#i couldn't figure out how to paint a lake so i did this instead

[sun-citadel]

Time Gear

[ animated ]

[mayasaurusss]

tfem!Misty is so important to me… I love her sm ☹️☹️

A/N: Ok so I want to preface that I added something at the very end that somebody might not like much: if you don't like it or feel as if I should change it somehow, please tell me!

I wanted to give you some smexy scene but it didn't feel right with this type of content, however I'm more than happy to give you one if you do a NSFW request!

Contents: character study, allusions to sex, not proofread.

Misty knew that something was off, she felt slightly wrong, like something was missing.

Every interaction, every thing she did, she couldn't help but ponder why she felt this way. That's it until she understands who she really is.

She starts to grow her hair longer, and as they grew in size she looses her curls; starts to paint her nails, yellow usually.

It's a tragedy that she figured out who she truly was mere weeks before the crash. She didn't have time to truly explore what she likes, how she likes to be and who she wants to love. So, she attaches herself to Ben. It's not that she loves him, but it's the right thing to do, right? He's injured and she can help him, she can be of use. She should like him, right? But her 'love' for Ben turns into obsession, one that leaves both her and him scarred. That is until she finds someone else to attach to: you.

This time, the love she feels is genuine. With Ben, it was more of a facade, something that should feel right, but wasn't.

At first she thinks you're just begin nice to her, that you are just faking interest on what she says and think that she's weird. I mean, everyone thinks so, why shouldn't you?

But when your touches linger for more than some seconds, when you look at her from across the room, something inside her heart stirrs and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way about her as she does about you.

You cuddle together when the cold seeps into the cabin, you play together in the snow, you sing alongside her and Crystal. All these small things start to pile together, and with time, something more than just a crush blooms. You listen to her, you let her ramble, and she does the same with you.

You kiss during the first spring. She really missed the warmth of the sun on her skin. Misty is relaxing while sitting on the benches near the fire pit. You approach her, hoping that maybe today she'll get the hint. You sit next to her, basking in the sunlight.

Neither of you say a word, too scared to do the first move, but then, Misty decides to ask you.

"Hey... I have noticed that you and I...t-talk a lot, right? I mean we do as normally as the others would bu-" she realizes she's rambling and stops before making more of a fool of herself. "What I mean is-. I have feelings for you. I do. It's better than my feelings for Coach Ben. I understand if you don't want to talk to me anym-". All her worries melt away when she feels your lips press into hers.

Almost immediatley, you go back into the cabin. With spring coming, everyone is as far from it as possible: gathering, hunting or taking water back from the lake. You close the attic door behind you, and it only gives you a moment before Misty pounces on you. The kiss is a blurr of licks, theeet and clashing of lips, and before long, you're left naked under her.

Your excitment is evident, but Misty seems to have lost her eagerness: she looks unsure, having got rid of her shirt but not of her bra and pants. She looks beyond worried and when you ask her what's wrong, she has to take in a deep breath before telling you.

"I used to be a boy once"; she expects disgust from you, hate and resentment, for you to push her away and leave her heartbroken. But that doesn't happen, instead, she feels your arms around her body, hugging her close. When she hears that you like her no matter what, she falls down on you and cries, repeating 'thank you' over and over again.

When you get rescued, she thinks that it's only natural for your relationship to continue, for you two to still be with eachother. But it won't be like that. Sometimes life will plan for other people to shape it, to stay with you forever and influence you. But maybe, you weren't one of them; maybe, you weren't in for the long run.

She stands in front of her mirror, unraveling the knots in between her hair. It's been 24 years and 6 days since she got rescued.

One year from now on, she will go on a date with some random guy she found of a dating app, she will do a horrible job and make both of them uncomfortable. She will come back home with him and find Natalie waiting for her, rifle in hand.

One year and one week from now on, she will help dismember Shauna's lover corpse.

One year and three weeks from now on, she will find you at Lottie's compound, dressed in purple, helping people find their true selves. One year and four weeks from now on, she will kill her bestfriend.

But today is not that day. Ever since she got back, she only cut her hair three times. It felt right to do so. Now her hair fall past her shoulders, reaching the middle of her back. They still have their beautiful golden colour, but they've lost their shape, looking more like a skein than actual hair. Quickly drying her hair with a towel, she measures and brings her scissor close to her neck, then cuts.

She makes sure to cut a little longer than the intended lenght, so that when she'll dry them they'll be as long as she wants.

The hair drier is set so high that for a moment, her curls are almost boiling hot. Finally, she molds them with her hands. Her goldem curls are back: as fuzzy as they were before the crash, before her choice.

It feels good. She looks good. For a long while she refused to cut them, refused to aknowledge that part of her life from when she was still him. But now, as short as they are, she feels like he is still a part of her, one that she has learnt to love.

She smiles as she looks at herself in the mirror.

"Now, for some Citizen's Detective work...".

[pbandjesse]

Today was a pretty nice day but I am not feeling great right now. Mostly inside. I just feel really super and unsettled and there isn't a good reason for it but I'm just really unhappy right now. I'm mostly just tired and my head hurts. But it's not a nice way to end what was a pretty good day overall.

I think some of the issue was I didn't sleep very well. I had really intense dreams again. I don't know why. They leave me not feeling great.

When I woke up James was still out. They had to go to the bank and then went to get us bagels. I got dressed and felt fine. I decided I would go to CVS.

I walked over there and got juice and chips for James for later and the thing I was actually there for, mascara. Which they did have and I was pleased about.

I went home and as I was finishing pouring a glass of juice James got home. We would chill on the couch and discuss the plans for the day. We would go and find life jackets, then to lake Roland to go around on the kayak, then groceries, then we go home. This seemed like a stellar plan.

I had half my bagel and would have the other half before we got on the water. Which was a lot later in the day then planned. The morning didn't go exactly as planned.

We ran into Will outside and he said he was going up to do a second coat of paint on the back door. Awesome. Me and him talked for a while, while James went upstairs to fill their water bottle. And then we were off.

James decided we should go to the dicks sporting goods in white Marsh. Which was far but that was fine. This ended up being the wrong choice. Because we got there and that location doesn't sell anything with boats or water anymore. He actually implied that none of the dicks do. I would get really upset and felt really stupid because it has been my idea. But I googled it when we got to the car and he was wrong, it was just that location.

James said it was fine and we could go to rei instead. I didn't really want to go to rei because its so expensive. But I agreed and we made another half hour drive. It's almost noon at this point and I'm just really unhappy.

The life jackets there were minimum $180, but most were closer to $200 and more and I wasn't emotionally ready to drop $450 on life jackets.

So we got back in the car. And drove to the dicks at hunt valley. The nice older man in the bike department helped us get the sizes of life jackets down from the wall. And they ended up being buy one get one free. So it was $100 for both which is what I had planned on my head. Things felt a lot better after that.

I got a purple one and James got a blue one. And we headed to lake Roland.

It took us a while to get the boat inflated. The middle has a lot of chambers but it didn't take to long. We would be out on the water for about an hour. And it was really fun. We aren't great at paddling together, and we forgot to put the fin on the bottom so we get listing and we had to fight against that. But it was still a lot of fun.

We saw lots of small turtles, some cormorant, a few heron and geese. But the best thing we saw was a absolutely giant snapping turtle. It was so cool!! I thought it was just mud in the water at first but nope. Huge snapping turtle swimming right near us.

I would figure out how to turn around on my seat so I could watch James paddle since I wasn't doing much anymore. We would go under some shade and sit and talk for a while. It was nice. But we were starting to get hot and while the exercise is really good for James's arm, they were getting tired. So we headed back.

When we got back to the launch area a couple older guys said it looked like I had it made laying there. And then I proceeded to fall out of the boat because I couldn't figure out how to get up with the life jackets on. It was all very silly.

We chatted with them while we put the gear away. They thought the inflatable kayak was super cool. Even took a picture.

Putting it away took a little but was fine. And soon we were mostly dry and heading out. Onto the grocery store.

We would get more stuff then we planned but it was all stuff we have plans for. And it didn't take long. I was happy to go home.

When we got back here I got a shower. And James would put the groceries away. They heated up my leftover grilled cheese half from yesterday for me and they had a BLT on a bagel. And we enjoyed lunch together.

James would go for a walk. Paint their nails. And make some fun at home sushi wraps over the next couple hours. While I made outfits. Watched videos. And tried not to fall apart as I started to not feel great again.

I did enjoy the sushi wrap though. And James's company. But this headache and general sadness really crept up on me.

I'm sitting in the living room right now because I felt nauseous from this head ache. But I'm going to go wash my face and hopefully fall asleep easy.

Tomorrow I am heading to camp to set up for Thursday and get some stuff ready since camp training starts next week. I'm excited! Also nervous. Most of the nerves comes from how bad I've been feeling. But every day has been a little easier. Let's hope the trend continues.

Goodnight everyone. I hope you are being kind to yourself. Until next time.

[straightouttaneptune]

It girl pt. 6 - They know

Pairing: Mentor!Natasha Romanoff x Mentee!Reader, Platonic!Avengers x reader, Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: This chapter is just angst. Maybe a little fluff in the end if you squint hard enough. But the Bonus Scenes are pure fluff. xx

Summary: Natasha had once joked about picking a random new recruit trainee to teach all her skills since Tony had recently become Peter’s mentor. Fury sees this as a legitimate idea, and asks Natasha to choose her protège, code name: “it girl”.

A/N: The long-ass series has finally come to an end. Thank you to all the supporters, and please stay till the end if you wanna read some deleted scenes ;)

Prologue  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5

———————————————————————

The remaining Avengers returned to the compound completely defeated, no one dared to utter a word as they retreated. For the first time in many years, they lost. Tony's whereabouts were still unknown, and the only string of hope left was the pager that Fury left behind. 

The encounter with Carol Danvers, Tony returning to Earth weak and crushed, it only furthered their sorrow. The realization that Thanos had committed mass-murder on the universe, and they couldn't do anything to stop him. Even their last hope burned out, as Thanos had already gotten rid of the stones.

Natasha coped with losing you like how she always did. Built a thicker wall around her than before, spent her time in the gym and working. Every time she walked by your room in the compound, her mind replayed your smaller figure, twirling around the room in the ballgown you found in the closet. 

She opens the door to land her eyes on the closet door, which you took the liberty of painting the Black Widow logo on it. She wipes a stray tear with her thumb, her soft sniffles loud in the soundless room.

Because of her devoted work, the orphans were safe with shelter and food. The Avengers was running smoothly even though the men just abandoned their work. When the sun shone through the glass walls and the light reflected off of her computer, it was fine. But once the moon rose in the dark night, her ears played cruel tricks on her, making her hear the little hums and laughs of yours. 

"Natashen'ka. That's actually a pretty cool nickname, Ms. Nat."

"Haha, anything to get you to stop calling me 'Ms. Nat'."

During nights like this, she often found herself in the Philosophic room you spent so much time in, looking at little notes and gadgets left behind by you. MINT was a great listener, showing Natasha multiple mini videos of you blowing things up and freaking out. 

You allowed yourself into Natasha's heart in the short span of a year, and she found herself welcoming you into her fragile heart like a daughter she never had. In the 5 years without you, she never forgot about you. She didn't put the stocked up cookies in your cupboard away, and she didn't even think of cleaning up your room in the compound. 

But more and more, she started to heal herself, gradually coming to softly smile when she saw your bedroom door instead of crying.

But everything changed when Scott Lang pulled up into the Avengers Compound, with what seemed like an impossible plan to save the universe. She couldn't give that chance up. Even if it was a one in a million possibility, she wanted to give you a second chance. You were an extraordinary girl, and you were going to do great things someday. She knew that ever since she appointed you 'it girl' of the Avengers.

So she had to speak up when Tony rejected her, Steve and Scott's idea. 

"Tony, think about the kids. Our kids. Please, think about it." Tony instantly understood what kids she was talking about, and his hardened face faltered.

"Our kids are gone." Tony went back into his house, clearly rattled. It was evident that Tony had a hard time dealing with Peter's death like Natasha had with you. 

Which was why it came as no surprise to Natasha when Tony came back to the compound, with his time heist machine all figured out. The one she didn't expect, though, was being in this situation. 

"Natasha, you can't. Y/N needs you." Clint sobbed, being held up by Natasha's grappling hook. He tightened his grip on her, who only had Clint to hold on to from falling to her death. 

"She's strong, Clint. She's- so strong." She choked back a sob, readying herself for what she was going to do. 

"No, no... Damn you!" Clint's eyes shot up to the ominous clouds, taunting him to let go of his best friend. 

"Let me go." Natasha looked at him in the eyes, pure determination in her eyes. Her mind replayed every moment of her life, trying to remember every Avenger's smiling faces and carving them in her mind. 

"It's okay." She snaked her hands away from his, kicking against the cliff to jump off. She felt her stomach drop from the fall, her beautiful smile gracing on her lips. She closed her eyes and imagined you, your big doe eyes looking up at her with a twinkle in your gaze. She couldn't remember why you looked so happy, but your smile never left her as the air from her lungs got knocked out, followed by falling into a long, sweet sleep. 

Clint could only watch as she fell, hitting the ground lifelessly. Tears fell down his cheeks, sobbing uncontrollably before he fell unconscious as well. 

☾

As soon as you walked out of that portal, the first person you looked for was Natasha. When you couldn't seem to locate where she was, you just assumed that she was somewhere in the big crowd. The battlefield was big, and it was normal for you to not be able to see your teammate. 

You were left clueless, even as you watched Tony's life end before your eyes. You held Peter in a tight embrace, balancing him while his shoulders trembled as he cried for the fallen hero. You walked in silence as Steve carried Tony into what remained of the compound, still too busy comforting Peter to notice Natasha wasn't there. No one wanted to tell you, for they saw how broken Peter looked then, and they didn't want to do this to you too.

But ultimately, when Peter moved from you to beside Tony, you glanced around to look for and hug Natasha. Only then, did Clint work up the courage to tell you the truth. You stood in front of him for a few second unmoving, your mind completely frozen and malfunctioning. 

"She-she sacrificed herself for the stones." 

"No." Your hand flew up to your mouth, shaking your head as tears pooled in your eyes. The tip of your nose burned, and you found yourself falling on your knees. Your knees sunk into the dirt, teardrops threatening to spill. You let out a strangled cry, muffled by your hands. Steve was right by your side, pulling you into a hug as you broke down in his arms. 

"I know, Y/N, I know." Steve was one of Natasha's best friends, and he was one of the first people you met in the compound. He understood the pain, that hopelessness of realizing that you'd never be able to see her again. 

“Natashen'ka.” You mumbled in between sobs, tears soaking Steve's tac suit. But he didn't mind, he stayed on the ground crying with you. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night, and only in your dreams did you find a little peace. That only lasted so long before you were woken up by Steve, who handed you a white letter and a cup of tea. 

You thanked Pepper mentally for giving you a clean change of clothes, walking out of Tony's cabin in the crisp weather. Peter sat on the porch, looking out into the small lake. 

"Hi, Pete." You greeted, your usual chirpy tone gone. 

"Y/N. I'm so glad you're okay." Even though the loss, he still smiled at you, pulling you into a warm embrace. 

"I'm glad you're okay too, Peter." You sighed into his neck, comforted by his usual scent and the feeling of his chest against you. 

Later in the day when the Avengers were all gone to mourn in their own ways, you climbed atop the roof to collect yourself and read Natasha's letter.

My it girl.

If you ever read this, I won’t be around anymore, I’m guessing.

“Ohmygod! I DID IT!!” You squealed and jumped, eyes burning into the perfect shot at the paper shooting board.

“That was amazing!” Natasha laughed, your energy radiating off and rubbing onto her.

“You're already better than Thor.” She traced the bullet hole, grinning brightly back at you. You felt laughter bubbling in your gut, your mind replaying that one time Thor had to try shooting an enemy in battle. He crushed the poor magnum with his iron grip, letting out strings of curse words saying Midguardian weapons were too tiny.

I want you to know that- god, this sounds cheesy. But, you’re my legacy, Y/N.

I’ve done many things in my life. You know that. 

But I can say with certainty, that the best thing I ever did, was choosing you that day.

“I’m sorry! Ms. Nat, please.” Your eyes welled with fresh tears, tugging onto Natasha’s suit sleeves desperately.

“I told you that it was too dangerous.” She turned back around at you and sighed, glaring at the now destroyed HYDRA hideout.

“I’m sorry. I just thought-“

“Thought that you could go in there and save everyone?”

“That’s what you would’ve done!”

“But you can’t do the things I’d do! If anything happened to you, I-“ She trailed off, hands flying up to her head, slicking back her debris-filled hair in annoyance.

“I wouldn’t know what to do then.”

So don’t cry, my Y/N.

Because I’m not gone.

I’m still here.

By your side, always.

You felt like your heart was being beaten with sharp blades over and over again, but you found it in yourself to smile at the letter. By your side, always. You gulped down another wave of intense sobs, looking up at the bright sky. 

You wanted nothing more than for Natasha to pull you in a hug, for her to feed you Wanda's cookies to stop you from crying. Your heart felt empty, glassy eyes searching for purpose in the cloudless blue sky. 

"Y/N." You turned around to see Peter, standing a few feet away from you with a concerned look. He walked over to you and sat down, wordlessly wrapping his arm your shoulder and letting you lean into him. 

"I wish they had a way to know that we're safe, alive because of them." You whispered, afraid that your voice would crack if you spoke. 

"They know." 

BONUS DELETED SCENES

A collection of scenes that were actually written in the stories, but got cut because some of them didn't make sense.

"Where are you two going?" Tony caught you and Peter trying to sneak into one of SHIELD's jets, and you giggled as you turned around. 

"Busted..." Peter grinned at you, the two of you trying to suppress your laughs.

"We're going to... well, see dem aliens." You said suddenly serious, determined eyes locked with Tony's. 

"What?" 

"It's the area 51 raid, sir!" Peter almost screamed, way too excited for his own good. 

"But I own area 51? People are going to raid my property?!" Tony shrieked, running away back into the compound. 

--

"Y/N, who do you think is better looking, me or the spawn of Satan?" Sam rushed up to you, smiling as he pointed at himself, then Bucky.

"Spawn of Satan?" You questioned, watching Bucky with a flower crown eating plums innocently. 

"It's me, right? Hey, Y/N said it's me!" Sam ran away yelling, Bucky narrowing his eyes at you. You raised your hand up, shaking your head confused.

--

"So, the gossip is, Bucky and Steve are totally into each other." Wanda pointed out as she took a bite out of her cookie. 

"Fascinating." You nodded, eyes focused on Wanda dishing out all of the Avengers' gossip.

"But Tony and Steve were like a thing before, so that caused this whole Civil War."

"I don't think-" Vision furrowed his artificial brows and tried to intervene, but Sam shushed him and Wanda continued.

"Oh! Do you want me to spill the tea on Thor and Bruce?"

"Spill!"

--

"So, Y/N. What do you think about Peter?" Natasha's voice had a hint of mischievousness in it, making you redden immediately. " You can't lie to a spy, Y/N."

"I think he's a great friend." Maybe an average person may not have been able to lie to her, but you were fantastic at manipulation. Short reply usually indicated that the speaker was telling the truth, rather than a long explanation.

"Hmm... Okay, then. You won't mind if I told you he likes you. Such a shame..."

"He likes me?" Ugh! A slip-up. She knew now. 

"I knew it! TONY!!" She skipped out of your room and left you internally panicking. 

--

"I say we watch gone with the wind today." It was the Avengers movie night, and you were on the couch snuggled next to Peter. Tony prepared the snacks, which meant that it was as perfect as it could be. You didn't know that there was a limited flavor ice cream named after Tony until today.

"Steve, we've watched that movie 4 times this week."

"It's a great movie!"

"Why don't we watch justice league?" Clint said, making everyone turn to him with crazy looks in their eyes. 

"It's way too dark." You said, shaking your head. 

"But it's supposed to be-" Before Clint could protest, you shook your head.

"No, I mean it's literally too dark. I can't see a goddamn thing."

The Avengers laughed and nodded in agreement, going back to searching for a good movie. 

"Steve, she said a bad language word." Tony squeaked out, and everyone burst out laughing as Steve shook his head. 

"This is literally never going away, Rogers." Natasha chuckled before she took a swig out of her beer bottle. 

--

Thank you so much for reading 'it girl', to every reader who liked/commented/asked to be on taglist, you guys motivated me to continue this far to chapter 6. I hope the ending wasn't too brutal. If it's any consolation, in this story I intended for Steve to stay in the present. Love you muffins xx  - Your Nep<3

Taglist: @mindset-jupiter @fangirlingisajob @theadventurousqueen @janekfoster @ballerboobitch @the-lady-cersei-lannister @golden--rain @dollofbucky @sakuranomegami @elizabeth-santana-98 @anne2cold @eyeballtoes @marvel-is-a-mood @roseryss @redqueenstorm @orchideax @huntersociopathavenger @petertinglessss @marv-ells @hopefuloperaangelnerd @je11yfishwriter @iloveyou3000morgan @kewl-r @missmulti @grace-barnes-13 @samarcher79 @slow-dance-in-the-dark @intricate-melody @editsbyjenny @brenleestar @a-vvenger @princessizzy36 @sweetcrvture @itsbebeyyy @caws5749 @thenerdiverse @captainam-erika-trash @shutuppeter @dark-night-sky-99 @weirdo-in-the-closet @s2pidhead @sofka-0610 @queen-destenie @nerdypartytrashpsychic @tywys

[theangrypokemaniac]

Sinnoh has massive flaws as an era, although it's starting to feel like the good old days compared to the present piss-poor offerings.

The major drawback is the amount of 'recurring characters', ones not good enough to be in it fully, but inflicted upon us nevertheless.

I did care about Ash. I did care about Team Rocket.

I was prepared to care about The Misty Replacement, as in the girl shipped with Ash.

I was prepared to care about The Brock Replacement, that is the older brother figure who does all the cooking, carries the medicine, and knows about Pokémon.

I don't give a toss about extras who outstay their welcome.

Hoenn only had Drew and Harley. What was wrong with that?

There are just too bloody many.

Why does Dawn require so many opponents, as if she's of the greatest importance? Why won't Jessie suffice?

I accept the necessity of Paul as The Rival, and we were at least permitted to resent him initially, before the writers fanboy'd like there was no tomorrow.

I admit I liked two of them. They therefore featured the least.

Typical.

Nando

The Blondel of Iberia

A softly-spoken, raven-locked troubadour, roaming the many pathways of life, playing his songs for those weary travellers he encounters on the road.

He's wearing a cloak! The finest use of material to ever be invented!

All this ethereal grace considering the dub lumbered him with the most appallingly unsuitable name possible.

It could've been Raphael, or Dante, or Leonardo.

Oh no, let's name him after a restaurant chain. That adds gravitas.

His lyre pays tribute to Mew, because Nando knows she's The Rarest Of All Pokémon, thus refuses to be impressed by any deformed horse like Arceus throwing its weight around.

Damn straight.

Ursula

A pretty girl with lovely clothes and the spark of a proper personality.

You're not wanted round these parts, love.

I have no particular animosity towards Dawn, but it irritates me how the world revolves around her whims, where if she's lost in the woods, it's a major disaster, and if an attack heads in her direction, she must be protected in case she shatters.

It makes a refreshing change to find someone firmly inoculated against the lures of the temptress.

Also, alongside Ursula from Dinosaur King (the real Jessie), I'm glad of any attempt to reclaim that name, considering most of my generation, upon hearing it, think only about evil old octopus women.

As for the rest?

It's that bad I prefer the Unova bunch to these.

Reggie

Reggie is even more of a knob than Paul. As above, being Ash's enemy meant that, if only by narrative, he was intended to be somewhat disliked.

Not Reginald. No, he's the kind one.

Oh really?

When Ash and Paul have their showdown, Reg starts wittering that it's just as well Chimchar took up with Ash, since he wasn't suited to Paul's 'battle style'.

Battle style.

Is the what he calls mental and physical cruelty?

In Reg's amoral cesspit of a mind, there is no right and wrong, so do whatever you feel.

Reggie is quite aware of how his brother tortures Pokémon, and not only is he unconcerned, he excuses it with euphemism, hoping the audience will obligingly forget too.

What's more, he implies it's Chimchar's fault for not pulling his weight, and Paul abandoning him was the compassionate thing to do.

Cynthia

Suffering severe Bridge Nose Syndrome.

She may be Champion, but I don't remember Lance turning up all the time where he wasn't wanted.

She doesn't even use her influence properly. Rather than give it straight to Paul, order him to shape up and stop spanking the monkey, she fannies about with her cod mysticism, emptily preaching about how Ash and Paul are spiritually linked, with magical, beeyewteefull events taking form just because they met.

That's right, don't bother about Paul clearly being a psychopath, for 'tis ART!

It's the same as trying to convince me that Ash, Dawn and Brock were the Divine Trio because they all saw Something Nasty In The Lake District, as if they have an intrinsic bond foretold in ancient prophecy.

The writers pull this knowing two thirds of the Holy Trinity, plus Paul the Fallen Angel, will be leaving, at which point we'll be expected to stop being overawed at the great majesty they all apparently possess and transfer allegiance to their usurpers.

What's the point?

Angie

Yet another smackhead from that lunatic stare.

What shining genius decided giving all the characters contracted pupils was a good idea?

She looks like one of those kids whose parents dealt with nits the traditional way:

Shaving the entire head and painting it purple.

A barnet resembling privet hacked at by a paralytic gardener before he conked out.

I've seen her arc three or four times, and I still remember nothing about her, except for the amazing skill she possesses to make Ash sneeze on command from a distance.

Conway

One word: nonce.

A clichéd weirdo fitting into Pokémon's Four-Eyed Freaks fixation, where anyone with a slight visual impairment is a weedy, know-it-all bastard or on a register.

Oh yes, and this lad comes with hidden delights, because his glasses gleam like a giant cockroach, just in case he wasn't creepy enough.

Zoey

The human black hole. Has the incredible ability to suck all the joy out of a room just by appearing. A personage of absolute lead.

Too nice and over familiar, lacking a single detectable personality trait.

Bland, empty, and with the charisma of vomit-sodden cardboard.

Sinnoh is a prolonged saga as it is, padded with nonentities like her and Kenny.

Alright, episodes must be devoted to Dawn's Contest career, however tiresome it is, but why exactly do we need any about Zoey and Kenny? Why should we care?

Every time I sat through a competition Dawn lost, I resented that she was no further along on her quest, equating to another episode eaten away by this shallow, blackened hymn to superficiality.

Compare this indulgent treatment to the sneering disrespect shown to Jessie, an actual main character, who not only had to win her Ribbons practically off screen, but the writers delighted in hammering home how worthless she was in only scraping into the Grand Festival because Princess Salvia took pity on the deluded wretch.

They favour their own inventions over the original cast, then dump 'em as soon as the next generation arrives, so how could they ever matter if even the creators eagerly cast them aside?

After all the effort on my part to put up with the entire witless farce, Zoey beats Dawn in the finals!

Why?!

I understood the unspoken law of Ash not being allowed to win a League until the very last series, for fear whatever came after would be anticlimactic, but why should this deadening failure apply to May and Dawn?

By the culmination of the Contest rigmarole, it's obvious they'll be making their exit for the next region's Girl, so why couldn't either bid farewell to the fans with a victory?

Why must they be incompetent too?

Even if achieving their dream dampened any hunger to carry on, they're departing anyway, so what difference does it make?

At least Ash will continue, but for May and Dawn, it's the end.

How could any fan be satisfied with a smarmy vacuum of a creature like Zoey succeeding instead?

Barry

Eyes of molten evil.

The second-worst character ever created (Iris is top of the ranks), Barry is a smug, arrogant, screeching dweeb jabbering his oh-so endearing catchphrase about fining anyone who slightly irks him, so sure is he that his feelings should come above everyone else's

He truly believes he has a God-given entitlement to demand lesser lifeforms should arrange themselves to suit his pleasure, that they are morally compelled to shield him from  meagre inconvenience.

Twat.

Knocking the little geck out of the League was the most noble thing Paul ever did. It practically redeems him.

This is what I cannot comprehend:

Ursula is openly conceited, rude to Dawn, and brags about her own excellence even after losing.

We're asked to dislike her.

Barry slags Ash off constantly, is convinced of his own divinity, and jeers at Team Rocket.

We're supposed to see him as a 'good guy' and welcome his arrival.

Why? Are Ash and Team Rocket fair game, but offending Saint Dawn's intolerable?

Again, it astounds me how temporary, region-specific stars seem to count for more than those who've been here since the beginning.

Whilst they're here, that is. Once gone, you wouldn't know they'd existed.

Kenny

He wears a matador outfit to compete.

It's a crying shame Tauros was never given the opportunity to gore him.

As usual, it's Piplup I blame.

Each generation likes to flaunt the starter Pokémon, presumably in the hope of flogging more games, that's why Ash usually catches all three, or they're spread out amongst his friends.

It's about time Team Rocket had one.

Can't do that, they only appear five times per series now.

Piplup is a whiny attention whore who refuses to evolve. In consequence, he can't advertise the next stages in the evolution chain, so we have to keep seeing Barry and Kenny instead, that's why Empoleon and Prinplup are always walking about.

This equates to three characters having the same Pokémon, albeit in different incarnations.

There's variety.

However, Kenny's true purpose is much more grim than that.

Fans will ship Ash with The Girl, a useless endeavour when it's destined to come to nothing when she's kicked out.

In Hoenn and Sinnoh, an effort was made to wean shippers off in preparation for the upcoming split, so alternative suitors were introduced, with the girls effectively pushed on to them.

May got Drew.

I don't mind that. He had some refinements.

Dawn got Kenny.

...

What, you want me to cheer for such a revolting couple?

Have I not suffered enough?

What unpardonable crime did Dawn do to deserve such a horrible fate?

She's not a bad-looking girl. She can do better than an ugly, portly, shrunken, pie-faced cretin! 

You do this to me when Nando exists?

Sod the age gap, that never concerned anyone here.

This being the Kenny who spends four years belittling Dawn by constantly reminding her of a humiliating childhood experience, even giving her a nickname too!

Dawn is visibly distressed when he does this, but he's a fine candidate for romance?

She has to settle for a sweaty, lecherous herbert like him, who doesn't even try to atone for his unfortunate mug by being kind?

I suspect the whole Sinnoh adventure was really him wearing down her self-esteem until she believed he was the best available, wanting her to be grateful for his slobbery attentions.

It won't stop there either. He'll trap her for the rest of her life by isolating her from friends, followed by accusations of how undeserving she is of his 'love'.

Such is Dawn's lot: absent father, pushy mother, whinging penguin and abusive boyfriend.

Kenny's already a perv:

He's not looking at her face.

She knows he's not.

Ash and Pikachu have noticed an interesting feature further down.

Aipom likes it too.

[iamwickedlovely]

Michael Langdon x Reader (Forbidden Love), Part 2

Warning: May contain foul language, and sexual content. Rated M for mature.

Requested from: @del-rcys

Genre: Romance | Drama | Horror

Synopsis: This story is about you, as a reader, and Michael Langdon (AHS: Apocalypse). You have met Michael some years ago, before the Apocalypse happened, in a coven. The location was taken place in Romania, at the moment, in a gothic setting, such as a castle. You were meant to be the new supreme, and the powers you possessed were beyond great - that consisted of love and beauty, and you were curious by nature. Eventually, Langdon, including you, fell in love. That love turned into pure bliss and desire. With every love story, comes with a tragedy, unfortunately. At least, this one, in particular. There were rumors spreading across the coven that a witch hunter was spotted. This hunter was very dangerous, and caused harm and havoc between Michael and you. Soon, you fell pregnant, and weird, dark visions and dreams came along with it. Eventually you understood Langdon was known as the Antichrist, and you two were separated, because he was casted out for satanic situations. Eventually, you were hung, because you were supposed have no sexual relations with Michael, but the others found out since you carried his child. After you passed away, this angered Langdon to cause mayhem to the coven. Darkness crept in your soul that was left behind, and eventually fell into the dark arts, mostly to find a way to come back to life, so you can reunite with your beloved Michael, and have your child with you both. It wasn't until years later, at the Outpost 3, that things finally turned the tables around. You, as a reader, will eventually find that out.

___________________________________________________________

Second part of the story, Forbidden Love. I will continue to write more, thank you everyone! You guys are awesome! 💜

____________________________________________________________

[Continued]

Michael Langdon x Reader (Forbidden Love) [Flashback, Part 2]

[Present day in Outpost 3]

Michael Langdon kept himself busy by trying to distrupt the minds of the current residents in Outpost 3, trying hard to get a firm grasp on their hidden darkness they never let out in the open. How he enjoyed manipulating humans and playing with their minds like instrument, it was just so easy for him to do. He liked getting under their skin, witnessing them fill with nerves and worry.

A girl named Mallory. someone who wore thick, black framed glasses, was in the room with Michael for a discussion. She looked a little scared by his superior movements as she sat on a sofa, just so she could feel cornered by the guy. She tried to let her steady gaze on him, even though she desperately wanted to leave already.

Michael strolled around the room slowly, and kept watch on her. He talked very seriously, trying to get her to fess up, "I can see into the dark places that people desperately keep hidden."

What? She wondered, keep cool and collective. "I don't have any dark places."

He stared hard on her in disbelief. His hands went behind his back, while his lip twitched in a slight snarl. Time to interrogate her, he thought. He will get what he wanted out of this meeting. He spoke sternly, "Really? So, even though you worked for Coco for many years, and saved your life after the bombs fell," he paused, "Why do I believe you'd love nothing more than to pick up anything sharp enough to cut and slice her down to the bone?" He inched closer to Mallory in an attempt to have her squirm.

She stared up at him, eyes beginning to fill in freight, she felt so small on the sofa now. He tried getting under her skin, she figured it out. Just continue to keep cool and collective, she thought to herself. Michael wouldn't get what he wanted to hear from her. Instead, her answer was clearly not what he expected. Despite the fact Coco would order Mallory for absurd orders, such as wiping herself since her nails were still damp. Mallory confirmed she didn't want to kill her, and Coco needed her, because the woman was helpless. Michael couldn't help, but feel a tad disappointed. So, he had to push further, there must be something dark, he thought.

For a moment, she seemed puzzled, on the 'dark places' topic. Her eyes observed him cautiously, as she tried to not talk what was on her mind. She gulped, when Michael turned his back to her. He pondered, because he knew she wanted to ask him something.

"Dark place? I don't understand," Mallory's hands folded together on her lap, and she went on, "I thought the cooperative wasn't looking for something," she paused, and breathed sharply, "Evil."

He turned around, unhurriedly, to face her, "So, you had the notion that I was looking for people who are pure of heart, unblemished, and purely white?" He walked to her, and kneeled himself and look fixedly on her face. His hands were on each side of the sofa, as he expressed what he wanted, "Tsk, Mallory, I want a world with the seven commandments, it's all hypocritical bullshit, anyway. I am looking for people who wouldn't just eat the fruit of the forbidden tree, but who'd cut the fucking tree down and burn it for fire wood.," The corners of his mouth perked up in a sinister smile. One of his hands gently placed on hers, like a spider trapping a butterfly, "I think you were made for that world." His other hand reached to stroke her cheek using the back of a few folded fingers. He murmured softly, "I sense it in you."

Unfortunately to his distaste, he still didn't get what he wanted out of Mallory. The girl did let him know something, however, that she felt someone was trying to claw her way out of her, someone who was buried deep inside. She started to have a streak of a few tears roll down her cheek, and Michael took this as a sign that she's scared. She was absolutely terrified, especially by him.

"I want to leave," she ordered, while feeling panicked by her sudden outburst that's ready to explode. She stood off the couch, and quickly aimed to the door without looking back on Michael. Something wasn't right with him, something was off about him, she repeatedly thought.

Michael rushed to her in anticipation, and grasped her arm into his hands forcefully, "No. We're not done here. I am giving you the chance to survive, Mallory."

The next thing that happened was very unexpected. She shouted at him, "Let me go!" With that, a surge of power went out from her, not only having objects fly backward, or the fire intensifying harshly in a fire place, but he was pushed backwards. It caught him off guard. His face trembled in a terrified reaction, and he expressed it very well. He stood up and straightened himself, and kept his eyes on her, and flashed his true, demonic face, and then it abruptly went back to the handsome features that could seduce anyone. More fire sparked from Mallory, and he asked, his eyes widened, "Who are you?"

She had enough, and she didn't even understand what had just happened in that room, but she took it as her ticket to finally leave, "I don't know. Who are you?" She did ponder over that. She turned away fast, and jogged a little away from the room.

His eyes darted to the door, he needed air. He needed to talk to his father, because hail Satan, but first, his feet led him to his bedroom chamber to calm himself, even if it was a little. Once he reached to his safe haven, he analyzed the room, steadying his breath. There it is, he thought. His gaze pressed on a painting of [y/n], he couldn't let it go, because deep down, he knew he will get her back in his arms. He desperately wanted to kiss the sweet lips, and embrace her in his arms. The painting was exquisite, elegant, even. It was precious to him. He stared longingly, tracing every detail. She was wearing a velvet, Gothic, purple cloak, kind of Elvish, with a hood covering the head. The [y/h/c] framed the face perfectly. Her hands were in the front, holding a black cat, and there were a few black candles beside I the painting, that almost looked like it flickered. For a moment, he thought he was seeing things, since a little boy appeared in replace of the cat. He looked like [y/n] and himself as well. Michael closed his eyes, and reopened them. The boy was gone. How odd.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Flashback]

[y/n] couldn't sleep in her bedroom one night, because she was in deep thought. No use in trying to sleep, she sighed and let herself get out of bed. The room she was in was inside a castle, since that was where the coven stayed in. The surroundings felt eerie. Occasionally a crow would greet her outside, landing on a gargoyle to caw, as if it was speaking to her. She walked up to a glass window, and opened them to take in the night sky. It was beautiful, the moon was full, and shined brightly, it's light masked the yard that carried a little garden with red and white roses, a pond that had a couple of swans in it (she called it Swan Lake because of that), and a cemetery nearby. She loved the scenery, but something was missing. She wanted to see Michael Langdon, and as if he read her mind. He appeared underneath the window sill. It was almost similar to Romeo and Juliet. Despite her love for romance and Shakespeare, she figured this was a bit sappy, even for Michael.

Michael found her face in the window, so he called up so she could listen, "[y/n], my fair lady, shall I come to you? I could not sleep, I must see you."

[y/n]'s eyebrow quirked up, and she breathed heavily, resting her chin on her palm on the window sill, "O' Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" She giggled playfully, "Please come up, Michael, there is vines you could climb." She waited eagerly.

He shook his head, and muttered quietly to himself, "This is so fucking unlike me," but he went along with it, and she was right. There was a wooden post with vines going up to her window, it seemed like it was alright to climb on. So, he did just that, he was being careful about it, since there was some roses and thorns. However, one of the sharp thorns pricked him and drew out some blood from his middle finger. It didn't seem to phase him, though, but it still hurt. Once he reached the window and climbed over the ledge, [y/n] greeted him by wrapping arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

The noses of the two touched and snuggled together, then Michael's forehead pressed on hers, and he inhaled and exhaled evenly, "I've missed you," he brushed his lips on [y/n] passionately.

She gave out a sweet smile, gazing up at his blue, icy eyes, "I've missed you, too." She felt a little undressed, since she was only wearing a gown. Her nose nuzzled at Michael's side of the neck, and teased him a little by rubbing her thigh against his. She had something wicked in mind, that may benefit the two.

Michael's eyes narrowed, "Hmm, someone's in a mood," he went to her ear and bit on the earlobe to tug it, he growled. His hands moved freely towards her buttocks, and picked her up rather easily, heading towards her bed.

Her legs wrapped around his hips to maintain the position so she wouldn't fall, and one of her hands played with his blonde hair, combing out strands. The touch made her excited, it was so soft, even his skin was soft, and a bit cool. Her other hand cupped his cheek, and she planted a kiss on his lips.

Once they reached the bed, Michael propped her up, and she kept watch on him with the desire to make love to him. He decided to throw a little strip show for her, first, with taking his belt off first, then his trousers, jacket and shirt, and whatever was left. Soon, he kneeled in front of her, and helped on getting the gown off over her head. The clothes were pretty scattered on the floor, but not too messy. He traced every curve on her body, what a fine, young woman, he automatically moved his fingers to touch the soft skin. He cupped one of her breasts with his palm and squeezed it gently. This action led her to moan. It felt good to her. His mouth reached to her other breast and began to suck on the nipple, occasionally taking a few nibbles on the nipples, gently, but playfully.

While he did that, she arched her back, and her hands hovered over his hair, stroking along, but she started to feel inpatient. She wanted him inside of her.

Michael had her lay down, so he could be on top of her. He had her head lay on pillows, and soon, his fingers went to her tender area down below, so he could cup on it. Then, he pressed on it, as well with rubbing the clit to get started on the love making. He inserted two fingers inside, and started to pull them in and out, scissoring a few times. He was trying to get [y/n] lubricated enough.

She squirmed below him, but not too much, and she did let out a moan, "Michael," she murmured. She started to feel excited, and she bucked her lips a little. She craved him, so much. She needed this to happen.

He enjoyed seeing her reaction. He realized he was the one in control of this situation, and that made him feel delighted, just as much as the woman in front of him. He pulled out his fingers, since she's now ready, and his member throbbed. He was hard, turned on by her presence. He moved upward, positioning his member to your area, and his hands pressed on each side of your shoulders. He entered, not too hard, because he didn't want to hurt you, but enough to send them both to groan with lust. He pushed down by bucking his hips, trying to get in deeper, and she squealed in delight.

He panted, and started to move his member upward, then down, trying to find a good motion to make the situation pleasurable. [y/n] hands moved across his bare chest. Disbelief filled her, she was his, and him hers. She straddled his hip, bucking upward, and one of her hands reached around the nape of his neck, so she could pull him down to kiss the tender lips, thirstily.

Michael brushed her lips, more than once, and made trails of that across your jaw, and chin. His pace began to quicken, harder and faster. Pumping into her, desperate for a wonderful release.

She moaned, and called out to him, "Oh, hell yes! Michael! Harder! Oh, ah," she started to get filled below. Her hands clenched the bedsheets when she felt him pushing in and out harder now. Her eyelids closed, and a few tears began to stroll down her cheek, she whispered, her eyes opened to look into his, while her fingers touched his cheek in an embrace, "I love you, Michael Langdon."

He thrusted in her one last time, and the two finally reached the climax. His seed was very well deep inside her now, no turning back. She was officially claimed. He kissed her with sheer force, and he whispered, "I love you, too, [y/n]." His lips pressed on her ear, he growled and said, "You are mine. Anyone else who tries to steal you from me, they will wish they were never fucking born."

[la-appel-du-vide]

Lake Powell 2021 🌊

Ohhhhh Lake Powell. What a PLACE!

After we had such a blast last year, we wanted to do another trip this year - especially because now Brady has a Jeep that can tow! We figured it would be cheaper to rent a pair of waverunners in Utah and then drive them down ourselves. Plus, Brayden had NEVER SEEN Lake Powell, which is both crazy and not acceptable. (;

As the summer went on, and the lake levels kept dropping (they're currently the lowest they've been since the lake was originally filled up), we were getting nervous that our trip wouldn't happen. Ramps at Wahweap and Bullfrog were closed and auxiliary ramps had to be used instead - the photos of the ramps so far out of the water are absolutely crazy! Houseboats were encouraged to pull out of the water. Things weren't looking super good. But when the time came to pull the trigger, we took the risk and hoped things would work out. And they did!

We rented two waverunners from a guy in Provo, and that was a horrible experience. We told him we'd be picking them up on Thursday night between 7:30 and 8:30, and he said to give him a 45-minute heads up. We texted him when we were about 35 minutes out, and he didn't even leave until 40 minutes later. He literally did not get there until 9:15. I was livid - we still had a 5-hour drive to Page. On top of that, the waverunners were NOT in good shape. Deep gashes covered in paint/duct tape, one that was missing its registration sticker (literally illegal), one that had no mirrors, neither of them had dry box lids (he tried to tell me that was normal, that they ALWAYS break off on every machine he's ever seen - BS, and I called him on that), they had a tiny amount of storage space, and they were already low on fuel. Perfect. He insisted that we take 6 life jackets, even though we only needed three, so he didn't have to put a special note on the reservation. Annoying. He talked to us about useless information for almost an hour, so we left SO much later than we wanted to, and didn't get to Page until almost 3 AM. Good start to the trip, right?

We stayed in a little townhome Airbnb - it was fine, but a bit outdated (the green carpet was a clear giveaway haha). We got a quick four hours of sleep before we were up again, exhausted, to hit the lake. We stopped by the place Beach and I rented from last year to see if they wouldn't mind giving us a map - we LOVED the map they gave us last year. Clear, helpful, and plastic so getting wet doesn't hurt it. It was awkward though, when I explained we weren't renting from them this year, but certainly would again in the future because we were having a very bad time, but that we'd really love a map again. She gave us one, but didn't seem happy about it. Yikes. Then we stopped at the store to get some snacks for the day, and finally stopped at Maverik to fill the stupid things up. That's where the next sign of trouble occurred - Beach took the turn too sharp and rammed the trailer right into the bollard in front of the gas pump. It was SO loud and shook us all. And yep, it left quite a dent in the trailer. It was still functional, but that's no way to start a day. Morale was quite low for a bit.

But then we finally got to the lake. Much needed. The line wasn't long at all - I think many people are afraid to launch after hearing the things we'd heard. We launched like pros and hit the lake! I was really conscious of enjoying the sun on my skin, the sound of the water, and the way it felt to cruise around the lake. I get so sad at the end of summer, because the warm weather really keeps me going. We went to see the dam, and took an inaugural dip. We LOVE our little dips - always refreshing, and never too cold. Plus, you dry almost immediately when you get out! We drove the channel (insane, of course) down to Antelope Canyon, and then hit a no-wake zone up until we got to a spot to park. Because the lake levels are so low, there's a ton of muck in the water (I'm not sure how that correlates, but it must, because it wasn't like this last year) when you get to the ends of canyons. There was a THICK layer of sticks/debris coming into the Antelope Canyon parking area. Brayden and Beach had to swim us in so we didn't get the machines full of that crap and ruin the engine.

It's amazing how much less crowded it was this year than last year. We only saw a handful of people while we were hiking Antelope - last year, it was pretty packed and we had to do a lot of waiting to get photos. I liked this part of the change haha. It's such a stunning canyon and hike - the beautiful wave patterns along the red rocks are just unreal. It doesn't feel like it's something that could have happened naturally, and it's absolutely mind boggling. We are so lucky to have something like this so close to home, so we can experience the magic so easily. Ugh, I love it. I got a little nauseous on the hike back, because I always do when I don't sleep and then physically exert myself. BUT I didn't throw up, so W! We took a small break to eat an apple, drink some water, and rest in the shade before swimming the waverunners back out through the muck hahah (poor B and Beach - I got a ride). We did have to do some serious work to ensure that the engines were clean and clear of debris before we started them up again, and that was a little stressful, but it all turned out fine.

Then I hopped on with Beach and we drove Navajo Canyon, which is really just one of my favorite things to do. By the time you get to the end (it's pretty long) it smoothes out so nicely, and there is NOTHING better than absolutely cruising on glass water on a waverunner. We were gliding so fast, taking smooth, wide turns through the canyon... gave me absolute life. At one point, Beach hopped on with Brayden and they took a video of me riding side-by-side with them, and it's so great.

Then trouble hit us yet again. My waverunner alarm started going off to alert us of low fuel. We knew it was time to head back to the marina anyway, so we could load them up before it got dark. We started heading out and just decided to take the fastest path back to the marina, because we obviously weren't familiar with these machines and didn't know how far we could get once the gas light was on. We took a right out of Navajo Canyon to go look for the small channel that leads from Warm Creek Bay back to the marina - which we used quite a bit last year. But..... we couldn't find it. I was pretty sure I was losing my mind. We drove that whole bay up and down a couple of times, and I was getting so frustrated by how I could possibly be missing it. Eventually, we stopped by a houseboat to ask where it was, and apparently it's LITERALLY GONE. The entire channel DRIED UP. In the span of a few months. That is WILD. And we'd wasted all the gas I probably even had left looking for something that doesn't exist anymore. So the bad news was, now we'd have to go ALL THE WAY AROUND to get back to the marina. Their gas light was on too now (by the way, the alarm would scare us so bad when it went off, and it lasted like 3 minutes before it would turn off - so annoying) and we figured we would run out of gas before we made it that far. We ended up stopping by another houseboat (a SUPER nice one) to ask if they'd be willing to let us borrow a couple of gallons of gas. They were super nice about it and let us have some. Then we went guns ablazing to try and get back to the marina before it got dark. Going the long way, though, you hit THREE wakeless zones, so it just takes forever. We ended up completely forgoing the rules and flying through them. The sun was setting FAST and it was getting SO DARK. It's definitely not safe to be out there in the "pitch night" hahaha as Beach said. By the time we dropped Beach off to go get the car and trailer, it was literally black outside. I could hardly see anything. Some of the buoys had lights on, which was so helpful, but we still had to be so careful. Our only saving grace was a broken down boat at the bottom of the auxiliary ramp that had a light on, so we could find the ramp in the dark. Loading was difficult, especially once we realized that the roller poles on our trailer were SO LOOSE. We texted the rental guy about what to do and his response was "Lol, guess those need to be tightened." And he suggested we try to tie them on with a rope. SO helpful. All of his stuff was shotty.

But we DID IT. What an adventure. We stopped for dinner at Denny's on the way home, because we looked like hell and hadn't eaten all day. And then we were so exhausted, I'm pretty sure I've never slept deeper. I couldn't even keep my eyes open for a minute.

To be continued...

[the-tired-tenor]

I'm going to throw my two bits in, even though I'm probably way off here.

What if Filch isn't actually a squib?

Between Arianna's subplot and the new movies, we've now seen that children who experience enough trauma will repress their magic, only allowing it out when they're so stressed out that they physically can't keep it in anymore - kind of like Elsa in Frozen (yep, we're going there, bear with me). But what if that isn't the only outcome? In that movie, Elsa can't control her powers when she's stressed, only gaining a measure of control when she's happy and free of her responsibilities. What if Filch has lost the ability to use his magic except when he's so stressed he can't keep it in OR he's in a 'happy place' where he can let go and be completely unafraid of what he's doing?

Imagine Filch sitting at home when he would have been at Hogwarts, pouring over Hogwarts: a History and seeing all of the beautiful tapestries and paintings and wishing with all his heart that he could be there, instead of here with his abusive Pureblood family. He tries to replicate them in ink and parchment, but never quite manages to finish befor his parents figure out what he's up to, destroy his work, and silently lead him to the cellar, indifferent to his pleading and sobbing. Imagine him taking his traumatic memories and repressed magic and running away from home with some stolen galleons, enough to pay a wizard to enroll him in art school - he can't very well confund the application and entrance exams himself, and he would be an adult by this point so no one questions it, even if it is odd that he couldn't do it himself. Imagine him sitting in a studio one day, painting the most beautiful sunrise over soaring mountains and a crisp, deep blue lake, in quiet contemplation after a day working his *ss off for professors who do nothing but encourage his skills and teach him to be better. Imagine how he feels when, as soon as he thinks that maybe that spot on the lake could use a little bit of red to reflect the sunlight, his paintbrush just up and does it, with no need for him to pick it up. Tears rolling down his cheeks as he realizes that he isn't powerless after all - and that he is powerful in the one way that matters most to him.

Fast forward a few years, Filch has changed his name and graduated with honors. Coincidentally, forgery is enough of an art form that he could pull it off, if only shakily, and accelerate his degree. Why would he do that? Because the caretaker position at Hogwarts, the job he wants most in the world, is now vacant.

Filch meets Dumbledore at the Hog's Head for an interview. He's stunned by the seeming informality of it all, but even more stunned when Dumbledore asks him, "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Leave the place where you were happiest," Dumbledore said gravely. "By all accounts you were a model student, always eager to please, and with more than passing natural talent. So why would you leave all of that to come here?"

Filch was taken aback by the question - not only for what it was, but what it implied. "How do you know about all that?" His voice trembled as he spoke. "I made sure I covered my tracks, I made sure I couldn't be-"

"And you weren't," Dumbledore replied. "but you were trying to fool a family who didn't know where you had gone, and who you secretly suspected wouldn't care enough to look for you when you were gone anyway." His face was still rather stern, but his eyes smiled over the rims of his glasses. "Well, you have certainly lost them, but fooling a potential magical employer, even just a shopkeep, would require a bit more subtlety, and much stronger protections than you employed." He smiled then, to take the sting from his commentary. "And I must say, I consider myself to be rather better at magic than most shopkeeps."

At that, Filch began to stand and tried to stutter out an apology, but Dumbledore sent his chair thumping into the backs of his knees with a wave of his hand.

"There is no need for any of that. Do you think I would have met with you, knowing what I do of your education, if I didn't know more than the basic facts? Flawless projects turned in early, regardless of the time ordinarily required to complete them, paintings that almost seemed to move before the observers' eyes...clearly you have more than a little magic to draw on, especially given your lack of a wand or any formal training, yet you present yourself, as your parents once did, as a...Squib," Dumbledore's mouth turned downward slightly, as if the term left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Why?"

"Well," Filch began slowly, as if weighing every individual letter before allowing it to pass his lips, "I can't really do magic. I can do small things, like make a paintbrush move on its own, or consistently heat wax to the right temperature that I need, or replicate the colors I see on a painting on my palette, but that's nothing." Suddenly, Filch was struck by the sense that maybe he had been overlooking something rather large for some time. "Isn't it?"

Dumbledore smiled at him across the table. "Well," he began, choosing his words as carefully as a chef might choose spices for a dish - or an artist choose a pigment, "there is magic great and small in this world. But to my mind, the real measure of magic is not the outcome of a spell. The measure of the magic is what change it makes in the world. And when magic is used to make something for others to enjoy, such as food, or music, or art? That, I believe, is the highest magic there is."

He stood up from his table and offered his hand to the starstruck young man sitting in front of him. Filch slowly took it, feeling as though he was moving through a thick fog, and in a fair state of shock and disbelief.

"I expect you to report by the nineteenth of September, although you are welcome to move into the caretaker's quarters as soon as next week, once the room has been cleaned and aired. I look forward to seeing your work in our castle."

A week later, a Filch who still can't believe what a turn his life has taken can be seen bringing a burden of luggage up the main street of Hogsmeade, before apparently stumbling. When he stands back up, however, a small orange bundle can be seen in his arms. He sets it carefully in a bag atop his cases, and continues up the road.

Several minutes later, a thoroughly flummoxed Filch stands in his quarters. They are larger than any he has ever had before, and he quite suspects that a charm has been laid on this chamber to allow it to be larger than it's exterior would suggest. He removes the bundle he took from the street earlier from the top of his baggage and sets it gently in front of the fireplace, where it slowly unfolds with a gentle "mrrrp?" and becomes a small cat, with large multicolored eyes and soft orange fur. Filch sits and smiles at it for a while, allowing the kitten to bat his fingers around gently, before standing with a sigh.

"I suppose I'd better name you, hadn't I?" Filch said, half to himself and half to the ball of fluff slowly exploring the room. "Well, we'll get to that tomorrow - I've never been much good at names."

He set up his room just as he liked, with several of his paintings hanging from the walls and an easel set in the corner. When he was finished, he turned toward the door and was surprised to see a small parcel sitting on the table, one which he certainly hadn't left there. On it was a note, set in a curling cursive script:

Argus, it read, I hope you find your new home to your liking! I rather thought I would be hiring you, but even the best minds cannot see the future, at least not on command. I hope you will find this useful, and wish you a long, happy stay within these walls.

Filch gently removed the note, set it aside, and lifted the lid of the package. Inside was set a paintbrush, rather thick in the body, made of pine wood and with a delicate tip of silvery hairs. He picked it up gently, almost reverently, and almost immediately proceeded to fumble the delicate instrument as the hairs on the end shone with a bright orange intensity and left a trail of light wherever they passed through the air. As he regained his grip, he noticed that the top seemed to be changing shape and width as he watched before settling back to it's original appearance. He walked shakily to the easel set in the corner and gently applied the tip of the strange brush, leaving a kitten-colored stain on the canvas. He looked at the kitten, who was now sitting atop his pillows and watching him intently, and noticed that her (he hadn't checked, but he was calling her a 'her' for now) left eye was a brilliant shade of blue. No sooner had he noticed this than his brush warmed slightly in his hand, and now the tip appeared to glow blue, and left blue marks upon the canvas! Filch gently laid the brush in a slot on his easel and stumbled back across the room to the table, which he searched thoroughly in an explanation for this odd behavior. He found nothing but the original note, and the name of the shop from which the brush had come engraved on the box : Ollivander's

Filch has a doctorate in art conservation and has definitely read Hogwarts A History

Actaully speaking of PoA, can we fuckin talk about Filch and his art credentials?

The portrait of the fat lady gets slashed and Dumbledore hands her off to Filch to get restored?

AND FILCH DOES IT, AND DOES IT WELL?

The next time we see her there is NO mention of anything like, oh she’s back but you can kinda see where she was cut… NO. She comes back in PEAK CONDITION.

Restored by Filch, who *has no magic.*

He restored this however many hundreds of year old painting *by hand.*

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH SKILL MUST HAVE BEEN INVOLVED HERE?

This 100% changes the character of Filch. Like I’ve only ever seen him portrayed as this kind of head janitor kind of character, movies style, but like. Why? Why would Hogwarts need that if it’s full of house elves? According to Harry Oblivious Potter, probably cause Dumbledore felt bad and gave him a shitty job but one he could at least do and still be in the wizarding world.

WRONG. It’s cause that’s not his actual job.

Listen.

Dung bomb goes off in a classroom? Long night for the house elves.

Dung bomb goes off in a 300 year old suit of armor? Long six to eight weeks for Argus Filch.

Fanged frisbee tears up an irreplaceable tapestry?

Filch.

Peeves draws dicks on a portrait of the founders?

Filch.

All these damn kids in and out of here every day acting like dumbasses and blowing stuff up when it’s already bad enough they keep tracking dirt and *breathing* all over everything?

Filch.

Now how about, how does Filch know all the secret passages? A combination of things. Probably paintings told him about some. You spend weeks restoring a portrait of someone who helped build the place which lives and moves and speaks in their voice and you’re bound to at least talk a bit, if not learn a few things. But many he probably found on his own, either by wit or by study- he’s gotta be entrenched in tr history of this place. If Binns hadn’t come back as a ghost Filch could probably teach history of magic in his place.

He keeps the place in order such that generations next will still have it, and said generations next show him no god damn respect for that. He’s bitter for a lot of excellent reasons.