a lot of love for basically the whole crew, but I think I'll have to go with Qyzen for being bestie original MVP. I'm so glad we get to build a friendship with him because I don't think we get to see Trandoshans in quite this same light anywhere else in the game.

And also Theron Shan. I can't do this list without him. Sir, I'd die for you. Sometimes you're an idiot and I love you. Insert, after all, why shouldn't I romance Theron again meme here.

Honorable mention to Major Anri. I'm love her. If I have to fuck with her directly in saboteuring of the Empire, I'm going to feel SO many emotions. Keep me in your thoughts kan;fladnkfl;dsf.

[rememberingtheself]

Destruction, Revolt and Fire

Manga: "Akira", Scene: City Explosion Wanting to destroy something is a very powerful thought. It can happen out of reaction to something or it can happen within yourself through an explosion of emotions. Look at us, we are the only specie on earth with such a destruction power. We're barely intelligent creatures, but we discovered how to create weapons that are a million times stronger than our fists. We are the only conscious beings down here. We also give ourselves our own worth. Humans are good, Humans are bad... Only Human's words though. Could it be that if every being in this planet were granted consciousness, we'd be seen as the scum of earth.

Manga: "Dr. Stone", We're so desynchronized with nature, that's a fact. We impact everything around us as we progress. This thread isn't about critisizing Human Kind. This thread is dedicated to Power of Destruction. Destruction has been part of us. We are bounded to war. Even since Prehistorical ages, we sought the destruction of our own species for a more advantageous settlement to protect our tribe. Later on, it was for our ideals and worldview in modern times that we sought destruction of the other.

Manga: "My Hero Academia", Character: Destro Nonetheless, isn't Power of Destruction a form of expression? Warlods, Generals, (some) Politicians, Assassins, Tyrants, a lot of these human beings had a strong affinity to destroy things and commit atrocities. They were still Men with values, families and passion. This leaves me to think, what if destroying things is a way of coping with distant pain, or a response to a causal effect reasoning based on a single episode of their life (World War 2). Destroying millions of lives seems to originate from intricate stories related to Rare Ego cases, Trauma, Illness, leading a single human being to change the course of History.

Manga: "Hunter x Hunter", Character: Feitan Wanting to destroy things is in our genes. We destroy on different scales. When people mock you in society, you sense a feeling of anger that turns into hate. You'd wish to throw a punch and knock'out someone. Some things like Injustice, hurts us to the point of hating the place we're in, in Life. Wanting to destroy things is then a form of expression of all the energy you release to cope with your pain. That energy is driven by a Will to revolt against our human condition. It is very imporant. This Will to revolt is shaped like anger inside of you, but it's very subtle. Tune in to your heart in those instances, you'll discover strength. Last time I felt a kind of deep anger, I asked myself where it originated from. Then I felt a fire inside of me that keeps expanding. The anger or rather the heat I felt in my guts was my Will to live. When you start feeling like destroying things around you, give it room, think of what is being expressed. The urge to destroy we might feel can reveal deep emotions inside of you. Things are neither Black or White. Maybe you'll avoid starting a war in the future years! If you enjoyed reading me, hit me up!

[freneticfangirl]

Every single one of these is a gross misrepresentation of the original intended statement bc of course anything women do/say/like has to be twisted, mocked, and trivialized.

Girl dinner started out as a pushback against women prepping/preparing these large picturesque meals in favor of a more honest and open look at how we just grab a random assortment of whatever is available or we are craving. It was not small portioned, It was just low effort. It was encouraging!

Men’s obsession with imperial history just reminds me that white supremacy and toxic masculinity walk hand in hand down the beach while fetishizing the Roman Empire and World War 1 & 2.

This purity notion with sapphic love came from(at least in recent memory) the very real and valid response to the male gaze. Where men objectify women, when women experience attraction, they still see the person they’re attracted to AS A PERSON. This was a criticism of misogyny/patriarchy but of course, to avoid any real discourse it’s derailed.(adding in a little dash of homophobia for good measure)

Girl math just is a look at behavioral economics over traditional. (Ex: buying a cup of coffee with your Starbucks app means the coffee is free :3 “It feels free!”) Of course women know it’s not free, it’s a “Sunk Cost.” Money that’s already allocated doesn’t matter/go against your regular spending. (Another ex: spending more/buying more things to get free shipping) This is hyperbolic discounting! Our brains prefer short term reward even if it’s smaller than a bigger pay off later.

Money is not that fungible. Behavioral economics shows us that we make decisions based on our environment and emotions. The fact everyone was on board for that when the wealthy/politicians were telling us to skip Starbucks and we’d be able to afford a house one day or whatever but NOW that it’s GIRL MATH-suddenly it’s stupid? Hmmmmmmmmm

Furthermore, women went from not being allowed to have credit cards to the workforce and let’s be real, we were “doing It all” then and are DEFINITELY doing It all now. All these stories of women working 40 hr weeks and coming home to take care of the kids, cook, and clean and the husband does jack shit? Bitches about how he wants his weekend to be his off time or how he has to help out with his own children? Of course the pushback to that is women saying men should serve them. Forget about satirical extremism as a coping mechanism, how about the point being made that they aren’t settling for the kinds of men mentioned above?! I love that for this new generation. I’d rather DIE ALONE than be with some useless drain.

And for the sake of brevity, I’m going to roll that hot mess at the end all into one and say internalized misogyny has been a huge issue for a long time. We are now getting to a place where women feel comfortable supporting one another, saying “Hey, you know what? I am basic! I am like other girls and there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with women or our interests and I don’t have to be a ‘pick me’/like the guys to have value.” To immediately undermine that progress and act as if appreciating/leaning into your femininity is an attack on those who aren’t “traditionally feminine” just takes us right back to where we started. Stop pitting us against each other. Work on unpacking that that urge.

Sincerely,

A tired, queer ass bitch

"girl dinner is when you don't eat teehee" "men think about the roman empire women think about their ex best friends and poetry" "✨sapphic love✨ is so pure and innocent and sweet unlike nasty gross Man Lust" "girl math is when you can buy starbucks and makeup because you didn't buy it yesterday so it's free" "I'm going to explain (complex topic) for the girlies! so basically it's like when you go shopping-" "I love women because they're so soft and smooth and feminine and we can talk about girly things and they're not sweaty or hairy or horny like gross men" "women should be unemployed girls don't need jobs men should do all that for us" "ugh girls that don't like pink or being feminine just need to stop being such pick mes and get over their internalized misogyny it's gross"

god save my hairy dyke ass from this hell before I start whacking people's shins with my Girl Baseball Bat. teehee!

[cosmicspacewidow]

Finding A Home Chapter 2

Summary: After landing the role of a lifetime In the film Black Widow 2, Cade Jones goes to LA where he meets Scarlett Johansson and Elizabeth Olsen. During the summer they film the movie and Cade plays Scarlett's son but over time it's not acting anymore and Scarlett and Lizzie find the missing piece of their family, but not without a lot of bumps along the road. This story is set in a real world with real people mixed in with the MCU movies alternate universe that is also set in an omegaverse, so Alpha Beta and Omega dynamic as well as non-sexual age regression, abuse, and violence. This is a bad summery just give it a read if you want.

Pairing: Scarlett Johansson/ Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: 5,979

Chapter: 2/?? (36 chapters posted on AO3)

Chapter Trigger/Content Warnings: Mention of Abuse, Violence, Non-Sexual Age Regression, and Bullying.

Chapter Summary: Cade meets Scarlett and Lizzie at dinner and of course it doesn't go as he expects.

AO3 Chapter LINK

ENJOY

Chapter 2: Overcoming Obstacles A Step Towards Trust

Scarlett’s POV

The last couple of months had been probably one of the busiest months in Marvel history. Immediately after the release of Endgame, Marvel's stocks dropped over 45% in less than 12 hours. The entire Marvel fan base all across the world was protesting the ending of the movie. Nobody was happy about the deaths deemed necessary for the story. 

After finding out that Robert Downey Jr, Tom Hiddleston, Chris Evens, Paul Bettany, and I tried fighting Marvel very hard on not killing us off, it only enraged the fans even more. Marvel had not said anything about it until the ComicCon when they announced that The movie black widow was supposed to be released soon and it would be the last installment featuring The Black Widow. If people were mad about Endgame then this was nothing in comparison.

Disney's stock dropped again within 5 hours of the news, it was so bad of an overall loss for the company. Everyone at top levels was freaking out trying to figure out what to do. It was the next day when I got a call from my lawyer, Scott Harkin, and my management team urging me into an emergency meeting. 

In that meeting I was told that there were rumors of a second black widow in the works and the possibility of bringing the Natasha back from the dead. It was clear the new generation of viewers were coming into a realization of the power they had over these big tycoons like companies. My team and I came up with a contract and deal for what we were going to ask for if Marvel did end up coming to us. 

We were asking for better pay, benefits, safer set practices, more story and creative control on my part and no more than 12 hour days for everyone all terms including the full crew no exceptions. Before we could even leave the meeting my manager Claire had gotten a phone call from the executives at Marvel. They indeed wanted to start developing a second movie, and my team was firm on our terms and got every single one of them before signing on to another contract with the studio. 

Marvel was pushing this movie fast to bring back up their stocks and profit margins but it was  still a slow climb for them because fans were wary of the studio actually following through with the rumors of a new black widow movie. Marvel was just lucky to already have a script written years ago so it didn’t take long for production to get underway. There was some last minute casting decision but I'd been assured by Kevin Feige himself that this was going to an amazing cast and crew.

I was sitting around a large table that was filled with many people I'd like to call part of my family. There were a couple big wigs joining us tonight including Kevin Feige and the Russo brothers and the new director for the movie. Ben Canon or something like that. I'd never worked with him before and even requested the same director as the first movie, Cate Shortland, but there was a scheduling conflict Marvel wasn’t willing to work with. 

Other than that it was all people I’d call my pack Florence Pugh, Rachel Weiz, David Harbour, Ray Winston’s, Elizabeth Olsen, Chris Evens, and Jeremy Renner. The main crew was all here except for our newest addition. I haven’t heard much about him other than he absolutely blew everyone away with his audition and fighting skills and really had a natural talent for acting. 

Kevin had explained to me that he was a great find and had said he was very unique and extremely shy and very new to the industry so I suggested we do a welcome dinner so he could meet everyone in a relaxed nature. 

We had all gotten settled at the table and we were all catching up with each other when the main door to the room opened and the host led a young teenager into the room. He looked nervous and I would have been too if a bunch of strangers were all staring at me like that. The moment was broken when Kevin stood up and made his way over to the boy.

“There you are! Everyone, this is Cadence Jones, he’ll be playing Anton Romanav, the son of Natasha.” Everyone said a chorus of hellos. The boy smiled and waved.

“Hi... you c-can just c-call me Cade.” He stuttered out quietly.

“Oh yea that’s right.” Kevin announced as he remembered something.

“Cade here has a bit of trouble speaking sometimes but I’ll tell you when you see him act you’d have no idea.” Kevin continued as he ushered the boy inside the room more to sit down. Each seat had a name place so his designated spot was in between me and Lizzie. I could tell Kevin's comment about him speaking embarrassed him by the way he looked down at the floor from the moment on. Once Kevin and Cade sat down the conversations at the table started back up so I turned to him and decided to properly introduce myself.

“Hi there, I’m Scarlett. It's nice to finally meet.” I said to him and he shyly smiled back at me and nodded as if he was saying likewise. 

“Oh my goodness aren’t you just adorable?” Lizzie said on the other side of him scrunching her nose up like she always did. I watched as Cade turned to her, blushing a little bit before ducking his head down in embarrassment. I gave her a look.

“What? He is?” She said with a shrug and a smile. Lizzie was the sweetest person ever. She was very soft and funny like a little puppy but when she needed to be it was like a switch flipped and a little pitbull would come out all bark no bite ultimately a sweetheart. 

“Babe, don't embarrass him like that.” I told her and she just laughed and shook her head.

“You’re right you play his mom it should be you to embarrass him right? I’m Lizzie Olsen by the way.” She teased and a small chuckle left Cade’s mouth. He pulled out a laminated card from his pocket and passed it over to me. I scanned the note and Kevin’s comment made more sense. 

It read in a nice and fun font with colored text, Hi I’m Cade I have an anxiety disorder called selective mutism. I am unable to speak in certain social situations. This is not a choice, it's an involuntary response, I’m not being rude.

“Can I pass this around the table?” I asked him so everyone can have a slightly better understanding of our new cast mate. He thought about it for a second before nodding.

I passed the card over to Lizzie and she read the card quickly too before passing it to Chris sitting next to her. He wasn’t in the movie and neither was Lizzie, ever since we started dating Lizzie and had Chris become besties even though I knew him longer and he was my friend first they were always together in their free time as of late. As the card made its way around the table nobody seemed phased except until Jeremy got a hold of it.

“How does that work?” He asked, looking at Cade. The boy picked with his fingers for a moment and was about to say something but it was Kevin who spoke up first. I felt a small growl in the back of my throat come forward as I looked at Jeremy. I knew him, we were friends, but he was an older guy and thought anxiety was for the “snowflakes” of America so I’d have to keep an eye out.

“I asked that very same question but I'll just send you the audition tape and I think all your questions would be answered.” Jeremy took that for an answer and we all fell back into a comfortable conversation. Everything was going well and about ten minutes later the waitress appeared with the appetizer and the drinks some people ordered when we first arrived.

“Okay guys are we ready to order?” I heard her ask the table, looking around no one was really paying her any attention except for myself, Cade, and Lizzie who were closest to her.

I was about to say yes that we all were ready taking control of the room but I noticed Cade beside me start to panic a bit, the stress on his face was evident looking around for a menu as his leg started to furiously bounce under the table. This is when I realized that he never got a menu in the first place.

“Actually, can we have some more time to look it all over? I think we’ve been too busy catching up so far but Umm Cade? Would you like to put in a drink?” I asked the waitress and then turned to Cade. I took my menu and slid it in front of him, flipping it to the back where the drink options were. I slightly pushed out some calming pheromones into the air to get him to relax a bit.

His shoulders relaxed a bit as he scanned the menu for less than a second before looking up at the waitress like he had something to say but it wouldn’t come out and then looked back down at the menu and shook his head. He was giving off the most anxious scent I've ever smelled in my life.

“Are you sure bud? You can just point which one you want or you can whisper it to me or something.” I didn’t mean to call him that, but he seemed nervous and I wanted him to feel comfortable. I could tell he had something in mind and I just wanted to encourage him however possible.

It seemed the waitress had picked up Cade's lack of communication and tapped him on the shoulder. She tucked her notepad in her apron and started making hand signals towards him. He brightened up and started signing back to her. They seemed to have a small conversation and then she grabbed her notepad and started writing.

“Okay one hot chocolate and a glass of water coming right up. I’ll be back.” She said before turning and leaving. 

“That was cool, can you teach me something?” Lizzie asked Cade. He seemed surprised but nodded. He pointed to Lizzie and then started to spell out her name with sign letters as he very quietly talked it out.

“L. I. Z.Z.I.E th-that’s  Liz-zie.” He explained his voice was soft as he spelled her name out but the two of us could hear him. Lizzie tried to copy his hand movements. He smiled and nodded as she practiced for a bit and then asked him to teach her more. He didn’t seem to mind but I knew he still hadn’t looked over the menu and the waitress would be back soon.

“Liz, why don't you let him pick out what he wants to eat first before he teaches you anything else?” I asked softly not trying to be commanding or dominatining the two, but trying to switch gears a bit.

“Oh gosh yeah sorry about that I get so excited sometimes.” She said to Cade he shook his head and signed something.

“I know that one he said it’s okay.” Lizzie said happily as Cade nodded to say she was correct.

I nudged the menu and he looked down at it for a minute. He seemed to just be staring at the first page not necessarily looking through it much like he did before with the drinks. His leg started bouncing again under the table and Lizzie and I both gave each other a look. Lizzie herself had anxiety so we both were hyper aware of the cues of anxiety.

Cade's POV

Dinner wasn’t going as horrible as I thought it was going to be but I was still highly stressed. I did relax a bit after Lizzie had asked me to show her some sign language. Not many people are so interested in finding ways to communicate with me so it was nice to see her instantly try. She seemed really sweet and Scarlett too. Being in their presence felt really comfortable just knowing them for less than an hour. However I got anxious all over again when Scarlett suggested I take a look at the menu and pick out my dinner. 

I didn’t feel that hungry as my stomach was in knots but as I looked at the menu again I knew I wouldn’t be able to order anything from here. It was written in cursive and even though I was pretty smart with the way the letters blended together I could never form a correct word and I never learned it in school. With all my moving between foster homes I figured that lesson was missed. I felt my chest tighten and my leg start to shake as I faked looking through the menu but Scarlett seemed to know what was up and questioned me about it.

“Are you okay?” She asked me softly and my nose was filled with a calming scent radiating off of her as I looked up quickly nodding, not even thinking about it before answering.

“I’ll be honest, I can tell that's not necessarily true, I’m a human lie detector.” I looked at her nervously, nobody could read me like that. 

 And it made me wonder Why did I lie? I felt comfortable with her and Lizzie and that was rare. Unlike most people they didn’t seem bothered by my anxiety or lack of speech. So I took a couple deep breaths to steady myself and I cleared my throat and I remembered something that Striker dad used to alway tem me. Bravery can even be found in the smallest moments, not just the big ones we see in movies,

“I-i can’t read cursive.” I said in a little voice dejectedly I was embarrassed to look at them so I looked back at the menu and the small cursive font it was in. 

“I can read it to you or I could ask for the kids menu. I'm pretty sure that it's not in cursive?” Scarlett suggested and I felt myself perk up at the idea of a kids menu. They were easier with better choices and always so fun to color on.

I quickly remembered where I was when I felt myself slipping into a weird headspace where my brain started to go fuzzy and pushed that feeling down. It wasn't an unusual feeling but it was one i knew to always lead me into trouble with Kenneth and Joyce, sometimes I would find myself slipping in a more submissive and younger headspace than what I actually was. Kenneth would always say that it was the devil trying to take control of me. And that I had to resist temptations. It was usually easier to keep this side of me at bay but today I was tired, still in pain from the fall and very much overwhelmed so it was harder to resist. I could only imagine what it would be like to slip in front of all these adults I'm supposed to work with. I’d probably be fired on the spot so I shook my head and tried to pull myself up.

Lizzie’s POV

I watched as Scarlet offered to read Cade the menu for him or get a kids menu. For a second he seemed to brighten and relax at the sound of a kid's menu but then immediately shakes his head and looks down at his lap nervously before rubbing his temples. He definitely wanted that kids menu but was too embarrassed.

From the second I saw him walk in I felt a need in my chest to take care of him and watch out for him so I had a feeling his status might include being a little. Scarlett and I were both caregivers and it was widely known that when in the presence of each other caregivers and little could sense each other. 

I looked over to Scarlett who had seemed to be thinking the same thing I was. She didn’t say anything else to Cade. I just watched her get up and head out of the room. A minute later she came back and sat down. She placed a piece of paper and a box of crayon in front of Cade. He immediately lit up looking shocked at her. She was a Dominant Alpha like that, whenever she could tell someone she cared about wasn't going to speak up for themself she would naturally do it for them.

“Thanks.” He said before grabbing the crayons and opening the box. Just like any kid he had one track mind and coloring was the objective. It seemed he forgot about the original task which was to pick out some food. 

“Whoa there,” I said to him, placing a hand over the one he was coloring while getting him to stop and look at me. I gave him a little smile.

“How about you pick out what you want to eat first and then you can color?” I asked him, he huffed and pouted for a second and went to start coloring again. Scarlett stepped in and took the crayon out of his hand and flipped the page over to the food menu.

He let out a little whine, turning his pout over to Scarlett. Thankfully another five seconds and I would’ve caved and let him continue to color. His pout was too cute and she stood a better chance with him.

“Here let's look at the options and we can color in which one you want, okay?” Scarlett said to him he thought about it before nodding and looking at the menu with Scarlett. Each item had a little picture of what the food was so as they looked Scarlett read the menu off to him. He didn't seem too convinced but nodded to her.

“Okay so they have salad, meatballs, spaghetti, chicken nuggets, cheeseburger and grilled cheese? Which one sounds good?” He grabbed a yellow crayon and started to color in the grilled cheese.

“Good choice, grilled cheese is the best, Scarlett makes the best grilled cheese there ever is.” I told him and he smiled. He tapped the rest of the crayons looking at Scarlett for permission to now color.

“Yeah. Go ahead now.” She said to him and he smiled and turned to color in the rest of the food items. I got sucked into a conversation with Florence and Jeremy for a little while until the waitress came back in and brought Cade his hot chocolate and water before taking everyone's dinner orders. When it got to Cade's turn he got visibly nervous again he immediately dropped the crayon he was using and started picking at his fingers and he couldn’t get any words out, Scarlett stepped in and she grabbed the crayon he dropped and gave it back to him, turning his attention back to the page before ordering for him.

“He’d like the kids grilled cheese and a side of fries please.” Scarlett told her as he colored, the waitress wrote the order down and continued on. We all continued to talk and have a good time together and within no time our food was coming out and everyone dug in.

After finishing our food we all continued to talk and just catch up while the guys ordered a round of shots for the table. The waiter even brought one for Cade but I was quick to take it away from him. For some reason whenever people see a group of actors or celebrities they act like the rules don’t apply and I saw too many teen celebrities get into drinking and drugs because of it.

Luckily he didn’t seem to notice or just wasn't interested as he was working on a crossword puzzle on his menu so my small crisis was averted. Through dinner I could see him slowly getting more and more comfortable with everyone. I watched as he minded his own business and occasionally spoke if spoken to. 

After a while he started to look a little tired and was fighting sleep, eyes drooping and rocking in the chair every once in a while. It soon became more frequent and I realized what he was actually doing. As always Scarlett must’ve picked the same thing I was because she turned to him.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” She whispered to him he looked a bit shocked, a small blush creepy up on his face before he stilled his body. 

“Ah No.” he mumbled sleepily.

“Okay well if you do you can let me know. I can show you the way.” He just nodded and went back to his crossword he had not finished yet before he started dozing off. It was probably another 45 minutes before I noticed once again he started to fidget in his seat. 

He was resting his head in his hand now as his eyes started to droop. He seemed to have to finish everything on his menu so he was just quietly listening to the conversation. I looked at the time and it was already 10:24pm. I watched as Cades' eyes closed for a couple minutes and the boy relaxed. He looked peaceful, no anxiety whatsoever but the moment was ended by his eyes shooting open and his body tense. 

I was going to ask him what was wrong but I noticed Lizzie sniffed the air and then looked down at the floor and I followed her eye line to see liquid dripping from Cades seat to the floor. I looked back up at him just as his eyes might mine.

“S-sorry i’m… shit i’m sorry.” He whispered mostly to himself. He looked like he was either about to cry or have a panic attack, maybe both. I placed my hand on his shoulder to comfort him but he only shot up in his seat abruptly, causing the table to shake and knock over his water glass spilling over onto the two of us.

“Fuck.” He mumbled before running out of the room. I got up not too long after him excusing myself as everyone at the table looked confused except Lizzie. 

Scarlett's POV

I left the room but didn’t see Cade, the man at the coat check was still there talking with our waitress so I went over to them.

“Hi, excuse me?” I said to the two.

“Hi, is everything alright?” She asked me.

“Did you see a young teen run this way by chance?” She nodded.

“Oh yeah he signed for the bathroom.” 

“Ok thank you, could I get my coat while I’m here?” I asked, thinking he’ll need something to cover himself with that could work. 

“Sure thing!” The guy said as he took my ticket and headed into the back. He came back out with my jacket and a duffel bag and skateboard.

“Here’s your jacket and here is his stuff too if you’d like.” I took the bag and headed down to the restrooms but as I went a lot of questions started forming in my mind. Was he ok? Was this the kids first night in town? Where was he staying? Where were his parents?

I got to the restroom and instantly knew where he was. His scent was radiating and the soft crying coming from the family restroom was a dead give away so I knocked.

“Cade? It’s me Scarlett, I have your stuff and just want to see if you need some help?” I waited for a minute and the cries quieted down a little bit and then the door unlocked and opened a crack and I heard shuffling. I moved inside before closing the door and locking it again. He was sitting on the floor in the corner with his head in his knees.

I moved over to him getting down on my knees to try and be eye level with him.

“Hey you're okay, don’t worry it was just an accident. They happen all the time.” He shook his head but still didn’t look up at me but just started hitting his head with his fist. I grabbed his hands, holding them in mine stopping him from hurting himself further.

“Buddy I need you to take a deep breath for me?” I started taking deep breaths myself and placed his hand on my chest so he could feel my breath. Lizzie always told me that physical contact sometimes helped ground her when she was upset so I figured I could try that. It seemed to work as he tried to match my breathing. He was very uneven still but I could see it start working. 

“You’re doing great just like that.” I told him after five more minutes he was able to get his breathing under control and I was now sitting down leaning against the wall with him next to me with his head on my chest. A buzzing sound of my phone rang out slightly scaring him.

“It’s ok just my phone.” I told him and I pulled out the device. It was a text message from Lizzie saying that she had told everyone that we’d be heading out and taking Cade home since it was getting late. And that she was outside the restroom.

Focusing back on Cade, he was way calmer than before, basically asleep on my chest. He was still in his wet pants as a reminder as to why we were here in the first place.

“Hey.” I said softly running my thumb over his cheek softly to wake him just a bit. His eyes fluttered open looking up at me confused. His eyes looked very little in the moment and I had a feeling he was still dropping into a littler headspace. Making me wonder how young his headspace could drop. It seemed he was pretty young so I was really shocked that his parents would let him travel alone like this.

“Let’s get you cleaned up okay?” I asked him and he moved his head off of me, standing up as he shook his head as if to clear it. He stumbled a bit and I quickly moved to get up and steady him.

“It’s okay, just relax.” I moved him over to the toilet so he was standing in front of it for him to see if he still needed to go.

“Here take those off, try to go and I’ll find you something new to wear.” I told him he pulled off his pants and underwear and sat on the toilet. I thought it slightly odd he chose to sit and pee but maybe he preferred it that way. I turned and looked through the bag looking for a new set of clothes. I found a pair of pajama pants and went with those and pulled out a white t-shirt and  black hoodie too knowing it would be cold outside now. 

“Here you go.” I said handing him the clothes without looking. I heard him wipe and the toilet flush before some shuffling of him changing and then him washing his hands. Once he was done I turned to look at him and was met with a very sleepy looking kid. 

“Okay well it’s getting really late so how about Lizzie and I help you get home? Where are you staying?” He definitely wasn’t in the right headspace to be getting home so late on his own so I was going to make sure he did. 

We walked out of the rest room to see Lizzie standing outside of the door. She smiled softly at the two of us and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I didn’t miss how Cade looked surprised at the affection but quickly masked his face. 

“Are you guys ready to get out here, it's pretty late?” Lizzie asked mostly to Cade. He started to look nervous again and his breath started picking up. Lizzie was quick to react, placing her hand on his shoulders and looking him in the eyes. 

“It's okay, slow your breathing for me.” He nodded and followed her breathing calming down. With shaky hands he started to type something out on his phone. 

After a little bit of typing he held the phone out to us and we heard a voice read out his words.

“My contract said Marvel would set up a place for me to stay during shooting but I can find a hotel or something.”  The voice read out. 

“I can go talk to Kevin and see if they have anything setup for you.You guys can head out to the car and I’ll meet you there.” I told the two. Lizzie nodded and I headed back up to talk to Kevin. 

As expected Kevin tried to play it like he had no idea what I was talking about but I reminded him this same thing happened with Tom Holland when he joined the MCU and how much trouble they almost got into with him. After that Kevin tried to say he figured something out within the next couple of days, like the kid didn’t need a place to stay now, so I told him to forget about it and that he could stay with me. 

Lizzie’s POV

Scarlet handed me Cade’s bag and I led him out the back door and took him to Scarlett's BMW i7.

I helped him hop inside the back seat before climbing in the front passenger seat and turning on the car to get the heater going while we waited.

“So you like to skate?” I asked him, looking in the rearview mirror as he spun the wheel of his board and then I turned in my seat to look at him.

He nodded and signed Yes back to me with a smile.

“I like the look of your board, are you also into Space?” I was looking at the design on the bottom of the board. It looked like an astronaut was floating aimlessly in space but the cool thing about it was that he had a drum strapped to his chest and it looked as If he was playing in space.

Cade nodded again and smiled brightly looking down at the board for a second before he pointed at himself and then tapped the astronaut on the board and back to himself.

“Is that you?” I asked putting together what he was trying to express. He nodded again.

“Wow, that's really cool. So you're into space and skateboarding. ” I said to him and he seemed surprised I was showing interest so I gave him a little nudge and an encouraging smile making home start laughing a bit. A second later Scarlett opened the door and hopped in the car.

“What do we have going on here?” She teased looking back at Cade. He chuckled slightly and shook his head.

“He was just showing off his cool skateboard to me.” I boasted and he just shook his head again.

“Well that's cool. Can I see?” Scarlet said encouraging him a bit more and he showed her the board and she said it looked sick as heck causing him to laugh. I smiled huge and enjoyed the laughter Cade was expressing.

“Okay ok let's settle down a bit now. It’s late and we don’t want to get all wound up right before bed.” Scarlett reminded us. Sending a wave of calming pheromones through the car. I immediately relaxed as she did and watched as Cade did too with a small smile on his face.

“Ok fun police.” I joked as I settled down in my seat and turned to her.

“So where were we going?” I kinda forgot we still had to take Cade home.

“Well they didn’t really have any set up yet so I offered for Cadence to stay with us if that was cool with you?” She asked him looking in the rearview mirror. 

He quickly pulled out his phone and typed something out before he played for us. 

“It's okay I can find somewhere I don't want to be a bother.” The automated voice read out. He started to gather his things like he was going to leave the car but Scarlett spoke first.

“No you're not a bother at all. We have the extra space plus we’ll be filming mostly together anyway so it helps with scheduling and rehearsals. Don’t fight me on this one okay?” Scarlett turned on the radio and started driving towards our house not giving him any room to say much of anything else on the matter. I could tell her alpha was talking control now as she has a strong protective nature. We all rode in comfortable silence as the music played. 

About ten minutes into the ride I heard snoring coming from the backseat and saw Cade propped up against the window peacefully sleeping.

“He’s so precious, Scar.” I whispered to her, she glanced in her mirror to look at him and immediately smiled seeing him at peace.

“He is, isn't he? highly anxious too, I wonder what all that about. He’s too young to have to be worried so much.” Looking back at Scarlett she looked deeply worried. I could see the wheel turning in her mind. 

“And I’m just so surprised? What kind of parents send their 16 year old kid to LA on his own, like tell me that’s not weird?” She did have a point especially since the boy had so much anxiety and trouble speaking. 

“We’ll have to ask him about it sometime. See if we can get the full story?” I suggested.

“Do you think I went too alpha on him? Should I have let him get a hotel or something?” She asked me.

“ I don't think so, Scarlett, he is 16 he should be with an adult to watch over him at least. But if he is not comfortable with us we can arrange something else. ” She nodded in agreement as she drove. We were getting close to home so the two of us sat in silence for the rest of the ride. 

Once we got to the house. Scarlett didn’t want to wake the sleeping pup so she carried him inside and upstairs to the spare room we had. Once he was nicely tucked into bed, we left the room and headed to our own room across the hall and were quick to fall asleep too. 

I think I fell asleep for about an hour or two total before I was up again and couldn’t fall back to sleep. This was a regular occurrence for me. Sometimes with my anxiety I wouldn't be able to sleep no matter how hard I tried so I got out of bed and headed down stairs to the living room. I laid down on our huge sofa I had insisted on getting.

I grew up in a big family and we often spent time crammed together on our family couch watching television as we grew up. I still love a good dog pile cuddle session, in fact we had them quite often whenever our friends would come over for a dinner party or movie night. I turned on the tv and made sure the volume was down low before starting another episode of i love lucy. After watching a bunch of old tv sitcoms to help me build on my character Wanda for WandaVision i really got into I love Lucy. 

[motownfiction]

someone named jason

Lucy has a few rules in life. Every year, it grows. When she was only sixteen, her rules were don’t go around the block in Ann Arbor and don’t eat whipped cream after eight o’clock at night, as she was convinced whipped cream gave people nightmares about money and guns. Now that she’s forty-six, she has many more rules, such as don’t trust anyone who says they like Applebee’s and don’t trust someone named Jason.

Everyone thinks her rule about people named Jason is silly. They all talk about it over dinner one night in late September, early into her younger daughter Emma’s first semester at NYU. Will swears you can’t rule someone out just based on their name; Lucy swears you can, but only if their name is Jason. She says she hasn’t met a single Jason who’s any good. In between huge laughs, their elder daughter Elenore asks if she really has that many examples.

Lucy smirks. Now that Elenore is twenty-nine, she should know better than to ask Mommy to cite her sources. Everybody knows Lucy Callaghan’s got the longest bibliographies of anybody around.

There was Jason Fields, the valedictorian-slash-homecoming king in the class above Lucy and Will’s back at St. Catherine’s, who inexplicably sprayed ketchup all over Lucy’s white shirt when news broke of her pregnancy in ‘83. By the end of the school year, just before graduation, he’d gotten his own girlfriend pregnant, but nobody said shit about that.

Then there was the Jason she’d been paired up with to dissect a frog in her one and only biology class at Michigan. They got a female frog, and he swore he’d deal with the eggs. But he didn’t. He ran off to go flirt with some other girl in the class – one who wasn’t already married, as he said about a million times, like it was going to make Lucy feel bad or something. She still remembers what she did with Will later that night. Feel bad, her ass.

Even though she never knew him, she adds Jayson Blair to the list. You don’t just get to make up stories at The New York Times, she says, and she’s pretty sure she’s right.

The rule gets a pretty good laugh around the dinner table. Even Veronica knows it’s kind of funny, and she’s only seven years old. Everybody’s laughing at Lucy’s new rule except Emma. When Will asks her if she’s OK, she shrugs and says she thinks she’s in love with someone named Jason. He’s in her early film history class, he has big brown eyes, and he knows every line to The Red Balloon in its original French. Lucy suppresses the urge to blow a raspberry over her plate of chicken fried rice. She wishes she could say what she’s feeling: that she’s sure glad she met Will when they were only six, because if she hadn’t met the love of her life before she even knew what romance was, she certainly would have fallen for some jerk like that when she went to college. Emma’s so much like her. Lucy wishes she could say all that – wishes she could beg her youngest to hold out for a guy like her old man – but she doesn’t. She knows better than that. After all, one of her rules is let your kids make decisions for themselves. That’s why she’s a mother in the first place.

In October, just around midterms, Lucy feigns a big smile when Emma announces she’s going on a date with Jason. She’s not worried. His name is Jason, and their courtship will end sooner than it even began. Two days later, it turns out Lucy was right. This Jason won’t even look Emma in the eye during any of the classes they have together. He won’t even acknowledge they went on a date – that they had fun on a date. Emma’s not a crier, but on that Wednesday night, she bawls into her mother’s lap.

Lucy doesn’t reiterate the rule about someone named Jason.

She just seethes about it.

No one does her Emma wrong like that. No one does her Emma wrong at all.

Especially not someone named Jason.

(part of @nosebleedclub december challenge -- day xxiv! is it possible i’m on time? looks like ... for now!)

[rvspecter]

“With Donna and Harvey, the romance comes from the steadfast partnership and daily choice they make every day to choose each other.”

omg i love your description of their relationship as a partnership because yyyeeessssss 🫶🏻 and the daily choices they make to choose each other also yessssssss!!! i have always loved how often we see them just touch base - nothing big or dramatic just genuine concern and it’s actually SO ROMANTIC. like when jessica leaves and she asks if he is ok LIKE I WENT CRAZY!!!!!!! also re: being partners - it’s the line “once we were together it’s like we’ve always been together” they’ve always been partners!! they almost feel like a single unit. which is also why yesterday’s secret language video drove me crazy cause they even behave like a single unit with the synchronized body language and the internal conversations they’re having with their eyes !!????!!!!! crazy

harvey 10000000 percent worships donna!! (i feel like to the point of not seeing her) he doesn’t give a huge monologue about but every chance he gets he’s calling her amazing and irreplaceable and i can’t be me without u

omg so we share zero ships and ive never watched any of the shows u mentioned aside from stranger things but i only watched a season lol

so i have been wondering how my ships relate. darvey is my only canon ship i read fic for. idk if this is true buuuttt i think it’s rare to read fic for a canon ship because we know everything? the story has been told? so darvey is unique for me in that sense!! but i also think because they were a background ship for most of the show there is so much story to tell!!

OK LET ME TELL U MY SHIPS (ones ive read fic for)

HOUSE/WILSON from House

- i LOOOOVVVEEEDDD them. whenever i c gifs of them on my dash i get so happy lol. they r also extremely codependent. wilson is house’s only friend. he is an oncologist with very good bedside manner who dates a new woman every week. house is a vicodin addicted sherlock type with no bedside manner who commits medical malpractice left and right to solve a case. house satisfies wilson’s urge to feel needed every second of everyday which no one else can ever satisfy

in terms of similarities to darvey - both house/wilson and harvey/donna r codependent and portray a sense of shared history when we meet them. actually lol i just sent u an ask idk if harvey/donna r codependent idk idk. but i always see them described that way and i also thought they were but now I’m trying to remember why and I can’t

NEAL/PETER/EL from White Collar

- the canon pairing is peter and el. they r a perfect married couple and we do not separate them. neal is a beautiful boy who paints beautiful fakes topless and peter is the fbi agent who arrests him. neal is in prison when we meet him and he’s almost served all his time except he tries to break out because the girl he is in love is in trouble so peter arrests him again. except this time instead of going back to jail, neal serves his time by helping peter solve white collar cases because he has the mind of a criminal. they r such an interesting ship to me because peter is the most by the book fbi agent and neal makes peter break the law

peter and neal probably relate more to marvey than darvey actually. i mean i completely get the comparison BUT PLEASE DO NOT COMPARE BEAUTIFUL PERFECT NEAL TO MIKE OK BECAUSE THAT IS CHARACTER DEFAMATION 😡

oh and that brings me to my last ship lol

MARVEY

- i see a lot of similarities between marvey and darvey. i think it’s true that harvey would do anything for mike. i think it’s also true harvey would do anything for donna. (REMEMBER WHEN HE SAID THAT TO HER AND IT WAS SUPER CASUAL BUT I SWOONED ANYWAYS) other similarities: harvey has committed crimes for mike and donna. harvey’s risked his job for mike and career for donna. my hc is that he loves them both but only donna actually loves him back 🫶🏻

OMG BUT BACK TO THE REASON I ASKED THE QUESTION - i think the sense of shared history and body language is actually unique to them because gabriel and sarah have known each other forever. i feel like not many tv couples have that!!

QUESTION how does darvey compare to ur other ships?? i feel like their shared body language and the way they convey HISTORY is so unique ahaha

this is actually a great question and i would absolutely love to know your own other ships vs darvey, bc darvey is so different from so many of my ships!!!

i will say that joyce x hopper from stranger things is probably the only ship i have that even comes close to having any similarities to donna and harvey because of that sense of shared history, partnership, and platonic support leading into romantic support. but for the rest of my ships, it's like so opposite.

one of my main ships that is one of my most tagged ships on my blog is Julie and Luke from the netflix series Julie and the Phantoms!!! this series devastatingly only got ONE SEASON but had a huge following on tumblr. compared to donna and harvey's nine seasons and canonical 13 years of buildup, that inherently makes the ships very different, because Julie and Luke do not become "canon" (although mutual romantic feelings are made pretty darn clear). Julie and Luke have history together in an offhanded way - Luke is a ghost, and when he was 17, he actually met a young Julie's mom before she had Julie, and then he died, got trapped in purgatory(?) for 25 yrs, and then was brought back into the world as a ghost where he met Julie (after her own mom had passed away). This has resulted in a LOT of theories regarding them being soulmates - their characters mirror each other so well to the point that the colors of their costuming is often matching or inverted to each others clothing. They both have an undying love for music, mommy issues, and they fit together like two peas in a pod. Literally there's only one season of buildup, and there are over 3,000 works of fanfiction for them on ao3. Julie and Luke truly couldn't be more different lmao, because a lot of the magic that comes from them is a sense of destiny, inevitability, and their instant ability to be vulnerable with each other. With Donna and Harvey, the romance comes from the steadfast partnership and daily choice they make every day to choose each other.

Another big ship of mine is Anne and Gilbert from Anne with an E (or the whole Anne of Green Gables book series lol, but them in the AWAE tv adaptation is so good)!! They have a good amount of buildup and a sense of choosing each other, but the stakes are nowhere near as high as they are in Suits. Gilbert is so down bad for Anne the whole time. He's so the perfect man that I have a framed photo of him in my home. The TV show introduces us to their plotlines and character arcs as parallel tracks as they are finding their way through life and eventually meeting at the same place, whereas Donna and Harvey are definitely just on their own crazy journeys until they crash into each other and are finally in a place to be together. However, a very silly parallel that Anne/Gilbert has with Donna/Harvey is there is a sequence of Person B running to Person A when they realize that they're meant to be together. And Person A is a redhead.

Other ships I have are like Nina and Fabian from House of Anubis, or Zuko and Katara from ATLA. Also Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett from P&P. I think a lot of my ships involve the man blatantly worshipping the ground that the woman walks on and constantly being complimentary and admiring of her; where we get only crumbs of that kind of dynamic with Donna and Harvey. Harvey definitely thinks, and has stated as such, that Donna is the most amazing woman he's ever met, but because Donna and Harvey are not thee main plotline of the show or even arguably the main relationship (when compared to Mike and Rachel), there's a lot less room for there to be blatant moments where Harvey is like "wow she's amazing!!!" because he's just not that guy.

please also let me know your thoughts on this and what ships you have!!! do we share any?

also, my response to your domestic!Darvey ask is still unfortunately in the works. i just want you to know i did not forget about it!!! <3333

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Nights So Hollow, Of Legends So Great

Night Culture AU!Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Angst, Uh..Scary? I guess?

Author's Note: This is based on the wonderful @bunnvoid Night Culture AU and I felt compelled to write this at midnight because I couldn't stop thinking about it. Bunn, I hope I did your ideas justice! Honestly, I keep going back and forth between the drawings to make sure! I had fun writing it! -Thorne

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

It was said that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Legends are just pieces of history fabricated beyond wildest belief, built upon by centuries of retelling, each story sewing a new thread into the tapestry from whence it came. But that’s all that legends are. Threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable.

***

The old castle was a legend. Perhaps not the castle itself, but what supposedly resided inside. Supernatural creatures that skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out fresh blood in the night. That was one form of the legend, if you believed it. The other form was that of creatures who skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out evil and destroying it where it plagued innocence.

The chateau lied in the midst of the Devilwood Wilds, just outside the City of Old Gotham. Even during the days when the sun would peek through the gray clouds, it appeared gloomy, blackened stone walls, charred shingles and shutters. The giant Devilwood and Shadow trees prevented sight of the doors of the castle; only the top could be seen, to get the real view, one would’ve had to go into the forest. There was another legend: the horrors of the Wilds.

Whispers on the school-grounds told of a creature, big and terrifying that could be summoned with ritual stones and fresh bat blood; those that summon the beast are never seen again. The adults were less convinced of the idea, though they still forbid their children from reaching even the edges of the forested area. Whilst they believed those that went in were never heard from again, it wasn’t from a creature eating them, but a lack of guidance. Starvation. Wild animals. The freezing fog that made your breath turn to frost.

Timothy remembers hearing those whispers when he passed the old schoolhouse. His mother and father didn’t let him interact with the common children, instead his lessons were taught by private tutors from the wealthiest lands, paid for with the Drake treasure of gold and gemstones.

What more so Timothy remembered was the inhuman being that appeared in his father’s manor, striking down his mother with a slash of black magic, his father following. He remembers the way his father’s eyes rolled back in his skull, fear spreading through his body as he hid in the corner of the room, whimpering and crying. And he most certainly remembered the cold hand of the demon sliding between his shoulder blades before it dug into his skin, piercing his flesh, laughing as he cried out in pain as pricks spread out along his back and down his arms.

Warmth bled down his back as black feathers pushed from his skin and Timothy panted as his fingernails grew in length, sharpening as they darkened. He remembered scrambling to his feet, darting away from the creature as he ran. Forgetting the corpses of his family and staff around him, throwing the door open, bursting into the night, and sprinting down the street, leaving a trail of bloody, black feathers in the direction of the Devilwood Wilds.

***

The first night was the least remembered but the darkest. Violent and corrupting nightmares slithering inside his head as he tossed and turned along the frigid ground in a feverish deathlike state, the wings at his back only growing in size.

The second night was less nightmare-ridden, but much more painful. Timothy had pierced a wing on a stray Devilwood tree, the syrup like poison only infecting the wound. He was hungry and cold. Exhausted and scared. He tried to remember all the books he read as a child of the knights facing the elements for a week in order to ascend knighthood; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.

The third night seemed to be his last. He lay huddled up against a raised Shadow tree root, the ebony wood providing stability for his wounded wing. Timothy sniffled, dragging his knees to his chest as he lay his chin on his arms, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach as it ate itself in hunger.

A tree branch creaked above him, and he craned his neck up, eyes widening when he saw the glowing eyes of the masked creature. The legends were right. The creature’s head twisted sideways, reminding Timothy of an owl, then the other way, like it was observing him. It made a noise and he scrambled to the floor of the forest, curling his injured wing above his head and over his body to protect himself.

THUNK!

Timothy whimpered, ready to be torn to shreds, but when no vicious claws or snapping teeth came at him, he carefully peered between his open wing. There lie a satchel, as long as his forearm and as wide as his middle was. He looked up towards the tree branch to where the creature had sat, but there was nothing there anymore; he glanced around, it wasn’t in sight.

He blinked and shuffled towards the satchel, untying the drawstrings with fumbling clawed hands. Inside lay a pair of thick wool socks, a small blanket, and another small bag. Timothy pulled it from the satchel and opened it; half a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat the size of his hand were stowed inside.

Timothy forewent the etiquette he was taught as a child, giving into his ravenous desire as he devoured the meat. It was tender and juicy, the glaze a mixture of honey and cinnamon.

A memory flowed to his mind, the dinner after the rising of the first star, his family and staff all surrounding the dining table, a divine feast laid before them. The smiling faces of his mother and father stilled his hunger and he placed the food back in the satchel, uncurling the wool blanket. Timothy lay underneath the raised Shadow tree roots, one wing curled around him, and he fell into a restless sleep with tears frozen on his cheeks.

***

When he awoke the next morning, his wing was no longer torn and infected. A new feather had appeared where the wound had been. Timothy wanted to learn to fly. He’d owned a bird once. A Ruby Firebird, with long, crimson-colored feathers and big ruby eyes. It had been his only real friend and he’d watched it a lot. It couldn’t be that hard.

He stretched his wings out, unable to fight the urge to touch them with a single black claw. It tingled. Timothy blinked and beat them, unsure. He beat them again, this time a little harder, keeping at it until with each beat he was able to blow the long grass flat against the ground. A giddy smile came across his lips when the tips of his toes grazed the ground.

What he had not counted on was how tired he was going to get after only a few brief minutes of trying. His wings felt sore. Timothy would try again tomorrow to rise above the tall grass.

***

The creature would appear at odd times during the night and Timothy had stopped feeling the cold fear in his gut when it did. It never came near him; it just watched with the cocked head, back and forth, then would drop the satchel again and disappear. Sometimes there were scribbles inside. He didn’t know what they meant; but he knew the language. Thaatisgani. An old language his writing teacher had shown him one day. A language long died out amongst the common and even the elite folk.

Timothy wanted to know what it meant. He wanted to know what the creature was. His determination drew him to the front of the castle during the night of the harshest season storm. Lighting crackled across the sky, the thunder rolled along the clouds and the rain came down in torrents. He was freezing and soaked to the bone and the weight of his wings had him crawling up the steps, collapsing at the door.

He weakly raised a clawed hand, one nail scratching the black glazed door and he descended into darkness.

***

His mother liked to wear scented oils. They smelled of Queen’s Briar and Golden Belladonna. Before he was older, she used to let Timothy sit beside her when she would apply them to her wrist and ears. She would smile at him and tell him stories of far away lands.

Warmth spread across his eyes, and he rolled over in what he thought was his dream, only to roll onto the ground, landing awkwardly on his wings. Timothy whined and unfolded himself off the ground, rubbing his eyes, only to see the creature a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Timothy choked on his fear and scrambled away, only for the creature to grab his shoulder.

“Stay.”

He halted, looking back at it. “You speak the common tongue?”

The creature stared at him. “You are Timothy Drake. Son of Earl Drake.”

“I am,” Timothy responded, then looked at his hands. “But my family is…is dead.”

“Killed by a slithering demon from the Farstead realm.”

Tears prickled Timothy’s vision. “It killed my parents and cursed me.” He looked at the creature. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re cursed to believe what you think you are.” The creature waved a glowing hand and Timothy blinked in shock as the wings disappeared and his hands turned to normal. “It’s merely an illusion. You’ve only been tainted with cursed magic.”

It was much too complicated for Timothy to pull apart now. “Can I be healed?”

The creature blinked its glowing obs. “Cursed magic cannot be healed…but it can be trained.” They leaned forward, getting in his face. “I can teach you to control and transform.”

“You’re not going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated just a bit right there.”

A bottle rolled out from the corner of the room and the creature sighed, turning its head to it. “Richard. Jason. Come here.”

Two young boys, not that much older than Timothy appeared from behind a corner, guilty looks on their faces as though they’d been caught eavesdropping.

The creature nodded to Timothy. “Take him upstairs. He is dirty and tired.”

The tallest one, Jason, crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that, Bruce? You’re going to take the witch boy in?”

“Pot-kettle,” Richard coughed, smiling when Jason elbowed him.

The creature, now known as Bruce, sighed. “Take the boy. He is tired.”

Jason and Richard obeyed, each hauling Timothy up under the armpits, leading him to a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you two going to eat me?”

“Yes,” Jason replied without hesitation.

“Jason!” Richard barked. “Stop.” He looked down at Timothy. “We’re not going to eat you Timothy…we’re going to help you. And that includes having a warm bed to sleep in and hot food to eat.”

Tears once again gathered in Timothy’s eyes, and he lowered his head as he sniffled. For once since that night, he felt safe.

These were the legends that prowled the city streets. They were supposed to be vicious and dark, evil and bloodthirsty, not ribbing and warm.

But then again, what are legends, but threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable?

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here!

A/N: If I had to give this part a title, I would title it “(Y/N) and their human friends” Also I lied. This part was too long so it might be another part (or two) before we get to the Bella Arc.

* “You know you would be pretty good looking without the glasses.” Lauren says twirling a strand of hair and ignoring the algebra worksheet in front of her.

* Yeah that’s kind of the whole point

* “Contacts kind of freak me out.”

* You’re expecting a snarky response but instead she nods.

* “It’s the whole sticking your finger in your eye thing right, I totally get that.” She’s watching you with such inquisitive eyes, it almost you uncomfortable.

* It’s been a few months since you started school, you’re almost at thanksgiving break. So far you feel like you’ve assimilated well, and you have a good balance between school and caring for your animals, but it’s situations like this that totally throw you off.

* “Hey (Y/N/N), what did you get for number 5?” Jessica asks, you’re thankful for the distraction.

* “I got X = 8” Jessica confirms she got that too, and moves onto the next one

* You three are in the worlds most unlikely group. You didn’t even know Lauren was in this class you usually just pair up with Jessica.

* “Hey, me and a some people from the volleyball team are going to Port Angeles, you should come with, we could give you a makeover.”

*You wonder what the other angle here is

* It didn’t take long for you to realise that somehow, even with the ugly-duckling routine, the Cullen’s were at the top of the social hierarchy.

* Part of their popularity was probably because they didn’t really seem to interact with anyone outside of their own social circle. Which just made them all the more desirable.

* “I don’t know Lauren, I would have to ask Esme if it’s okay.” Though you can already bet Rosalie isn’t going to like this.

* “Oh cool, just let me know!” Lauren smiles, it turns out the act of considering her invitation was enough to placate her.

* For once you’re actually glad Edward’s waiting for you outside of your class when the bell rings.

* “Edward read that girls mind.”

* “It’s always straight to business isn’t it. No, ‘hi Edward how’s it going?’ Or ‘How was your class, how has your morning been treating you?’ It wouldn’t hurt you to make some small talk” You give him a look, and he returns it with an expectant expression. You sigh.

* “Hi, Edward how was your class?” You plaster on a smile, and he returns with a smile of his own.

* “It was fine. A little repetitive, we’re reading “to kill a mocking bird” in English.” You nod, offering a consoling pat on the shoulder

* “That sounds super boring,” the books great and all, but you’re guessing he’s already read it like 30 times by now. “Hey Edward,”

* “Yes (Y/N),” He nods, hiding his grin behind his hand.

* “Would you mind doing me a favor?”

* “Of course, anything for you.” He grins openly now.

* “Would you mind telling me what that girl Lauren Mallory is thinking so I can know why she invited me,” and not Jessica her good friend. “to hang out?”

* Edward loses his smile.

* “The varsity members on the volleyball team suggested it, they think it’s a shame they couldn’t have got you on the team since you just moved here.”

* Unexpected but not the worst. You’ve really been half assing it in PE so you’re surprised they even want you.

* “Lauren-she thinks you could be-“ a lopsided smirk twitches onto his face. “in her words- ‘two super good looking best friends’ “

*oh. So she just wants a pretty b*tch squad?

* “Maybe I’ll go with them then” you were scared they were going to force you to show them the Cullen’s house and introduce you to everyone, or leave you stranded in port A as some kind of prank or something.

* Edward stops you

*“you can’t be serious” he has his eyebrows scrunched together

* “Why not?” Nothing more natural to fitting in then hanging out with your classmates. Unless- “if you’re worried about any accidents don’t, I know they all look healthy but they eat a lot of carbs. Way too starchy for my palette.”

* “It’s not that-“ he gets that brooding-existence is suffering look. “You shouldn’t trust humans too much, they’ll let you down.”

* Well what’s that supposed to mean, but before you can ask he’s already walking to his class.

* Well whatever, at least Emmett will tell you a good joke to take your mind off of Mr. Eternal Damnations ominous words.

* Too bad when you get inside he’s not here, instead Mike Newton perks up when you walk into the room.

* “Hey Eleazar, how’s it going?” You still have a hard time adjusting to use Eleazar’s name as your own. Apparently they came from a time when last names were only for nobles, so he offered you his first name instead.

* “Hey Newton, any plans for this weekend?” You take Edward’s advice and start with small talk. Mike Newton smiles, you guess he’s kinda cute, all soft cheeks and baby blue eyes

* “No I’m completely free!” Weird how he’s so enthusiastic about being alone, he must be one of those “relish time alone” types. Good for him.

* “Everyone needs some time alone sometimes.” He deflates, oh man you guess that’s the wrong thing to say.

* He looks like he wants to say something to you, but then Emmett sits beside you.

* “Can I have a swig from your water bottle?” You hand it over

* “Making out with Rosalie make you thirsty?” Emmett cracks a grin

* “It’s that whole bookworm-soccer mom get up, it gets to me yknow?” That’s actually pretty funny

* “So what she’s the Velma to your Freddy?” When the reference doesn’t sink in you rephrase “the nerd to your jock.” He grins again.

* “I think I might join the swim team just so I can see her wear my letterman” that’s actually pretty cute

* “You should do that, I’ll cheer you on at your swim meets” Emmett grins.

*”I’ll hold you to that”

* School life goes on like it always has.

* Weeks pass, marked by tests, homework assignments and projects.

* You actually kind of become friends with Angela, Lauren, Jessica, Connor and Mike.

* “So like, are you and Cullen close?” Mike asks. You and the group are over at Tyler’s house using his fire pit to roast marshmallows. The others are invested in another conversation but you can tell by Lauren’s subtle head tilt that she’s eavesdropping.

* “Which one?” Mike gets flustered at that

* “The one in our grade.”

* “Hmm, well I’d say Alice and I are kinda close, but-“

* “N-no not her,” he clears his throat. “The other one-Edward”

* “Oh, Edward’s my best friend.” The answer slips out automatically.

* “I-Is that why you’re staying with the Cullen’s?” Jessica asks. Everyone’s blatantly listening now, the only one who seems uncomfortable is Angela.

* You sigh. You know everyone at school is probably wondering about the weird relationship. Jessica’s just the only one brave enough to ask you.

* “I mean, it might be.” You’re sure, Edward’s friendship with you is the reason everyone was so quick to accept the living arrangement. “But I actually met Car-I mean Dr. Cullen before I met the others.”

* “How does that work?” It’s Connor who pipes in this time.

* “Well-“ you sigh you really don’t want to do this but at least your sob story will make you seem less suspicious. “So Eleazer and Carmen, they’re my parents, but they’re not my birth parents.”

* You tell them how your parents passed away in an accident many years ago, and how Carlisle had been your Doctor at the time while you recovered. He worked with you for a long time, and you’re pretty sure he wanted to adopt you, but the agency liked Carmen and Eleazer better, probably because Carlisle already had so many adopted kids.

* “Still, Carlisle stayed in my life as my doctor and a family friend. Then I met Edward and the rest of the Cullen’s and... the rest is history...I guess.” You’ve found it’s best to mix a little bit of truth into the lie, though really all of that was mostly what happened.

* Everyone looks testy eyed, Angela is holding back tears, and Lauren hastily wipes her away so no one can see. You wonder if maybe your powers leaked out a bit while you were telling your story.

* “Dude... you’re so strong.” Tyler claps a hand on your shoulder and pulls you into a hug.

* “Ah, it all happened a long time ago, I’m mostly over it now” You tell them all about your Coven in Denali, and how you have two families now, how you don’t regret anything. Well, the only thing you regret, is not staying human, but you can’t mention that so you fake a smile instead.

* Connor breaks out a bottle of vodka he stole from his mom, and pours a shot for everyone

* “To (Y/N)” everyone raises their glass, and not for the first time you feel the urge to cry but no tears escape you.

* You’re a lot closer to everyone after that. You even start sitting at their lunch table every so often.

* In fact the others follow your lead and assimilate with their classmates with ease. Rosalie joins the school book club, and very loudly debates Jane Austen’s to whoever will listen.

* Emmett follows through and joins the swim team. Jasper starts hanging out with some wood shop kids, you’ve caught him arguing about the superior wood in between classes with his new friends. Even Alice joins the art club.

* You try out for the dance/cheer team, it’s the only thing you don’t have to hold back in. Also you’re a great base, you could hold everyone on the team up single handedly during stunts. But you won’t know if you made it until summer vacation

* Everyone seems to be assimilating well, everyone except for Edward

* “You can’t expect me to trust these people (Y/N), not when I know everything they’re really thinking.” You roll your eyes

* “I’m not saying you have to be their best friend Eddie, I’m just saying it looks super suspicious that all the Cullen’s only hang out with each other and refuse to get to know anyone else.” You shove a text book into his chest, and he scoffs

* “It wouldn’t hurt to make some small talk.”

* And so Edward joins your group of human friends, much to the joy of your female companions and dismay of your male ones.

* Life is still strange. But it’s good.

* When you’re surrounded by your new friends, it makes you feel - almost like you’re human again

* And then everything falls apart.

* It’s almost summer vacation. You’re excited, maybe you can go to the beach again soon, and you wonder if it will be alright to take a trip to Denali to see your Coven. You’re pretty confident you made the spirit squad so you’ll have to pencil in camp somewhere. You held back, but just enough by your own parameters to make the bottom end of Varsity.

* You’re at your locker, when Rosalie, and Edward show up. Quickly followed by Emmett, Jasper and Alice.

* “Oh hey guys, you wanna go on a hike tomorrow it’s supposed-“

* “You have to leave.” You’re surprised when it’s Emmett that says this. Kind, jovial Emmett holds a grave expression.

* “What, why-“ for a second you wonder if the Volturi has finally come to get you. It’s been at least seven years since your transformation, it’s about time they started thinking about you.

* But then you notice everyone staring, the quiet buzz of phones vibrating only detected by your super hearing. People are always staring, especially when you’re all together. but this time you notice they’re not staring at the six super models gathered in front of the lockers.

* They’re staring at you.

* “There’s a video of you going around,” Jasper says, and Rosalie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I think it’s better if you see for yourself.”

* He hands you his blackberry, and the grainy image of you come into focus.

* It’s a YouTube video

* You’re in the locker room, your (Your Color Skin) in full view under the fluorescent lights. You’re wearing your underwear, and your abs are on full display. You’re Grey PE uniform shirt is limp in your hands, you remember this, you got extra laps as a penalty and as a result, you were running late for class, you were alone in the locker room

*well you thought you were alone.

* Your body is literally perfect, the way you’ve always dreamed, but you feel white hot shame rise in your throat like acid.

* Your hands shake as you scroll down to see the comments

* ‘Damn who knew they had a body like that under those dorky sweaters’

* ‘(Y/N) Eleazar: Best body Forks HS 10/10 would f*ck’

* ‘Hot body, if only they ditched the glasses, and started wearing some tighter shirts’

* And the comments go on, there’s at least a hundred. You hold your cardigan a little closer to your body. You don’t have the courage to turn around. You can already imagine them staring at you, picturing what they saw in the video transposed onto your body

* “I’m sorry, I didn’t see this coming until it was already happening-“ Alice touches your shoulder and continues her apology but you don’t hear anything.

* You want to cry, you want to be angry. But all you feel is shame. And the worst part is, you didn’t even do anything wrong. So why do you feel so ashamed?

* “Hey, look at me.” Edward grabs your face in his hands, your amber eyes meet his.

*”Snap out of it.”

* Oh, your powers are leaking through.

*Your gaze turns to your foster family, all of whom sport equally uncomfortable expressions.

* You take a deep breath, and imagine reeling in your emotions, imagining them receding back into a locked box, just like Eleazer taught you.

* You need a calm mind right now.

* “Are you fine now?” Edward asks, his hands still on your face. You nod, resting your hand on top of his

* “I’m good.”

* “Good, because we have to get you out of here.” He’s moved his hand to your arm, about to tug you back home when you pull back and shake your head.

* “We can’t do that.”

* “What do you mean?” Rosalie hisses, her hand curls around your wrist ���we have to leave NOW.”

* “No think about it, they’re right.” Jasper says, his eyes meeting yours. At least someone’s on the same oage

* “Think about it Rose, if I leave now with all of you it’s going to look weird.” Normal 15-17 year olds wouldn’t think to handle the situation on their own, especially not entitled rich kids like the Cullen’s.

*She seems to have gotten it because her hand retreats to her side.

* “Well what should we do then, I’m not letting you walk around here with everyone-“ she cuts herself off, a deep frown creasing onto her face as her teeth dig into her bottoms lip.

* “We need to call Carlisle or Esme, they’ll pretend they saw the video from someone else and file a complaint with the school.” You take a deep breath, and imagine the locked box in your mind. Your emotions held carefully within.

* “Until then we all need to pretend like it’s not a big deal.”

* “No way in hell am I doing that!” Emmett growls. “I’m going to rip that fucking peeping Tom piece by piece.”

* “Not all of us need to pretend,” Alice says, her gaze somewhere far away, flicking between futures. “Only Edward, Rosalie and I do.” Her gaze lands on you.

* “You need to go to your class like normal,” a hint of a smile curls onto her mouth. “Everything’s going to work out fine.” Edward’s focusing on Alice, reliving her vision.

* “Do you think you can manage being alone?” Edward asks, you don’t have the next class with any of the Cullen’s. You’ll be on your own.

* You catch Jasper and Alice whispering to each other, but pay it no mind. Flirting even in the middle of your entire world crumbling down.

* You take a deep breath, picturing the locked box over and over, making it a visual mantra.

* “I can get through a period.” Everyone disperses, and Jasper walks you to your next class. Edward wanted to, but Jasper insisted.

*”You’re always hogging them, give someone else a few minutes Edward.”

* You’re almost near your class when Jasper talks to you.

* “Hey, I don’t know if I should tell you this”

*You wonder if he’s going to offer to beat up the person who took the video, or if he’s going to offer you a comforting word.

* “Alice told me you’re going to raise some hell on a misogynist in there” he gives you a wicked grin, his incisors sparkling.

* How is it that every vampire seems to say what you least expect to hear and yet, it’s exactly what you need in the moment.

* He holds out his fist, and you bump it with your own. A grin curling onto your face.

* “Hell yeah I am.”

* You take your usual seat in Spanish like normal. You sit in the front row in this class, diagonally from Jessica. Mike and Angela sit somewhere in the back.

* You just need to focus and keep your emotions in check for 45 minutes. You visualize the box, calming yourself separating the mind and body.

* How did the saying go... a calm soul resides in a calm body?

* “-Zar, Miss. Eleazar!” Your eyes pop up to the teacher, the locked box falling out of grasp.

* “Yes, sorry?” The teacher sighs, you look to the white board to see you’re going over the answers to the worksheet. You’re about to provide the answer for the number you’re on when the teacher cuts you off.

* “I know you might be focused on body building, but in my class you need to focus on the material.” There’s a scattered laugh that fills the room, but your blood runs cold

* “Excuse me?”

* And that’s when your teacher knew he fucked up. He stutters over himself, the sentences overlapping

* “-really you should take it as a compliment-“

* “Oh you think I should take it as a compliment that someone recorded me without my consent while I was changing?”

* The rooms pin drop silent. Your teacher is sweating.

* “Hold on now- I think you’re being a little dramatic don’t you think” A smirk curls onto his lips. “You were in your underwear, it was really no different than wearing a swimsuit” he’s got this smug smile, like he’s right.

*Honestly you were ready to put everything behind you and move on if he just apologized. It’s gross that a teacher is watching videos of a student changing, but what would you have done in his situation if a co-worker showed you.

* “It’s all about perspective, a positive per-“

* But not anymore, you’re not in a forgiving mood, especially not for an idiot like this.

* “No it’s all about consent.” All the anger and despair you’ve been holding back comes flooding out. “When someone wears a swimsuit they’re consenting to show skin and be seen, but I wasn’t contesting to being seen when I was changing in the privacy of the locker room.” You don’t stop for air, your voice trembling

* “And another thing, I wonder how the school administration will feel knowing the same faculty that’s supposed to make students feel safe and enrich their lives is watching creepy videos-“ you stop when you meet your teachers eyes, tears streaming down his face.

* Oh f*ck

* You look to your right, finding your classmates in a similar state, holding back tears.

*So this is what happens to humans when they come in contact with your power.

* You try to visualize the box, but it’s too far now. And all the crying people around you don’t help.

*You need to get out of here.

* “Pathetic, not even an apology for your gas lighting.” She shake your head as confidently as you can, grabbing your bag with trembling hands.

* You walk quickly, maybe there’s a mountain you can climb and wait it out on. You’ll text Carlisle and let him now what happened. It shouldn’t be too-

*” Hey wait!”

* You’re already in the hallway when someone call out to you. You turn, expecting it to be Angela or Mike. Never in a million years would you expect her to be standing there in the middle of the hall, her hand hastily wiping away a stray tear.

* “Mr. Peterson’s a f*cking jerk.” Jessica sniffles, walking quickly to catch up with you. You don’t miss the fact that her bags not slung across her back.

* She must have left a minute after you did. You haven’t thought about her as a friend. Not a real one at least. She’s kind of like hot sauce, it’s fun when it’s around, but if it’s not then that’s not a big deal.

* So to see her here, the first to follow you out, rambling about wether you want to get frozen yogurt or pizza, it warms your unbeating heart.

* “Hey Jessica?” She stops mid-sentence, her eyes swinging up to you.

* You haven’t been fair to her. But you’re going to change that.

* “Thanks for being my friend.” And she smiles at you, her arms wrapped around her tight. It’s not the fake ones you see often the ones she throws to Lauren when she’s asking for Jessica’s opinion on an outfit, or when Connor tries to copy her homework’s. it’s a genuine smile.

* Before she can open her mouth, you hear two more shouts from the hallway.

*Angela and Mike are jogging down the hallway to catch up with you. The latter carrying a bright pink backpack in his hand.

* “Geez Jess, the least you could do is take your bag before you go bolting out of there” Mike’s panting as he holds out her bag. You don’t miss the blush ghosting her face.

*Looks like she still has a crush on him.

* “Hey, are you okay?” Angela asks, and you wish you could cry as you nod.

* “Is it weird that I’m kind of happy right now?” And the three of them smile, before wrapping you into a group hug.

*They all smell terrible. Jessica smells like boiled broccoli, Mike is like the overwhelming stench of fat mixed with sugar, and Angela.. Angela’s probably the worst. She’s sickeningly sweet mixed with a healthy dose of starch.

*it’s disgusting. You have a hard time believing any of the Cullen’s would lose their minds when they’re this close to any of them.

*still, even with the repulsive stench, it’s nice. You haven’t felt the body gets of another human in a long time, or heard the quiet thump of their beating heart. Even the odor is nice, it reminds you that they’re human.

*And for a second it’s easier to pretend you’re human too, just like them.

* “Dude why are you so cold?” Jessica groans, breaking the moment. She taps your arm but doesn’t pull away.

* “While we’re asking questions, Mike how much axe do you use?” Angela’s eyes are watering as you both laugh.

* “Like you’re one to talk, I can smell your strawberry shampoo two hallways over!”

* You watch the three of them untangle and start walking to the back exit from the gym.

* “So where do we go now? We can’t stay here.” Angela says

* “I was thinking maybe a coffee shop, if we take out books we might pass for having a free period” Jessica pipes in

* “Oh, how about the Arcade? A buddy of mine works there since he’s already on break from college, I don’t think he’ll minds us hanging out there.”

* So this is what Alice meant when she said everything was going to be okay.

*Your Human Friends were going to save you

*You haven’t forgotten Edward’s warning, someone did break your trust and let you down.

* But that’s what it means to build friendships, you open yourself to being hurt, and so do they.

* “Hey (Y/N/N), what do you think?” Mike asks, and they all turn around to notice you’re not walking with them.

*You try not to smile to wide. You don’t want to scare them off now.

* “I think there’s something fun about an arcade during the day, no lines.” You say, walking a little bit faster to catch up with your friends.

Tag list: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show

[misscammiedawn]

I was struggling to write a post about my recent brush in with this conceit and this gives me an opportunity to say my piece in regards. It may be a little off topic, but it's an opening to talk about a thing which has been on my mind.

Given I suffer a dissociative disorder I often find entire chunks of my history and skillset pruned and have to rediscover it again and again. When I was coding for a video game project, back when I was involved in such things, I told my team that it "felt like I was a protagonist in the sequel of a JRPG, continuing the story from level 1 all over again every time we begin a new project."

And much like Sora or Master Aqua, when I begin a new endeavor within hypnosis I must trust that my skills lay deeper than mere memory.

Recently I have been wanting to start files again. I am aware I have done this many times. I have recorded many fully produced files in my history and yet I retain no internalized recollection of this process. Thus I must learn again.

I had a moment of true despair this week when I came across a series of recordings I had made in 2021 as practice for my voice lessons that I was taking at the time. I had made a new file every day with some remarkable ideas.

"Oneshot, a single take recording that urges the listener to never listen to the file again. I get one chance to record, you get one chance to listen"

A file based on one of my favorite hypnosis scenes from Charlies' Angels, telling a listener to type along with my "typing test".

An instruction to always type "Hypnosis" with a capital H every time you write it.

...and 2 short years later I had no memory of these files. Not of writing the scripts (which I have yet to find a trace of), not of posting them, not of recording them, not of planning, not of feedback, not of what I was doing.

I know what I did that month. I had a very important social event I attended. I recall the job I was working. I recall watching things on TV with Oikos on Thursday nights.

But for some reason this month long process that must have taken hours of my time each day was so thoroughly blacked out I still struggle to believe it, even with evidence.

...so... in the face of *that* level of discouragement. How do I deal?

Because whether it be a matter of being in a rut or losing my confidence, I often find myself limited.

My first step is typically to check my past work. Read old stories, files and journals. Find where my spark is and then emulate myself until I start doing it without trying.

I ask my partners to make requests and I attempt to fulfill them.

I throw myself in headlong without a plan and just see if I start flying instinctively.

And, yes...

I see what other people are doing. I watch hypno scenes and read MCstories and ask people what their interests at the moment are.

The fire is always there. It just needs a little guidance sometimes.

I always say "save every time a partner sends you a scene, it's a request packaged in fiction." and that has served me well until now.

Do You Ever Just Forget How To Do Hypnosis?

Not even joking. This isn't some sort of shit-post I promise, but sometimes with ADHD brain going brrrr I will get into my hypnosis thing whether it be a script or a live scene and my brian will just go:

"hey are you sure you actually remember how to do hypnosis?"

So the question is, how do we combat this feeling? Because let's be honest it's one that is not rational nor required when you are tisting on the regular and like me have a busy work schedule of giving people the hypnosis feels. (As a quick side note, in a scene with a trusted partner it would be hot af to have your ability to "fight back" with hypnosis taken away, especially if you were both switches with sticky fingers and brains, but I'm going to pocket that for another time...)

Step one: Take a break! I'm not even kidding. I know when my battery is dead energy wise I am more prone to this kind of thinking. Maybe you are tired or overworked as a dominant/top (the person doing the hypnosis doesn't always have to be dominant). I know people who can literally do scene after scene after scene, and that has never been me. I literally went three years without hypnotizing anyone outside of making audios and livestreaming, including my wife, because I was chronically ill and just worn down. You can't be a super tist if you aren't taking care of yourself. So, take a break. Look after yourself. If you aren't doing that it could be a sign that burnout is coming, or approaching and you need to protect yourself. Never be afraid to say "that's enough". Many times I've hit my limit not only long term but mid scene as a Domme. It's okay and it's very normal and I wish we spoke about it more.

Step two: Try something new! Sometimes, I get stuck in a rut of doing the same thing over and over. I love repetition and conditioning using it is fun but wow, it can get boring for everyone. So this feeling could be a sign it's time to read some smut, listen to some audios, read the blogs and try something new. It might not work, but it might also be the best thing you've ever done. Recently I also have been sending tiny audios to friends based on whims or ideas I've been thinking of. This is a great way to test something new, low stakes, and play around. I also recommend having people you can talk to. I love to befriend other hypnosis creators and community members because not only are they just "built different" and fun to be around but also I can hear them talk about their passions, which reignites mine and we can pool ideas.

Set three: Read some resources! Education is so important in this scene. Now that doesn't mean do what I did and go to a certifcation course, I don't think people outside of people wanting to be a professional hypnotist should do this. But it is important to refresh your knowledge and not be afraid to learn. Now I am an ex-teacher so I am biased as hell about the importance of education, but, it's not hard to upgrade your skills with a little education. Mind Play is a great book, I always recommend it for being simple to read. Go to a class at a convention or locally (they have them online too so you can access them even in places far away like New Zealand). Join a hypnosis discord with discussion rooms or groups. Talk to others about their experiences. Watch a YouTube video on hypnosis. Listen to podcasts about it. These are all educational tools for upgrading your skills and even if like me you've been doing this for an eternity (or what feels like it) you can still refresh your skills and maybe you might learn something that helps get you out of that funk.

So these are just some of the things that help when my brain decides to gaslight me into thinking I am terrible at this. I know this is never going to be one side fits all but I think it's important to talk about imposter syndrome from all sides of the watch.

Have you ever felt like this? And if so what did you do about it? I'd love to keep this conversation going!

-Secret

[thechangeling]

But you like her better: Part 2

Sorry it's been a minute! I hope you like it.

Cw: Some brief ableism, mentions of internalized biphobia, and self injurious stimming.

2013

It was raining when 16 year old María Machado Sotomayor first met Kit Herondale.

Marí had always loved the sound of the rain. It was peaceful and rhythmic, creating a nice tingly feeling in her skull running straight down her spine. It also good for the plants. Which meant that Marí arrived (on time for once) at her favorite class in a pretty good mood.

Marine biology was their one of their three special interests, the other two being lacrosse and Base guitar. So Bio was usually pretty fun for them. However this time was different.

Her mood was instantly dampened when she walked into class and saw someone new sitting in her usually seat. A blond, short and white kid who looked far too pretty for his own good. A new kid most likely.

A new kid who didn't realize that Marí always sat by the window every single day. It was their spot. Still Marí was determined not to overreact. They marched over to the new kid  and approached him with their best masking smile.

Remember eye contact. She told herself. Keep your tone light and breezy but not too lifeless. Smile. Appear friendly and non threatening. Try not to sweat. Try not to scream.

"Hi excuse me," Marí began in a sickly sweet tone. "That's actually my seat! Sorry!"

The boy instantly looked embarrassed and apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry!" He blushed. "I didn't realize there was assigned seating." He had an American accent, California maybe?

Wonderful. A white American boy. Just what they needed.

Marí chewed their lip and fought the urge to rock or tap. "There isn't actually," they admitted. "I just usually sit there. So can you please move?"

Now the new kid looked a little offended. A cold look settled over his face. "Well why should I?" He bristled. "This seat isn't really yours. It's not like it has your name on it."

Marí rolled her eyes in frustration. "I tried that already but then I got in trouble."

He stared at them curiously for a moment. Marí took the opportunity to break eye contact finally and scuff their heel against the floor. They were wearing the new black suede chunky heels with the gem stones that Marí had gotten when they went thrifting with their friends.

"María!" The harsh voice of her teacher snapped her back into reality. Everyone had arrived and taken their seats while she was arguing with the American and now everyone was staring at her. "Could you please explain why you are not seated young lady?" She snapped in her extra pretentious sounding posh English accent.

The one that said, "I'm better than you."

Marí tried not to growl at being called a young lady. They weren't feeling particularly female today. Not that Marí was going to bother explaining that to some old British hag.

"He won't get out of my seat!" Marí protested. Instantly laughter broke out around the classroom. Cruel mocking laughter that made Marí feel like her skin was crawling.

"It's ok!" The new kid cried out, practically jumping out of Marí's seat. "I'll move! I'll go sit over here." He grabbed his bag and moved to the back of the room as quickly as possible.

Marí smiled in spite of themself. His random act of kindness was surprising, but they were grateful. They took their seat near the window and sighed in relief.

Marí would always look back on that day with fondness no matter what. It may not have seemed like much to him, but it meant the world to her. After Bio class she had asked Kit to come eat with her and her friends. They had made their introductions and the rest was history.

They became close friends very quickly, bonding over movies and music. They sent each other playlists of their favorite songs and songs that reminded them of each other. Marí made Kit a queer playlist with songs by queer artists and told Kit that they were bisexual and a demigirl. They hadn't even told their friends that last part yet at that point.

Marí also told Kit that they liked to use she/they pronouns, but so far was only using them online. Kit asked Marí a lot of questions then confessed to Marí that he was also bisexual but he was still kinda getting used to it.

"I grew up in a shitty situation," Kit had told them. "I guess I still have a lot of shame."

Marí didn't hold it against him. She bought him queer literature and resources for queer history including "Bisexuality and Queer Theory" and her printed copy of the article published in the 90s called "The Bisexual Manifesto." She gave him advice on websites and people to follow online.

They also just talked. Talked about life and their experiences. Their feelings and their relationships with their sexualities. Bonding with another queer person was always special but spending time with Kit always made Marí feel so...light.

Despite how close they were getting, Marí didn't always want to touch him. They were touch averse in most cases unless they were very comfortable with someone. Sometimes it just depended on the day. On the days where Marí found they could not hug Kit they had invented their own way to show affection.

They would place a hand over their hearts and tap it, as if to say "I care about you" or "I love you." Sometimes Kit would say "tap my heart" as a substitute for actually doing it.

He introduced her to his close friend Janessa, the wayward vampire who was incredibly hot and kind of made Marí all nervous and tounge twisty at first. But as they got to know her, Marí realized that she was also incredibly kind, passionate and clearly cared at great deal about Kit. Janessa was a gamer who had named herself after a video game character. She drank cups of warm blood in novelty mugs with giant swirly sparkly straws and was pretty good at making people laugh.

Janessa, or Nessie as Kit had affectionately nicknamed her, was flirtatious and charismatic, but also brutal and deadly in a fight. She was full of surprises. And maybe, just maybe Marì was a little bit into that.

However as much as Marí didn't want to admit it, they were also were starting to realize that they were way more into someone else. Someone with perfect golden curls that Marí wanted to curl their fingers into.

Eventually Kit came out to Marí as genderfluid and requested that she use alternating he/they pronouns for them. They both made the decision to collectively tell their friends their pronouns. Marí, Kit and Nessie sat around her gorgeous leather couch and talked for hours about gender, identity and transness. Kit pointed put that they may never be able to fully explain their gender to the other two, just like Kit might have a hard time fully understanding Janessa's relationship with gender, or Marí's because everyone was different.

"It's personal Nessie," he had said. "Everyone has their own unique perspective on gender and every trans person has their own complicated feelings about gender and what their own gender identity means to them, and those feelings might not completely match up with another trans person's. But that's ok. You don't have to understand the other person but you do have to respect them."

Janessa's understanding of gender came from being a trans women. It was about a strict  binary with clear lines and rules. Rules that Kit was starting to make a habit of fingerpainting all over and Marí could tell that it was stressing her out.

And Marí had no idea where the hell they fit in these rules. They had stopped playing the game.

But those two loved each other more than anything, and Marí knew they could work anything out. And sure enough approximately seven hours and four margaritas later (only two for Marí,) they had come to an understanding.

2014

She kissed Kit for the first time a month into the new year.

They had been trying on clothes in Marí's room and Kit was wearing one of their old dresses that Marí thought they looked amazing in, but Kit wanted to give it away. It was dark navy blue and sparkly with spaghetti straps, coming to about mid thigh. There were cut outs on the sides, filled in with black sheer fabric, and it had a low v cut at the neckline which was also filled in with black sheer.

Kit had been infodumping about one of the Marvel movies again, Marí couldn't remember which one, and she had kept getting distracted by his tan smooth skin peaking through the sheer fabric and fullness of Kit's moving lips. He smiled excitedly and Marí had stepped forward and kissed him.

Their first thought was that Kit tasted like chocolate. Their second was that they should have done this months ago.

Kit had melted into the kiss, smiling slightly against her mouth and pulling her closer. They kissed her feverishly, sliding their tounge inside Marí's mouth and moaning when she deepened the kiss eagerly. They moved against each other with almost lazy, comfortable precision, kissing each other for what could have been hours or days or maybe only seconds.

Marí couldn't have said.

When Kit finally broke the kiss and pulled away from Marí, his eyes were practically gleaming with joy and love. And that was when they knew.

I love him.

2015

I love him.

Ty's words ran in her ears. Repeating over and over again, maddenly bouncing around inside of her skull until she was forced to utter out loud,

"I love him".

They whispered it under their breath but Marí could tell that both Alyssa and Ty had heard them. It was so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop.

But of course. Of course he does. It was obvious. This whole time Marí had noticed there was something wrong with Ty. Just like there was something wrong with Kit. The way they stared after each other when they thought the other one wasn't looking. The loving and worshipful glances mixed with the bitter glares.

Marí had already known that Kit was in love with Ty of course. But the way they had told the story made it seem like they were positive that Ty couldn't be in love with them.

But then again maybe that made sense. Given Kit's history and who he was. But then Marí couldn't help but think of Ty and how confused he must have been. God it was a giant mess.

Speaking of...

The room was still silent. Marí found that she couldn't read Ty's expression as he stared back at her flatly. But his body was shaking, his fingers fluttered at his sides. She wanted to soothe him.

They stepped forward carefully. "I'm not mad at you," Marí assured him. "I was hoping we could talk?"

Ty's left eye twitched. "We are talking," he pointed out. Alyssa snorted.

"Ty, they mean about the proverbial bomb you just dropped a few seconds ago," Alyssa said with a laugh.  Marí smirked to themself slightly.

It wasn't really a bomb. More like a flare.

She really needed to talk to Ty. The only problem was Alyssa had an annoying tendency to never leave his side. It wasn't like she had a problem with the girl. Of course not. But her presence meant that Marí hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Ty one on one.

They cleared their throat. "Alyssa could you please give Ty and I some space to talk?" They asked. Marí hoped they didn't sound too rude. Alyssa looked to Ty and he nodded slightly, signaling that he was ok with her leaving.

That was so strange to Marí. Their relationship. The way Alyssa, a werewolf who hated shadowhunters even more then Marí did, essentially took orders from him and clearly trusted him more than anyone else. But perhaps she wasn't one to judge.

After all, she loved Kit.

Alyssa left the room with a pat on Ty's back and a quick, "call if you need me." Marí shifted their weight back and forth as they rocked slightly from side to side as they waited for Ty to speak.

He stared back at her silently, most likely doing the same. Marí blew out a loud breath and forced herself to stay still, crossing her arms.

"Are you going to say something or should I?" Ty asked expectantly. Marí bit their lip and shrugged.

"I'm still thinking of what I wanna say," she admitted.

Ty smiled at her softly. "So am I."

There we go. Cracks in the armour.

"I'm sorry," Ty whispered suddenly. "I never meant to-"

"You don't have to apologize!" Marí blurted out. Whoops they had interrupted him. "Oh shit sorry you were still talking!" They reached for their hair nervously and realized that they were wearing that Morticia wig for their costume.

Great. Marí moved on to chewing on her knuckles.

"It's ok," Ty reassured her. "I don't really know where I was going with that sentence. And you shouldn't do that." He pointed to her hand.

Marí scoffed, "yeah well you shouldn't dig your nails into your palms." He glared at them and they laughed.

"Not so fun playing a game of Mirror Image is it?" They teased. Ty didn't respond, just stared at Marí solemnly.

"You know I really admire you," he said, aiming his gaze close enough to hers to create the illusion of eye contact. "I always have. I never wanted to hurt or upset you."

Marí wished for a brief moment that they could touch him and then shrugged the impulse off. "I know love," they cooed. "Me too."

Without really understanding why, she pressed her hand to her chest directly above her heart and tapped, just like how she did with Kit. Ty studied Marí for a moment and then followed suite.

Marí in spite of themself, actually felt bad for him. They could clearly see the toll the last three years had taken on him, specifically the last few weeks. Maybe his family couldn't see it, and they definitely knew that Kit couldn't, but Marí could.

Marí of all people could see past the mask because they knew what masking looked like. It wasn't just about appearing normal, whatever that word meant. It was about hiding your feelings. Taking that heart you wore on your sleeve and locking it up tight. But everytime Marí looked at Ty, they could see it. And it was bleeding.

Ripped and bloody and broken, just like her own and yet they both still had the sheer audacity to keep breathing. Marí was proud of them both.

"You need to talk to him," Marí prompted. "You both need to be honest with each other."

Ty furrowed his brow. "Honest? About what? He doesn't feel the same way." He had gone back to flicking his fingers as he stared at her, looking puzzled.

Bloody hell between the two of them, Kit and Ty were giving Marí the mother of all headaches.

They took a deep breath. "Yes they do Ty," Marí tried not to sound exasperated. "Kit is in love with you, believe me. They told me."

It hurt Marí's heart to have to say it, but it was true and Ty deserved to know the truth. And they knew deep down that Kit wouldn't really be happy, he wouldn't be Kit until he had Ty. And Marí had to make their peace with that.

Ty looked understandably confused. He ran a frantic hand through his hair. "But why are you telling me this? Why are you helping me?" He asked. "Don't you love them?"

She fought the urge to cry as tears gathered in her eyes. She found herself digging her nails into her palms despite chastising Ty for doing it a few minutes ago.

"I'm telling you all of this because I love them" she cried desperately. "Because Kit cries out your name in his sleep Ty! Because everytime he sees you, he stares at you like you are the moon the sun and the stars! Because everytime you speak they hang onto absolutely every word, and when you laugh-" Marí cut herself off.

They squeezed their eyes shut and took deep long breaths. Ty said nothing. Marí opened their eyes to see Ty staring at them in dismay. He looked like he was trying to think of what to say to help.

Marí shook their head. "I know Kit loves me. And they probably always will. We were close friends even before we started dating." Marí groaned and shook out their entire body this time, jumping up and down a few times as well to get rid of the tension. If Ty thought this was weird he didn't comment on it.

Marí wiped her eyes carefully trying not to smudge her mascara. "But you Ty?" His eyes refocused on her again at the sound of his name. Marí chuckled humourlessly. "Fucking hell, he is in love with you. And right now he is thinking that you hate him and I know it's tearing him up inside."

Ty stared at Marí hopelessly, looking overwhelmed and exhausted. "So what do I do then? What am I supposed to say?"

Marí shrugged. "I can't help you with that I'm sorry. It has to come from you." Ty looked even more panicked.

They gave him what they hoped was an encouraging smile. "Don't be scared Ty," they murmered. "It's Kit remember. They're not scary. You have nothing to worry about."

Ty didn't answer her. He had wrapped his arms around his body, squeezing tightly. "Marí do you remember those dead moon jellyfish we buried on the beach?" He asked.

She was a little confused as to why he was bringing this up now. "Yeah? Why?"

"That's what I feel like right now," Ty admitted. "Like I've washed up on the beach and now I'm just waiting for someone to come along and step on me."

Marí's heart sank. "Oh Ty," they breathed. "I promise that won't happen with Kit. I can't make any promises for anyone else, but I do know that Kit has absolutely no intention of hurting you again love."

Ty looked pensive. Marí could only hope that Ty would make the decision to trust them.

With a sudden jolt Marí remembered the party.

"Hey we still have the Halloween party to go to," she said, shaking Ty out of his stupor. "Do you still wanna go?"

To their surprise, Ty nodded. "Sure. I think Alyssa might kill me if I back out now."

Marí snorted. Alyssa Reyes could be pretty terrifying at times.

With surprise Marí found that their spirts were lighter having cleared the air with Ty and with the prospect of a party being renewed.

She smiled. "All right then let's head out!" Marí smoothed down the long black wig over her shoulders and quickly smoothed out the long skirt of her black slinky dress before turning and exiting the training room.

She knew that she would have to talk to Kit at some point and that conversation would be brutal. But at least they could have one last night together.

It's better this way. Marí told themself as they walked back towards the main living room where everyone was gathered.  At least now Kit can be happy.

It's for the best.

It has to be.

So I'm actually planning on writing a part 3 from Kit's pov because the drama isn't over yet! 😏

Tag list: lmk if you wanna be added/removed.

@playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies   @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @queenlilith43 @arangiajoan @hardlymatters @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @tired-vin @phoenix-and-dragon @the-blackdale @adoravel-fenomeno @the-wckd-powers

[someonestolemyshoes]

Come to Me

This is my submission for @levihan-drabbles Trope Tuesday - I jumped firmly on the bandwagon and went with prompt #4: Injured/hurt Levi & caring Hange. Juuuust eeked inside the max word count, but I’ll take it! 

Warnings: This fic does contain some depictions of injury, nothing too graphic, but be aware if this is something that bothers you! 

**

“Who was it this time?”

Hange expected no answer. As such, they were unsurprised at receiving nothing but a grunt and a hiss as they pressed an alcohol-soaked swab to the apple of Levi’s cheek, where the flesh, feverishly red and swollen now, had split like a burst seam.

Only rarely did Levi disclose the particulars of his adventures, and never when prompted. Hange knew better than to press. It wasn’t their role to ask questions, but the silence quickly grew oppressive when left unattended, and Hange would much rather listen to the sound of their own voice than the stifling quiet.

“Do they at least look worse off than you do?” They asked, tilting Levi’s bruised jaw to angle him better beneath the hanging bulb. Levi gave another noncommittal grunt, this one accompanied by a shrug of his shoulder and a grimace that tugged at his bust lip. The forming scab cracked open, and a thin trail of blood dripped towards his chin.

He was quiet, tonight. Moreso than usual. It wasn't in Levi’s nature to divulge too much of anything, but he could be vocal, in his own way. Hange’s poking and prodding was most often met with a grumbled ‘mind your damn business’ or ‘keep your nose out of my shit’ and occasionally, when Hange was in a particularly obnoxious mood, ‘quit jamming your finger into my ribcage’.

There was none of that now. Levi remained perplexingly silent while Hange disinfected the open wounds on his face and knuckles, cleaning smeared blood and palpating the joints, checking the swollen flesh for signs of damage they couldn't hope to fix in their parents' tool shed.

This had been their routine for a little while, a semi-regular occurrence since the first night Hange had found him crumpled over a bench in the park, sucking wet breaths through his teeth and trying in vain to stem the blood flow from a yawning gash on his arm. He had colourfully refused Hange’s offer of calling him an ambulance, and had vehemently denied that he needed to see a doctor, but he had eventually resigned himself to at least allowing Hange to help however they could with the first aid kit in their kitchen and what little medical knowledge they had absorbed from their mothers medical journals.

He had been a relative stranger to Hange, then. They’d seen him around sometimes, in school corridors between classes, or in the lunch hall, or around the back of the science block, where Hange had caught glimpses of him sparking up or stubbing out a cigarette, but besides these sporadic sightings, Hange's knowledge of Levi came only from whispered rumours.

The rumours, more than anything, made Hange worry that this was not a solitary incident.

“Just come to me,” Hange had said, as they'd finished wrapping the bandage around his wounds. “If you need help again. I kinda like my evening walks, and I think it’d ruin my night if I found you dead next time.”

In truth, Hange hadn’t expected him to take their offer seriously at all. Shocked as they were to see him turn up bloody and bruised at their window, they had stayed true to their word. Levi had tolerated their needling questions with surprising resilience, but eventually acquiesced to give some vague answers when Hange had suggested that he might be involved in something highly illegal.

“You’re in a gang,” they’d said.

“Like hell.”

“Selling drugs?”

“You think I’m stupid?”

“I got it—human trafficking."  

“For fucks sake, four-eyes! I’m not—no, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Hange had accused him of every offense under the sun, but as it had turned out, there was nothing so terrible, nor so immoral or unlawful, about Levi’s affairs.  

“I just get in fights, sometimes. I live in a rough neighbourhood. Tensions are high, people snap easy.”

“Do you? Snap easily, I mean.” Levi had given her a noncommittal shrug.

“Depends,” he had said. “Whether something’s worth snapping over.”

Hange had never asked what held that kind of wealth, for Levi. He had a deceptively calm aura about him whenever Hange saw him in passing; a little grumpy perhaps, with his thin eyes and drawn brows and pouted lips, but he never exuded the crackling energy of a bomb ready to explode.

Now, though, he seemed stormy. There was an intermittent twitch in his jaw where the muscle bunched and flexed. Despite Hange's close proximity, sitting with their knees tucked between his splayed legs, his gaze remained resolutely fixed somewhere over their shoulder. His freshly bandaged fists rested clenched atop his thighs. There was a pallor to his skin, the sickly hue of it exacerbated by the fluorescent glow from above them; the angle of the light deepened the shadows beneath his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks. He looked, if possible, more sullen than Hange had ever seen him.

Perhaps more tenderly than intended, Hange smoothed their thumb over the last steristrip on Levi's cheek. Something in the softness of the action must have caught his attention, for he drew his gaze towards Hange's face for the first time since turning up tonight. Hange tilted their head at him.

"Are you okay?"

Levi scoffed. "Do I look okay?"

No, Hange thought. You never do. "You've looked better."

"I'm fine."

Hange fought the urge to roll their eyes.

"Like pulling teeth," they mumbled. Levi shot them a look, something petulant and withering. Hange poked their tongue out at him, and winced when he aimed a kick at their ankle.

"Stop being difficult," Levi said. Hange looked at him incredulously, chest swelling and cheeks puffing with indignation. Levi was watching them calmly now, his brow quirked, and Hange felt the futility of arguing with him before they even began. Instead, they blew out a long, calming breath, and began packing the first aid supplies back into the kit.

Silence swelled between them, broken only by the crinkle of plastic as Hange, perhaps with more force than necessary, jammed spare wipes, swabs and bandages into place.

For once, Levi broke it.

"Oi, Hange."

Hange, not looking up from repacking their first aid kit, huffed loudly, and tried their best to ignore him. In the end, though, curiosity won out. "Mm?"

"If—" Levi began, then cut himself off with a harsh huff, and ticked his tongue against his teeth. "If anyone bothers you. Come to me, okay?"

Hange looked up at him, surprised. Levi wasn't looking at them, head turned away and eyes cast down towards the floor.

They weren't friends, exactly. Outside of their strange arrangement, they never really spoke to one another. Hange had, once or twice, caught Levi watching them with a curious expression on his face, but he never spoke to them in public. Hange was mostly at ease with the whole thing. There was an itch of intrigue they longed to scratch, but Levi's responsiveness to questioning had already made itself well known. Excluding their meeting in the park, they had never shared a single word with one another beyond the confines of the tool shed. Why, then, would Levi expect Hange to approach him anywhere else?

"Why would anyone bother me?" It was an earnest question, but Levi met their questioning gaze with a scowl. He opened his mouth with the kind of frustrated ferocity that preceded an argument, then closed it again, and huffed through his nose.

"I heard some things," he said. Hange said nothing, only blinked openly at him, and Levi was pressed to fill the silence. "Someone saying shit. About you."

Hange's brows lifted towards their hairline. "Oh?"

Levi scuffed the toe of his boot over the floor, face twisted in a sneer. Hange found it difficult to tell where his disgust was aimed; at whatever conversation he had overheard, or at himself for bringing it up.

Hange shuffled forward in their chair, one of their knees bumping against the inside of Levi's thigh. His eyes flickered down to the point of contact, then up to Hange's face. Hange nudged his leg harder.

"C'mon, you can't say that and not tell me."  

When Levi showed no signs of budging, Hange sat up straighter and folded their arms over their chest. "At least tell me who."

Levi rolled his tongue between his cheeks, deliberating. His gaze flitted over Hange's face as though he was hoping he might find something reflected in it. Whether he found what he wanted Hange didn't know, but after a long moment, he slumped back in his chair and crossed his arms to match Hange, and said, with no absence of venom, "Zeke."

Ah. That at least explained some of Levi's seething. He and Zeke had a history. Hange was unclear on the details, and much of the story was based on rumours passed down in hushed whispers, morphing with each new retelling, but what was clear enough was that the two disliked one another. On Levi's part, it was all clenched fists and frosty glances, while Zeke carried himself with a mix of smug satisfaction and barely restrained resentment.

Still, Hange found it hard to believe that Zeke would have anything too terrible to say about them. Their communication had been inconsequential at best—he had an air of self importance that Hange found a little grating, and an overconfidence in his own opinions, but the handful of instances in which they'd spoken to one another hadn't been unpleasant. Hange told Levi so, and watched with interest as a hint of colour rose in his cheeks and his frown deepened.

"He's a creep," Levi said. Hange's brows arched even higher.

"What, did he threaten me?"

Levi said nothing.

"Is he gonna beat me up?" Still nothing. "Did he call me ugly? Say I smell bad?"

"You do smell bad."

"Did he perv on me?"

Levi's response was both fascinating and telling. He tensed visibly, spine snapping straight, fingers curling tight into his palms—even his thigh, still resting against Hange's knee, clenched hard. Hange's grin widened.

"Jackpot," they said. Levi curled his lip

"Well, I'm honoured by your chivalry, Levi. But you didn't have to pick a fight with him just because he thinks I'm hot. It's kinda flattering, you know?"

"He doesn't even mean it," Levi said harshly.  "He's just saying it because I—" but Levi cut himself off again, sharply, and pressed his lips into a thin line. The forming scab tugged, threatening to tear anew.

"Because you what?"

But Levi had had enough. He stood quickly, barely avoiding the low hanging bulb, his chair scraping back with a clatter. The new angle of the light cast his nose and brow into deep shadow, and illuminated his cheeks with a bright glow—despite the washed out look the light gave his skin, Hange could see twin strips of pink on either cheek.

"Thanks," he said. Hange blinked owlishly up at him, their mouth open. They wanted to press him, demand he finish saying what he'd started—and perhaps they would have, perhaps this time, curiosity would win out, and Hange would succeed in wrestling an answer from him for once, but he didn't give them the chance.

He ducked around the bulb and moved to brush past Hange's chair and out the door. Beside them, he stuttered in step and paused; Hange thought—hoped—that perhaps he might be debating telling them the full story. He opened his mouth, and closed it again, opened, and snorted quietly to himself.

Then he raised a bandaged hand, and ruffled it into the messy hair atop Hange's head.

"Thanks," he said.

And before Hange could speak, could move, could do much of anything but stare ahead in shock, Levi had gone.

**

If, come the following morning, Hange was at all surprised to see the cuts and bruises colouring Zeke's face—a rather delightful collage of red and purple, black, and blue—they hid it very well.

Levi's self-satisfied smirk was far less subtle.

[witch-hazels-musings]

Not a request but a question :^

How can I right the characters better? Like how would I know how they talk, act, etc.? I’ve been getting urges of writing but idk any first steps or like that 😭🤷‍♀️ -🗿anon

Hey! Good question ☺️

So, every character (not just genshin characters) has a wiki page at this point - those are great reference sites for you to learn more about their history and, especially for Genshin, their voice lines. Here are some tips:

Voice lines

Listen to the way their inflection changes as they speak (do they go up, or down in tone / volume)

Listen to the sentence structure, word choice, and detail in their voice lines

Behavior

Watch their idle animations

Watch how they move in cut scenes: get out a pencil and paper and write down what they do, how they move, gestures, expressions - take data and look for common behavioral trends

93% of all communication is body language, you want people to know it's the right character without hearing or seeing their voice? - pepper in body language

Values/Traits

What does each character value or hold In high regard - I've mentioned this before, but we are all driven to act and respond to things based on our values

Example: Diluc is a gentleman = hold door, bow, limited physical contact, kiss fingers, escort home

Example: Childe is Ambitious = make decisions to get what he wants and may not think about them fully, will go and go until he achieves something, try new things often

Those are just a few things which might help you, the most important thing is to include body language into your works. Everyone's, dialogue can be helpful, but I can tell an excellent story without the characters saying a single thing to each other because body language is so powerful.

[fervorofjoy]

Jo had every hardship dealt in the book. She was a girl that came from nothing; a girl that had to raise herself. The only person she was able to count on was herself. She was abandoned more than once, she was blinded to the type of monsters she laid against. She was tossed aside left and right. Jo knew she was beaten down more times than not. But she stood up high; she learned the meaning of a deep compassionate love; and yes Alex lied and broke every promise he ever made her. But I didn’t hold resentment against him; I couldn’t hate him. And I knew he loved me, and now that I was happily a single mother; I understood him more; the sacrifice he made for his kids; and I guess forgiveness was warranted now. 

But Todd; I was intrigued, I wanted to know the base; what brewed under the surprise; and with how clumsy he sounded; he was a deep lost cause for me. But when it came to his sister; her baby; I saw it; the glimmer behind his eyes; the way he was scared to show that deep emotion. But it was cute; a warm smile spread along her features with ease. “ Good to know you have nothing against single mothers.” I paused with a laugh. “ I would’ve been insulted if you did, as a single mother myself. But I get it, I never envisioned having luna on my own, but she is the one that made me smile again, made me laugh at those baby faces. I wouldn’t trade my daughter for anything. But I get it.” It probably did sound crazy; in my situation, I saved Luna, her mother unfortunately passed; but the second her tiny finger held mine I knew in my gut I couldn’t let her go. And Jo was happy’ truly. 

She did feel flattered that Todd trusted her to share the hurt story of why their parents aren’t here; at this hospital witnessing the birth of their grandbaby; it’s sad, and I fought the urge to place a hand on his arm; but I noted it would be crossing a line to show that comfort for a patient’s brother. All that to say; I wore an understanding smile. “ I’m sorry, they didn’t have faith in Laura to handle this stage. She’s gonna be a great mom, and I know you a good uncle. I can see how much you already adore that little girl.” A permanent grin now lasted; but when he insisted to being a shoulder; I had to shake my head and laugh. “ Something tells me you’re just trying to up your game to land that snack date from me..” I added with amusement; trust me once his sister was discharged the gloves were off; Jo liked being around him; he was funny; the opposite of her history; and it felt refreshing.

Continued

@adeptcharisma

Letting someone as nice as Todd down easily. Jo didn’t know how to feel. She on one hand did feel she needed to put herself out there. Especially considering Alex was probably out on the farm playing house with that woman. I knew i was only guarding my heart. I was only protecting myself. Todd was the opposite of the guys I dated. Making the list, overly confident, broody, tended to be blended from the same cloth as me. I just didn’t want to hurt him, but seeing his face fall it had kept reappearing in my the next few days. 

I tried to be nice, I was caring especially towards my parents. And with being a new mother to Luna, I was harboring the care of my newly fixed heart after the way my husband left me. I just didn’t feel like it was okay yet to step out into the dating world. Of course it didn’t stop Link from asking the night before when I was holding a glass of wine in hand after tucking Luna into bed about the guy with the soft eyes at the hospital. I had waved my hand off as a brush off. “ I shut it down.” In response I felt Link’s eyes on me. 

“ You’re afraid of putting yourself out there. I get it. After Amelia I felt like I couldn’t date. But not every guy is gonna turn out like Karev, You deserve to be happy Jo.” Karev; the name I had despised with my whole body; but I had brushed it off. I had turned my glaze to my best friend as I pressed play on the rerun of a rom-com The wedding planner, it was a cute watch. “ Thanks Link, I’m just protecting the guy. I’m a cruse okay. I’m incapable of having that lasting love.” A saying I stood by. After that Link had shut up but I felt his hand around my shoulder. We barely spoke this morning before I was due at the hospital. I had dropped Luna at the daycare; before I had met with Carina; we had shared a coffee; as I filled her in on Laura’s case. The peacemaker option, the baby’s heartbeat that I did the few days before. 

Carina nodded as she made a comment; after. “ Good plan Wilson, it’s probably her best option with her record. We want to seek out the best living outcome for her and the baby.” Swallowing my thought I had tossed my empty coffee in the trash as I followed her lead into the room; where Laura was laid in her bed. I noticed the absence of Todd; I was kinda sadden to see he wasn’t joining us. He was easy on the eyes; I kept that note to myself as I held the chart to my chest. Eyes focused on the patient; of course my eyes did snap up when I heard him; the feet belonging to Todd; I felt a twitch of a smile hit against bare lips, My eyes met his for a second before I aimed my glaze to his sister. 

I had to hold my tongue at Laura who had to mention her overbearing brother; Carina had mentioned she had one of those. “ It’s okay, they mean well. Overall this is the best option, I know it’s soon but we want to keep the baby in until it’s fully cooked.” The humor; the saying with the baby in the oven,  “ So we advise to do the peacemaker before the baby is born, there’ a good success rate, if you want Dr. Wilson can get you the papers to prove it. But I promise you’re in the best care possible.” At that for some reason I aimed my gaze over to Todd I could see he was a little nervous when it came to his sister, I wanted to reassure him. With a smile. I just hoped it didn’t give him the wrong impression.

[willow-salix]

Why hello there

Is there anything you would recommend a babi witch like myself studying that has been missed from my list :>

Mah list (so far):

○ Witch vs Pagan vs Wicca

○ Types of witches

○ Grey witch

○ Black witch

○ Crystals + Properties

○ Sacred geometry

○ Pentacle + Pentagram

○ Sigils

○ Protection

○ Moon phases

○ Sabbats

○ Types of salts

○ Respecting nature

○ Graveyard etiquette

○ Spirit guides

○ Divination (runes, Tarot, Coins, etc)

○ Casting a circle

○ Candle magick

○ Colour magick

○ Closed practice appropriation

○ Herbs

○ Astrology

○ Tree of life

○ Auras

○ The five clairs

○ Energy/visualisation magick

○ History of starseeds

○ Astral projection

○ Methods of meditation

○ Grounding

○ Plant magick

Ooh OK! Here goes.

First and foremost, as a witch of twenty plus years, the most important thing I can tell you is to be yourself. If this is a belief system and way of life that you want for life it has to fit in with you and your personality.

Forget everything you see on Instagram, tictok or Pinterest, it's not about the aesthetic, it's about you.

There is no room for witch shaming on my blog.

And by that I mean that EVERYONE works in different ways, at a different pace and to different levels. Never compare yourself to anyone else or how they work. Never think that you aren't doing enough or that you aren't progressing enough.

You are on your own path and that is the right one for you, so you do it your own way. You want to stop and smell the flowers? Do it. You want to dip your feet in that stream? Go for it! You want to stop and rest for a bit? Best idea ever!

You should never feel pressured to do anything that you aren't ready for or aren't comfortable with. That includes such things as blood magic, working with deity you don't feel a connection with, working skyclad, doing any kind of sexual magic or anything that makes you feel off about it. It's YOUR craft.

Be kind to yourself, don't have expectations and don't ever think you aren't good enough or worthy.

This includes making your craft unique to you. Visualisation is one of the witches most poweful tools, the magic doesn't come from the expensive athame, insence or candles, its in the heart of the witch. The power comes from you. And visualisation is your key to that but so is choosing how to make it work for you.

Take me for example, I'm this loveable thundernerd witch, so that reflects in my craft.

In circle (mediumship development) we did a meditation and I was directed to the beach. So what beach did I go to...

"There's a lovely beach, I can feel the salt water on my skin, I can smell the salt in the air, there's a light breeze that's rustling the leaves on the palm trees all around me and in the distance I can hear the faint sound of someone playing the piano."

Hell yeah I was there. That's my happy place!

I need to ascend to a higher level of consciousness? Am I taking that golden winding staircase or am I calling John for the space elevator? What do you think I'm gonna choose?

I need to go lower, below the earth to go into trance? Hell I'm taking Alan's seat down.

Make it work for you.

Working with charms, that's a very important thing for me. I have lucky charms, trinkets and things everywhere. And they don't have to be pagan. I put a spell on my car to keep me safe and the car safe. Then I charged up a little TAG John and Virgil, they live in my car, Virgil is my co-pilot John is my navigator. They help me feel calm and safe.

Energy weaving is a big thing, I always do it that any energy I raise for something that doesn't already have a predetermined purpose, say for example it's full moon and I'm bouncing around outside, everything I raise I direct out to the earth as healing. I'll raise my arms to the heavens and say : I send this energy out to anyone or anything that needs it right now, I send my love and healing into the wind and trust that it will be taken to where it can do the mslt good.

Talking to other witches about how they do things and how they work is sooooo important. That's why I'm not in a tradition ( alexandrian, gardnerian etc) because I don't like having just one way to do things. That doesn't work for most people, they just won't admit it.

Trying different things to find a way that works for you is so much nicer and healthier than struggling to work the one way that you've been taught. So read, a lot, watch a lot of reputable youtubers (I recommend Tylluan Penry, she's amazing, a grandmother witch and a good friend of mine) and make your own choices. And remember that nothing is set in stone, we are ever evolving and every changing, if you feel the urge to try something new and work a different way, do it. You don't have to stick with it.

An astral altar, sooo important but something I don't see many people talking about. An astral altar is something you build in meditation.

You have your happy place, somewhere you feel safe and calm and protected (Tracy Island and the beach for me or my Nan and Grandads house as I remember it before they passed away) but it could be anywhere, a woodland, a house, a stream, a playground you used to love. Anything or anywhere.

Here you find a nice place that you like and you dream up /visualise your altar base, like a nice table, a tree stump, and rock, anything. And here you place all the items you might need, all the things you've dreamed about that you can't afford or the things you have in real life. And you place them all there. You keep that space, you charge it up, you spend time there and then, any time you are away form home or can't get to your altar in the real world for any reason, you have somewhere to go, somewhere to work and some where to commune.

Tools, I didn't see that on the list but might have missed it.

Anything can be a tool. That's the biggest lesson of all. Our pagan ancestors would have used whatever they had to hand, no tools were single use or bought for the purpose of their craft. A cauldron was cooked in all week, a knife is used to chop everything and then used to direct energy.

These days we have the resources (and don't have to hide) to be able to have specific tools that we use only for our craft, but they don't have to be expensive. Go to a thrift store or buy cheap on eBay, a letter opener is an athame, a single wine glass can be a chalice, a pretty bowl is your offering bowl, a single plate is an offering plate, mismatched candle stick holders. All valid and will work just as well. The tools are a focus, they are NOT the source of our power.

Another tip, make witchcraft part of your every day life. Make it as natural and normal as everything else you do. It's part of your life and should be treated as such.

Making coffee in the morning? Set your intentions for the day and focus on it as you make it. You want to draw positivity? Stir doesil (clockwise) that's attracting. Want to rid yourself of the bad mood you had yesterday? Stir widdershins (counterclockwise) that's banishing. Not got anything? Stir a pentagram and call it good.

Sigils, doodle them everywhere (if you want a quick lesson on how to draw them and make up your own, let me know). Charm the shit out of everything.

Whisper a food blessing before you make food or eat. Bring that abundance in.

Trail your fingers along a wall or bushes to feel the energy as you walk.

Everything is magical to a witch.

Read mythology stories, it helps us learn and helps us connect to the stories of our pantheons and deity.

And heres the biggest thing I can tell you. Don't worry about getting things wrong. It's how we learn and honestly there is no such thing as wrong as long as your intentions are right.

Wording of spells doesn't matter, the intention and feeling behind them does.

You can do a cleansing by saying : Blessed spirit, Father God, mother goddess, I ask that you bless this house/tool /space and help drive out any negativity. Spirits that reside, if you're good you may stay, if you wish me halm, then please leave.

Nothing wrong with that.

Or you do a me: Mother Goddess, Father God, I'm back. Help me out here please, I need to cleanse this shit. Yo, spirits, good guys, ya chill, bad shit, get the fuck out! I'm the witch I'm in charge, do as you're told *claps hands all over the place and follows up with a cloud of vape smokes because my intention is in my breath and I'm blowing that negativity away*

And last but not least. I'm sure you've heard "Ever mind the rule of three, what you send out comes back to thee" That's very true, try to only send out good if you can. But you're human and it won't always happen, you'll have bad thoughts and negative emotions, that's normal and fine. Just don't do it with nastiness in your heart.

"and if it harms none, do what you will."

There's a line here most people don't know... "do no harm. But take no shit."

Because the one person most witches forget to look out for is themselves. Being good, doing good and being positive is great, but not at the expense of yourself. If it harms you, don't do it.

Love and light, and bright blessings to you. X