#this would be so much easier if the grading was point based not weight based

[cinnabeat]

that essay i was supposed to write and is 20% of my grade is just not getting done

[reina-tries-2-write]

The Space Between Sounds

Chapter 5: New Sounds

SYNOPSIS: As you settle into your new life at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech, you start to notice something strange. You are slowly able to hear new cursed energy sounds, one in particular that is a bit unnerving. Why are you suddenly able to hear these new sounds?

WC: 2K

PREV - MASTERLIST - NEXT

Over the course of the next week, you began to settle in properly, not isolating yourself but feeling more included and connected to everyone. You still struggled to understand what Panda was saying since his snout was a bit harder to read than you anticipated but you were slowly picking it up.

Toge was the hardest to communicate with and the two of you heavily relied on a notepad or notes app. The two of you were slowly learning how to read the other’s gestures which varied quite a lot. Your gesturing was more so based on how sign language worked while Toge’s was more direct and to the point since he was conveying less.

You would tend to act things out a little with your hands while Toge did a lot of pointing accompanied by an expression.

But you were each doing your best and Toge was patient with you which you greatly appreciated. It was frustrating at times but Toge always kept his cool and would reassure you and help you keep calm as well. You were still learning.

As the days slowly passed, you began to notice something weird going on with the cursed energy around you. You were able to distinguish everyone by their sounds but the noises started to sound different, deviating from the usual humming, buzzing, and crackling you heard.

There were different qualities to everyone’s innate noises but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what they were. This very subtle difference was arguably more distracting than the volume of the ambient cursed energy which you were getting used to.

You were a lot more distractible and unfocused due to this discovery and you wished more than anything you could ask Edo about it. He would know what was going on and how to help you adapt.

Because of your new distraction, your already average grades began to slip some and training became more difficult than it already was. Even when you couldn’t fully hear the new noises, the fact that they were there would nag at you.

What was going on? Why were you suddenly able to hear something different? Was it due to being around so much cursed energy? Or were you just naturally developing something new?

Today you were sitting in the grass arena for training, doing some meditative exercises. You didn’t mind doing these since they were much easier than sparring or weapons and were similar to what you had done with Edo but there was one aspect about it that you hated.

Closing your eyes.

As a deaf person, you rely heavily on your other senses, particularly sight and you felt very vulnerable when your eyes were closed. You really only felt safe closing them in the privacy of you own room when you went to sleep. You’d always been scared of the dark as a kid for the same reason and you felt lost without your vision.

But you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, placing your hands with your palms down in the grass on either side of you to keep yourself oriented. You were sitting in the middle of the group so you felt safe enough to close your eyes in the first place but were still really on edge. You were comforted by the fact Toge was sitting closest to you, well within reach to touch you to get your attention.

Your heartbeat picked up and you felt like you were a little kid in the dark of your bedroom again. But you focused on the feeling of the grass under your fingertips. You toyed with individual blades, feeling the smooth, waxy surfaces, the blunt edges and pointed tips. You associated the feeling of grass with the color green and it felt like you were directly touching the color. Your other hand pressed down on the ground and you felt the blades crunch under the weight of your palm, feeling the subtle vibrations on your skin.

Grounding yourself in reality and placing a larger amount of trust in Toge, you kept your eyes closed for the exercise. In all honesty, you ignored Gojo’s instructions for the exercise and simply focused as intently on the noise as you could.

There was something about Toge’s innate cursed energy that sounded different and stood out the most to you. His normal noise was a steady humming sound, consistent but not rapid. Not quite like Kai’s whose was lower like a bass speaker but warmer than that. But you would notice small fluctuations in the humming. Like it would get warmer or colder here and there. The duration of the hums would also change like it would pick up speed or slow down as well. They were very subtle shifts but you could still hear them.

The meditative session went really well and you were able to tune into the new sounds better than you had before. You made a point to try and do this again and maybe ask Toge to sit with you.

The session ended and while you clearly didn’t know Gojo told everyone they could open their eyes, Toge reached over to get your attention.

You felt his hand gently rest on top of yours for a second and you felt your face heat up as your eyes snapped open. He briefly left his hand on yours, having been gentle to not scare you and clearly a little tentative.

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

We were doing a meditative exercise with Gojo today and I knew he usually had us close our eyes for it to help us focus. I noticed Y/N get particularly nervous about that prospect, her clasped hands clenching tighter and I quickly put two and two together.

Since she couldn’t hear, she relied on her other senses a lot more and sight is particularly important to everyone, deaf or not. She must feel particularly vulnerable with her eyes closed. I didn’t really know what to say to her to reassure her and I didn’t have time to pull my phone out so I simply scooted over closer to her, giving her space but sitting close enough to reach over to get her attention.

I peeked my eyes open a few times during the exercise and noticed Y/N intently moving her fingers through the short grass next to her crossed legs. Everyone else had their hands on their knees like I did and I knew Gojo hadn’t instructed us to do that. Did she just not catch his instruction? Or was it something else?

I closed my eyes, getting lost in thought and not really doing the exercise. I don’t know why I was so intrigued by the way her fingers intently picked and felt each individual blade of grass, palm grazing over the surface and occasionally pressing down to the dirt. Was she feeling something I wasn’t?

I moved my hand down into the grass but didn’t feel anything aside from regular old grass. Her fingers moved with clear intent despite their subtlety and gentleness. That’s when something struck me.

Was this her way of enhancing a sense to compensate for her lack of sight and hearing? There was a pattern to her fingers moving in the grass and I thought she might be grounding herself that way. Feeling something tangible around her due to two of her senses being gone. That was really smart and I internally applauded her adaptability. She could have just sat there with her eyes open to do the exercise or not done it at all but she took a deep breath and did it, accommodating her own needs.

She’s more resilient and quite frankly amazing than I originally thought.

The lesson ended and Gojo told us we could open our eyes as we were done. But of course, Y/N didn’t see or hear his instruction. I reached over to get her attention, placing my hand on hers as opposed to her shoulder like she had mentioned. I didn’t want to give her the impression that someone was behind her while she was already in a vulnerable state and she knew I was sitting next to her so I figured it would be the best way to not scare her.

I watched what looked like a blush dust her cheeks when I did, her eyes snapping open and looking down at my hand on hers. I pulled my hand back now that her eyes were open and she gave me a grateful smile but there was a hint of something else with it. Embarrassment? Maybe touching her hand was the wrong move. She didn’t seem upset about it so I dismissed it.

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

As the days passed, you still couldn’t quite pin down what it was but you eventually got distracted from the new noises by your slowly growing friendships. You would spend more time with everyone, getting to know them better. Your friendships with Maki and Yuta progressed faster than they did with Toge and Panda due to the communication issues but everyone was putting in the effort to understand you and were as patient as possible.

Panda was always upbeat and playful with you, using physical touch to convey his jokes and humor.

Maki was pretty straightforward, telling you things bluntly and to the point. But you appreciated her honesty with you and the fact that she wasn’t beating around the bush to make you feel better. She was the last person that was going to pity you.

Yuta was sweet and always put in extra effort to make sure you were understood. He always had a notepad at the ready just in case and would read out anything you wrote down for the group.

Toge communicated with you mostly through gestures and body language when the two of you couldn’t type or write. You found yourself paying particular attention to him and learning how to read his expressions. This was hard since he covered half of his face but he is very expressive which helps compensate for your inability to see his mouth. You had an easier time understanding him over meals when he would pull down his sweater or take off his face mask and you started to miss seeing his smile when he’d pull them back on.

Along with hearing everyone’s innate sounds changing, there was something off about the ambient noise of campus. Particularly at night. You would hear a low thrumming that would slowly pick up in the evening and die down in the mornings, completely gone during the day.

It was weird and gave you an unnerving feeling. Something about it felt wrong. Like it wasn’t supposed to be there or sound like that. You had no idea what it was but maybe it was just something on campus that you were learning to hear. Like one of the controlled curses they used for practice or something. That would explain the weird feeling.

But you couldn’t quite convince yourself it was normal. There was just an aspect about it that you couldn’t pin down that was... wrong. You had no idea how to describe it to anyone so you dismissed it as best you could. But on occasion it would wake you up in the middle of the night and the eerie feeling accompanying it made it difficult to fall back asleep.

—You okay?—

Toge asked this morning over breakfast. You were really tired, not having gotten good sleep due to the weird thrumming noise.

—Just tired. Didn’t sleep good—

You answer honestly, giving him a small shrug as you handed his phone back.

—Were we keeping you up?—

—No. It’s not you guys. I don’t know what it is but it’s really weird. Idk I’m probably just hearing something new that’s normal around here—

—What does it sound like? Can you tell where it’s coming from?—

—It’s a low thrumming. It gets louder at night and is gone during the day. It’s like it’s everywhere. Might just be the collective energy of everyone or something—

—Hmm. Weird—

—Ikr lol—

You were grateful Toge didn’t think you were crazy for hearing something new and his casual attitude about it was relieving. He wasn’t sensing anything wrong so it was probably just a weird new sound you were learning to hear. Maybe it was Tengen. That would explain why it sounded like it was everywhere. Yeah. That was it.

[faiirytalcs]

FRASER WILLIAMS is based on FEAR from Inside Out. He is a 37 year old GIFTED HUMAN, PSYCHOLOGY PROFESSOR, and uses he/him pronouns. He has the power to DANGER DETECTION & FEAR AMPLIFICATION.

Important History

fear - from the moment his consciousness processed memories, that was what fraser remembered. simply being afraid of pretty much everything

germs, bacteria, wild animals, sharp objects and near death experiences were around every corner and he thought more people should be talking about that but instead they chose to belittle him and tell him his fears weren’t necessary, that he was overreacting

it didn’t deter him though from telling people or warning them about potential danger, he knew at some point someone would appreciate it but he also knew he had to do something about this. he wanted to be able to control these fears

studying them seemed to be the right answer, unknown things became much easier to handle when you understood them and that’s how fraser approached his phobias

if there’s one thing fraser wishes people realized it was that he didn’t choose to be like this. he didn’t choose to be scared, to constantly feel his heart racing while the chemicals in his mind told him that every instance was a fight or flight situation but it was his reality

more than anything, he wants to help. it can be hard sometimes but he wants to help people avoid going through the hardships he went through as he grew up

in his late twenties, he met a group of people that made him feel comfortable and safe, a feeling he hardly ever got when he was around strangers or new people

while his mind goes a mile a minute thinking of all the horrible things that could happen, fraser chose to dive into work, putting his whole heart and soul into his lessons and thesis papers

workaholic didn’t entirely even cover it these days, it seemed like almost every minute of the day was dedicated to research, lessons or grading assignments

relationships have never been a high priority for fraser but he isn’t not out here looking for love - he’s just doubted that anyone would fall in love with him considering how many times he’s been told that he’s a freak

he knows he has to be in control of his gifts mainly because if he isn’t, anyone around him who might be afraid of things will only spiral down with him. fear amplification was no joke so he tried to keep that particular power at bay

there is nothing about fraser that is intimidating and the man is constantly on the verge of a passionate rant or a panic attack, sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference 

a lot of fraser’s fears are pretty common ones he just takes them all a little further than most do

a warm sweater, a drink and a fire ( that is contained ) are a few things that fraser loves and help him wind down after a long day between the pages of a book

APPEARANCE

Face Claim: william jackson harper

Height: 6′0

Build: lean

Eye Color: dark brown

Hair Color: dark brown

Piercings: n/a

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: dependable, prepared, conscientious, quirky

Negative Traits: overreactive, self-deprecating, fearful, insecure

Likes: soft blankets and padded corners, logical explanations, fall scented candles, knowing where every exit was in a room is, takeout with friends, researching, grandpa sweaters

Dislikes: insects, scary movies, bears, getting punched, broccoli, clowns, boy bands

Phobias: please there are so many: achluophobia, agoraphobia, arachnophobia, bacteriophobia, batrachophobia, claustrophobia, coulrophobia, entomophobia, hypochondria, nyctophobia, pathophobia, trypanophobia...just to start

Hobbies: color-coding things, gardening, perfecting coffee recipes

Aesthetic: spirals of worrying until you reach a point of acceptance, latin roots, textbooks laying open on wooden desks, a sense of comfort from a warm hand, a shiver down your spine, tummy problems, covering your eyes at any scary movie, weighted blankets

FAMILY

Mother: emily williams

Father: brennan williams

Sibling(s): n/a

Pet(s): a hairless cat named shakespeare

[purinfelix]

heyy! I was seeing that you wrote that bf joao would never stop reader from pursuing her dreams.

what do you think a bout r studying abroad, already being a year out, and starts getting so homesick, to the point she books a flight the night before an important exam?

i like me better when i'm with you ₊˚⊹♡ - joao felix

pairing: joao felix x reader summary: a study abroad program, an impulsively bought plane ticket, and a whole lot of homesickness warnings: none! w/c: 723

a/n: i love when i post a short one-off blurb and you guys turn it into a great idea istg some of yall are smarter than me <3333 - anyways if you didn't see it this is sort of based off of this blurb!!

You were being ridiculous, impulsive, and about a thousand other negative adjectives you couldn't be bothered to list right now. Still, though, it had been far too long since you'd felt this assured in any single decision - perhaps since the day you took up the opportunity to study abroad, and that had been over a year ago now.

Anxiously, you gripped the handle of your luggage as you left the elevator, not even having to think about where you were headed. You knew the path to Joao's apartment like the back of your hand, and being back in a familiar area filled you with a sense of relief you hadn't realised you were missing. This relief was short-lived, however, once you finally knocked on his door, now being replaced with a sudden sense of dread. The excitement you had been anticipating slowly faded away as you became more and more aware of the weight of your own actions, and the sort of reaction your boyfriend might have to them.

After all, he was the one who so eagerly encouraged you to take up this opportunity, supporting you through every step from booking your tickets to building you an itinerary for your days off. He was never one to come in between you and your future, and you always appreciated him for that. Even so, a little part of you had wished he had made it easier to stay - because maybe then you wouldn't have made, what you were now realising, was a really stupid decision.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening in front of you, your eyes flickering up and locking onto Joao's.

"Baby?" his voice was a mix of sleepy, shocked and overjoyed, and he didn't stop you when you almost collapsed into his arms. "What are you doing here?"

You shook your head, mumbling a lame excuse as you wrapped your arms around him, breathing in the familiar smell you had missed so much. He understood your silent request not to talk for the time being, shuffling you inside as he grabbed your luggage and shut the door. Laughing softly, he pressed a comforting kiss to your temple, rubbing your back as he felt you melt into his touch.

"Care to explain why you're here and not halfway across the world, in a lecture hall or something?"

"I missed you," was all you could say, and whilst it felt like you were leaving out the specifics and instead presenting a sorry excuse for a reason, this really was all you had to say for yourself.

"Well, I missed you too, but," he trailed off and your heart hurt a little at how confused he seemed. You wished more than anything that you could just help him understand how you had been feeling, but you had been trying your best to sweep any sort of doubt you had about your program under the rug. You updated him about parties you went to, food you ate, the grades you got whenever you called but not once had you mentioned the growing uncertainty you felt about your decision.

"Wait," Joao broke the silence again, panic rising in his voice, "didn't you say you had a major exam coming up?"

"Yeah, tomorrow actually," you mumbled as nonchalantly as you could, the truth being that you couldn't care less about it right now.

"Oh my god," Joao exclaimed, pulling away from you, "we need to get you on a plane back now!"

You groaned, pulling him back into a hug as you sighed, "Forget about it, I'll just fail this class, it's fine."

"But-"

"Joao, please," you begged, and he finally seemed to get it. "I really missed you," you repeated, a little softer this time - less like a confession and more like a plea.

"I missed you too, so much," Joao sighed as he returned your hug, "I'm glad you're here."

Maybe he was still freaking out inside, his mind busy conjuring up a thousand plans to make sure you didn't fail this class. Maybe you would wake up tomorrow morning to him fervently searching for plane tickets or calling up your head of academic studies. But that didn't matter, at least not for now, because you were back in your boyfriend's arms - you were back home.

[villageandcottage]

Can You Have a Thatched Roof in Canada?

Although many of us associate thatched roofs with English cottages or Caribbean island retreats, they exist in many other countries. They’re certainly less common in newer countries like the Americas, though.

So, can you have a thatched roof in Canada? Thatched roofs exist in Canada, although they’re typically used in modern revival buildings as opposed to original homes. However, thatch was also common for indigenous communities, although they used different materials.

In this article, we’ll look into the history of thatch in Canada and whether there are still any thatched buildings in the country.

Can You Have a Thatched Roof in Canada?

Thatch, as many of us understand it, is based on the European method. This uses straw or water reeds tied together in bunches, which are then fitted on a roof. Other methods exist, though, such as those used in Canada before the European method was introduced.

One method used pre-settlement was to fix bundles of thatch onto a building’s roof using mud or clay. The thatch was layered in the same way as the European method, but the bundles were basically stuck in place. Whereas Europeans used straw, indigenous people used local grasses and reeds. It looked very similar in the end, though.

Another method used was sod roofs. It’s debatable whether we can count these as thatch, but they follow the same principles. Sod is chunks of earth, often still with the grass layer attached. It would be fitted on the roof of small buildings to insulate the interior.

Sod houses were very popular buildings with indigenous communities in Canada. There’s evidence of them in southern British Columbia, Labrador, the Arctic, and more. In fact, sod buildings were later used by European settlers, although they’d come to symbolise hardship by this point.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that thatch existed in US and Canada pre-settlement. Thatching is arguably one of the oldest methods for roofing because it uses natural materials that are easy to gather and process. This is why you’ll find all kinds of thatched roof styles across the globe.

As with European countries, traditional thatching methods died out in the 19th century, as more houses were roofed with slate or tile. The Industrial Revolution made processing these materials easier, and the upkeep was much simpler.

Are There Any Thatched Roofs in Canada?

The short answer is that there are still thatched roofs in Canada. However, as in the UK and elsewhere, they’re more for fun than function. Most thatched roofs in the UK are old buildings covered by grade listing, meaning they can’t be replaced with modern materials.

This isn’t true for somewhere like Canada, though. European settlers weren’t building permanent homes in the same way at the same time, and many used wooden shingles rather than thatch.

Any quick Google search of Canadian thatching companies will show you how prevalent the tradition is in the country. The thatched buildings themselves are all classic revival properties, many of which were built in the 20th century or later. While they’re not the same kind of classic building that you’d find in the UK, their thatched roofs are certainly no different.

Where to Find Thatched Roofs in Canada

You’ll typically find thatched roofs in southern Canada, as the country’s climate isn’t ideal for thatching materials. The cold and level of precipitation mean the natural materials can degrade quickly, and they can’t withstand the weight of snow in the same way as slate or tile.

One Canadian thatching company advises its thatch can last 2-4 years in the Canadian climate. While it’s not the same as a proper thatched roof (it’s made from palm leaves), it’s at least evidence of how quickly the materials can degrade.

There’s no set place you could go to look at Canadian thatched homes. They’re not as common as elsewhere in the world due to the weather, so count yourself lucky if you do see one!

Final Thoughts

Thatched roofs have an interesting history in Canada. Indigenous people used thatching long before European settlers arrived, and the complexity of their methods hasn’t been truly appreciated until the last 20 years or so.

So, if you ever find yourself exploring the history of Canada, make sure you pay special attention to the thatched roofs. They’re more interesting than you might think!

source https://villageandcottage.com/thatched-roofs/can-you-have-a-thatched-roof-in-canada/

[therealvinelle]

Hi, your metas are super interesting, and even if I really enjoy fanon twilight, it's really cool to read opinions based only on canon too!

So my question is about the sexual orientation of the Cullens, do you think they all straight?

For example i saw someone saying that Edward maybe was demisexual and it left me thinking, so i just wanted to know your opinions about it :)

In short, no.

In alphabetical order:

Alice is with a man, but without getting into the mess that is Alice/Jasper here, I don’t think theirs is a particularly physical relationship. I mean, if Alice wanted to get laid, she could just decide to fuck Jasper, enjoy the vision, and bam. Itch scratched. Thanks, Jazz. Alright, I’ll be serious. Alice and Jasper are with each other because the other represents salvation, not so much because of a personal or physical attraction but because of mysticism. So to me that doesn’t really say much about Alice’s preference. All the same I can’t see Alice having a particular preference, she’s too... Alice. Although it is easier to picture her with women. She is also the second half of the Alice/Bella homoerotic extravaganza, which makes heterosexual Alice even more farfetched to me. So, bisexual or lesbian Alice.

Bella shows clear attraction to women as well as men. She’s attracted to Rosalie, Alice, Edward, and Carlisle. I’ll just give you guys quotes: Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. (Twilight, page 9) This is the Cullens’ introduction. I won’t spend much time on it, just notice the difference between Rosalie and the others. Rosalie is highlighted in a way Alice is not, and Edward is at first glance only the boyish one of the guys. Rosalie was the Cullen whose beauty immediately stood out to Bella. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy. (sic.) Bella has realized by now that Edward’s a grade A hottie, but she’s still torn between him and Rosalie. Bella then gets to know Alice, and they become friends who take showers together(!). Rosalie may be the most attractive Cullen woman, but Alice is the one Bella gets emotionally close to. We get this in New Moon:  UNNATURALLY STILL AND WHITE, WITH LARGE BLACK EYES intent on my face, my visitor waited perfectly motionless in the center of the halt, beautiful beyond imagining.  (...) I locked my arms around her, gasping to inhale as much of the scent of her skin as possible. It wasn't like anything else—not floral or spice, citrus or musk. No perfume in the world could compare. My memory hadn't done it justice. (New Moon, page 191) Bella never thought she’d never see any of the Cullens again, so for her to be hysterical and ecstatic upon seeing her second favorite is not by itself damning. I’m sure she’d be ecstatic to see Emmett too. It’s that fact that she’d missed Alice’s scent that’s interesting. The scent of her skin was something Bella was aware of before they parted. And while it may be tempting to say “it’s because they’re vampires, Bella’s admiring them like she would a work of art!”, Bella never dwells on Esme, Jasper, or Emmett in this way. Jasper and Emmett especially are not admired beyond the introduction of their characters. We never hear about what any of them smell like, nor does Bella remark upon their beauty after waking up a vampire. Carlisle and Edward, by comparison, are men she keeps noticing. Bella finds Carlisle blindingly beautiful when she first sees him as a vampire, and there’s this from New Moon: Though it erased the sting, it reminded me of the gash, and I watched Carlisle's face carefully to distract me from what his hands were doing. His hair gleamed gold in the bright light as he bent over my arm. (New Moon, page 18) There’s thinking someone is pretty, and then there’s gazing lovingly upon their face instead of pain killers. Bella is bisexual.

Carlisle moved in with a very gay man, had a close relationship with him, lived with him for the sake of his company for decades, and only left because of dietary differences. We don’t know for sure whether they actually had an affair or not, but the fact remains that of all the Cullens, Carlisle is the one who is implied to have had a homosexual relationship in canon. He loses his straight card based on that alone. Also gonna link this clip, because I’m Mac listening to Edward talk about how young Carlisle lived with this sexy Mycenaean Greek for a few decades when he was young. Aro is all the santas. Carlisle is bisexual.

Edward... oh boy. His brain is supposedly seventeen, and yet this very interesting thing happens in his relationship with Bella where he never notices her body. Not ever. By body I mean curves. Edward notices Bella’s skin, her frailty, her humanity. He praises her blushes, her doe-like eyes, her warmth, her softness, her swan-like neck, her delicious scent. The feminine aesthetic. He does not once notice her tits. The only tits he is on record noticing belong to Siobhan, and it’s because she has an impossible to ignore rack: She was profoundly female in shape—aggressively, forcefully female. (Midnight Sun, chapter Probability) It’s one thing for him to be old-fashioned and too quintessentially Edward to even think the word “boob”, but in 700+ pages of Midnight Sun there’s just this absence of this seventeen-year-old noticing her curves. More damningly, when seeing Alice’s vision of vampire!Bella, Edward is horrified at the sight of his love cold and hard. He doesn’t describe vampire!Bella by any of the positives, like “flawless”. Edward is attracted to the human, not the woman. What that means for his sexuality... well, I’m going to go ahead and point out that he is very weird about Carlisle, and it’s damning that the personality he projects onto Bella is so similar to Carlisle. I hesitate to apply a label here, but in my own, personal, headcanon we’re veering towards homosexual. Deeeeeeply closeted homosexual.

Emmett is straight. Straightest guy ever to straight.

Esme is pretty clearly taken with Carlisle. Though if she were to feel attracted towards another woman, I imagine she’d have no idea what to make of that, if she even recognized it for what it was. She’s from a very different time and still living in that time, and she continues to be very sheltered. Still, as per my personal headcanon, I see her as straight.

Jasper, who knows. Though if he’s into guys, he has probably gone for it in the past. I suppose I should write a meta on vampires and sexual norms in general, but in short I don’t think they all live monogamously like the Cullens. STDs and pregnancies are unheard of, as is social ostracizing. Vampires are hedonistic, Twilight vampires more so than any other. Which in turn means I don’t think Maria and Jasper were monogamous. A couple, sure, but I don’t think Maria would say “oh noes, I can’t, I’m with Jasper!” if someone she was attracted to made an overture, and same goes for Jasper. So, if Jasper was into guys, then sure. I can see Jasper/Peter happening, or even Charlotte/Jasper/Peter. Jasper is certainly into women, with the possibility of guys as well. And if so, then it’s probably happened.

Rosalie I’m shocked is with a guy in the first place, everything about her screams lesbian. However, she’s clearly into Emmett, so apparently she’s bisexual.

(I’m not including Renesmée in this, since she’s three months old by the time the series conclude.)

This all being said, several of these people are from very different times and wouldn’t have the same concepts of sexuality internalized as we do, so how they’d identify is a very different matter.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 8

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,175ish

Summary: Your roommates are annoyed and Gamora is determined to make you jump through hoops.

Notes: This is based off of Grey’s Anatomy 1x07. I do not own Marvel or Grey’s Anatomy.

When your alarm went off, you were naked in your bed. With a naked Steve beside you. A small groan passing between his lips, Steve reached around you to turn off the alarm clock and then cuddled into you.

“Hmmm,” you hummed, enjoying his arms around you way too much. “You have to get up now.”

“What?” Steve mumbled, half asleep. “What time is it?”

You smirked, rolling on top of him. “It’s 5:20, and I have pre-rounds. And you,” you booped his nose, “have to leave before they see you.”

You gave him a small kiss before rolling off of him.

“Oh, come on, now,” Steve grumbled. “Why don’t you just let them see?” He quickly rolled on top of you, pinning you down.

“No!”

“Please!”

“No! No!”

He began placing kisses all over you. Saying, ‘please’, between eat kiss.

“Steve!” You squealed. “St-stoppp!

~~~

“You two get any sleep?” Scott asked, walking into the kitchen where Val and Clint were eating.

“Oh, she could oil the bedsprings as a courtesy or at least buy a padded headboard,” Val complained.

“So, uh, who’s the guy?” Clint asked.

“You think it was just one guy doing all that work?”

“Yeah, do you mind if I don’t think about that?”

“Oh, you jealous, Barton?” Scott teased.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Well, I am,” Val responded. “But at least I know she’ll be having a long day at work.”

They all froze when they heard a floor board near the top of the stairs squeak. The three of them rushed over to the doorway, wanting to see who was coming down the stairs. Steve snuck down the stairs and out the door, seen by Val, Clint, and Scott.

“Well, at least we know that brain surgery isn’t his only skill,” Val commented, going to get more coffee.

“They—they can’t be…” Clint stared at the front door in shock. “He’s… he’s our boss.”

“Yep,” Scott replied, glancing at his watch. “We’re late. You know, she has been scrubbing in a lot lately on his surgeries.”

“No, Y/N wouldn’t sleep with him just to… no.”

“Well, if she’s not ashamed of it, why is she keeping it a secret?” Val wondered.

“Maybe she didn’t. Maybe it just happened. You know, spontaneously, last night.”

“Good morning,” you greeted, entering the kitchen.

“Morning,” Val and Scott responded.

“So…” Val started, “it sounded like you were having some pretty radical sex last night, all night long. Who was the guy?”

“No one you know,” you lied with a shrug.

Clint, Scott, and Val all gave each other a look.

“We’re late,” Scott said. “Let’s go.”

~~~

“I’m gonna beed a major rush to make it through this day,” Clint said in the locker room. “I need a kick-ass surgery.”

“Ooh, you a bad boy last night, Clint?” Peter taunted.

“No,” Val answered for him. “That would be Y/N.”

“You a bad boy, Y/N?”

“Do tell,” Natasha urged.

“Nothing to tell,” you shrugged.

“That says it all, huh?”

Val slammed her locker door shut, annoyed at your lies.

“Sorry, I have a sex life,” you apologized.

“Don’t apologize,” Peter said. “Embrace it. Share it. Count me in.”

“Yeah, next time, just let me know if I need to go to a hotel so I can get some sleep,” Val said.

“Am I missing something?” You asked.

“You were just a little loud,” Scott replied.

Everyone left except you and Natasha.

“Do they know it’s Captain McDreamy keeping them up all night?” Natasha asked.

“I hope not,” you answered. “I already have Gamora riding me, I don’t need my roommates thinking I’m getting special treatment.”

~~~

You yawned as you and Natasha met up with the other interns and Dr. Gamora. You just hoped that you didn’t look as tired as you felt.

“Barton, Romanoff, Lang, Quill, go on to the clinic,” Gamora ordered. She looked up, catching Clint watch Steve through a window. Steve was putting in eye drops. “Barton, patients are waiting.” Clint scurried off. “You two,” Gamora motioned to you and Val, “come with me. Val, you’re hanging with me today.” Steve walked over. “Good morning, Dr. Rogers.”

“Dr. Gamora,” he replied as you yawned. “Late night, L/N?”

“No,” you responded, “caffeine just hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“If you’re at all religious, you would want to start praying it kicks in soon,” Gamora retorted. “There’s a consult in the pit. Girl with a fever and abdominal pain. After that, Lee in 3311 needs his meds. Mr. Jackson’s IV fell out, and he’s a hard stick. Post-ops in 1337, 3342, 3363, and 2381.”

You had nodded along, trying to get your tired brain to understand what she was saying. “3381, 3342, 3363,” you repeated, “and 23… 81?” 

Gamora simply glared at you instead of answering what you needed. “Why are you still standing in front of me?”

You quickly hurried down to the pit, not wanting to get on Gamora’s bad side anymore than you already were. You started your consultation with an eighteen year old girl named Jessie Todd. Her mother and father were both accompanying her. Jessie seemed nervous, biting her nails.

“I think she got some bug on her trip to Mexico with her friends,” Mrs. Todd said. “I told her not to go to a third-world country, but does she ever listen?”

“She’s been weak ever since and she’s lost weight,” Mr. Todd worried.

“Barely,” Jessie mumbled.

“And this morning, she passed out in the shower.”

“When was the trip?” You asked.

“A couple weeks ago,” Jessie answered. “I’m really fine. I just have a fever.”

“Okay, well, will you lie back for an exam for me?”

“No, please, I don’t need an exam. Just give me some antibiotics and send me home.”

“Well, maybe it is just a fever, but they called down for a surgeon, so I have to give the ok to let you go. So just let me do the exam.”

“Do the exam,” Mr. Todd urged.

“No. This is crazy. I’m fine.”

“For God's sake, Jessie, I don't want to spend my entire day here,” Mrs. Todd exclaimed.

“You know, actually, Mrs. Todd, this might be easier if we had some privacy,” you told the parents, sensing that Jessie was worried about their reactions to whatever was going on. “So would you two mind leaving the room?”

“That’s fine,” Mr. Todd said, guiding his wife away.

Jessie lied down and you began to push at her stomach.

“Ow,” Jessie complained. “Don’t push so hard.”

“Can you lift your shirt so I can examine your stomach?” You requested. With a sigh, Jessie slowly lifted her shift, revealing pink scars. “Where did you get these? Jessie… you've had surgery recently. These scars are still pink.”

“Don’t tell my parents.”

“You did this in Mexico so your parents wouldn't know? What did you have done?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Jessie—“

“I can’t!”

With a sigh, you walked away, ordering a CT for Jessie before heading to help the other patients that Gamora had for you.

~~~

You at just finished Gamora’s last job for you when she paged. You were quickly to go find her.

“You paged?” You questioned, finding her near a nurses station.

“Where are we?” She asked.

“I did the consult, did the IV, the meds, the Post-ops, everything.”

“How is your pit patient?”

“She’s febrile and has peritoneal signs.”

Both you and Gamora’s attentions go to Natasha, who is walking by looking ill.

“You alright, Romanoff?” Gamora wondered, not caring all that much.

“Fine,” Natasha responded, waving it off as she kept going. “On my way back to the clinic.”

“Anyway, about the pit patient.”

“I think she had some sort of illegal surgery done in Mexico,” you stated.

“Botched abortion?”

“No. She has four laparoscopic scars on her abdomen and won't say what they're from, the parents are clueless.”

“She’s a minor.”

“Seventeen. Freshman in college.”

“You order up for a CT?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“So while she's there, the nurses couldn't get a Foley on Mr. Garay. He may need a Coude cath if you can't get a normal one in there. Write up post-op notes on all surgical-floor patients that had surgery within the last 24 hours. Be sure to document their EKG's and x-rays. Hunt them down if you can't find them.”

“Right away.”

~~~

You were exhausted by the time Jessie’s CT scans came back. Gamora was really working you to the bone. Of course, it didn’t help that you had spent most of the night up with Steve, having some of the most enjoyable sex you’ve ever had. But that wasn’t the point. Scans in hand, you found Gamora at the nurses station near the lobby.

“Dr. Gamora?” You walked up to her. “Jessie Todd’s abdominal CTs.” You handed her the scans.

She took them, holding them up to study them. “Is this girl fat?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head. “She’s a normal college kid.”

“So,” she handed the scans back to you, “what do you see?”

You took them back and studied them yourself. “Her stomach’s stapled. She’s had a gastric bypass.”

“And a bad one at, at that.”

Jessie Todd was moved into a patient room. So you and Gamora requested to speak to her parents outside of the hallway. You were tasked to explain to them what at happened.

“Gastric bypass is a procedure normally done on obese patients to help them lose weight,” you stated, after telling them what their daughter had done.

“Jessie?” Mr. Todd questioned. “She doesn’t need to lose weight.”

“Are you kidding?” Mrs. Todd responded. “This means the world to her. But it is so typical of this girl to take the easy way out. She's done it with everything since she was a little kid.”

“Mrs, Todd, nothing about this is gonna be easy,” Gamora said. “She's gonna face a lifelong struggle with malnutrition unless she has surgery to reverse the procedure.”

“Do the surgery,” Mrs. Todd ordered before turning to her husband. “I told her to watch the freshman 15. Don't eat junk, exercise. But when she came home Christmas, who had to take her out and buy her a brand new pair of size 6 jeans because she couldn't get in the ones I got her last summer?”

“Chrissy, you know, she tries so hard,” Mr. Todd retorted. “She does. She gets good grades. She gets A’s.”

“She had illegal surgery in Mexico.”

“Unfortunately, there were complications with the bypass,” Gamora stated.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Todd asked.

“She has what looks like an abscess under her diaphragm, and edema, which is a swelling of the bowel wall. I can't say for certain she'll recover completely.”

“Just do whatever you have to do to make her well, ok?”

“Of course, sir.”

Gamora walked away, and you stayed to check up on Jessie. It was then that Mrs. Todd entered Jessie’s room, angrily.

“Before you guys start,” Jessie quickly said, “I know you’re mad.”

“Disbelief, Jessie,” Mrs. Todd exclaimed. “Just disbelief.”

“I’m just concerned,” Mr. Todd added, much more calmly than his wife. “Where did you get the idea to do this?”

“The internet,” Jessie answered quietly.

“But, honey, there is a healthy way to lose weight,” Mrs. Todd said.

“Yeah, I tried that, but...it doesn't work for me like it does for you.”

“Hey,” Mr. Todd said, putting a hand on his daughter’s leg, “you don’t need to lose weight.”

“What are you eating?” Mrs. Todd quickly wondered. “And how much have you been working out? I mean, you know, most of the time, when people hit their target weight, they have to work to stay there.”

“Everyone gains weight in college, Mom,” Jessie responded. “It’s—it’s stressful. There’s... there's not enough time for exercise. I just thought if I wasn't worried about my diet, then… I could focus more on my studies.”

“So you took yet another shortcut? Life doesn’t work that way, Jessie.”

“Chrissy!” Mr. Todd exclaimed.

“What? You want to argue this?”

Huffing at his wife, Mr. Todd turned to you. “She has so much potential, if she would just apply herself—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, having heard enough. “I think we should focus on taking care of your daughter. And, Jessie, your parents agree, the best thing to do is to reverse the bypass.”

“No!” Jessie shouted. “No, it's my body. I do not want surgery again. Please?”

“There were serious complications. And this is about your health.”

“But I’d rather be thin.”

“Well, I’m afraid the choice isn’t up to you,” Mrs. Todd responded.

~~~

With a sigh, you found yourself pushed up against the wall in the stairwell. You were tired and so over Mrs. Todd.

“Long day?” Tony’s voice came closer.

You opened your eyes to see him walking up the stairs. “You could say that,” you responded. “How’s trying to get a date with Dr. Potts going?”

“Not so well,” he sighed, coming to leaning against the wall beside you. “I’ve been bringing her coffee or tea every morning though. I’m trying.”

“You really screwed up,” you giggled.

“You’re telling me. How are you and Steve?”

“We’re… fine.”

“He told me you were up all last night.”

“What?!”

“Okay, he didn’t tell me. But I can see how tired both of you are. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“It’s that obvious? Tony, are you serious? This could totally ruin—“

“Woah, woah, woah. Calm down there, Y/N. I’m just playing with you. Gosh, you need to take a chill pill or something.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just… I know we shouldn’t be doing what we are doing.”

“But you enjoy it too much to stop. I get it… I just wish I was getting some too.”

~~~

Natasha was standing in the hall looking nauseous.

“Romanoff!” Clint called, excitedly hurrying up to her. “I’m scrubbing in on a hemispherectomy with Rogers.”

“Get out!” She responded. “I would kill for that.”

“We're gonna cut out half a girl's brain and it's going to work. It's outrageous. Almost makes it hard to hate him.”

“Why do you hate him?”

“Oh, no reason.”

“You know about him and Y/N, don’t you?”

“You know?”

“When are you gonna figure out that I know everything?”

Noticing Val walking up from behind, Clint pointed at Natasha. “She knows.”

“What?” Val questioned. “About Y/N and the Captain?”

“It’s been going on for, like ever,” Natasha commented.

“Seriously?”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Clint wondered.

“Ooh, you’re a gossip, huh?” Natasha responded.

“I am not!”

“I am,” Val said.

“He’s about to go into major brain surgery on no sleep? Not very responsible.”

“Jealous much?” Natasha chuckled. “Sex all night isn't about being responsible.”

“No,” Val agreed, “it’s about sex all night. I can't believe you're not more pissed off about this, you of all people.”

“Well, Y/N works hard all day. She’s good at her job. Why should you care how she unwinds? I mean, you like to bake all night. Some people like to drink. Others like an occasional screaming orgasm.”

~~~

Gamora and you were carefully operating on Jessie in the OR. Gamora was letting you help with more than you thought she would.

“Handle with care,” Gamora advised as she handed you Jessie’s bowel. “This things—“

“Full of gunk,” you responded. “I know.”

“We need to free the bowel from the adhesions caused from the abscess. This poor girl. What was she thinking?”

“She wants her mother's approval. She wanted to please her.”

“And this damage is the result? Here, resect that.”

“Needle-tip Bovie, please,” you requested, handing the bowel back to Gamora.

“When you’re done here, you have post-ops waiting.”

“I know, Dr. Gamora.”

“Natasha also has the flu. So, you need to pick up the slack in the clinic as well.”

“Look, I’ll mop the floors, okay?” That earned you a glare from Gamora. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“It's not the only thing that's inappropriate. While we're on the subject, you care to tell me what you think you're doing?”

“Look, I'll jump through hoops if you want me to. But what I do what I leave this hospital is my business.”

“Half this hospital knows your business. Flu isn't the only virus spreading around here.”

“I made a choice, and I know you don't respect me for that choice. But I'll live with the consequences.”

“Then I'll have lots of hoops for you to jump through.”

“I've done everything you've asked me to do. I may not do it your way but it gets done. So whatever else you got, bring it on.” 

Suddenly, Jessie’s bowel burst. Spraying you with toxic waste. You could hear the people watching in the gallery go, ‘ew’.

“Okay, Dr. L/N, now that you’ve drained the organ, we can attempt to repair it,” Gamora said.

“Now my day is perfect,” you muttered.

The nurses tried to clean you up the best they could as you operated. Though they seemed to only make it worse. After the surgery, you and Gamora headed out into the hallway together.

“I need a shower,” you commented.

“No, I need a shower,” Gamora retorted. “You need to go tell that girl's parents what kind of kid they're getting back.”

“You're not gonna let me shower first?”

“That would be a hoop, would it not?”

“It would qualify.”

“Shower first, then.”

You rushed to the locker room. Val and Natasha were already there.

“Ew, what smells?” Val asked as you passed her.

“That would be me,” you answered, "or more specifically, my patient's insides all over me.”

“That makes me strangely happy.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Natasha grimaced, “you smell like—“

“Karma.”

“What?” You asked Val.

“Nothing.”

“Something vile is stuck in your hair,” Natasha told you, pointing to your hairline. “You know, just go stand over there, please.” She shooed you to the other side of the aisle.

“Ugh, how much do I love being a surgeon right now?” You mumbled.

“Karma,” Val laughed.

“What does karma have to do with anything?”

“I'm just saying, you've been given all the best surgeries. And now you smell like putrid goo. And you're giving off a stench. Karma's a bitch.”

Gamora walked into the locker room. “Dr. Rogers needs an intern in surgery,” she stated. “Which one of you is clear?”

“I’m good!” Natasha raised her hand. She was still looking pale. “Where do you want me?”

“You need to lie down somewhere.”

“I’m fine, I’m completely healthy.”

“L/N?” 

“Of course,” Val grumbled.

“What is your problem?” You asked Val, annoyed.

“Um, you! Cause apparently you can help Captain McDreamy in ways the rest of us can’t.”

“You did not just say th—“

“Yes, I did!”

“Hey!” Gamora called out. “Natasha, hemispherectomy in OR 1 with Dr. Shepherd. Go.”

Natasha nodded and hurried away. Val marched off as well.

“Apparently, I’m not the only one with hoops,” Gamora smirked.

~~~

After showering, you found Mrs. and Mr. Todd in the lobby. As you walked, you explained to them what had gone on in surgery.

“We were able to reverse the gastric bypass, but we did lose a significant portion of her bowel,” you told them. “And because of the short gut syndrome, Jessie will never eat normally again.”

“Ok, wait, do…” Mr. Todd tried to put his thoughts together. “How do we help her here?”

“Well, getting proper nutrition will be a lifelong problem for Jessie.”

“Great,” Mrs. Todd murmured, annoyed, “as if we already don't have our hands full with her.”

“She gets good grades. She stays out of trouble. She's smart. I just think she feels like nothing she does is good enough for you.”

“If you somehow think that I'm responsible for this…”

“I think Jessie is killing herself to please you.”

“Oh, please. You have no idea what's going on in that girl's mind.”

“You're her mother. She worships the ground you walk on. She didn't do this for herself.”

“I think that this situation is completely—“

“Chrissy, shut up,” Mr. Todd interrupted.

Both you and Mrs. Todd looked shocked as Mr. Todd walked faster to Jessie’s room.

~~~

Clint had had an interesting day, to say the least. He had discovered that the anesthesiologist in Steve’s surgery was drunk. Bringing up to Dr. Rogers, both the anesthesiologist and Dr. Rogers got mad, throwing him out of the surgery. Which is why he needed another intern.

Durning the surgery, Natasha and Dr. Rogers quickly realized that Clint had been right. Allowing Natasha and another doctor to close, Steve requested Clint to met him outside of the OR.

“Let me explain,” Steve began.

“It’s fine,” Clint responded.

“No, there is a code among doctors. We're not supposed to ask each other questions, not within the walls of this hospital.”

“Okay, so, I was out of line.”

“No, you weren't. I was. I was out of line. Somebody should have taken responsibility. It should have been the guy doing the cutting. It should have been me. You didn't deserve what happened to you today. You did the right thing code or no code.” Steve held out his hand for Clint to shake. Hesitantly, Clint shook it. “You saw me leave the house this morning, didn’t you?”

Clint pulled his hand away. “Oh, was that you?”

“Hmm. I’m not using her. And I don’t favor her.”

“She’s pretty great, you know.”

“Mm-hmm. I know.”

~~~

You went to Jessie, getting her into a wheel chair so that you can walk her around while talking to her alone. You had made a phone call, and you needed to tell her about it.

“Did you fix me?” Jessie asked, after the two of you walked in silence for awhile. 

“No, not completely,” you responded.

“So, I won’t get fat?”

“No.”

“Oh. That’s awesome.”

“Jessie, I’ve asked social services to contact your parents.”

“What? Why?”

“They can help you.”

“With what?”

“You don't know this yet, but life isn't supposed to be like this. It's not supposed to be this hard. And your mom… she isn’t suppose to treat you this way.”

~~~

You were so extremely grateful when you were finally allowed to go home. It was late, so you were expecting your roommates to be asleep. When you entered the kitchen, you found Val frosting a cake.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” you commented, searching for food.

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Val retorted. “If you wait a few minutes, you can have a piece of cake. Baked it chock-full of love. Actually, chock-full of unrelenting, all consuming rage and hostility, but it's still tasty.”

“So you know?”

“I know.”

“Well, do you want the long, sordid version, or do you want the short version, where I started sleeping with a guy who turned out to be my boss?”

“Neither.”

“Val, cut me some slack here.”

“No. You went to Dartmouth. Your parents— don’t get me started on that. I know you’re trying to hide who your parents are. But I know. You grew up— look at this house! You know, you walk into the OR, and there isn’t anyone who doubts that yo should be there. I… I grew up in a trailer park. I went to state school. I put myself through med school by posing in my underwear. You know, I walk into the OR, and everyone hopes I'm the nurse. Y-you have their respect without even trying, and you're throwing it away for...what? A few good surgeries?”

“No. It's not about the surgeries. It's not about getting ahead.”

“Then what? A little hot sex? You're willing to ruin your credibility over that? I mean, Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” You huffed, shaking your head. “Oh, my… you’re falling for him.”

“I am not.”

“Oh, you so are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You so are. Damn it, you poor girl.”

“You know, it's just that he's just so… And I'm just… I'm having a hard time.”

"Wow, you're all, uh, mushy and… warm and full of secret feelings.” Val handed you a piece of cake.

“I hate you!” You snatched the cake from her. “And your cake.”

“My cake is good. So, um, how hot is the sex?”

“Val.”

“What? Come on, my girlfriend broke up with me, I’m not getting any. Help a girl out with a few details.”

~~~

Steve showed up at your door an hour later, exhausted as well. You two headed up to your bedroom. You were both on either side of the bed, pulling back the covers.

“You know,” Steve slurred, “we could just…”

“Sleep?” You finished.

“We could, yeah, if… if you want to.”

“Yeah?”

You both crawled into bed. You turned off the lamp beside you before cuddling into Steve’s side. He reached over and turned off the lamp at his side.

“I could get used to this,” you whispered, falling asleep.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[aprilsrant]

Lay all your love on me | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s been crushing on the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain for over three years. Now, in their seventh and last year of Hogwarts, her friends are determined to get them together.

WORD COUNT: 2,833.

WARNINGS: underage drinking. (If there are more and I didn’t put them, let me know).

NEXT PARTS:

Honey Honey! (part two)

When I kissed the teacher (part three).

A/N: so, this came out because of a random idea and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. For some reason, I like to imagine wizards dancing to ABBA, of course it’s the muggleborns and maybe halfbloods that know about them. This was written while I listened to Lay all your love on me, slowed down, on repeat. I algo gave the reader’s friends name because it was easier, and I may or mat not based their personality on my own close friends…

English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I’m sorry! Reblog if you can, and if you have any suggestions or requests just DM!

Masterlist.

tags: @peeves-a-legend​ (thank you for everything).

The Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff Quidditch match had ended with a win for the eagle’s house, although the other team did not make it easy for them. The Hufflepuffs were known for their patience and hard working nature, giving up easily was not one of their traits and that’s exactly what everyone had seen on the match this afternoon. They knew their opponent’s Seeker, Cho Chang was getting better with each game  she played, so the Captain of the Hufflepuff Team decided their best chance was, if he wasn’t fast enough to catch the snitch that is, to lash out against the poor Keeper. 

And so they did. 

The Chasers, Preece, Macavoy and Applebee, were unstoppable. On the occasion the Quaffle landed in their hands, which had been like seventy percent of the time, they would use many different strategies to confuse the other players, including the Keeper, and score a goal.

Even after their brilliant performance, Ravenclaw still won by twenty points ahead when Cho Chang caught the snitch. A small distraction from the Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain had cost them the victory, but that didn’t discourage the badgers, hell, (Y/N) thought nothing could after how well they had played. She had never felt so much respect for the usually overlooked House. 

That was pretty much the reason why the Ravenclaws were so eager to celebrate their win and had invited the whole school, or at least everyone up to the age of fifteen, to their Common Room. Many people believed they weren’t capable of throwing a good party since they were supposed to be smart and have their head on a book every minute, but (Y/N) never doubted them. One of her best friends was a Ravenclaw and that girl sure knew how to have fun, school and good grades being the last thing on her mind whenever she got sight of the Firewhisky. 

If you had asked for (Y/N)’s opinion, she would tell you Ravenclaws were the seconds best at Hogwarts on the matter of hosting parties, Slytherins right up to them. Albeit that may have been biased, she herself was a Slytherin and, thinking about it, she never went to any Gryffindor parties because, well, no one except her other friend wanted a Slytherin there. Many of them thought they were some kind of saints just because they were brave and didn’t realise they were, instead, a bunch of reckless and prejudiced twats. The remaining house, Hufflepuff, took parties to a whole other level and sometimes it became all a little too much. She wasn’t much of a party person but she still enjoyed them from time to time, but they went insane any time alcohol was in the room and started to come up with crazy ideas that would, with no doubt, get them expelled. 

After waiting ten minutes for a member of the house to step out and answer the riddle for her, which (Y/N) knew you didn’t need to be part of the house to reply but even as a Slytherin and having, supposedly, a cunning and intelligent mind she sucked at those kind of questions; she, and twenty others,  finally entered the Ravenclaw Common Room, which was completely renovated since the last time she had visited it.

The circular and wide room was filled with students from all the four houses making it seem smaller than it actually was. The moon shone, filtering through the arched windows, barely illuminated but some flickering and colour changing lights on the ceiling made it work. The furniture was against the wall on the left side so people could dance freely in the middle, while the tables on the right bursted with food and bottles of alcohol. A muggle radio had been placed on one of the large table’s corner and to (Y/N)’s delight, it wasn’t playing any songs by the Weird Sisters. She loathed that band since last year when some students, presumably Gryffindors, enchanted the speakers on the hallways to repeatedly play one of the group’s songs. 

The girl started to move towards the left side of the room, avoiding the crowd growing larger and larger. Trying to catch some familiar faces, she stood on her tiptoes and observed the room, but the lack of light and her problem with seeing things from afar, made her search harder. A couple of minutes had passed when she recognized the trio she was friends with. They were waving and screaming her name, trying to catch her attention, right beside the door that led to the dormitories.  

(Y/N) grinned at them while walking in their direction. Once she settled on Isla’s side, her best friend since childhood, some of her nerves were washed away a little. It was easier for her to be in a place packed with people if she had her close friends as company. Dorian, the last one to join the group in their fifth year, offered her a black cup with, judging by the smell, Quintin Black, her favourite. The corners of her mouth quirking up as a way of saying thanks without having to shout at him to make herself be heard through the loud music.

The Multicolour Quartet — name they all despised but stood with it because it was one of Dorian’s drunk comments when he realised how they were all from different houses; (Y/N) was the Slytherin, he was the Gryffindor, and the other two, Isla and Ethan, were both Ravenclaws — easily fell in a conversation about Isla’s brilliant performance as Chaser for her House’s Team, the other three complimenting her whenever she started to list all the errors that almost allowed the Hufflepuffs to win.

Spacing out of her friend’s chat, (Y/N)’s eyes peer round the room looking, nearly in a desperate way, for someone in particular. Answering the comments the other three made with a simple nod of her head or a yes to seem like she was paying attention, her eyes fixated in a figure directly across from them, supporting it’s body’s weight on a wall. He was surrounded by some of his classmates and friends from the same house, but she could still see, albeit with great trouble, his short brown hair and his right hand holding a black cup, equal to the one she had. 

She failed to realise that her friends had noticed where her attention travelled to. Sharing knowing glances and smirks they knew it was time for (Y/N) to talk to the boy she’d been crushing on for three years now. Isla and Ethan left saying some people were starting to cause trouble, not that (Y/N) had actually listened to them, too lost in attempting to catch another glimpse of the boy. That ended on Dorian, the most chaotic of the four, finding the way to make them, at least, share two or three words.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her left arm dragging her along the room and pushing people on the way. That belonged to Dorian and it didn’t take long for her to understand what he was doing, his mischievous smile betraying him. Her eyes widened and she shook her head while planting her feet on the floor, putting all her strength on them so he wouldn’t move her. She didn’t succeed. Obviously because of his friend’s stronger hands. 

A chant of pleas and several no exited from her mouth, but it was useless. If something got inside Dorian’s head, then nothing could stop him from doing it. A trait they both shared and the cause of a few of their arguments, neither of them knew when to back the hell down. Not even the promise of (Y/N) doing his Arithmancy homework for two weeks made him stop on his tracks. Dorian had really compromised to the cause because she knew how much he detested that subject, only taking it to please his father. 

Before she could raise the offer to a month, they were already in front of him and the group he was chatting with. 

Oliver Wood smiled at the two friends, recognizing only one of them but still being kind and inviting towards her, whose heart was about to jump out of her chest from how fast it was beating. 

“Hey, Wood, how’re you doing?,” Dorian greeted him first and then nodded at the others as if he was saying hi, “preparing for the Quidditch match next week?”

(Y/N) stood awkwardly by Dorian’s side, looking and smiling shyly at people she had never interacted with. She was going to cut this boy’s head of the minute everyone left.

“Yeah, the Hufflepuffs played like hell today.” She heard Oliver say. His words tumbling with each other. Was he already starting to get drunk? “I think I’ll need to book more practices if we want to win next week”.

Luckily, or not, Dorian noticed he hadn’t introduced his friend to the group yet. And even if she didn’t like to just stand there like a rigid stick, she hated the new attention.

“This is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), by the way,” he announced while placing his right hand on the upper side of her back and pushing her body to the front. And the shy smile made an appearance on her face once more. 

She whispered a small hello, looking at everyone but Oliver, and instantly felt the need to jump off the Astronomy Tower, not long after making Dorian the next designated Gryffindor Ghost. 

“What house are you in? I’ve never seen you before,” questioned one of the boys next to Oliver with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a lost look on his eyes, as if he was trying to place her and remember the colours of the tie she used daily.

“She’s not a Gryffindor, maybe that’s why you haven’t seen her much,” Dorian answered before she had the chance to, “she’s actually a Slytherin.” A new expression on his face now, intimidating the others to see if they dared to express some kind of negative or stupid comment to his friend about the house she belonged to. No one said anything. She saw Dorian smiling proudly from the corner of her eye, but in that moment (Y/N) had the weird sensation she was some kind of prey to starving lions.

The group began to talk to each again, like nothing happened, all except Oliver, who was looking at her with his eyebrows raised and an intriguing sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

Dorian spoked once more.

Does he ever shut up?

“Remember the other day you said you were falling behind in Potions and Transfiguration?” Oliver nodded at him, signalising her friend to keep talking. “Well, I have the perfect person to help you with that. (Y/N) tutors me from time to time in those subjects too.”

Forget the Astronomy Tower, she desperately needed some kind of magical earthquake that could crack the floor beneath her feet and swallow her whole.

It’s not like Dorian was lying, she had helped him, and still did sometimes, to study for an important test, not only in Potions and Transfiguration, but also in the rest of the subjects they shared. Merlin knew that boy was a disaster when talking about paying attention to classes. But that didn’t mean she was good enough to tutor Oliver freaking Wood. (Y/N) could treat Dorian how she wanted if he wasn’t trying to, at least, know what she was talking about, they were friends and most of their time together was spent hitting each other, but how was she supposed to act around the precious Gryffindor Quidditch Captain?

“Great!,” Oliver exclaimed quickly. A sudden blush crept all the way from below his turtle neck to his cheeks, but she couldn’t identify if it happened because of the alcohol or embarrassment from sounding “too enthusiastic”. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I was about to start looking for one. McGonagall said that if I don’t get my grades up to an Exceeds Expectations, I won’t be able to play the rest of the matches.”

“That sucks, but you’d found one already so you two can start immediately with the tutoring sessions”, Dorian commented slily while looking at her with the smile of a champion adorning his face.

He was trying exceptionally hard, she had to give him that.

In a swift movement, she drank the whole content of her cup to see if the knot that had formed on her stomach would go away. The blonde girl, perhaps a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, beside (Y/N) noticed her drink was missing and offered her to reach out for one of the bottles of the table across. The Slytherin nodded and asked for the bottle of Quintin Black if there was still one.

“So you like Scottish things?” Oliver observed, with his eyes lighted up and his bottom lip stuck beneath his teeth, when he saw her grab the bottle of alcohol filled to the middle with onyx liquid. 

“She sure does.” She heard Dorian mumble, he had tried to hide the smirk burying his face on his cup but (Y/N) took notice of that too. After giving him a pointed look, she turned her head towards Oliver, who, hopefully, hadn’t heard her friend’s remark; if he had, he was good at concealing it.

Her response was interrupted by the starting melody of “Lay all your love on me”, one of her favourite songs, and a voice that could only belong to her best friend, screaming her name. Out of nowhere, Isla took her hand, said something to Oliver and Dorian about returning her to them later, and yanked (Y/N) to the direction of the made up dance floor, making her almost drop the cup she was holding.

It was an unspoken rule between them, whenever one of their favourite songs was on the radio, they would stop what they were doing, important or not, and start to dance and sing, without caring about other people’s opinion. It was something like a ritual that had become a safe space and a signature of their friendship for both of the girls.

A few seconds through the song had played when Celine stopped dancing and approached her friend, whispering something in her ear.

“Okay, don’t look and don’t freak out, but Oliver hot stuff Wood is staring at you.”

“What? What do I do?” 

“Just keep dancing, I guess, maybe he likes it.”

“I don’t know how to dance, why would he like it?” 

Confusion and panic in her eyes, (Y/N) tried to think about all the logical reasons Oliver Wood, one of the most attractive guys in the school, could be watching her dance. The girl knew she wasn’t beautiful, even if her best friend repeatedly said so, she wasn’t funny or interesting and, on top of all, she belonged in Slytherin, the House with the worst reputation. 

“No idea, but whatever it is, keep doing it.” 

Her best friend winked at her, a large and contagious smile spreading over her face. Grabbing one of (Y/N)’s hands, she made her twirl around following the fast beat of the song. Seizing the opportunity, (Y/N) glanced at Oliver and discovered that he was, indeed, staring at her while he drank from his black cup.

A random and unexpected laugh flew out of her mouth. Her best friend, carefree as always, began to giggle with her while dancing around the room. She had never felt more alive, and some people would think she was ridiculous for actually thinking it, but singing her favourite song at the top of her lungs, dancing and laughing and just having fun with her best friend. Excitement running through her veins uniting with the nerves Oliver’s attention towards her had provoked; a slight headache caused by the alcohol mixing with the new confidence coming from the same thing. 

Aware of the dark brown eyes focusing on her, she turned around once more, but this time she didn’t look away. She kept singing, beaming at him from the middle of the dance floor, and maintaining eye contact. A sudden thought appeared on her mind, if she’d had maybe one more full cup of Quintin Black, perhaps she would’ve been confident enough to ask him on a date. 

Don’t go wasting your emotions, lay all your love on me.

Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me.

(Y/N) didn’t think that he would take that as an invitation when she whispered the words while looking at him, it wasn’t even meant to be one, but Oliver Wood had left his cup on the table next to him and was now walking towards her.

A little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck. 

I still don’t know what you’ve done with me.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Somebody to Love | Steddie (4/?)

Chapter Four: Closure and Crushes

Word: 1505

A/N: Mostly platonic Steve and Nancy conversing. Steve accidentally comes out to her. Eddie is only mentioned in this chapter.

Summary: Eddie's part of the gang now and he's learning quickly what that means exactly. Meanwhile, Steve has finally come to terms of what he feels for a certain super senior and the gremlins that they both look after unwittingly gives the nudge that Steve needed to confront him.

[Somebody to Love Masterlist]

-

Life used to be so simple. Follow the crowd, be an asshole to feel better about yourself, get a sports scholarship, get into college, then graduate and follow in his father’s footsteps. Everything was about pleasing other people. Once he had set his sights on Nancy Wheeler, well, it messed with the status quo. She was considered a princess, a goody two-shoes, with perfect grades and perfect attendance. Totally not someone that the cool kids would want rolling with them.

While she tried to change herself to fit into his crowd, he found himself thinking of ways he could fit into her world. He was convinced that she was it for him. He went as far as imagining a future with her, a picture perfect large family filled with warmth and happiness and comfort. Thinking back on it now, he was forcing the image of Nancy in an idea that compensated for his stifling lonely and cold childhood, and that wasn’t fair to her. He was trying to fit into his version of what he imagined her world was and it was way off base.

Seeing Nancy finding her confident self, there was no way that she would be happy with that future. It was something that had stuck with him for a while and he just had to tell her. When he did, it felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, like he was finally leaving the past lingering feelings behind him. 

They finally sat down and talked when the dust settled and she was happy with how much he had grown. During one recent conversation, she expressed her hopes that he would be able to figure things out and find his own happiness. If he was still hung up on her, it would have left him feeling bitter, knowing that that happiness wouldn’t be her, but he was fine. His friends are his happiness right now and he told her as much. Besides, when he thought of his happiness, he also had someone else in mind.

“Remember, try not to deprive yourself of happiness just because you think you don’t deserve it,” she said as if reading his mind.

“That’s oddly specific,” Steve pointed out, narrowing his eyes at her.

She managed to look sheepish and smug at the same time. “It was something that Jonathan noticed for a while,” she admitted.

Steve rolled his eyes. “You know, I think those Byers have some kind of superpower. That, or we’re just raised by emotionally distant parents.”

“I think both.” She smiled. “It’s definitely easier and harder when he can read me so well. I just… feel so vulnerable yet so safe around him and he doesn’t take advantage of it. He… sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about all this.”

“You’re right. If you keep going, I think I’m going to start falling for him and steal him from you,” Steve said with a teasing smirk.

Nancy punched his arm lightly. “I’ve got a gun, Harrington. There’s no way you’re getting anywhere near him.”

He clutched his arm dramatically, like she broke it with a hard swing, making her giggle. It reminded him of how lighthearted things were between them. He felt like his age again and not someone that was forced to grow up too quickly.

“Like that’s going to deter me from my quest for love.” Oh, god, he was starting to talk like that shrimp, Dustin. He kept on going anyway. “ After that first punch that Jonathan gave me, I don’t know, it was doing something for me. Then, you with that gun and Eddie with that broken… bottle...” 

His eyes widened when his brain caught up to what his mouth had just admitted. Maybe she didn’t notice? Thank god her parents weren’t home yet. He didn’t know how he expected Nancy to react, but it wasn’t her knocking the wind out of his lungs as she hugged him with a wide smile. 

He hugged her back, breathing out a sigh of relief. She was okay with this, whatever it was. He didn’t have a definite label for himself and Robin assured him that he didn’t have to rush to figure it out. It was enough to know and be accepting of what he was feeling, that they were valid.

She pulled away, her small hands still on his arms. “How long have you known?”

He shrugged. “I think it’s been a long time, but I didn’t know what it was back then. I didn’t know that it was okay and, yeah, I guess now that I’ve got friends who actually like me for me, I feel more comfortable about it. But, I really did love you back then. All of that was true! I mean, I still love you, but not in the same way.”

“I believe you,” Nancy assured him, then smirked, “So… Eddie, huh?”

Steve groaned. He rolled his head back before dropping his head with a sigh. She could see that even his ears were tinted red. He didn’t anticipate him discussing his apparent new crush on a certain metalhead with his ex. Robin knew about it before he did and she was going to scream “Finally!” once he tells her. Calling it a crush made it feel more real and it made him giddy. 

He made a show of checking his watch before backing up to his car.  “Oh, look at the time. I gotta go and, um, pick up the children.”

“Mike’s literally in the car waiting for you with Dustin to drive them to Lucas’s,” she said as she crossed her arms. Curse her and her sharp attention to details.

“Yes, I have to do that. You know how cranky they can get. Bye! See you saturday!”

Nancy shook her head fondly at him as he fled to the car. Steve ignored Mike’s complaints as he started up the car, reversing quickly out of the Wheelers’ driveway. Once they were on the road, he drowned Mike’s voice out by turning on his radio. 

The heavy guitar riffs flooding out of his speakers made the younger boy shut up and the two kids exchanged a look. Since when did Steve Harrington listen to heavy metal? Well, since Eddie Munson gave him a couple of tapes to “improve his taste of music” on the same day as the party. They weren’t bad and the tapes that he gave Steve all reminded him of Eddie.

Dustin cleared his throat after they finished their quick stop for snacks at the store. “So, Steven -”

“Never call me that, Dusty bun.”

“Steve,” he quickly corrected himself, “Have you spoken to Eddie about using your place for DnD?”

Steve shrugged. “I thought you guys did that. I know some of the guys in the club detest me because of my douchebag era.”

Dustin waved that off. “Jeff and Frank are moving away once they graduate. Their parents weren’t so happy about them hanging out with Eddie because of that whole witch hunt against the Hellfire Club thing and they’ve been trying to sneak in band practice, but even that was pushing it. Gareth is a little more chill about it, but he’s going to wait it out until his parents cool down.”

“Eddie thinks it’s weird that you’re offering to host our campaign in your mansion,” Mike said bluntly.

“I think you should speak to him yourself about it. He’s been focused so much on graduating that we haven’t been able to talk to him or have a proper DnD session in ages. He doesn’t even spend time in the cafeteria anymore.”

“Yeah, he’s actually in the library or something with Robin or my sister.”

“Guys,” Steve said, pulling up to the Sinclair house, “We’ve got plenty of time to talk about it. Graduation is, like, two weeks away.”

“Talk to him now!”

Dustin sighed, speaking more calmly than Mike. “Can you at least check on him?”

“Okay, buddy.” He rubbed Dustin’s cap covered hair before bopping him. “Now scram!”

He waited until they scrambled into the house before he started pulling out of the driveway, heading straight for Eddie’s house. He hadn’t been to his place since the party, only seeing Eddie when he’d stop by Family Video or when he’s giving the kids a ride to and from school. Steve would nod and wave while Eddie forced a big smile on his face as he waved back. 

Steve couldn’t figure out why Eddie was acting weird like that all of a sudden and it left him wondering if he had done something back at the party to cause this distance. Or maybe it’s because now that he was closer to Nancy and Robin, there wasn’t anything else connecting them besides their mutual friends. Whatever it was, Steve would have to be the one to approach first. He’s only doing this for the boys, of course. Not that he missed Eddie or anything.

[thistle-and-thorn]

my goal-setting manifesto

So recently @woodswit wrote a super thought-provoking post about struggling with the benefits of loving feeling fit and struggling with external validation regarding fitness and so this is kind of my reference guide for myself about goal-setting and the way *I* need to remember to think about it.

I minored in a very specific form of organizational management in college and a huge part of that curriculum was goal-setting. We were encouraged to make one-year, five-year, ten-year career plans, we learned how to set SMART goals, how to identify what steps were right for you, etc. Well, babies, I did not need this curriculum because in high school we had done this exact same curriculum. SMART goals, college planning, etc. Bitch, I knew how to plan my life and, bitch, I had it planned. I was a very high-achieving and ambitious student—I went after awards, AP scores, good grades, letters of recommendation. The school system I attended was very typical of an American school in that those things were the primary indicators for success and the “quality” of our grades determined our classes (and subsequently our social groups) and myriad other things. I was a “good girl” and bought into and benefitted from this kind of structure immensely.

Well. I also have struggled with severe anxiety and periodic depressive episodes that significantly interrupt my daily life and ability to care appropriately for myself. These disorders reached a critical mass at the midpoint of my college career and, after two very bad semesters (one of which ended with me getting a tiny sexy scar from fainting into a doorway), I realized I needed to make significant changes to my priorities. More specifically, I needed to examine the method by which I was defining and collecting achievement and validation. So, after much therapy (I love u Claire), soul-searching, several glasses of a very good local hard cider, I decided to write out the way I goal-set now that enables me to actually breathe and not spiral into self-hatred.

Why Do We Need Goal-Setting?

I actually think that goal-setting is deeply important. If you are a dreamer, I would even say that goal-setting is essential. Personally, I’m a planner/dreamer and enjoy setting goals. It comforts me. Getting a little organized around amorphous ideas like “I want to be a novelist” or “I wish I could travel the world” allows those things to become attainable.

Process and Product

I would say that there are two ways of thinking about goals:

1. Product-Oriented: This is the type of thinking that was taught in my management classes and is exactly what it sounds like. If you do these steps, then you will get x-result. An example of a well-written product-oriented goal is, “By Tuesday, I need to complete three research reports.” (This is true, and I completed them today motherfuckers.) It’s concise, attainable, and happens within a set timeframe.

2. Process-Oriented: This type of thinking focuses on what you will learn or benefit from accomplishing an activity. When I was teaching preschool, an example of this would be taking the kids for a nature walk or free drawing, basically doing an activity where there is no expected result. There is nothing to achieve, there is no medal. The work and the discoveries you make doing the work is the reward. A process-oriented goal would be, “I want to learn about characterization from writing this story.”

In woodswit’s example, she talks about the benefits that cardio exercise has on her mental health, how much happier and confident she is when she is doing a certain variety of exercise regularly. She also talks about how she used to do intense sports.

In this case, a product-oriented way to frame that discussion would be, “I want to get back to the weight I was when I was playing sports” or “I want to be able to lift fifty pounds again.” You will take smaller steps to reach that product—changing the way you eat, figuring out a plan for to work up to lifting heavier things. But the product-oriented way is ultimately a binary—you will either be able to lift fifty pounds or not, you will either reach the weight you were or you won’t. But the process-oriented way to think about these things would be, “I love biking and want to do more of it. Every weekend this summer, I will bike a different rail trail in my county.” The process-oriented method is less specific, but it takes that pressure away from your performance—in the biking example, the only expectation that is set is that you’re going to travel to different bike trails, not that you have to go to every rail trail in the county or that you have to complete the whole trail when you go or that you have to do it in a certain time, just that you are going to go.

There is space for both of these methods, and they are best used in conjunction with each other. Product-oriented is useful, especially in financial situations. A goal for 2022 is to visit my childhood best friend in her new home, halfway across the country. Say I want to go in May 2022 and I figure out that it will cost me roughly $2000. I should probably set a goal with steps to save $2000 by May. It’s also beneficial for the smaller steps to bolster your path to your big dreams—When I was a kid, playing piano gave me a lot of discipline and I would like to have that habit again. That is a process-oriented way of thinking about playing music, but you will probably need to set smaller, product-based goals to achieve it—you will need to select a song and learn to play it, within that song you will need to master it measure by measure.

When we are trained to reach for product, it is hard to recognize the value of process-orientation. A phenomenal example is my WIP. The story I am writing now has 3% the amount of kudos as my biggest fic. I also had a goal of updating every Tuesday. By product standards, that story is a flop. It has the least amount of engagement of anything I’ve ever written, and I haven’t updated it in like two weeks. However, why do I write? I write because I enjoy it, I write fanfic specifically to practice new skills. This story has stretched my abilities and I’ve grown from working on it. By process standards, it’s the most successful of my fics.

And in terms of bigger life things? Process-oriented is the way to go. Why? Because if the pandemic taught us anything, it is that life is not linear. It is nearly impossible to set a straight path—be it up a corporate ladder or a fitness goal—why? Because life sucks. Someone dies, you become ill, it rains, you fall in love, you fall out of love—minute inconveniences happen every day. Process takes the pressure off of your performance because you can’t perform all the time. This is essential in fitness goals because our physical state is especially ephemeral. Of course, it happens in other areas of life, too. An example: In the autumn of 2017, I fell into the deepest depression I have ever been in before or since. I could not remember to shower, let alone do my anthropology homework. As a result, for the first time, I was struggling to create the basic products—like, you know, homework—expected in my classes. That was even more devastating. Around the midpoint of the semester, I realized that product was not sustaining me and if I didn’t want to drop out or harm myself when I “failed”, I had to change my approach.

Once my classes became less about “I need to feel my Middle East studies requirement so I can get a History degree and get an A so I can get on the Dean’s List,” and I reconnected with, “I want to learn a lot about the Middle East,” the products came more naturally. They came more imperfectly, too, but I was able to complete the product because I put less pressure on making them to a certain standard. It became easier to recommit to my goal of being a college-educated woman when I remembered the why of receiving a college education. In woodswit’s original post, she acknowledges that the definition of intense exercise is different for every individual. But it’s also different for the individual at different points in their life and recognizing that intensity and success are arbitrary standards is an essential part of reframing your goal-setting as being process-orientated.

How Do I Goal Set Now?

I still goal-set and a lot of my goals could be likely defined as product-goals. However, they are all made with a long view in mind—if I set a goal to run a 5K, what am I going to get out of it besides just saying that I can run a 5K? Here are ways that I stay process-oriented throughout:

1. Goal Periods

I have three times of year when I set goals: January, June, and Lent. I will set a date on the calendar every year to sit down and just think about what I want to accomplish just in the next twelve-month period and what vision I have for myself in three to five years. No more than that.

January is when I set my personal goals and June is where I set my professional ones. I keep a spreadsheet throughout the year of experiences I would like to have. I will look to this list for inspiration. In January and June, while goal-setting, I check in with the opposing goals. So, in June, I checked in with my progression on my personal goals. I rethought if those goals were still realistic and if I was benefitting from them and in what ways. Then I recommitted to them or adjusted them to help me reach them.

2. Holistic Goals

Unless it’s curing cancer, there is no single goal worth putting all the rest on hold for. Each goal is a battle, and your life is the war. This is a deeply privileged example but: the goal of living independently the first two years out of college was probably achievable. But the effort to achieve that one goal meant that, like, six other personal and financial goals would not be met. So, I put off my career goals and stayed at home and taught preschool for two years. It meant a delay while it seemed like my other friends were growing up and achieving at faster rates, but the temporary strain of achieving a particular goal is sometimes worth it when it dominos into other opportunities.

3. Goal Bundling

I bundle my goals now as a part of my goals check-ins. An example of this is: I loved studying abroad and would love to spend more extended time in the country I studied in during undergrad. I would love to go to graduate school. Ipso facto, presto change-o, I should look at graduate programs in that country and see if that is an achievable goal.

This post is a good example of all of this lol. Why did I write it? there won't be an audience for it but the process of setting all of these thoughts on to paper was cathartic, creating a reference guide on this topic for myself when I am depressed is important, and that has to, has to, has to be good enough.

[kisskissbanggang]

Chan was the worst person to be stuck on this project with. He was punctual, he was productive, and he was polite — and you hated every second you worked together. How did he have time for his team, his band, his grades, his looks, and being disgustingly nice to you?

The first time he’d spoken to you in class, it was after you had bought gummy bears on a whim in the student store along with the new pack of pens you actually needed. You had quietly chewed on the confection in class when you heard a curious whisper behind you.

“Oh my god, are those gummy bears?”

You had stared back over your shoulder at Chan as you nodded.

“Can I have one?”

Like an idiot, you let him, and much to your dismay he’d smiled and asked if he could sit next to you the next day and the day after that, and like an idiot, you let him. And now your professor paired you together for a project.

You hated him. You hated his neat handwriting and his black wardrobe and the way he sat with his arms folded because there was no way he wasn’t trying to accentuate his already toned biceps and chest. You especially hated those arms and all the other handsome parts of him, and you hated these little smiles he gave you like he was in on some joke between the two you. Every time he brought you a snack or a drink, or let you look at his notes, or just opened a door for you, he so clearly had this little look that loudly broadcasted the thing he’d been refusing to say, and now you were dizzy with frustration every time you saw him. This had to be confronted.

Most of your work sessions were completed in a reserved study room in the basement of the library, at odd hours of the night because of course you were both night owls and you hated that, too. Each study room down here was more like a miniature conference room with a table and a few chairs, but during off-hours it was easier to reserve the rooms with a little more space and a couch inside. This was where Chan found you, sitting at the table facing the door and tapping away at your laptop. He was distracted by the sign you’d taped over the sole window on the door — do not disturb. He curiously gestured towards the sign when his words were cut short in his throat. He noticed your outfit, your makeup, your hair. You certainly looked different than usual, gorgeous in a cute dress that you did not wear to class earlier that day.

“What?” You asked plainly.

He looked from the sign, to you, and back again.

“I saw a few study groups down the hall for once,” you sighed impatiently, “I didn’t want anyone trying to trade rooms. Sit.”

Chan looked where you motioned towards the couch, as if he needed to be told, and he set up in the corner by the outlet there. He paused as he eased down on the couch with his laptop. From this lower vantage point, he could see the knee socks you’d paired with your dress. You let him attempt to work for a few minutes before you innocently relaxed your knees apart. The small move instantly drew his eye to you again. He didn’t even notice your condescending smile as you spread your knees wider, revealing your lack of panties. You were satisfied as you watched him regularly get distracted out of the corner of your eye, as he would let his gaze wander before he forced himself to concentrate.

This was the point of no return. If you’d misinterpreted or seen something that wasn’t there, you would stop if he recoiled or otherwise didn’t humor this move. You couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at your lip as you saw him stretch in an attempt to get away with subtly squeezing his cock through his jeans, trying to distract himself with the small discomfort.

You upped the difficulty. The next time Chan’s eyes drifted to your spread legs, he caught your fingers dip down, almost as if you were unaware of the soft caress you made of your exposed core after adjusting your socks. He swallowed hard, coughing and clearing his throat in the process.

“Thirsty?”

“What?” He asked, bewildered, almost roused from a dream. You slipped your hefty metal water bottle from your bag and got up from your chair as you uncapped the wide mouth. Chan sank back into the couch cushion, leaning away as you approached him and set the full bottle in his hands.

“You’re staring,” you pointed out. Chan coughed again and pointedly looked away from you as he took a sip of water. His other hand tugged and pinched at his reddening ears.

“Hey, er,” he stammered as he offered you back your water bottle, “I have to bail. I forgot I have — I need to — I should be—“

Chan watched, stopped dead in his tracks as you gently took his wrist rather than the vessel. You carefully lowered his arm in your grip, the open bottle now level with your thigh. He’d barely drank from it.

“You’re so busy being good at everything,” you cooed as you looked down your nose at him, “that I think you neglected to tell me something.” He watched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you stepped forward, past the open bottle he still clutched. His outstretched arm was now between your legs, your bared heat radiating on his skin. “Do not drop,” you softly instructed, “do not spill.”

Chan looked up at you now, eyes glazed over as he nodded. You reached forward, stroking his hair away from his forehead before you pushed him back against the couch. Your hand stayed on his shoulder, steadying yourself as you leaned forward and lifted the skirt of your dress so he could watch. A low groan arose in his throat as your glistening pussy began to grind against the toned muscles of his arm. His eyes widened as you heard him fumble his grip on the water bottle behind you, the innocuous weight of it suddenly menacing now that you were placing importance on it. You’d given him a task, and he only wanted to do as good a job as he did with everything else.

He watched you expectantly as you ground your hips against his arm, leaving a streak of slick that he took hungry notice of to the point of inadvertently relaxing his grip. He spilled, the look of trepidation on his face contrasting with your excitement. Your fingers instantly took hold of his jaw, and the way his eyes lit up made you take a mental note to see if he’d be alright getting slapped someday. For now, you reached back and grabbed the bottle from his hand before pulling him off the couch and pushing him to the carpet. He watched as you set the bottle on the table and grabbed a towel from your bag and tossed it at him, and he didn’t need to be asked to begin cleaning. His ears perked up as he took notice of you drawing a plastic bottle out of your bag now and refilling the metal vessel. He paused, frozen as he watched you.

“I’ve been thirsty,” you explained with a wink before walking over and pressing your shoe to his chest to lay him down on the carpet. You roughly took his non-dominant arm now, stretching it out on the floor and placing the full bottle in his hand before you pushed up the sleeve of his t-shirt. The cold metal barely hovered over the floor where he held it at its base, and you lifted your dress again as you knelt down over his bicep. “Do not drop,” you repeated sweetly, “do not spill.”

Chan struggled as you manhandled his jeans open to get a hold of his throbbing cock, and he actually whimpered as you lifted the hem of his shirt with your other hand to get a better look when you began to firmly stroke his length. Your fingers danced over the ripples of his defined chest and abdomen. “You take so much time being so good but you can’t even make time to tell me you want me,” you teasingly scolded.

“I do,” Chan breathed. “I want you so bad.” His flexed bicep was tense under your slick pussy grinding against it, and the thought of him slowly getting sore as he kept whimpering and whining under you drove you mad as he did his best to be good. “How do I prove it?”

“By behaving,” you grinned as you spit into your hand to lube his blushing cock. “If you can behave until I’m done, I’ll know how much you want me and you’ll get to cum.”

Fortunately for him, you felt your peak coming fast with how intent he was to please you. “Please, baby,” Chan urged, “please cum. I’ve been so good, I need to see you cum—“

Chan cried out as you dug your fingers into the ticklish spot in his ribs. “Don’t be a brat,” you admonished, but Chan’s fervent moans and his leaking cock in your grip had already done more than enough damage, making you even needier as you climbed your peak right to the top. You squealed out a satisfied moan before your trembling legs finally relinquished his arm. Chan finally set the water bottle down on the carpet and was able to massage his sore arms, but that was all the reprieve he was allowed before he found you between his knees on the floor. Your eyes met as you slowly brought his sensitive cock between your lips.

You smirked at how Chan threw his head back, letting out groans and obscenities as you sucked and jerked his length much too fast for him to get a break. “Fuck, babe,” Chan whined under his breath, “fuck, too fast, let me enjoy it—“

“You’re going to cum,” you said seriously as you met his gaze. You let a string of saliva lewdly fall from your lips onto the tip of his cock. “Now say it.”

“I’m going to cum,” Chan breathed.

“Be grateful,” you nicely ordered.

“Thank you,” Chan said softly, his breath quickening as you stroked him faster. “I’m going to cum, thank you for helping me cum.”

Chan watched helplessly as you sucked his length deep into your mouth, lasting only moments longer before he came with a cry. You swallowed as his cock spurted down your throat and savored how his eyes rolled back before his stuttering hips finally stilled.

You sat up, wiping your mouth with the discarded towel laying by you as Chan sat up on his elbows. He grabbed the bottle of water and took a hearty swig before offering it to you, but instead he used your outstretched hand to grapple you into his lap. Regardless of what you’d just done, you still felt your face heat up as Chan kissed your lips and held you close.

“Can we do this again sometime?” He asked with hushed excitement, and you couldn’t believe you ever hated him.

[chaoticevilbean]

Four In One : Chapter Two

Lance nearly flailed when he woke up, only to stop and remember that the Altean blanket was still doing its job. His twenty-plus foot-long wings were hidden in the warmth of a mini space pocket, all four feeling better than ever because of the room within. It wasn't often that he got to stretch his wings, mostly because his wingspan was over forty feet long, and that was just his smaller set. Luckily, there were multiple ballrooms and training rooms that allowed him to practice his flying and properly groom, something that often took vargas.

It wasn't that Lance couldn't fly without extending his wings fully. He had taught himself from a young age to fly with one set of wings or the other, to fly in small spaces, with his wings only partially unfurled or unhidden, with one wing from each set, with only one side's wings. Just because he had four giant wings, didn't mean he was going to let himself fall behind others in something as common as flying.

But Lance didn't have as many opportunities to let his wings out as the others did. Not if he wanted to keep them private. And he did. He wanted to have some clue about how they'd react to wings like his. To impossible wings.

"MINE!" was the screech that tore Lance from his thoughts and woke him up so fast and fully that he did in fact flail, though much less than he had upon his first partial wake-up. And if he wasn't fully awake at that point, he was when a weight suddenly landed on him, forcing his reflexes to push Pidge away from his body. The girl had still been in his arms, and it seemed that she had been woken up by the screech as well.

"Keith, you can't just claim him!" Hunk called out, wrapping his arms around Keith's waist.

"Yeah, we were cuddling and he's warm," Pidge butted in, glaring at the mullethead who caused her to be shoved to safety.

"Please be quiet, it's only six," came a sleepy voice from under black wings. The four teens turned (as much as they could) towards the place where Shiro appeared to only just realize what he had said. Since they had come to space, the teens found it much easier to wake up and go to sleep each night because of the less stressful environment and positive atmosphere they now had. That meant waking up early.

Shiro's wing lifted just enough to show the very drowsy face of one man with a unicorn floof.

"Don't." The teens glanced between each other, before looking back towards their flock leader. "I swear, don't you dare." Keith slowly got off Lance, who was sitting up and hiding his wings, causing the Altean blanket to fall. Hunk let go of Keith as the boy kneeled beside him. "Guys, think about what you're doing." All four were slowly moving forward, standing or kneeling side by side, almost a half-circle around the now slightly panicked Space Dad™. "Guys. Gu-AHHH!"

The teens lunged forward quickly, tackling the man and pinning him with their weight. It was much like what had happened to Lance the day before, only now Hunk was holding Shiro's legs, Keith was holding his waist, Pidge had his stomach and Lance held him by the shoulders. Pidge's arms effective pinned the older man's hands, and he didn't dare use his Galran arm against his flockmates.

"Boop," Lance said as he used his left hand to bop Shiro's floof. The man glared up at his tallest space son, which was ineffective with the braided white hair still bouncing slightly.

"I hate you all."

"No, you don't," came four voices, followed by a flurry of movement as the kids swiftly left the nest, abandoning a seething Shiro. Coran was already in the kitchen, prepping breakfast but waiting to actually make anything for the humans until Hunk approved them as safe and actually delicious. The surrogate uncle was getting much better at telling if something would make his nephews and niece ill, or simply be downright disgusting to them. Allura was setting the table, something Lance starting helping her with immediately, a habit he had developed long ago.

With table set, Allura and Lance went to help Coran and Hunk bring breakfast out. Somehow, they had made the space equivalents of bacon, porridge, toast and eggs, along with a few Altean dishes. Upon returning to the dining room, the four were met with what seemed to be a two-on-one argument: Pidge and Keith versus Shiro.

"I know I saw one, Shiro! Why are you lying?" Pidge shouted, wings puffed up in an adora- irritated way. Keith nodded beside her, lower set of wings rustling a bit.

"Yeah, Shiro! What sort of example are you setting for your children?"

"What is the matter, Paladins?" Allura interjected, not setting down the food yet on the chance they begin launching it at one another.

"These two are obsessed!" Shiro pointed at the two as he moved to stand by Coran, as if the Altean man would protect him.

"Is this another cryptid thing," Lance asked, putting the two trays of food he held down.

"Shiro has scales in his feathers and he won't show us," Pidge pouted, moving over to Hunk to snatch some space bacon from the trays he had.

"If I show you my scales, will you drop it, ya cryptids?" Both of them frantically nodded, extracting a sigh as Shiro turned around. His wings spread out, and he carefully pointed towards the base of them, where they met his back.

The rest of the team pressed inwards, Coran gently moving a few feathers to reveal several streaks of scales, spattered as if someone was drizzling them outwards. They blended in perfectly with the colors of the feathers around them, which was probably how none of them had been noticed during grooming. Lance's breath caught slightly at the sight, because here was something that might be proof. Now, all he needs to do is-

"So do all of us have mutations?" Sweet, beautiful Hunk.

"What do you mean," Keith asked.

"Oh, I get it," Pidge interrupted. "I have unusual coloring, Keith has an extra set of wings, Hunk has extremely large wings, and now we know that Shiro has both feathers and scales. That means that we all technically have mutations." This was Lance's chance.

"Wouldn't it be cool to see wings with all four mutations?" Lance's palms got sweaty as everyone's attention snapped to him. At their looks of confusion, he continued. "I mean, imagine someone with, like, bright blue wings, and four of them, and both scales and feathers and they'd be huge."

"That'd be sick." Hunk's face had a huge grin on it, and he looked like he was going to explode with happiness.

"Can you imagine what sort of secrets wings like those could hold," Pidge exclaimed, bouncing in place before sitting down and bouncing while eating. Hunk joined in, immediately beginning to discuss the possible ways someone could up with wings like that. Coran was pulled in as well, adding his knowledge of more alien mutations.

"Forget the secrets, imagine fighting with four giant wings! Especially with both feathers and scales!" Keith grabbed Shiro's arm, dragging him to the table and blabbering about all the techniques that could be created with both feathers and scales. Shiro looked like he wanted to die, but was still mildly interested.

Allura, however, was watching everyone else talk, having slowly moved over to Lance. She gave him a side glance that was almost knowing. Leaning down, she whispered lowly into Lance's ear.

"Be prepared to be pulled every direction when you show us." Lance tensed, before seeing her warm smile. He nodded to her, and the quick squeeze she gave his arm relaxed him greatly. One down, five to go. The two rushed over to the table together, trying to get some food before the others devoured it all.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lance was pulled aside after only one week in the Garrison, by none other than Iverson. Iverson had apparently seen the second flight Lance had gone for and most definitely seen his wings. But he didn't go crazy, and he didn't get mad, and he didn't in any way raise his voice. Instead, he seemed stern and somehow concerned.

"McClain, I can understand why you are worried, but there isn't a reason. Not yet." Lance remained tense in the chair across the desk from his teacher. "Your grades are good, you have the makings of a fighter pilot. However, you struggle in simulations because of the lack of realism. I've seen it before. Without the actual risk of crashing or hurting someone, you can't perform nearly as well as you could. I've talked with other teachers about this, and we all understand." Lance was very confused at this point. Where was the usually yelling man who everyone already knew as a jerk?

"McClain, you are right to hide your wings from the public. But, if we play the cards right, you might not have to."

"We?" Lance inquired, even more confused and highly curious about this change in behavior.

"Every teacher here has a reputation. My own is not exactly flattering. But each of us are simply trying to push our students. Outside this room, I might yell at you or seemingly insult you, but in here, I can tell you what it means. If you get the best grades possible, connect with whatever team you receive, work as hard as you can and prove that you're one of the best pilots we've ever had, one day the world won't care what your wings look like. I've looked over all your grades and classes and the only person you ever come second with is Kogane. You beat him, a natural prodigy, one I assure you doesn't try nearly as much, and you prove that it doesn't matter what impossible wings you have. You are the best pilot at the Garrison. Do you understand?"

For the coming months, Iverson was true to his words. Every time his words hurt, Lance would head to his office. Iverson explained what he had meant in far gentler terms. Every time he reminded Lance that he was second to Keith, it reminded the boy about their talks. When Lance told Iverson that he might be able to get better scores if his tests were translated, he found his teachers handing him the Spanish version of the tests. Both Iverson and him put on facades of hatred and mutual annoyance.

When Keith dropped out, Iverson pushed Lance even harder. He had a team, one he needed to connect with, and the struggle was real. Pidge couldn't focus that well on the missions, no matter if they were in the simulators or not (the students sometimes got to do real shuttle piloting, though those were far less often). Hunk had very high anxiety, which led to worrying and nausea, which led to vomiting. Lance did the best he could, meaning adding a puke bucket for his roommate, reminding him that the simulator isn't actually dangerous and quelling any anxiety afterwards. It also meant using the newest team addition's obsession against him. Lance reminded Pidge that if it really wasn't a pilot error that caused the Kerberos mission's failure, then something else happened. If Pidge didn't focus, the team would fail and possibly die. If Pidge did focus, the team might make it to higher ranks, maybe even getting to go to Kerberos themselves someday and seeing if they could find the real cause. It didn't help entirely, but it did help.

The night that the Garrison Trio found Shiro was also the night that Lance was going to show his wings to his teammates. They needed to come together, and he thought that showing such trust in them would lead to a better team dynamic. All he needed to do was get Pidge to sneak out with him and Hunk, and then find a safe place to reveal himself.

Then Shiro's pod crashed. Lance and Pidge rushed down to help with Hunk following. They successfully assisted Keith in saving Shiro. They made it to the desert shack. Hunk snooped and found the frequencies that lined up with the canyon picture Keith had. The cave markings lit up at Lance's touch, telling him that he was expected.

Flying the Blue Lion was an amazing experience. She connected to Lance's mind in a way that was unlike anything he had felt before, but at the same time, he knew the feeling. Slow sunsets, warm air, calm seas. She was home and at the same time, not. To bond to her, Lance simply had to be himself. His full self.

The Alteans were a sight to behold as well. Their wings were far more colorful than any humans, besides maybe Pidge's. Allura practically tackled Lance once she became semi-conscious. His lack of wings and pointed ears terrified her half-aware mind, and Lance began flirting to distract her. Coran was quick to realize that distraction was also needed, pretending to fight the air and arguing with the boy he had never met before.

Lance kept Iverson's words in his heart, many of which were beyond what the others could even imagine. For example, the whole "the Kerberos mission failed because of a pilot error" was apparently a ploy to keep the public calm while the government investigated the situation. Lance's rivalry with Keith spawned from the simple fact that Iverson tried to keep Keith out of the mess and he got a black eye for his troubles. Lance's overdramatic confusion about Pidge's gender was to hide the fact that Iverson told him about two hours into being on a team with her. That led to Lance carrying a small amount of painkillers, chocolate, and some pads and tampons, which was handy when there weren't any on hand in space.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Alright, team," Shiro called, watching as the last of the food was swiped from the trays and disappeared in ticks. "We need to train today. Let's start with the invisible maze, then move on to long range weapons, and lastly short range weapons. Tomorrow we'll start close combat with no weapons."

Cheers rang out, since that meant a relatively moderate training day compared to what it could be. Both Shiro and Allura were getting better at judging what quintants were perfect for hard training and which quintants were definitely meant for more lenient drills. Food fights had greatly diminished now that Allura wasn't a tyrant with Shiro behind her.

"Last one to the training room has to do the maze first! And no wings!" Lance shouted as he ran full speed down the hallways. Keith was right on his heels, followed by a Pidge riding a Hunk. Shiro, Allura and Coran's laughter carried after them, the empty halls of the castle filling with sounds of joy.

[bookspined]

❝ that’s all history is after all: scar tissue. ❞

{ cis-man, he/him }  huh, who’s FROY GUTIERREZ? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually SCORPIUS MALFOY. he is a TWENTY-TWO year old PUREBLOOD wizard who is A HEALING APPRENTICE. he is known for being CAPTIOUS, RETICENT, FACETIOUS, DISMISSIVE, and DRAMATIC but also RESOURCEFUL, CONSCIENTIOUS, FERVENT, INNOVATIVE, and OBSERVANT, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song IN DREAMS BY BEN HOWARD. i hear he is aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on him. { merry, 24, gmt, she/they }

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Amy Santiago (B99), Claire Temple (Daredevil), Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place), Giles (Buffy TVS), Michelle Jones (MCU), Simon Tam (Firefly), Elizabeth Swan (PoTC), Spock (Star Trek), Clarke Griffin (The 100), Harley Keener (MCU), Gregory House (House) suggested honorable mention Gizmo (Gremlins) 

pinterest [blood, medical imagery tw]

wanted connection ideas

Full Name: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy Gender/Pronouns: Cis man | he/him Age: Twenty-three Birthdate: January 20th Parents: Draco Lucius Malfoy & Astoria Céline Malfoy (née Greengrass) [Not biologically Astoria’s due to her health, if you ever point this out he’ll flay your eyeballs] Siblings: N/A. Birth place: St. Mungo’s Hospital, England Height: 5’11” Weight: 56 kg Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Bisexual Nationality: British Body Alterations/Marks: A ragged diamond shape scar at the base of his throat.

Blood Status: Pureblood Hogwarts House: Slytherin Wand Arm: Right Pet: His pet toad, Jarvis, recently passed away. Patronus: Arctic Fox Wand: 11 2/3 inches, Willow, Supple, Dragon Heartstring.

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

Personality Traits: Brilliance, innovative, empathetic, individuality, openness, social consciousness, inventive, logical, practical skills and self assertion; lack of attachment to people outside his circle and the “real world,” over-intellectualizing of the emotions, dismissive, anxious, crotchety tempered, facetious, rigid, prone to self-isolation, intellectual arrogance, and stubborn. Zodiac Sign: Aquarius/Capricorn Cusp Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Core values: Loyalty, Knowledge, Hope Four temperaments: Melancholic  

HOGWARTS HOUSE ANALYSIS

Slytherin Primary and a Burned Ravenclaw Secondary.

Slytherin Primaries prioritize their own selves and loved ones first. Slytherins don’t feel guilty or selfish about this– they feel righteous and moral. The most important thing is to look after your own. Abandoning or hurting one of your own is the worst thing you can do.

A Burned Ravenclaw Secondary might want to be skilled, curious, and prepared, but they feel like they are (or like people think they are) limited, clumsy, or inconstant. Gathering knowledge, hobbies, skills, or tools is the right way to achieve their goals, but Burned Ravenclaws know that’s not going to work within their capabilities. So they take other paths and use other tools– maybe a Gryffindor’s bluntness, a Slytherin’s flexibility, or a Hufflepuff’s slow and steady dedication.

You may have a Hufflepuff Secondary Model.

Hufflepuff is the House of grit, reliability, and determination, and Hufflepuffs use those values to help live, act, and succeed. If you model Hufflepuff Secondary, you also value these things and like to live by them. You like to be hardworking, dedicated, and consistent– but you wouldn’t feel guilty for abandoning those values in the service of other, higher priorities. If there’s another, easier way to get what you want– you’d take it. You think hard work provides valuable rewards– and those rewards are why you work. The work doesn’t have persuasive value in itself.

Despite his very best resistance he’s always been pretty empathetic in nature, he tries to rule his emotions as well as he can but fails more often than not. He was always one of those toddlers that if another kid started crying he’d be right along with them, not because he wanted attention but because he just couldn’t not. A bit of a crybaby, has researched how to magically seal up his tear ducts. Obviously managed to keep the family’s flair for the dramatic there as well. After a few years he leant into the sarcastic vague-snobbishness to hide the core of overwhelming anxiety.

Just managed to scrape through his schooling with nearly all top grades, this isn’t really due to him being a model student. He has always accrued information with a voracious appetite. Any knowledge he could find, even if most people would consider it entirely useless. His mind clicks into that place? You can’t keep him away. However, when there is not an immediate stir of interest on his approach to a topic he has to fight with himself tooth and nail to carry on. 

Predictably found exam season highly stressful, was never open about it but was quietly competitive and silently smug over his good grades. Could comprehend well above his reading level from an early age and would often look into experimental research and complicated magic but found himself lost in OWL level History of Magic when chapter upon chapter lay ahead of him about something that didn’t catch his interest. Some people he beat just to spite cause he hates them. It worked, whatever.

Tends toward introversion and finds himself tired sometimes quite easily by a large amount of social interaction. Witty and big-mouthed when he feels comfortable or is in the presence of those that embolden him and very likely to get flustered and snap at people when things are becoming a bit too much. Especially if he feels however unjustly that someone is blocking his escape. Has matured slightly in this since leaving school but it happens still, he’s just anxious. Quite fickle and can at the drop of a hat decide that he’s done with you for the day once his Give Me Attention Meter is maxed. Could be an absolute bloody brat when he felt like it but feels he has grown out of it, which he mostly has.

Always been very, very aware of many people’s distrust of him and his family, he used to sneer and play it up if anyone tried to bring up his dad and go on the offensive but was genuinely affected quite deeply by it all. In his early school years, despite his weakness to the cold, he constantly had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow so that his blank forearm was bared as a statement to just about everyone. I am not marked, I never will be. Now he’s older he has more of a handle on things and can be diplomatic in situations where people are clearly discomforted by his presence and his family history.

Even though the war culminated far earlier in this verse I imagine Scor would have had to have been relatively sheltered as a child if not for how emotionally sensitive and prone to periods of ill-health he was, it was definitely for his own safety. He is still the grandson of a known high-ranking Death Eater and that made him a media target and put one on his back for anyone else that might happen to be watching. 

Never produced much of a talent for offensive magic and wouldn’t resort to those methods unless he had literally no other choice, not a front line fighter by any means. His talents with strategy, potion-making, healing and his perseverance with defensive magic are what define him to the Order. While everyone kind of knows who he hung out with at school and who his friends are he is deliberately very mischievous with releasing rumours and misleading people. He deliberately keeps his cards very close to his chest so most people don’t know that he is aligned with anyone, he usually uses glamours or a scarf to conceal his identity if he has to. 

While he is knowledgeable about healing and anatomy, he is the WORST at taking care of himself. The literal embodiment of Healers make the worst patients, tends to forgo sleep and basic bodily needs if he’s locked into what he’s focusing on. Sometimes needs reminders to sleep and eat, like a child. 

Healing is the most satisfying part of his life and he would never give it up, he likes to experiment as he has a fascination with magic and muggle science and where they might intersect. A fucking nerd honestly. While he thinks he’s being fairly subtle about it a large part of his academic life has been doused in research into blood maledictions, for obvious reasons. He does his best not to flutter too obviously around his Mum. She is capable and ten times stronger than he is. 

Lives in a small studio flat in Diagon Alley that is mostly stacks of books and makeshift shelves.

the stillness of the world the moment you take the first step into fresh snow, cashmere and fine wool, the pearlescence of dreamless sleep draught, the scratch of a quill on parchment, faintly tremoring fingers, a shiver up your spine in a warm room, the exhilaration of a problem solved, a thunderous grey overcast sky, the bite of a stitching charm, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, petrichor, the burn in your eyes before a well of tears.

Always had somewhat fragile health tending toward sickly. Hands are never warm, his existence is an endless heat seeking mission. 

Went to one Slug Club meeting and used his time to verbally berate and or challenge most of the contacts in attendance, he was not asked to return. 

Potions Club, Charms Club, used to sometimes be willing to be dragged to Dueling Club but didn’t enjoy himself. 

Plays quite a bit of chess.

Bruises like a fucking peach and scars so easily.

Views quidditch as a good fly spoiled. 

Is a very skilled pianist almost entirely due to his Grandmother’s tutelage. 

Surprisingly great with children/toddlers/babies, no one including himself expected this, he mostly feared them beforehand. 

Bit of a mummy’s boy in that he practically GLOWS when people talk of Astoria’s achievements. 

When he has time off from healing he will have chipped black nail varnish on. 

Highly intelligent but rarely manages to match a pair of socks, chews his quills but no one else’s. 

While very eloquent and well spoken, he is markedly less posh than when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

When he isn’t prone to bouts of insomnia he can take a nap pretty much anywhere. He was once found in a tree after several frantic hours search.

[ CREDIT : CHARACTER PSD template by @karmahelper (defunct url) I tried to find a current social this week by messaging around but couldn’t find anything unfortunately. Forgot to copy this over from the google doc! ]

[ssidesblog]

teacher au !

(i only know how the american education system works + my school is very standard and could even be argued its worse than most public schools but thats my only point of reference ! ap stands for advanced placement and essentially means classes someone can take in hs and at the end of the year take a test, if the test is passed they gain college credit.)

roman: the loud drama teacher who doubles as the ap english teacher for the senior class. hes the teacher all the gay kids go to when they need to vent or just need advice. he makes his english class as interesting as possible; its the ap senior class so the entire course is focused on british literature, the shakespeare unit is always everybodys favorite bc roman knows so much and makes everything much easier to understand. his theatre classes are extremely chaotic and are his favorite classes of the day. the drama room is a safe space for a lot of the gay kids at school and roman makes sure hes in his room during lunch every day unless theres Important Teacher Buissness he needs to attend to. hes the director for the after school plays and 'makes' virgil codirect with him (hes in charge of all the techies). he has his favorite students (he would never admit it but like everyone Knows) who often view him as a parental/older brother type figure. hes stayed after school with kids for hours until their rides came and has even given kids rides home. hes really close to his kids and each year he cries when the senior class leaves. the theatre department doesnt get a lot of funding so roman works hard to put on shows that they can be proud of and each year he becomes more and more motivated to being new people into theatre.

logan: hes the junior year ap language + composition teacher !!! he tutors for every subject bc hes knowledgeable so he teaches basically every subject. a lot of kids go to his room during lunch + after school for tutoring and hes the reason half the school is actually passing their classes. he chose to teach language and compisition bc he loves language and being able to teach the importance of it. all of the students know just the right thing to say to get him off course and just talking about anything (theyre favorite thing is to ask about space) and he spends almost the entire period talking about that and not the actual lesson. logan + roman's english classes are next to each other and theres a door that seperates them. often times students will find sticky notes on the little window of the door that logan and roman have written for each other. all of the students think theyre secretly dating or at least WANT them to be. roman likes to go into logans class and be annoying when hes on his free period. hes also the debate teacher ! during free periods roman helps logan with his debate students. roman and logan often times get way too out of hand and their debates turn into a 'what not to do during a debate' example.

virgil: the art teacher ! theres only three art classes (beginning, intermediate, and ap) and he teaches all of them. during the start of the year hes fairly quiet and reserved but a lot of his students really like him. hes a very relaxed teacher and similar to roman gives a safe space for kids to hang out. a lot of the more reserved gay kids hang out in his room during lunch. he takes three days a week to make sure hes available to tutor during lunch, hes not as smart as logan but he has a good grasp on math so he helps a lot of his art students with their math work (theyre gay art kids ofc they dont know how to do math). virgil assigns the beginning + intermediate class to paint backgrounds for the plays and thats usually two weeks to a month that he takes his class to the drama room to work. its a way more loud atmosphere as roman also has classes going on. this is when a lot of the students see that virgil is not nearly as quiet and reserved as they thought. when hes around roman hes a lot more talkative; he's constantly jokingly making fun of roman and being a scarcastic pain in the ass. every year thats when his classes shift and hes a lot more open and fun with his classes. he plays music during class since hes not lecturing most of the time. he switches from playing classical to emo music, sometimes within the same day.

patton: hes the psychology teacher ! he only has two classes he actually teaches so when he isnt teaching hes actually a one of the two school psychologists (the other one being picani). he teaches two normal psych classes and leaves ap to janus ! hes a very hands on teacher and does lots of example based learning ! during lunch a lot of his students can be seen doing surveys to collect data for an assignment. as a school psychologist he makes sure to be as welcoming as possible, he understands why a lot of students dont want to see a school psychologist, they dont have a good rep. the kids who do see him though feel extremely safe and secure around him. hes really good at calming kids down from panic attacks, his office is filled with stim toys and theres at least 10 weighted blankets. some times kids come in just to take naps. virgil hangs out in his office a lot whenever students arent there. logan comes in on especially stressful days to either nap or read. roman borrows fidget toys from him on days where his adhd is particularly bad. remus comes in sometimes to get quick and weird psychology facts. janus and him have long discussions about philosophy and grade papers together !!

remus: anatomy and biology/ap bio teacher >:3 he is so insanley chaotic. he wanted to also teach chemistry but the principal (thomas) did NOT trust him to be around chemicals. disections are always fun ! he encourages students to NOT eat anything they disect bc hes alr tried it and it doesnt taste good (nobody knows if this is a joke or not). hes a very jokey teacher and is a fake asshole to all of his students. he is not a harsh grader at all and honestly even of a student dont get a single thing right on a test theyll probably pass as long as they tried ! roman often comes into his room during one of his free periods to tell stories about the borderline psychopathic shit remus used to do as a kid. theres a lot of storytelling in his class and each time the students are in disbelief. despite the chaos, remus is a really good teacher and everyone who takes his class learns a lot. hes definetly known to be one of the more interesting teachers and none of his classes are ever boring.

janus: he teaches ap psych, gov/econ (both normal and ap) and ap us history ! he has no free periods and he is completely ok with that. he and logan are both known for being chatty cathys and his ap psych class takes full advantage of that as a way to learn. although theyre different, janus talks a lot about philosophy to his psych students and applies a lot of what theyre learning to different philosophies. his gov/econ classes are more chaotic. theres a lot of debates and he still applies philosophy to a lot of the ideas he teaches in those classes. his ap us history class is the most chaotic. the debates in his gov/econ classes are more amoungst students but his us history class has held a lot of debates against janus and his more closeminded students. janus teaches a lot of stuff not normally taught like black history is america, native history, and a lot of the shit america did Wrong in the past and how its affecting the present. on top of his full class schedule hes the advisor for mock trial who meets afterschool. patton comes in to help the best he can (usually hes a 'what not to do' example). roman also comes in to help them make their roles the best they can possibly be

[candleswans]

I want everyone who struggles with eating, is going through the thinspo or other ed tags, is diagnosed with an eating disorder—or just everyone in general, to read this. Stop scrolling for a moment, please.

Let me tell you my story in relation to eating disorders.

I stopped eating when I was eight. Eight years old. And it wasn’t because I wanted to be skinny, or fit, or anything. It was because food made me feel dirty and gross. I couldn’t eat without feeling sick with myself—it was especially bad with certain foods, but less bad with others. I would sit at the dinner table and sob and beg my mom to get it away from me. I started rapidly losing weight. My mental health had already been plummeting and it started plummeting more.

Eventually, my mom took me to see someone, to help me get over my fear of food. I don’t really remember the details anymore, just that I hated going and that I cried a lot. I don’t remember when I stopped going, either.

I remember my family making fun of me for all the weight I lost and how skinny I was. At the age of eight, nine, it made me feel ashamed and awful. We stopped going to the therapist, or whoever she was. I pretended to get over my fear of food, tried to hide it more. And maybe she helped, the therapist did—at least enough to keep me alive. But I never really got over my feelings and my relationship with food.

Fast forward to now, my relationship with food is imperfect, to say the least. I have been underweight for eight years now—I’m sixteen. Sometimes more dangerously underweight than other times. There have been periods of times where I’ve eaten normally, but I keep falling back into old habits. There have been periods where I’ve been barely above starving. There have been periods where I ate, but threw up everything. And the sense of shame has never gone away. The sense of shame that I have some big secret that isn’t really a secret. The sense of shame that I can’t—or haven’t—gotten better, after all these years. The shame I feel when I eat, when I don’t. When I throw up, when I don’t. When I lie about how much I’ve been eating and when I don’t have to. Shame because I can still fit into jeans from the fourth grade—jeans that are baggy now. And shame because that brings me a sense of guilty pride.

My eating habits, or lack thereof, are now based around my view of my self image, it is true. Unlike when I was eight, I am constantly obsessing over my appearance. I’m sure you know the feeling well. “How skinny do I look? How much skinnier can I get? Are my bones showing? Good. How skinny is my waist? My wrists? Are my clothes baggy? My thighs look fat. My everything looks fat. I’ll be skinny if I don’t eat. I’ll be skinny if I throw up dinner. I’ll be skinny if, I’ll be skinny when, I want to be skinny, skinny, skinny.”

But I digress. One of my sister’s friends has a sister. A while back, word got out that she had an eating disorder. Everyone fussed and worried over her, because she, despite therapy, wasn’t making any progress. One day, we recieved news that she was being helicopter lifted to some hospital in another state, because she was dying and needed immediate care.

Someone very close to me, (who I will keep anonymous my relation to, because I am unsure of whether they’d be comfortable with me posting it online for the world to see), is in residential hospitalization at this very moment, due to having an eating disorder. They’ve actually only been there for a few days, but they are supposed to be there for a six to eight week minimum, although likely longer.

And I haven’t even mentioned the countless other friends I have with eating disorders, recovering from eating disorders, with unhealthy eating habits, et cetera, et cetera.

What’s the point of all of this, you may be asking? Great, thank you Stellar, you shared your sob story, can I go now?

Not yet.

My point is, eating disorders consume you. There is no end. There is no end goal. Once you start losing weight, it becomes addictive. Calories become terrifying. Food feels like the enemy. But once you reach your weight goal, you will make another one. And another. And another.

When you stop eating, it’s not just losing weight. And that isn’t even a given sometimes. It means hair loss and headaches and cold. When you start purging, it means feeling light-headed all of the time, it means disgust and bad aftertastes.

But what eating disorders really mean is death.

You aren’t going to stay this way forever. Okay? You aren’t going to “get skinny” and then that’s it. After a while when you have an eating disorder, either somebody will find out or something really bad will happen. And you’ll end up in residential for four months, or hooked up to a machine providing you nutrition.

You either recover, or you die.

And that’s just the damn truth.

And no, recovery isn’t going to be sunshine and rainbows. And your relationship with food will be fragile—at the very least—for the rest of your life. It’s been eight years for me. I don’t know where I am but I’m sure as hell not recovered. And if I’m being honest with you all, this post is for me just as much as it is for all of you. Because, like I said, you get better, or you die.

And all of those photos you see? Of skinny people? Yeah, none of them have eating disorders. I can tell you that much. They are naturally skinny, or they work out a healthy amount, eat healthy food—or a combination of all. People with eating disorders don’t look like that. They look sick. Their hair falls out. Their teeth rot. Their fingernails grow brittle. Their skin will be pale and sickly. And they will have many other health issues that go along with their eating disorder. But even then, you can have an eating disorder and NOT be underweight. That’s not something a lot of people realize. And even if you aren’t, you can still be critically unhealthy.

So, if you are thinking about stopping eating, or starting to purge, get off the thinspo tag right now. I know you are struggling with your body image but once you stop eating or start throwing up it will fuck up your life for a VERY LONG TIME. It will make your body image WORSE. It will make you look unhealthy and tired and it will consume your entire life. YOU DO NOT WANT TO START THIS. You do not want to put yourself in this situation, I PROMISE. Please, see someone such as a therapist so you can discuss how you feel about your body and your self image before it gets to a life threatening point. I know that it is easier said than done. And I know how toxic the thinspo community is, how tempting the pictures of all the bone-skinny people are. But there are healthy ways to learn to love yourself and an ED will teach you the opposite. And it will slowly kill you.

Do. Not. Start.

And if you already have. If you haven’t been eating, or you’ve been purging your meals. Get help. Reach out to a trusted adult. I know food is scary. I know that the last thing you want to do is get help. I know that eating feels like the end of the world a lot of the time.

But you don’t want to end up like me. You don’t want to end up in residential. Or helicoptered to a hospital to get vital nutrients pumped into your body while your family and friends wait fearfully, praying that you won’t die on them. Beautiful doesn’t mean skinny. Beautiful means you. Beautiful means recovery and healing. The longer you wait to get help, the harder recovery will be. And you will need to recover at some point because you cannot keep your eating disorder a secret forever. Someone will find out. Someone always does.

And no, you are not the exception. I can see you scoffing at this post—“Yes, it’s sad that all of that happens, but not to me. I’m not skinny enough, not sick enough, won’t get to that point.”

But you will and you are. Eating disorders don’t HAVE exceptions. They simply take and they take and they take. There is no sick enough—there is only sick. There is only unhealthy. I don’t care how many times you break your calorie limit or how much you weigh. You are sick enough. You are at the point where you need help. Get help before it’s too late.

Please don’t make the same mistakes I did—the mistakes I am still making now. Please don’t make the same mistakes my friends and loved ones did. Reach and strive for recovery. You will thank yourself.

I promise.

You are beautiful. Now get off the ED tags, have a glass of water if that is all you can manage, and do something nice for yourself—watch a show, curl up with a blanket, listen to comfort music.

And when you can, get the help you deserve.

[flipomatic]

Closed Book Chapter 1

Author Note: Here I go, off into a new fandom. This is going to be 4 chapters, I think. I have it all blocked out but am writing it as I go.

Summary: She didn’t know much about Mittens at all, when she thought about it. Sure, she knew she was a star student who got good grades, though not as good as her siblings, and had a surly streak, but what were her interests besides reading? What kinds of food did she like? Did she have a crush on a witch in her class? Emira should’ve been able to answer these questions, but she couldn’t. Maybe she should ask, that might be a good place to start.

Or

5 times Emira tried to get Amity to open up and one time when she didn't have to.

______________________________________

Emira would’ve loved to put all the blame for what happened at the library on Ed, but it had been her idea too. Sneaking into the library after hours, inviting Luz to come along with them, planning to steal Mittens’ diary to post the pages around school; Emira had helped plan each step. One even could say she masterminded it, but she didn’t want all the blame.

Even though the plan didn’t fully come to fruition, she still got a good laugh at Mitten’s expense in the end. The whole adventure cost her and Ed dearly when they got home. If only she could’ve just blamed it on Ed, that would’ve made things much easier.

The entrance way of the house was quiet when the twins slipped in, as expected for this time of day. Most members of the family would be still asleep in the wee hours of the morning. Almost all lights were off in the mansion, all except the study in the rear of the house. Emira assumed her father was up working early, since many days of the week that study light remained on all night. The only way to the stairs was past this room, which would’ve made it tricky to sneak in if the twins weren’t masters of illusion magic.

After Ed closed the door quietly, Emira signaled for him to follow her and then cast a low level camouflage spell. Ed followed suit as they crept towards the stairs, careful not to make a sound. The spell would only aid in being spotted, not in covering up any accidental noise.

It didn’t matter though, because nothing could get past their father.

“Edric. Emira.” His voice stopped the twins dead in their tracks, their camouflage snapping with a crackle as he stalled them right in front of the study door. “We require your presence.” He spoke evenly, his tone not giving away any clues of what was to come.

Emira didn’t need any clues, she knew what this was about. Ed clearly did too, as he shook his head rapidly and pointed rapidly at the stairs. He wanted to bolt for it. If Emira thought they could get away from it, she would join him.

But no, no matter how fast they ran they would never escape. Emira knew this and she knew Ed did too.

With a shake of her head, Emira pushed open the study door. While she expected to see her father there, she was surprised to see her mother and Mittens as well. Father sat at his desk, writing on a piece of paper in front of him. To the right there were a couple chairs for guests, where the other two sat.

Their mother was dressed in a bathrobe, which gave Emira a twinge of guilt as her mother may have been sleeping before all of this. It was quite early in the morning, after all. Mittens was frowning, as usual, as she watched her siblings enter the room.

Emira and Edric stopped just inside the door, closing it behind them. They waited with bated breath as their father stood up, casting his gaze over his elder children.

“Would either of you like to explain what happened tonight?”

Ed grit his teeth next to her. “We were just teasing, Mittens needs to lighten up. We didn’t even get to read it.” His hand twitched at his side, but stayed there.

Emira backed his story up. “Yeah, we barely looked at her diary. We were just going to put it back anyway.” A little white lie to smooth things over never hurt. Mittens wasn’t buying it, based on how she had one eyebrow raised. Their father, on the other hand, looked quite irritated.

“So you are not aware then,” his voice rose in volume, “of what happened after you abandoned your sister at that library.”

“I’m sure she was fine.” Ed’s smile was clearly forced as he tried not to buckle under the pressure. Emira nodded alongside him.

This was the wrong response.

“She was almost killed by one of the creatures you created.” Her father’s voice was like a judge’s gavel, banging guilty. Emira felt the blood drain from her face.

It was all in good fun, they had never meant to actually harm Mittens. It looked like she had made it out unscathed at least. Again, her father looked between the twins, casting judgement upon them. “If not for her quick thinking, Amity might not have come home.”

That was odd, why not mention Luz? Emira thought the other teen had stayed behind to talk with Amity. Certainly she would’ve been caught up in this as well, but her father didn’t seem to know of her. Did Mittens hide her presence from him?

Ed came through again, “We were just having fun.” He persisted in the defense, lightly elbowing Emira and refocusing her on the conversation. “And we didn’t think anything there was dangerous.”

“That’s right.” Emira lifted her chin. “It was harmless fun.”

“Well, whether you believe that or not, the fact is the two of you brought serious harm upon your sister.” Her father seemed done with listening to their excuses. “You will apologize, and you are grounded for the next month. You will only be permitted to leave the house to escort Amity. Am I clear?”

Emira hung her head forward as she and Ed responded in unison. “Yes sir.”

Her father didn’t seem satisfied, as he gestured towards Mittens with one hand. “And?” he prompted them.

“I’m sorry…” Ed said quietly, trailing off at the end.

“Me too. I’m sorry Mittens.” Emira brought her gaze back up to meet Mittens’, a blank expression meeting hers.

“Thank you.” Was all Mittens said, in her usual tone.

Her father nodded once. “Good then.” He turned back towards his desk. “If you hurt your sister again or bring more shame upon this family, you will never see the light of day again.” She knew him well enough to know he would make good on that promise.

Emira and Ed both muttered that they understood.

“You are dismissed.” Her father sat back down at his desk, picking up his pen to resume whatever he had been doing when they arrived.

All three teens slipped out of the office, shutting the door behind them.

They walked in silence up the stairs, out of their parent’s earshot. Once they reached the peak though, all bets were off.

“Why’d you tattle on us?” Ed immediately turned on Mittens, his lips pulled into a distinct frown.

Mittens crossed her arms, “You had to be stopped.” She had to look up to make eye contact with her siblings. “Otabin tried to kill me!”

“Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?” Emira cut in; Otabin was a sweet little rabbit he wouldn’t do something like that.

Mittens stomped one foot. “Yes I’m sure.” She seethed. “He had big claws and he tried to sew me into a book so I would be his friend forever!”

“We were just having fun.” Ed said in response, but Emira couldn’t really hear it. What Mittens said finally clicked in her mind. Ed had drawn the claws on that rabbit. When Luz dropped the book they assumed it was closed, apparently they should’ve checked better. They really had almost killed their little sister.

“I’m sorry we left you alone with it.” Emira interrupted whatever Mittens was saying in response, drawing two surprised stares to her. “And it won’t happen again.” Neither of them had anything to say now; they just looked at Emira as if she had grown a second head. “I’m going to bed, so should you.”

Without waiting for a response, Emira brushed past the pair to go to her room. Once inside, she collapsed down onto her bed. The weight of what happened and what nearly happened that day pushed down on her shoulders.

Had she always been this bad of a sister? The answer was probably yes. She had teased and played pranks on Mittens since they were very young. It was like a hobby for her and Ed.

Well, no more of that. It was time to stop picking on her little sister, or at least pick on her a bit less, a very small bit less she still loved to tease her, and be a responsible older sibling. No more putting her in danger, especially not mortal peril like today. She also should try to protect her, though she wasn’t sure from what.

Emira wondered what kind of danger Mittens got in on her own, since most of the time she was off at school or doing uh… Emira didn’t actually know what Mittens did in her free time. What kind of trouble did she get into out there?

She didn’t know much about Mittens at all, when she thought about it. Sure, she knew she was a star student who got good grades, though not as good as her siblings, and had a surly streak, but what were her interests besides reading? What kinds of food did she like? Did she have a crush on a witch in her class? Emira should’ve been able to answer these questions, but she couldn’t.

Maybe she should ask, that might be a good place to start. Tomorrow could work, or next week since Mittens might not forgive so quickly.

With that simple plan in place, Emira went to bed with the conviction to be a better sister in her heart.

Even though she had been up all night, it took a very long time to fall asleep.

Chapter 2