#for the first time since i was 16!!!!!!!!!!

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (16)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: 15

- Next part: 17

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @mrsjohnnysuh

The air is heavy with a somber weight as Jacaerys gently leads Rhaenyra through the corridors of Dragonstone. Her steps are slow and careful, her body still fragile from the birth and the grief that followed, but her eyes are clear, her expression set with determination. It’s been a week since they laid Visenya to rest, but the pain is still raw, a wound that refuses to heal. Yet, Rhaenyra has insisted on attending this council herself, determined to show strength despite her suffering.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Mother?” Jace asks quietly, his arm steadying her as they near the council chamber. His concern is palpable, his young face lined with worry.

“I have to be,” Rhaenyra replies, her voice firm though there’s a tremor beneath it. “This is our fight, Jace. I cannot hide away, not now.”

He nods, though his brow remains furrowed, and he pushes open the heavy wooden door, guiding her inside. The room falls silent as they enter, all eyes turning to the Princess. Rhaenyra pauses, taking in the faces around the table—men and women sworn to your cause, their expressions a mixture of respect and unease.

Daemon’s twin daughters, Baela and Rhaena, are seated near Luke, their young faces tense with the weight of the situation. Rhaenyra’s younger sons are being looked after elsewhere, kept away from the turmoil that threatens to consume them all. She draws strength from seeing Luke, his gaze filled with determination, and from the presence of others who have pledged their loyalty.

Rhaenys is there, standing with her son, Laenor. She looks older, the lines of worry etched deeper on her face, but there is a fire in her eyes that has not dimmed. She inclines her head to Rhaenyra as she approaches, a silent acknowledgment of shared grief and strength.

“How is Corlys?” Rhaenyra asks, her voice quiet but steady as she takes her seat.

Rhaenys steps forward, her voice calm and reassuring. “He is recovering. The worst has passed, and the fever has finally broken. He will be ready to join us soon.”

A murmur of relief sweeps through the room. Corlys Velaryon’s presence and support are invaluable, a cornerstone of their cause. Rhaenyra nods, a faint smile of gratitude touching her lips. “That is good to hear.”

Lord Darklyn clears his throat, drawing the attention of those gathered. “A raven arrived from Dorne this morning,” he begins, his tone carrying a hint of satisfaction. “It seems they intend to stay out of this conflict. They will not join the Greens and are leaning toward supporting Prince—your husband’s—claim.”

A ripple of approval spreads through the room. Jace, his shoulders squared with pride, speaks up, his voice filled with confidence. “It’s no surprise. Dorne remembers what happened the last time they challenged my father.”

There’s a murmur of agreement, and Rhaenyra’s gaze softens as she looks at her son. His courage, his strength—they remind her so much of you. She’s proud, but there’s a hollow ache in her chest, a yearning for your presence.

She glances around, her eyes searching the room, noticing your absence for the first time. “Where is he?” she asks, her voice quiet but edged with concern. “Where is your father?”

The room falls silent, the easy camaraderie dissolving into something more guarded. Jace exchanges a quick look with Luke, hesitation flickering across his face before he turns back to Rhaenyra.

“Mother, he… he hasn’t been well since Visenya’s funeral,” Jace admits, his voice low. “He’s been restless, angry. He and Daemon… they left this morning. They took off with their dragons.”

Rhaenyra’s heart clenches, a sudden fear gripping her. “Where did they go?”

Jace hesitates, glancing at Luke again before he speaks. “In the direction of Oldtown.”

The words hit her like a blow, and for a moment, the room seems to spin around her. She grips the arm of her chair, her knuckles white. “Oldtown…” she breathes, her mind racing, remembering your promise, the fire in your eyes when you swore vengeance for Visenya.

“Gods…” Rhaenyra murmurs, her voice barely a whisper as the realization sinks in. You had been consumed with rage, blinded by grief. You’d spoken of fire and blood, of making them pay for what they had done.

Her heart pounds in her chest, a mixture of fear and despair twisting inside her. You’re not just going to Oldtown—you’re going to burn it. To unleash your fury upon those you hold responsible, no matter the cost.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself as she turns her gaze back to Jace. “We must prepare,” she says, her voice trembling but determined. “We need to be ready for what comes next.”

Jace nods, though the worry does not leave his eyes. “Yes, Mother.”

Rhaenyra looks around the room, her gaze sharp and commanding despite her weakened state. “This is just the beginning. They’ve made their move, and now we must make ours. We cannot let them tear us apart.”

There are murmurs of agreement, the council members straightening, their resolve hardening. Rhaenys steps forward, her eyes on Rhaenyra. “We stand with you, Rhaenyra. We will do what needs to be done.”

Rhaenyra nods, a flicker of gratitude passing over her face. “Thank you, all of you. We will not falter.”

She looks at Jace again, her hand resting briefly on his arm. “We will be ready for whatever comes next.”

The room is filled with the murmur of plans and strategies, a flurry of activity as the council prepares for the storm that is surely coming. And though the fear and worry gnaw at her, Rhaenyra knows she must be strong.

You are driven by grief and rage, but Rhaenyra will stand firm. She will hold Dragonstone, prepare their forces, and wait for your return. 

The sun blazes high in the midday sky, its light blinding as it glares down on the unsuspecting city of Oldtown. Below, the streets bustle with life, unaware of the doom that soars toward them from the direction of the sun, the gleaming silhouettes of two dragons hidden in its harsh glare.

Silverwing’s wings cut through the air with powerful strokes, your heart pounding in sync with each beat. Ahead, Daemon and Caraxes fly with a fierce, relentless speed, their massive forms casting shadows over the sprawling city below. The Hightower, once a proud symbol of power and wealth, looms before you, a tempting target.

You share a look with Daemon, a single nod passing between you as you split off, his gaze fixed on the towering structure of the Hightower, while your own eyes lock onto the Starry Sept. The Faith of the Seven, who had crowned your half-brother, who had dared to deny your birthright. You can feel the rage boiling in your veins, the need for vengeance scorching through every thought.

Caraxes dives first, his roar shattering the midday stillness as flames pour from his maw, a torrent of fire that engulfs the great tower. The stones crack and explode under the intense heat, chunks of rock and debris hurtling through the air. Screams rise up from within the tower, and you see tiny figures—nobles, lords, and ladies—hurling themselves from the windows, desperate to escape the inferno, only to meet their end on the unforgiving ground below.

Silverwing’s roar answers Caraxes, and you direct her down toward the Starry Sept. The beautiful building, with its delicate spires and intricate carvings, stands as a symbol of the power that has been wielded against you, against your family. It will fall, just like everything else they have built.

“Dracarys!” you command, your voice echoing with fury. Silverwing responds with a roar that seems to shake the very sky, flames spilling from her jaws to wash over the Sept. The roof catches fire instantly, the ornate wood and stonework crumbling under the onslaught. The holy place of the Faith is reduced to a screaming, writhing mass of flames and smoke.

Septa and Septons flee from the burning structure, their robes ablaze, their cries filling the air. The smell of charred flesh and burning incense fills your nostrils as Silverwing lands atop the collapsing Sept, her claws crushing what remains of the once-proud building. The impact sends chunks of stone flying, the ground trembling beneath the force of her weight.

Silverwing lets out a triumphant roar, her voice carrying over the dying screams below. Debris scatters in every direction, the sky filled with a choking cloud of ash and smoke. The sight of it fuels the fire in your chest, your hatred, your grief, your rage. You lean forward, your eyes fixed on the chaos below.

“This is for Visenya,” you murmur, your voice lost in the cacophony. “For everything they took from us.”

Your gaze sweeps across the city, taking in the panic and confusion spreading through the streets. You see the Citadel in the distance, its towers rising arrogantly against the sky. A den of maesters, those who have spread their lies and manipulations, who have whispered poison into the ears of kings. They, too, will burn.

You signal Daemon, and Caraxes veers toward the Citadel, his wings beating furiously as he gains speed. Silverwing follows, her powerful form gliding effortlessly through the thickening smoke. Below, the people of Oldtown scatter like ants, fleeing in every direction, their shouts and cries blending into a single, desperate chorus.

Caraxes unleashes a torrent of fire upon the Citadel, the flames licking up the towers, devouring stone and wood alike. Scrolls and tomes, records of centuries, are consumed in an instant, knowledge and history reduced to ash and cinders. The maesters inside scream as they are caught in the blaze, their voices mingling with the roar of the flames and the shattering of glass.

Silverwing circles around, her flames joining those of Caraxes, the combined heat turning the once-proud Citadel into a blazing pyre. The fires leap higher, consuming everything in their path, the air thick with the stench of burning flesh and stone.

You watch, your heart a storm of emotions—anger, sorrow, satisfaction, all mingling into something fierce and unrelenting. This city, this place that has stood against you, that has defied your claim, that has crowned your half-brother in your place—it will be brought to ruin, every stone, every life, ground to dust under the might of dragonfire.

Silverwing’s wings beat against the hot air, her body glowing with the reflected light of the flames as she turns her gaze back to the rest of the city. There is no mercy in her eyes, only the reflection of your own vengeance, your need to see this place reduced to nothing but smoke and ash.

Your voice is a growl as you command her once more. “Burn it all.”

Silverwing’s roar answers you, and she dives, her flames sweeping over the city below, over houses and markets, over temples and towers. People run, screaming, trying to escape the oncoming inferno, but there is no refuge, no safety. The streets become rivers of fire, the buildings collapsing under the relentless assault.

You can see Daemon, his face a mask of grim satisfaction, as Caraxes lays waste to another section of the city. Together, your dragons are a force of nature, unstoppable, unyielding. You turn your gaze to the Hightower once more, the great structure now a smoking ruin, its walls blackened, its stones shattered.

You will leave nothing behind. You will raze it all to the ground, and when the ashes settle, they will remember this day, the day the wrath of dragons was unleashed upon them.

For Visenya. For your daughter. For the throne that was stolen. You will see them all burn. And Oldtown will be the first to fall.

Silverwing and Caraxes turn together, their flames lighting up the sky, and the city of Oldtown is swallowed by the inferno, the screams of its people echoing in the hellish glow. And still, you and Daemon do not stop, your dragons raining fire and destruction, until the city is a smoldering wasteland beneath you.

The charred remains of Oldtown smolder under the midday sun, the acrid stench of smoke and ash hanging thick in the air. The city is unrecognizable, its proud structures reduced to rubble, flames still licking at the ruins. Amidst the devastation, the once proud blue and silver form of Tessarion lies torn and broken, her wings shredded, her body twisted and lifeless. Caraxes circles above, his roar echoing across the desolate landscape, a triumphant call that vibrates through the air. But of Daeron, there is no sign—he has vanished like a shadow, slipping through the chaos like a phantom.

You stand in the midst of the destruction, Silverwing looming behind you, her scales glowing in the harsh light, reflecting the inferno around you. The heat is intense, almost suffocating, but it’s nothing compared to the fire that burns within your chest. Before you, a small cluster of Septons and Septas stand trembling, their robes stained with ash and blood, their eyes wide with terror.

One of the Septons, his face twisted with fear but his voice defiant, steps forward. “You are a monster,” he spits, his words ringing out over the desolation. “An abomination, cursed by the gods. You and your dragon are the doom of us all.”

You feel a cold smile curve your lips as you draw Blackfyre, the legendary blade gleaming darkly in your hand. The weight of it is familiar, comforting. It’s as if the sword itself thirsts for blood, hungers for vengeance. You take a step forward, your gaze locking onto the Septon’s.

“You speak of gods and curses,” you say, your voice low and filled with barely restrained fury. “But where were your gods when my daughter was killed? Where were they when the Faith crowned a usurper in my place?”

The Septon falters, his courage wavering, but he does not step back. “You defy the Seven, Targaryen. The gods will strike you down for this blasphemy.”

You raise Blackfyre, the blade catching the light as you point it at him. “The Faith of the Seven is an enemy of the throne,” you declare, your voice ringing out over the ruins. “An enemy that has aided in the theft of my birthright, that has betrayed the true blood of the dragon. I will root you out from every corner of Westeros. You will find no sanctuary, no mercy.”

The Septon’s face pales, but he lifts his chin defiantly. “The gods will judge you,” he says, his voice shaking but resolute. “You will burn in the Seven Hells for this.”

You step closer, the tip of Blackfyre inches from his chest. “Then let them strike me down,” you hiss, and with a swift, brutal motion, you drive the blade through his robes, piercing flesh and bone. The Septon screams, a high, wailing sound that cuts through the smoke and ash like a blade.

“Scream louder,” you command, twisting Blackfyre as his blood pours over your hands, hot and slick. “Call out to your gods. Let them hear you.”

The Septon’s cries turn to desperate, choking sobs, his hands clawing at the blade, his eyes wide with agony. The others around him watch, horror-stricken, but none dare to move, frozen in the grip of terror. You twist the sword again, feeling the resistance of flesh and bone give way under your hands.

“Is this not what your gods wish?” you ask, your voice mocking, filled with contempt. “Where is their wrath now? Where is their power?”

The Septon collapses to his knees, the life draining from his eyes as his strength fails him. With a final, savage pull, you yank Blackfyre free, the blade glistening with his blood. He crumples at your feet, his breaths ragged and shallow, his face a mask of pain and despair.

You look up at the sky, the smoke swirling above, and raise Blackfyre high, the blood dripping from the blade onto the scorched ground. “Are you watching?” you shout, your voice filled with a bitter fury that echoes across the ruins. “Are you listening, gods of the Seven?”

The sky is silent, the only answer the distant roar of Caraxes, the crackle of flames, the weeping of the dying city around you. There is no thunder, no divine retribution, no sign of any power greater than the one you wield in your hand.

You lower the sword, your gaze sweeping over the Septons and Septas, their faces pale, their bodies trembling. “Your gods are silent,” you say, your voice cold, emotionless. “If they exist at all, they do not care.”

Turning your back on the crumpled, dying Septon, you nod to Silverwing. “Dracarys.”

With a mighty roar, Silverwing unleashes a torrent of fire, her flames sweeping over the huddled figures. Their screams rise up, a cacophony of terror and pain, as they are consumed by the inferno. You do not look back as you walk away, the heat of the flames at your back, your heart a cold, burning core of rage and loss.

Let the world see this and tremble. Let them know that the dragon has returned, and that you will not rest until all who have wronged you, who have betrayed your family, have been reduced to ash. This is the price of treason. This is the price of faith in false gods.

And you will be the one to collect it, blade by blade, fire by fire, until the debt is paid in full.

The atmosphere in the Red Keep’s council chamber is heavy scent of smoke and incense. Aegon, the newly crowned king, lounges in his chair, his fingers drumming restlessly against the polished wood of the table. Aemond sits beside him, his face twisted into cold determination, his single eye fixed on nothing, lost in thought. Alicent is nearby, her gaze flicking between her sons and the door, her expression tight with anxiety.

Around the table, the other members of the small council wait in uneasy silence—Grand Maester Orwyle, his face pale and strained; Lord Tyland Lannister, his lips pressed into a thin line; Ser Criston Cole, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, as if prepared for any sudden threat. Lord Jasper Wylde and Larys Strong complete the assembly, both watching the door with nervous anticipation.

The door bursts open, and Otto Hightower strides in, his face ashen, his movements almost unsteady. Alicent’s eyes widen, alarm flashing across her features as she quickly rises, moving to support him.

“Father, what’s happened?” she asks, her voice laced with worry as she takes his arm, guiding him to the nearest chair.

Otto collapses into the seat, his hand clutching at his chest as if trying to steady his breathing. “Oldtown…” he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper. “Oldtown is gone. Burned to the ground.”

A shocked silence falls over the room, every face turning toward Otto in disbelief. Aegon sits up straighter, his eyes widening. “What?” he breathes, his voice tinged with disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

Otto takes a deep breath, his face lined with exhaustion and grief. “Your half-brother and Daemon… they attacked Oldtown. Burned the city, the Hightower, the Citadel… everything.”

Alicent’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes filling with horror. She sways, and Ser Criston steps forward, his face dark with concern. “My lady…”

She shakes her head, trying to gather herself. “And Daeron?” she asks, her voice trembling. “What of my son?”

Otto’s gaze drops, his face tightening. “There is no word of him. Tessarion is dead. I fear the worst.”

The room erupts into chaos. Orwyle’s face turns even paler, if that were possible. “The Citadel… gone?” he mutters, his voice filled with disbelief. “The records, the histories… centuries of knowledge…”

Tyland Lannister leans forward, his voice sharp and urgent. “And what do we do now? What if they come here next?”

Aegon’s face twists with fear, his eyes darting around the room as if seeking some escape. “He’s mad. Worse then Maegor,” he says, his voice rising with panic. “He’ll kill us all.”

Otto lifts his head, forcing his voice to be calm and steady. “No, he won’t. King’s Landing is armed, fortified. We have dragons, too. He won’t attack us here.”

“But we need to prepare,” Alicent insists, her voice shaking. “We need to protect what’s left of our family.”

Larys Strong, his eyes dark and calculating, is the first to find his voice. “We need allies,” he says softly, his gaze shifting around the table. “If we are to survive this, we must gather support, quickly.”

Aemond rises, his movements sharp and determined. “I will go to Storm’s End,” he declares, his voice cold and unyielding. “The Baratheons will stand with us.”

Tyland nods, his eyes gleaming with a fierce light. “I will send word to my brother in the West. House Lannister has not forgotten the insult dealt by the Targaryen prince. He will rally to our side.”

Aegon looks between them, his face pale and drawn, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. “And what if that’s not enough?” he demands, his voice a harsh whisper. “What if he brings his dragons here?”

Otto forces himself to stand, his hand resting on the back of Alicent’s chair for support. “Then we will fight,” he says firmly, though his eyes betray the fear that gnaws at him. “We will defend the throne, and we will not let him tear this realm apart.”

The room is tense, the fear and uncertainty thick in the air. Aegon looks around at his council, his eyes wide with desperation. “Do something,” he demands, his voice breaking. “Anything. We cannot let him win.”

Aemond places a hand on his brother’s shoulder, his gaze fierce and determined. “We won’t let him take this city,” he promises, his voice low and deadly. “Let him come. I will meet him with fire and blood.”

The words hang in the air, a grim vow that sends a shiver through everyone present. They have seen what your wrath can do, the destruction you are capable of. And they know that the fight that is coming will be like nothing they have faced before.

Otto sinks back into his chair, his face drawn with exhaustion. He glances at Alicent, his eyes filled with unspoken sorrow. “We must be united,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “For our family.”

Alicent nods, though her face is pale, her hands trembling. She turns to Aegon, her voice soft but filled with resolve. “You are the king,” she says, her eyes locked on his. “You must be strong. For all of us.”

Aegon swallows hard, his gaze shifting from his mother to his uncle, then to the rest of his council. “I will try,” he says, his voice a thin, fragile thread. “I will try.”

The room falls silent, the weight of the coming storm pressing down on them all. They are the rulers of a kingdom on the brink of war, a family divided by blood and betrayal. And somewhere beyond the walls of the Red Keep, you and Daemon are coming, your vengeance burning as bright and deadly as dragonfire.

The sun is sinking low over Dragonstone, casting the cliffs and towers in hues of gold and crimson. The air is charged with anticipation, a collective breath held as you and Daemon descend from the sky, your dragons’ massive forms casting shadows across the courtyard below. Silverwing and Caraxes land with a thunderous crash, their wings sending gusts of wind that stir the banners overhead, emblazoned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen.

Rhaenyra stands at the forefront, her face pale but resolute, surrounded by your children and family. Jace and Luke stand tall beside her, their young faces set with a determination beyond their years. Joffrey is next to his eldest brothers, his wide eyes fixed on you with a mixture of awe and fear. Beside them, Aegon and Viserys, still too young to fully understand the gravity of the moment, huddle together, their small hands gripping each other for reassurance.

Daemon’s twin daughters, Baela and Rhaena, stand slightly apart, their faces calm but watchful. Rhaenys is there too, her gaze proud and unyielding, Laenor at her side, his expression one of quiet strength.

Beyond them, your bannermen and retainers have gathered, a sea of loyal faces turned toward you. And beside them, Ser Erryk stands, his armor gleaming in the dying light. In his hands, he cradles the crown of King Viserys, the metal dark and heavy with the weight of your father’s legacy.

You dismount from Silverwing, your boots hitting the ground with a solid thud. The silence is profound, the only sound the rustle of banners and the distant cry of seabirds. Daemon joins you, his gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd, his expression inscrutable.

Rhaenyra steps forward, her eyes locked on yours, and you feel the unspoken question in her gaze, the worry and the fear she tries so hard to hide. You walk to her, your heart a maelstrom of emotions—rage, sorrow, resolve. She reaches out, her hand trembling slightly as she touches your arm.

“You’re back,” she whispers, her voice filled with relief and something more, something fragile.

You nod, your voice low. “I am.”

Her gaze flickers over you, searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe a confirmation of the man she knows, the man she loves. You see the moment she finds it, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. She glances back at your children, then at Ser Erryk.

Erryk steps forward, his expression solemn as he raises the crown. “Your Grace,” he says, his voice carrying over the courtyard. “The crown of your father, King Viserys. It belongs to you.”

The air is electric, a palpable sense of history turning in this moment. You reach out, your hand steady as you take the crown from Erryk’s hands. It’s heavier than you remember, the metal cold against your skin, the weight of it pressing down on you with a finality that is almost suffocating.

You lift the crown, holding it for a moment, the eyes of everyone present fixed on you. Then, with a deep breath, you place it on your head, the cold metal settling against your brow like a seal, like a promise.

A murmur ripples through the crowd, a soft, reverent sound that grows into a cheer, the voices of your bannermen and retainers rising in unison.

“Long live the King!” they shout, their voices echoing off the stone walls, filling the air with a fierce, defiant energy. “Long live King Y/N Targaryen!”

You turn to face them, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces, taking in their loyalty, their hope. This is your moment, the beginning of something new, something that will reshape the future of the realm.

But even as the cheers rise around you, your eyes find Rhaenyra’s again, and you see the shadows in her gaze, the unspoken fear that lingers there.

Daemon steps forward, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Nephew,” he says, his voice low but carrying a note of fierce pride. “The realm will tremble.”

You nod, your gaze steady on his. “It will.”

Rhaenys moves to stand beside Rhaenyra, her eyes sharp and assessing as she looks at you. “The Hightowers will not take this lightly,” she warns, her voice calm but edged with steel. “They will come for you.”

“I welcome it,” you say, your voice carrying a cold, unyielding resolve. “Let them try. They will find a dragon waiting.”

The crowd quiets, the weight of your words sinking in, the reality of what lies ahead settling over them like a shadow. This is not just a crowning; it is a declaration, a promise of fire and blood to come.

You turn back to Rhaenyra, your hand reaching for hers, your fingers intertwining. “This is our fight,” you murmur, your voice for her alone. “For our children, for our family, for Visenya.”

She nods, her grip tightening around yours. “For Visenya,” she echoes, her voice steady, her gaze fierce.

And as you stand there, your family gathered around you, the crown of your father on your head, you know that this is only the beginning. The war has already begun, and you will see it through to the end. You will reclaim what is yours, no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.

The dragons have returned, and all of Westeros will feel their fury.

[pinkynana]

am i the asshole for being possessive about my childhood friend's virginity?

Summary: It has been awhile since you last met renjun. Perhaps your last encounter was right after graduation. You’re back in your old neighborhood, having drinks with your favorite childhood best friend. And it slipped out of you that you had never had sex, despite a whole semester in college. Renjun took that as an invitation. Afterall, you experienced every one of your firsts with Renjun.

word count: 2k

warnings: noncon to dubcon, dacryphyllia, bondage, possessive renjun, fake sympathy, creampie.

tell me if i missed anything.

It feels good to open up the window and see that familiar face of your best friend since diapers. Renjun was already smiling at you the moment you slid your curtains away. “It’s been so long!” He yelled. He had to, considering the few meters of distance between his window and yours. You noticed that he was still in a suit, probably just got home from some important business. “I know right! Wanna grab some drinks?” 

“Oh, I already have some in my room.” 

“Really? Well in that case..” 

You stepped backwards into your bedroom, just to sprint, jumping out of your window, landing on the roof of Renjun’s first floor. With that safe land, you crawled up to Renjun’s window, welcoming yourself inside as if the room was your own. “Still crazy as always I see.” he giggled. 

“Wouldn't be me if it isn’t crazy.” 

-

Renjun had your first kiss. 

At 16, you still had a crush on Tobey Maguire’s spiderman although Andrew Garfield already had two amazing spiderman movies. You skipped evening class to watch the rerun of the first three spiderman movies. Renjun came with. He didn't have evening class like you did. He didn't need them, he’s smart unlike you. 

Once the movies were over, you refused to go home. You knew you'd earn an earful and maybe some beatings once you get home because your mom would be furious that you had skipped class just to watch movies. Instead, you were at the playground, climbing on the monkey bars. 

“It’s getting late, y’know.” Renjun waited for you, sitting at the swings. “Renjun! Come join me! I feel like Spiderman. Do you think there's a spidergirl out there, maybe?” You never touched a marvel comic, obviously. Renjun huffed when you ignored his comment. He did, however, come towards you. He didn't climb the bars though. He let you have all the fun to yourself. He watched as you hung your feet on the bar as you let your body dangling upside down. You let out a laugh. 

“Wouldn't it be cool to have my first kiss just like the upside down kiss from the movie?” He didn't answer, which concerned you. “Renjun?”

Before you knew it, he cupped your face as he planted a kiss right there where you were hanging your body upside down on the monkey bars. 

The next day you pretended like it never happened and continued being his best friend as usual. 

-

The first time you watched porn, it was with Renjun. You were only 16, receiving a usb drive that may or may not give your computer a virus from a fellow classmate. As soon as your extracurricular activities ended, you ran straight to Renjun’s room. He had gone home earlier as he wasn't involved in the same club as you. You slammed the door shut behind you, hugging your backpack against your chest. 

“What are you doin-”

“Shh!” You locked the door of his bedroom. “Take out your laptop.” you ordered him, walking towards his study desk as your hand took out the pendrive from your bag. you tossed the bag to his bed. Renjun didn't question you when he took out his laptop. He only did when you suddenly plugged in the drive into it without telling you what it was. 

“Hey! What is that?” 

“Porn.” 

“What? Are you serious?” 

“Well, it might not be. I won't take the risk on my laptop though.” He groaned once he figured out your plan. You were afraid that the drive you received might give your laptop a virus so you risked it on his instead. How typical of you. “Why are you interested in that anyway?” The file was right in front of your eyes when he asked that. “Because..” You clicked on the first folder.” “I’m curious.” Renjun rolled his eyes at your answer. He leaned back against his chair as you did what you wanted on his laptop. The video started to play and you took a seat on his bed. You partially heard Renjun saying something to you but you were too focused on the two actors on his screen. You involuntarily gasped when the man inserted his penis into the woman's vagina. The sound out of you made Renjun turn his head and you held a second of eye contact with him. 

That eye contact suddenly made you realize how invasive you were and how intimate this whole action is. You shouldn't be watching porn with Renjun. Sure, he's your best friend but he's still a man. The realization made you stand on your feet, grabbing your backpack with you. 

“I fulfilled my curiosity. Gotta go. Bye!” You wore your backpack as you ran towards his bedroom door to leave. “Wait, what about the drive?!” He yelled as you had already exited the room 

“Keep it!”

-

The first friendship breakup was also with Renjun. You were both 17 when you fought about Renjun’s choice for college. He wanted to try for early admissions while you were still struggling to choose a course, let alone a college to aim for. It was too early to think about life after highschool, according to you. 

Early in the morning, when usually you would either ride on the backseat of Renjun’s bike, you rode on your own bike. You purposely waited for Renjun to come out so it’ll look like you two had coincidentally come out at the same time. You glared at him before you took your seat and started paddling to school. 

What upsetted you more was the fact that Renjun paddled faster as he slid right past you, not even looking your way. 

By the time you arrived at the bike parking, Renjun was seen leaning against the wall, looking like he was waiting for you. That warmed up your heart a bit. You locked your bike in then came to him. “You got something to say to me?” You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to look cool. “Yeah, I got in.” 

Your face dropped. “See you at your graduation, y/n.” 

Truth be told, that was probably your first heartbreak. 

-

You cried in front of Renjun for the first time (not including the time when you were kids) when he actually showed up to your highschool graduation. You didn't look for your parents when you stepped on the stage. Your eyes scanned the audience to look for your best friend who said he'd meet you again today. But he was nowhere to be seen. You tried to brush it off, not letting it ruin your memorable day. As you took a picture with your mom, you see a familiar figure walking towards you, holding a bouquet of flowers. Without even realizing, tears had started to fall from your eyes. You didn't waste any time running to him, giving him a big hug. And he wrapped his arms around you so perfectly too. You sobbed messily in between your tears. 

“We never even said goodbye.. I never even apologized.. I was so immature.. I mean, it was just a few months ago, but still!.. I’m older and wiser now.” You huffed, sobbed, sniffed and maybe even hiccuped. 

Renjun just laughed at your state. You knew that he would forgive you in a heartbeat, as long as you said you were sorry. 

“I’m sorry, Renjun. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was such a dick to you, I’m so sorry,” 

-

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry..” Now, he was on top of you with your wrists tied on his bed frame with his neck tie that he was wearing just a few minutes ago. His shirt was unbuttoned and he had taken off your shorts just now. “Renjun, you're being scary..” Without even realizing, tears had started to fall from your eyes. Renjun leaned down to kiss your cheek where your tears ended. 

“I’m sorry, I just..” One of his hands caressed your face while the other started unbuckling his belt. “Please don't be scared of me. I just have to do this. I gotta be your first.” This was nowhere near the Renjun you knew and grew up with. If he was gentle with it, if he was maybe romantic with it, then you would probably allow this to happen. But this isn't the caring gentleman you were best friends with. You had no clue who this man before you was. “Fuck, you look so pretty crying.” You noticed how hard he was once he took his slacks and his boxers off. 

“Renjun, I’m scared.” You whimpered, hoping to gain mercy from him. “No no no no, baby. Don't be scared.” He gave your lips a peck. “Trust me, baby. You trust me, right?” Again, if he had been gentle with you, you probably would have nodded your head. Instead you shook it furiously, “Renjun, please.. I’ll- I’ll suck your cock, or.. or I’ll give you a handjob. Just, please don't fuck me.” 

“No.. please. As much as that sounds tempting, I need to fuck you. I’ve always been your first. Remember? Just trust me.” He wiped away your tears with his thumb. And with that same thumb, he reached down to your pussy as he started to rub your clit in circles, making sure that you’d start to get wet. You squirmed at the pleasure that you wish never came. “There.. See? You like it.” After he was sure you were wet enough, he took your panties off with one swift. 

“Your pussy is excited to see me, baby.” You looked away in embarrassment at his comment. He slid a finger from your hole to your clit, collecting your pussy juice as he licked it off. He then jerked himself off a few times before he aligned his tip on your pussy. “Trust me, okay?” He said before he slid in with a groan. “Perfect fucking pussy.” He moaned. 

At this point, you knew there was no escaping anymore. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted. You closed your eyes shut, trying to imagine that Renjun was someone else. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't think of anyone. Because deep down, you always knew that you had liked Renjun for a long time. Though this wasn't the ideal situation, you always wanted it to happen. More tears started to fall out as you felt ashamed of yourself for feeling good from his thrust. “Fuck.. I get harder the more you cry, baby. You're such a pretty crier.” With his cussing, he went on faster and harder, earning loud moans from you. 

You felt Renjun getting sloppier by the minute and you guessed that it was because he was close and you started to panic. “Renjun.. Renjun.. pull out! We have no protection. Don't cum inside of me! Please, Renjun.” But all you received from him was more groans and cusses. “Just.. just trust me. It’ll be fine. I’m sorry, trust me.” The more he said the word trust, the smaller the trust you actually had for him. But all you could do was let him fuck your wet pussy since you're too weak to even pull yourself out of the knot that Renjun tied above your head. 

And just in a few more thrusts, he had poured his semen into you. With jagged breaths, he still muttered some more apologies to you but you paid it no mind. It’s not like he actually meant it anyway. 

He planted one more kiss on your lips before he pulled out and laid beside you on his bed. He untied the necktie away from you but you still couldn't break free as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close and hugging you tight. “I’m sorry, angel.” he said again. He caressed your hair, fixing up any messy strands. “I’ll get you cleaned, okay?” With that, he picked you up and took you to his bathroom where he cared for you like the Renjun you always knew your whole life. 

[zepskies]

Podcast Interview With Idling in the Impala: "Y/N and Let Y/N…"

Here we go! Sandra and Kasey, the lovely hosts of @idlingintheimpalapodcast — the podcast for all things SPN and fanfiction — invited me on the pod for an interview…

We chatted about Dean Winchester and Jensen Ackles’ early roles, the best and worst seasons of SPN, the joys and pains of writing Soldier Boy, and much, much more.

That’s right, there be some hot takes coming in this convo, and I had an absolute blast with these two! (And like I said in Sunday's announcement, I’m also putting my name and my voice out there for the first time! 😆)

So if any of that sounds interesting, feel free to dive in!

(**Important Note: Just to preface, we recorded this back in June, so it was before I posted certain stories or even started developing Lost on You. It was also when Tumblr activity/engagement was going through a spring/summer slowdown lol.

Links to all the fics and podfics we mentioned are at the end of this post.)

Have a listen: ⤵️

Interview Timestamps –

(Plus fic recs, SPN writer shoutouts, and more!)

1:44 – Who’s your guy: Sam or Dean?

3:35 – Getting into Supernatural for the first time (and seeing “Deanisms” in Jensen’s early roles).

10:15 – We debate the best and worst seasons of SPN: talking Mary Winchester, the British MOL, MOC Dean vs. Demon Dean, Chuck/God villainy, “jump the shark” moments, and that ending.

30:29 – Favorite SPN characters besides Sam and Dean.

32:34 – Writing fanfiction, joining Tumblr, and writing reader inserts vs. OCs.

38:05 – To “Y/N” or not “Y/N,” and the power of 2nd person. (**Disclaimer: Despite my hot take on this, I’ve loved a lot of stories by authors who use Y/N in reader insert stories.

Also, if I’m remembering the book You and its characters incorrectly forgive me, it’s been like 5 years since I read it lol.) 

51:00 – Favorite fanfic tropes in romance, the joys and challenges of writing Soldier Boy (AKA: the Original Asshole), and attempting to humanize Ben in Break Me Down.

Shoutout to @deans-spinster-witch always for giving me the inspiration to write BMD. 💚

Why We Love The Boys – A review of Supes Ain’t Always Heroes

1:07:57 – Engaging with readers, tips on increasing engagement, optimizing your Tumblr blog, writing schedules and processes, and incorporating reader feedback into stories.

1:26:38 – Sandra graciously narrated Midnight Espresso (Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader). We chat about what sparked the idea for the ME-verse, self-representation in fanfic, feeding Dean, loving Dean, and writing about culture and ethnicity in the fandom space.

1:38:26 – Chatting about the inspirations behind Smoke Eater, a firefighter!Dean AU; law enforcement procedurals, House MD, and researching for stories.

1:44:30 – Which Jackles character is the easiest or most fun to write?

1:47:39 – The challenges of writing Sam vs. Dean.

1:53:15 – Shoutouts! To some of my favorite SPN authors. I could only remember a few people off the top of my head (stupid me), but I love all of you!!

@waynes-multiverse @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @luci-in-trenchcoats @rizlowwritessortof @waywardxwords

@deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @deanwritings @spnbabe67 @thatonewriter15

@justagirlinafandomworld @kaleldobrev @artyandink @princessmisery666 @wayward-dreamer (– and many more.)

2:00:40 – How I came up with my username.

2:05:04 – Kasey’s Secret Question…

2:07:38 – Advice to fanfic writers and creatives for inspiration and/or wisdom.

2:16:35 – Sandra and Kasey’s lovely outro: self-representation in fandom, escapism, diverse voices, and more. (“Reach out a hand. Touch somebody. …Not like that.”)

📖 Fics Mentioned:

Sandra: @talltalesandbedtimestories -

Some Sunny Day Series – Dean Winchester x OFC - (I'm in the process of reading this entire series and it's been a joy to read! 💜)

Past Due – Dean Winchester x Reader

The Iceman Cometh – Dean Winchester x Reader

Cowboy Canter (Original Fiction) – Inspired by cowboyish Dean/Jensen.

Kasey: @sam-is-my-safe-word -

English Cottage-verse – Sam Winchester x Reader (I've read it and it's fantastic! 💜)

(K)not for sale – Soldier Boy x Dean Winchester

Alex (Zep/Me) -

Break Me Down – Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Midnight Espresso (& the Series Masterlist) – Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Dream With Me – Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Smoke Eater – Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Every Second Counts – Russell Shaw x F. Reader

🎙️ Stories/Podfics Sandra has narrated for me:

Podfic Playlist

And please remember to check out all the other awesome interviews, narrated podfics, and fun topics covered by Sandra and Kasey on the Idling in the Impala Podcast!

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 80

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Saturday, April 16; 5:30 PM - Porto Airport.

Here we are, in Porto. I can hardly believe it. I mean, I'm from Portugal, but I've never been here. It's always been a city I've wanted to visit, and here I am. Lucy smiles at me to reassure me.

"Are you ready?"

"As if I had a choice."

She laughs softly and steals a kiss. She's lucky I love her madly. In a few minutes, we're going to get off the plane and meet her parents. Despite her teasing, I can tell Lucy's been nervous since yesterday. She gave me a little rundown of what to expect, and honestly, I have no idea how to act.

"I love you. Don't forget that."

"I know."

We exchange a smile, and we walk hand in hand down the disembarkation corridor. My hands are sweaty. There are people all around us. When we reach the hall, I let Lucy take the lead in looking for them, as I've never seen them. All I know is that her father is really tall and her mother have white hair.

"I see them! Are you coming?"

"I'm right behind you."

She guides me while I keep looking around for them. I finally smile when I see Alexia running toward us. I barely have time to let go of my girlfriend’s hand to catch her in my arms.

"You’re finally here!"

I let out a sigh. I had forgotten they arrived before us. That’s great news.

"Hey. I’m so relieved to see you."

"Me too! I have so much to tell you."

"Really? Did you have a good week?"

I almost forgot she spent the week with Jenni and her sister. I imagine she has lots to share.

"It couldn’t have been better. And you? You look like you got some sun."

"A little, yes," I giggle.

I glance over her shoulder to see Lucy standing next to her parents and Jenni. I smile especially when I see her in the arms of a woman I assume to be her mother based on her appearance.

"You’ve already talked to them, I guess?" I ask Ale.

"Yeah. Your mother-in-law is a bit... I don’t know. Intimidating? She’s something else."

"Thanks, Ale. That’s really reassuring," I mock.

"Sorry," she laughs. "Just giving you a heads-up."

I nod. Anyway, Lucy already warned me that her mother would be the one to intimidate me the most with her cold demeanor. In a way, it reminds me of Lucy when we first met. She was the same, so I guess it’s not insurmountable.

"Her dad, on the other hand, is adorable. He hasn’t stopped chatting with us."

I glance at him. Once again, Lucy warned me not to judge by appearances. He reminds me of my dad, but even more impressive.

"That’s something, at least."

"Come on, I’ll go with you through this tough moment. We’ll chat later."

I nod. I can’t run away forever. Alexia links her arm with mine to guide me. I let her. I’d rather do that than have time to overthink. Lucy smiles immediately when she sees us. Ale lets go of me when my girlfriend reaches out her hand. I take it and don’t hesitate to snuggle against her.

"Mom, Dad, this is Ona, my girlfriend. Ona, this is Diane , my mother , and Kim, my father."

"Hello," I say timidly. "I’m happy to finally meet you."

"And we are too. Lucy has told us a lot about you. Don’t be shy around us. We’re glad Lucy’s brought someone home."

"Well, that puts a lot of pressure on me."

The words slipped out, but they seem to amuse her father, who catches me off guard with a hug that tenses me up. Lucy smiles with amusement beside me. Maybe this trip won’t be as bad as I feared. Well, except for her mother, who has been staring at me the whole time. Lucy’s father saves me from having to approach her by suggesting we hurry home. Lucy kisses my temple, wrapping her arm around my shoulders as we walk.

"You’re doing great, honey," she whispers. "You’re perfect. Just keep being yourself, and everything will be fine."

Her words give me the strength I need for what’s ahead. The non-interaction with her mother bothers me a bit, but I suppose I’ll have to get used to it for now. Lucy said not to expect much from her at first.

"You all must be starving," her father says as we head toward the exit after collecting our bags.

"Oh, yes, you’re not kidding," Jenni replies. "I’ll be glad when we’re home."

"You’ll have to wait a bit. We invited your parents for dinner tonight. We thought it’d bring back good memories."

"What a great idea. Are we having a barbecue?"

"Of course. You’ll help me grill the meat."

"Gladly!"

It seems like everyone’s looking forward to tonight. I really hope everything goes well.

Saturday, April 16; 7:30 PM - Bronze House.

Lucy loved my house, but she didn’t do too badly with hers either. It’s a small house with a lovely, well-kept garden. Like me, they live away from the city, in a very friendly neighborhood. It’s peaceful. You can’t hear anything, even though we’re outside sipping a drink for now. The Dads and Jenni are handling the grilling. Jenni looks a lot like her dad. The mothers are, to my relief, inside preparing salads. I have some breathing room and, more importantly, an escape from my mother-in-law’s watchful eyes. She won’t stop. I feel like she’s scrutinizing my every move. It’s very unsettling. Thankfully, Alexia keeps me relaxed with casual conversation.

"I need to use the bathroom before we sit down," I tell Lucy. "Can you show me where it is?"

"I’ll come with you."

"Oh no, you don’t have to. Just tell me."

"Sweetheart, I’m coming with you," she insists. "We’ll be back in ten minutes," she tells Ale.

"No problem, I’ll check in on the others in the meantime."

She winks at me as we walk into the house. Lucy takes me upstairs, which feels strange at the moment. But then she opens the door to the bathroom, right next to her bedroom. At least now I know I won’t have trouble finding it if I need to during the night.

"Thanks."

"Is everything okay, love?" she asks, stopping me with her question.

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?"

"Well, you’re not as cheerful as when we left Lisbon."

"Well… your mother is quite the character, but I’ll be fine."

She chuckles softly, sliding her hands around my waist.

"I know, I’m sorry if she’s making you uncomfortable."

"Oh no, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, and honestly, she’s not making me that uncomfortable. I haven’t even spoken to her yet."

"You’re right," she sighs. "I know she likes to observe before acting, but she’s never been this intense. I’ll say something to her eventually."

"No! Please don’t, Lucy. I don’t want her to think I’m playing the victim or anything."

She sighs heavily. I cup her cheek, and she looks up at me.

"And then what? I’m not going to let her create tension between you two during this trip."

"Well, I don’t know… Maybe she’s waiting for me to approach her? Maybe I should make the first move. What do you think?"

"I’m not sure you’re ready to—"

"Ready for what?" I interrupt. "I think I’ve been through enough to handle a conversation with your mom, Lucia."

"That’s not what I meant," she sighs.

She averts her gaze, clearly thinking it over. I can tell she’s nervous. Either she’s hiding something serious, or she doesn’t think I can handle her mother.

"Okay… If you feel like facing her, go ahead. She’ll appreciate the gesture."

"Thank you."

I smile and kiss her gently.

"Can I use the bathroom now? »

"Yes," she laughed. "I'll wait for you."

She let go of me, and I hurried to take care of what I needed to do. I washed my hands and came back out. Lucy was leaning against the door, looking deep in thought. I stood in front of her and wrapped my arms around her.

"Hey, how are you?"

She shrugged.

"I don’t know. It’s always strange coming back here."

"I can see that. We're far from peace and quiet, huh?"

"Yeah," she chuckled.

I gently stroked her hair, full of love.

"Do you want to talk?"

"No, it's fine."

"Okay... You know I love you, right?"

A small smile formed on her lips.

"Yeah, it seems like it..." she replied playfully.

"You think that’s funny, huh?" I asked, pulling away a little.

"Just a bit."

A small gasp escaped me when she flipped the roles. I found myself pressed against the wall, speechless as she kissed me softly. I kissed her back with growing desire.

"You’ll never love me as much as I love you," she teased.

"Wrong. I already love you more than you love me."

"No, I don't think so," she teased back.

"Girls! We're ready to eat!" Ale called from the stairs.

"Well, duty calls, it seems."

"Yeah, convenient for you."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let’s go fill our stomachs instead of arguing over a debate that, in my opinion, has no possible outcome."

I chuckled softly.

"You're just afraid to lose, that's all."

"Are you done yet? I might start thinking you’re doubting my feelings."

She stepped back, crossing her arms. She was truly adorable when she pretended to sulk. Usually, it was me in that position. I tilted my head, smiling.

"Are you kidding? After our nights at the beach, there's no way I could ever doubt your feelings."

I moved closer to her again, pressing our bodies together. Her hand gliding over my hip caught me off guard, and once again, she had me pinned against the wall. My breath was short, but I let her kiss me once more, tenderly. I felt myself surrender more and more, and I loved it. I had developed an unshakable trust in her. Last week had truly been paradise. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I had fully found myself again. We were in perfect harmony, and nothing made me happier than knowing we’d be living together permanently in just a few weeks. I snapped back to reality when Lucy started to venture a little too far along my neck.

"Lucia," I whispered.

That didn’t seem to stop her, but a pinch on her butt certainly did the trick.

"Hey!" she protested.

"You made me wait for nights last week because we were under my grandfather's roof. Don’t think you’re going to get away with it any easier here."

"And what, exactly? Want me to find us a beach?" she teased.

"You’re ridiculous," I giggled. "We almost got caught more than once last night, remember?"

"Oh, come on, it was kind of fun, wasn’t it?" she teased, letting her hand wander under my shirt.

"Sure, but you weren’t the one half undressed when it happened."

"True," she laughed.

I gave in to her lips one last time. That’s when we were interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. I panicked a little but relaxed when I saw Ale standing there.

"So, this is what you've been up to this whole time? We’ve all been waiting for you."

"Sorry about that," Lucy laughed. "We’re coming."

"I hope so!"

She turned around without checking if we were following. I was ready to go, but Lucy held me back one more time. I thought we were done.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Forget about all that for now. Don’t worry about my mom tonight. Focus on me, okay? I want us to have a good evening for our first night here. Can you do that for me?"

I took a deep breath but nodded.

"Okay," I murmured. "I’ll try."

"Thank you. I love you, don’t forget that."

I smiled as she kissed me one last time. Now it was time to keep my promise. I just hoped her mom wouldn’t traumatize me.

Sunday, April 17th, 08:30 AM - Bronze House

I groaned as I felt movement beside me. I reached out to place my arm over Lucy’s body, but I realized she wasn’t lying down anymore.

"What are you doing?" I mumbled.

"Shhh, go back to sleep."

"Where are you going?" I grumbled, blinking as she tried to get out of bed.

"I can't sleep anymore. Jenni texted me. We’re going for a run."

I sighed contentedly as she stroked my head. It felt so good. I closed my eyes again.

"You're leaving me alone?"

"We’re just doing a quick loop around the neighborhood. You won’t have to leave here without me, okay?"

"Hmm..."

I heard her words, but I was too tired to process them. Lucy chuckled at my response.

"I love you. See you soon."

I felt her lips against mine. I let out another small groan as she finally got out of bed. I wasn’t able to stop her, but instead, I slid over to her side of the bed, hugging her pillow to me. On the one hand, I hated that she left me alone for her morning runs, but on the other, I loved being able to enjoy her side of the bed in her absence. Without fully realizing it, I drifted back to sleep.

Sunday, April 17th, 09:00 AM - Bronze House

I stretched out in the big bed, realizing I was alone. I vaguely remembered why, thanks to Lucy’s departure. I sighed and reached for my phone. It was still early for me, but I could hear movement in the house. There was noise coming from downstairs. I didn’t know when Lucy had left, but I didn’t particularly feel like waiting for her up here. Knowing Alexia, she was probably still sleeping. She loved to sleep in as much as I did. Or, maybe she had gone with the others. That was a possibility too. I waited for a while, but eventually decided to get out of bed. It was ridiculous to stay there, and with a bit of luck, Lucy’s dad would be downstairs. I took the time to get dressed and make the bed before heading to the bathroom next to the room. I brushed my teeth and fixed my hair before heading downstairs. After all, I was at my in-laws’ house, and the least I could do was look presentable. My feet led me to the kitchen after I noticed the living room was empty. I instantly regretted leaving the bed when I saw that the only person there was Lucy’s mother, who had, of course, already spotted me.

"Good morning," I said, a bit awkwardly.

"Good morning, Ona."

"How are you? Is there anything I can help you with?"

The woman smiled. That was a first. I hadn’t received a smile from her yet. I’d had a pleasant evening yesterday, but I’d had to ignore her to avoid feeling uncomfortable.

"Lucy told us that you don’t particularly like cooking. Maybe you could set the table, if you remember where the silverware is."

I blushed furiously. Lucy had really told them that? We were going to need to have a little talk.

"Y-yes, of course," I stammered.

We’d put the dishwasher away last night, so I remembered perfectly where everything was. I moved toward the kitchen to start looking for the plates.

"So, she was right?" Lucy’s mother asked.

I swallowed hard. Had she painted me as some sort of failure to her parents? I felt embarrassed by the answer I was about to give.

"Yes, it's true. I never really took the time to learn how to cook, but I do help Lucy from time to time since we moved in together. Well, on weekends, at least," I added, unsure of how much she actually knew.

I prefer to stay honest. It’s not by lying that I will gain her sympathy. She doesn’t respond, so I step forward to the table to set down four plates.

“Are you planning to take care of my daughter?”

The question catches me off guard. She stopped what she was doing to look me straight in the eye. I realize she’ll probably judge my answer if it’s not what she expects.

“I understand you might feel uncomfortable with my behavior,” she continues. “But you have to understand, I only have one child. It’s my duty to know if she’s in good hands.”

I take a deep breath. In a way, I’m glad she started the conversation. I would have never had the courage to do it myself. Besides, the question was simple. I just needed to answer from the heart.

“I love your daughter, so of course, I’m going to take care of her. She’s my priority.”

“You love her, huh? So, you’re not with her out of interest?”

“What—what? No!” I reply, offended. “Lucy has given me so much, and I have genuine feelings for her. I would never use her.”

“Really? So there’s no ulterior motive? Not even a financial one?”

I laugh bitterly. This woman is something else. What does she think? I can see that my attitude doesn’t please her, but I can’t help it. I close my eyes for a moment, clench my fists, and collect myself.

“No, none at all,” I reply more harshly than I intended. “If you know so much, I imagine Lucy has also told you about my father’s death... So you should know I inherited everything from him. Even his house in Lisbon, so you can understand that I’m not in need financially.”

I don’t like that she’s doubting our love so much. Plus, forcing me to talk about my father—that’s the last straw. Unexpectedly, her eyes soften, which is rather disconcerting. Up until now, she’s only looked at me with judgment and coldness.

“I did hear about that tragedy. My condolences. I’m also sorry for attacking you like this, but I’m still Lucy’s mother, and I have to protect her. She’s been through enough, but you seem to be good for her.”

Her words make my heart skip a beat. What does she mean by “been through enough”? Is she referring to her relationship with Keira? I don’t know why, but since what Lucy told me last week and how she’s been acting since we got here, I have doubts that it’s just that. Something else must have happened here too.

“I observed you a lot last night. I can see that you make my daughter happy, and after this conversation, you seem like a remarkable young woman. Know that Lucy needs support, even though she’ll never admit it.”

I struggle to hide my surprise. Until now, I never noticed that Lucy needed support. On the contrary, she’s always the one who’s supported me.

“Don’t look so surprised. You’re already supporting her without even realizing it, so keep it up. The only thing I’ll ask of you is to never betray her or break her heart.”

I blink several times. Am I to understand that she’s finally giving me her approval? It touches me in a way, considering the person standing in front of me. I blush despite myself and nod.

“Absolutely not, ma’am. I wouldn’t even think of it. I love her far too much to do something like that. I fully intend to keep Lucy by my side forever.”

She nods calmly, with a small smile.

“Good. I’m trusting you with my daughter, then. Take care of her. And you can call me Diane from now on.”

A weight lifts off my shoulders at those words. The conversation is going well.

“Welcome to the family, Ona.”

Definitely going well. Her words warm my heart. She’s clearly offering me recognition. I smile gently.

“Thank you... Diane.”

“Do you like pancakes?”

“Oh yes, especially Lucy’s,” I admit enthusiastically.

“Well, you’ll have to settle for mine today. But they shouldn’t be much different from my daughter’s since I’m the one who taught her.”

I smile softly and nod. I continue setting the table, and when I’m done, I hear the front door slam. My girlfriend’s laughter and Jenni’s echo in the hallway before they appear in the room.

“Hello!” she says cheerfully.

Her expression shifts to surprise when she sees me here. She wasn’t expecting it. After all, she asked me to wait upstairs. But that was out of the question for me. I wanted to take the opportunity to talk with her mother, and now that’s done.

“Hey,” I greet them.

“Oh, you came downstairs after all.”

“You told her to wait upstairs?” her mother scolds. “I wasn’t going to eat her.”

“Oh, with you, who knows,” Lucy laughs before coming over to hug me. I let myself relax until I catch a whiff of her scent. I grimace and try to push her away, but she holds on tighter.

“You stink,” I point out.

“What? You don’t like my natural scent?” she teases.

“Yes, but definitely not your sweat.”

She laughs before kissing me. Her lips carry me away every time. It’s as if I melt in her arms.

“Everything okay? She didn’t torture you too much?”

“No,” I giggle. “Everything went fine.”

She nods, glancing briefly at her mother, who doesn’t seem concerned about us.

“Are you and your girlfriend staying for breakfast, Jenni?” she asks instead.

“No, I’m heading home. I’m expected there, and I need a shower too.”

“Great idea,” Lucy comments. “We’ll take one as well. See you this afternoon?”

“Yeah, we’ll text to figure something out.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“See you later.”

She turns around and leaves as if it’s nothing. Something tells me she feels right at home here. She seems very comfortable and well-accepted by my girlfriend’s family. Lucy catches my attention by kissing my cheek.

“Are you done here? Will you join me?”

“Oh, um…”

I blush. I think I understood what she meant earlier when she said “we” to Jenni. I glance at her mother for some sort of approval. She doesn’t seem to care. She’s not even looking at us. I turn back to Lucy, who has a mischievous expression.

“We can’t do that,” I say softly so only she can hear.

“Come on. No one’s upstairs, and we can talk about what happened while I was gone.”

She teases me, playing with the hem of my t-shirt. I shake my head, but Lucy isn’t giving up.

“Mom, will you call us when it’s ready?”

“Yes, go ahead. We’ll call you when it’s time.”

“Perfect, thanks.”

Lucy grabs my hand and leads me upstairs before I have a chance to understand what’s happening. I hardly recognize her. She’s never been this persistent. We arrive upstairs, and she guides me into the family bathroom.

“You’re exaggerating. We can’t do this here.”

"We're not going to do anything. I just want to take a shower with you. Is that too much to ask?"

She tilts her head while teasing the back of my bra under my t-shirt. I roll my eyes but smile nonetheless. She seems to really want this moment, so I give in.

"Just a quick shower, but don’t say I didn’t warn you."

"Thank you, my love. I’ll go get some clothes. You get the towels ready."

She gives me a quick kiss before disappearing into her bedroom. A pretty spacious room, by the way. It’s about the size of our room in Manchester, with fairly neutral colors. Actually, it resembles her apartment’s style a lot—minimalistic, but very pretty and harmonious. I listen to her and go in search of the towels. This room has a bathtub, a shower, and some storage cabinets. I hope she doesn’t get any ideas when she sees the bath... She's been quite playful these past few days. I jump when arms suddenly wrap around me from behind. I didn’t even have time to look before she’s already here.

"Haven’t you taken your clothes off yet?" she whispers.

"I was waiting for you. And honestly, I haven’t even found the towels."

I turn around to face her and also to check if the door is locked, which it is.

"Did you lock it?"

"Of course. Now, undress."

She kicks things off by stripping off her clothes, letting them fall to the floor. Unlike her, I plan on putting mine back on, so I fold them neatly. Meanwhile, she turns on the water and checks the temperature. I feel happy to be getting more comfortable around her. She makes me feel wanted. It's been a long time since I’ve felt that way.

"So, where are the towels?" I ask.

"Right here, look."

She points to a cabinet right next to the shower. I grab two for later. When I turn around, Lucy already has her hand on my waist.

"You're really eager today," I giggle. "What’s going on with you?"

"I don’t know. I just want to spend time with you."

"Quick, remember," I say as she pulls me under the water.

"Promise," she laughs. "Just a shower," she murmurs against my lips.

I smile as she kisses me, closing the door behind her. We try to share the water jets as best as we can. The space is smaller than anything we’ve been in before. Lucy keeps her promise and just focuses on washing me. She takes her time, lost in thought. I know she enjoys doing it, so I don’t say anything. I like it too. The way she looks at me makes me feel like a wonder of the world. It’s so crazy, considering how much I dislike my body.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Of course," she says, smiling softly. "I’m with you, so everything’s fine."

She says that, but I can tell something’s bothering her. She kisses me, so I stay quiet. I rinse off once she’s done. Now it’s my turn to pamper her. I start with her hair. I smile when I see her close her eyes. Looks like someone really needed this. I understand better why she insisted on having me with her. I take advantage of the moment to kiss her shoulder.

"Don’t start if you want me to stay calm," she mumbles.

"Oh, but you will stay calm. It’s my turn to take care of you."

"Really, hmm?"

She sighs in contentment as I give her a scalp massage. I start to wonder if she’s simply letting go...

"Yes. I know how to do it, and you seem to need it."

"You’re right."

I smile. It’s rare for her to admit things like this, especially so easily. That must mean it’s true.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I whisper.

"No."

"Ladies, dinner will be ready soon," comes the distinct voice of Lucy’s father, interrupting us.

"We’d better hurry up," my girlfriend advises.

"Okay..."

I let it go for now. She really doesn’t seem to want to talk. I get the sense I’m not the only one who’d prefer to escape the past... I finish washing her quickly so we can get out. The last thing I want is to upset Lucy’s parents, even if everything seems to have settled down.

[xetlynn]

Twilight Imagines- Benjamin

First Sight

[Masterlist]

Requested by: @twilightlover2007

Summary: in where the Cullens are getting multiple covens together to help them convince the Volturi that Renesmee is not a danger Benjamin spots [Name] and is immediately enamored by her. Even with her two year old daughter. Also finding out they have similar abilities.

I sit in the living room with Bella and Edward as we watch Renesmee play with Athaliah. I cross my arms, holding myself. "How do you feel?" Edward asks me suddenly and I turn to him. "Read my mind." I roll my eyes, he scoffs out a laugh. "I'm asking so you can let it out."

He responds, I look back to the girls. "Yeah, we haven't talked much since you found out about her." Bella chimes into the conversation. I frown for a second.

"It's a weird situation, I don't really know how I feel." I tell them in all honesty. One second Renesmee was a newborn and seconds later she was months old and now she's physically 4 years old.

"I just wish we didn't have to deal with the Volturi. Once again." I hold my head in my hands. Last time we dealt with them was when I turned into a vampire, Athatliah was only 16 months old. They were worried that I would turn Athaliah.

We had to convince them I wouldn't go near her until I had control over my thirst and she wouldn't know anything about us until she was the age of turning or if anything I would fake my death and she'd never see us again. It's something I don't even want to consider. It's something I have 16 years until I have to truly think about. The Volturi believed us when Aro looked into Edward's mind along with mine. Also with the fact that my ability was strong, I would put up a fight. They didn't need any of their men dead.

"I wish that woman just talked to us before running straight to the Volturi. She's also going to get killed." I lift my head back up. Renesmee takes Athaliah over to us and they both smile. I pick up my daughter, placing her on my lap. Edward doing the same with his daughter.

"All right, lovely, it's time for a nap." I stand up. "I'll meet you guys outside." I tell my two best friends before walking upstairs. They have a crib that was originally for Renesmee in Edward's old room. I place Athaliah down. I could tell she was tired so when she started crying I knew it was only for a few minutes.

The first year of her life I cried almost every time she cried. I couldn't handle it. My mom was a huge help since Athaliah's dad left in the beginning of my pregnancy. His parents moved to a whole different state so he didn't have to be a father to our baby. I grieved the relationship in the beginning. I don't really care anymore.

Bella was the only friend I've had ever since giving birth. Other people judged right away. Not Bella. She sometimes would babysit for me if I had to work and no daycare. My mom would pay her as well. Edward then started to help with her. Then he bonded with Athaliah as well. They both became an aunt and uncle to my daughter. I am forever grateful for them.

When her cries stop I snap out of my thoughts. Quietly slipping out of the room. I go downstairs and join everyone outside. Bella and Edward showing the new vampires renesmee's gift. I look off into the distance to see Carlisle and Esme coming our way with three new people. They're from the Egyptian Coven, they drink human blood. I lock eyes with the younger looking man. His eyes were a dark red. They felt entrancing. I couldn't look away. That was until Rosalie comes up to me.

"Could you help me with something?" She asks in a quiet tone, I furrow my eyebrows but nod my head. Following after her. Feeling eyes watch me the entire time. The blonde leads me back into the house where Zafrina, Kachiri, and Senna were standing in our way. "These ladies are from the Amazon coven. They wanted to meet you." Rosalie speaks softly, I place a hand on my chest, confused on why they would want to speak to me. "They've heard of your ability." Emmett tells me, I let out a little 'oh' standing straighter.

"Zafrina likes meeting people similar to her. Having incredible gifts." Kachiri informs me. "What's your gift?" I tilt my head, intrigued. The quiet woman smiles slightly, staring at me. Focusing on something and then suddenly I'm not in the house anymore. I'm back outside. But not our outside. A different place. A place I've never seen before. It was gorgeous.

Then I'm back in the house and I stare at her with wide eyes. "That... was amazing." I tell her, utterly in shock. She grins back to me. "We'd like to see your ability." Kachiri says, I make a face, turning to Rosalie and Emmett who nod their heads for me to do it. "We'd uh, we would have to go outside." I lead the way outside, in front of the porch. The three from the Amazon Coven stand on the porch with Rosalie, Emmett was standing in the door frame.

I smile to them as the cloud above us gets darker than earlier. Their expressions are confused until I bring my arms in the air and it starts raining. It was sprinkling at first then thunder struck. I felt the others crowd around me. I then make it storm. Everyone getting soaked. And then suddenly it stops as I stop focusing on the sky. I take a deep breath. The others begin to clap.

"That's just a tiny bit of what she can do." Emmett roars out, I nod my head sheepishly. "How did you find that out?" One of the Denali sisters ask me. "When I turned, the pain caused a storm. The wind was strong. The weather was insane that night. Later on when I wasn't paying attention and every time I had a huge emotion, a storm began every time. It's a lot easier to control now." I smile as I then make it begin to snow. Renesmee runs up to me with a huge smile. I pick her up so she can play with the snowflakes.

"This is a powerful ability... The Volturi would have no chance against us." Garrett laughs beside Kate who has a tiny smirk on her face. "You could deflect my electricity and make it more powerful." She tells me, lifting one of her hands to show me the electricity coming out of it.

Then everyone begins to talk to one another about it. I place Renesmee down, she holds my hand though instead of running off. I listen outside of the others to see if Athaliah has woken up but her breathing is still slowed. I can tell she's about to wake up. Her naps aren't very long lately.

A person walks up to me, startling me. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." It was the younger looking man from the Egyptian Coven. I wave a hand. "It's alright, I was trying to make sure my daughter was still sleeping." I sigh out, looking down to my niece who was staring up at the man.

"Your daughter?" He asks, looking around. "Her name's Athaliah." I tell him, we begin to walk inside the house, Renesmee sticking by my side because I think she knows we're going to see my girl. "Beautiful name." He compliments, I quietly thank him. His looks are entrancing I can barely focus on what is being said.

It goes silent between us until Renesmee speaks up in a small sweet tone. "He can make tornados, smaller than yours though." I smile down at her. "Really?"

I've only created a tornado once and right as it formed we made it disappear. That was before Renesmee was born though. Of course Emmett told her about it though. "Our gifts are incredibly similar." He tells me. Before he can say anything else though I hear my daughter begin to stir. Her tiny whines sounding out to down here. "Oh, I have to go, I'll be back." I step up the first couple of steps. He stands there, I can tell her wishes to say something though.

Renesmee was already running to the bedroom though. "What's your name?" I ask him.

"Benjamin." He says. I smile. "Beautiful name." I then head up the stairs.

Renesmee is playing with Athaliah through the bars of the crib. I smile, heading over to them and picking up my daughter. "Let's go play downstairs." Renesmee says, taking my hand once again and dragging me back down. Benjamin was still standing there just as he was before I left.

I was glad to be honest. I was hoping he waited for me. "This is Athaliah, Athaliah, meet Benjamin." I bounce her on my hip, pointing to the beautiful man. She tiredly looks to him.

Then suddenly doing grabby hands at him for him to take her. I furrow my eyebrows. It usually takes her a minute to get used to new people. He sticks his hand out, letting her grab onto it. It wasn't enough though she lunges her body forward so he could take her out of my arms. I laugh. "Sorry, you don't have to-"

"I don't mind as long as you don't." He puts his hands out and I shrug my shoulders, handing her over to him. Renesmee watches, a little bit annoyed until Edward comes in and tells her to go with him somewhere. I watch as my daughter puts his face into her hands. I then wondered if that was a good idea looking at his eyes which were red. Meaning he eats humans.

I bit my lip. He looks over to me and I think he can sense my worry. He gives me a short smile and places Athaliah down. She walks back to me, hugging my legs. She's still waking up.

Later in the night Bella and I were getting the girls to sleep. Athaliah sprawled out, her arm going over Renesmee's torso. She's holding onto her hand. I look up to see Bella looking at someone. I trace where. It was Benjamin who was sitting beside Jacob. He was staring at me though. "He seems enamored by you." She whispers, careful not to wake the kids. I snort out a laugh. "Yeah, okay. He wants a single mom." I joke, rolling my eyes.

"I mean the whole time he's been here he's been staring at you. He keeps trying to talk with you and he's brought you up to us every chance he gets. Asking about your ability." She informs me and I give her a look. "Yeah, he's interested in my ability. Not me." I sit up straight, crossing my legs.

"You're so oblivious, [Name]." She comments, sitting up as well. We eventually get up listening to Vladimir and Stefan talk about how they despise the Volturi and why. They were characters, that was for sure.

I sit down by the fire, a log was already there but no one else was there. They all went to different areas of the woods. I stared at the flames wondering how tomorrow was going to go. Someone sat beside me but neither of us spoke. I didn't even move my head to see.

"[Name]." The person speaks up after moments of silence. I hum out in response. "I uh I've never been left this speechless before. I don't know what to say around you." It was Benjamin, I smile to myself before turning to face him. "I'm boring, I apologize." I say, now just observing his features and I wonder what he was like as a human. If he was always this perfect.

"No, you're not at all. You make me nervous. It's a feeling I don't think I've ever experienced." His eyes lock with mine and I badly want to look away. But I can't. I'm stuck in place. "When did you turn?" I slightly change the subject. "1815." My eyes widen to his answer. He begins to laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, that was rude." I rub my hands together, finally looking away due to embarrassment.

"I expected it, when did you turn?"

"Last year."

"A newborn practically and you're that in control of your ability?" He seemed to be surprised.

"I couldn't control my ability completely until maybe six years after turning." He then ignites fire from his pointer finger. "You control the elements?" I ask in amazement. "And you control the weather." He states.

"Our abilities are incredibly similar." I laugh, excited. Watching the flames on his finger tip before he closes his fist and it goes away.

For hours we talk about our abilities, about his life before turning. I do the same. Telling him a bit about Athaliah. It never felt like a bad subject bringing her up like it usually does with men.

He actually asks about her and that's where I feel he doesn't want to be with me but to be friends.

"Your daughter truly has your looks." We both look to my sleeping daughter who is still sprawled out. I smile. "Thank you. She's my everything." I tell him.

"I can tell."

"I'm interested in getting to know you more." Benjamin says, this time he cautiously takes my hand into his. Making sure I was okay with it before gripping a little tighter. "What do you want to know?" I nervously ask.

"No, I mean courting you. You being mine, me being yours." He explains, I scrunch my nose before saying. "it might be forward, I know this. But you, seeing you, talking to you today. It only makes me want to be yours more."

"What about Athaliah, she comes with, we're a package deal. I'm a single mother. She's human, you eat off... humans." I take my hand back, now giving him a serious expression. It feels crazy but I feel the same way. I feel so strongly for him and I can't lose it but I also have to put my child first.

"I'll love her as my own. I'll eat animals for you both. I'll learn." He assures me, I pause for a moment.

"This feels crazy." I laugh out. "But I'll give it a try. I'm interested in getting to know you more." Even though we don't know what's going to happen tomorrow I don't care. I deserve to be happy even for a little bit.

——————

I almost deleted this whole thing after finishing it.

Heart was racing. Almost cried.

If you want to request anything lmk!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hiii! Do you think Harry stopped growing at 17? If he was as tall as James in DH I would imagine he was taller than his father. I have three brothers and my family is full of male cousins and they all had growth spurts after 17. I could see him growing another couple of inches after the war. His mind and body is finally at peace after 16 years. I always hc him to be 6’0-6’2 at the age of 21.

As far as Harry being scrawny… aren’t most teenage boys? My brothers were into sports and didn’t get into the gym until they were done with high school. With the profession he’s in I would assume fitness would be a requirement for the role. Yeah, you have a wand but what if it breaks or you lose it? He has a huge target on his back having defeated the darkest wizard of all time, and I can’t imagine him not learning how to physically defend himself and his loved ones. I don’t see him a huge buff gym junky, but I do see him as someone who has a lean athletic figure and someone who concentrates more on leg day than arm day. I think going to the gym would be an escape for him and help him decompress. I know the hp world prefer a shorter skinny hero (probably because of Daniel Radcliffe) who looks like an underdog, however every underdog grows up and barely anyone has the same physique as their teenage self.

Honestly, all this differs a lot with genetics. Harry's growth spurts in the books reminds me of my younger brother. Like, my brother was like 5'2 at 15, then, in like, one month near his 16th birthday, he grew to 5'10 and when he was around 19 he grew again by two inches. So, Harry could definitely still grow taller, but we don't really have a way to know.

Like, men can still grow in height until their late 20s, and it's possible James didn't even finish his growth since he died at 21, so he might've grown even taller if he survived to 25. Like, that's possible. I just don't really have evidence for or against besides saying, yes, it's possible, but I wouldn't call it likely since it's highly individual and based on genes. Like, I know guys who stopped growing at 16 and have been stuck at the same height since then. I also know guys who are 25 and still grow taller. It's the magic of genetics.

Muscle mass, physique, and the ability to gain weight are also heavily dependent on genetics and age. Men in their teens and early 20s usually have a much higher metabolic rate, which keeps them lean regardless of how much they eat (again, genetics play a big role here and this isn't true for everyone). Physical activity like Quidditch, would make the already fast metabolism faster. This naturally fast metabolism, combined with certain genetic makeup, can leave you looking lean regardless of how much you go to the gym as well. Some men need to reach their mid-20s before they can actually start gaining the weight necessary to appear buff.

I think Harry would look less lean as he got older. Like, I can hardly imagine a Harry in his mid to late 30s being as lean as 16-year-old Harry. I think his physique will change as he grows, as happens to most people. But I agree with you I don't see him as a super buff gym dude at any point in his life. He's always on the leaner side in my head, but this is all in headcanon territory since it isn't covered by the books.

I would like to add that all the super short and scrawny descriptions of Harry come from the first 4 books when these descriptions are correct. In book 6 Harry is thin, but no one describes him as a scrawny boy with knobbly knees past book 4. Not even he himself. So I definitely see Harry of the final 3 books as more lean than scrawny.

And yeah, you're right about Radcliffe messing up everyone's mental image of Harry, both in looks and personality. It's one of the things that bother me most about the movies. And, everyone can headcanon whatever they want, but I personally don't like short Harry (when he's older, when he's 14, make him short). It's not his canon character and when writers write him short, it's sometimes accompanied by him being written as too passive and meek for my liking because Harry James Potter is not passive or meek. (Radcliffe Harry in the movies is much more passive, hence the skewed mental image I mentioned, but I digress).

Besides, while malnourishment and food intake could affect one's growth, people tend to overlook the 6 years of Hogwarts and Molly's food which would be a huge boost during his puberty years in which he's having most of his growth. Additionally, some people's food intake matters less to their physical development than others — again, I can't stress enough how specific genetic makeup is super important in all this discussion.

TL;DR

Harry might grow taller to be 6' or 6'2. We don't have any evidence for or against really, so it's up to your preference on what you want to headcanon. But it's definitely super possible. If Lily was taller than the average it would even be likley (but I couldn't find any notes on Lily's or Petunia's height). In the books, he is very lean, and it's a combination of a lot of different factors working together: his lifestyle, genetic makeup, and yes, being a teenage boy with the fast metabolism that comes with it. As Harry grows up, he'd probably want to stay fit, but to what degree is also in personal headcanon territory (I personally don't like him becoming an Auror, but that's my preferred headcanon. I still see him staying pretty fit out of paranoia, sort of. I mean, he spent all his teenage years with a Damocles sword over his head. He literally died. I think he's allowed to be a little hypervigilant after that. I mean, he already is, but you get the point).

[666anxiety666]

May I ask for a Pressure tickle fic? Where the player / y/n is a 16 year old (In my country if your 15 ur legally go to jail, and the 16 yr old committed a crime in self defence) and Sebastian noticing the anxiety, pressure (pun inteended) and paranoia he decides to cheer the kiddo up to make em feel like a child again and just melt away their worries? So basically Lee 16 yr old Y/n and a Big Ler snake that gives off HUGE older brother vibes

That's such a cute prompt, omg 😭

Tickle monster

Sebastian and TEEN reader

LEE: Y/N LER: Sebastian

Warnings: none :)

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

Ever since you had been sent down here, Sebastian hasn't let you leave his shop without him. You don't blame him. You wouldn't go out on your own anyway. A sixteen year old should never have been in a place like this to begin with.

Sure, it got boring, and yeah, maybe at first Sebastian claimed he was only protecting you cause, "he had to." But over time, you and him have become quite close, like a sibling kind of way...

However, as of recently, your anxiety and paranoia has gotten worse. Ever small nosie made you jump. You always hid behind Sebastian when a new expendable came down. You were never away from Sebastian, always clinging to him.

Currently, you and Sebastian were getting ready for bed. You always slept with Sebastians tail curled around you. But on this "night," you couldn't sleep.

Your eyes darted all over the place, your heart rate picking up as you head what must have been one of the anglers, banging on a wall in the distance. Sebastian opened one of his three eyes and glanced at you.

"Don't worry, kid. They do that all the time... just try to drown it out, yeah?"

But you couldn't. every noise made you jump. You were scared. You shouldn't even be here to begin with. You wanted to go home... Sebastian noticed your fear and worry.

"Come on, kid. You've got nothing to worry about..."

But Sebastian's words did little to ease your fear. Sebastian sighed. He turned around to face you fully. His tail is still wrapped around you.

"What can I do to help you calm down?"

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. You shrugged shyly. Sebastian sighed again. He rested his cheek in the palm of his hand as he thought of what to do.

"Come on, kid. There's gotta be something..."

Sebastian poked your side as he said this. You jumped at the poke. Letting out a small squeak. Sebastian paused, raising an eyebrow. Then, it hit him. A massive grin spreading on his face

Yours blood ran cold, and you instantly tried to get up to run. But Sebastian's tail kept you down. You struggled. But it was too late.

"Oh no, kid. You ain't escaping... the tickle monster!"

Sebastian cackled. Latching onto your sides, raking his claws up and down. You squealed, kicking your legs desperately.

You grabbed at his wrists and tried to shove him off. But it was no use. Sebastian moved his third hand to your tummy. You squealed louder.

"Look at you, squealing like a little school girl~"

Sebastian teased. You tried to pull your way out of Sebastian's grasp, but it was useless.

"Aw, how cute! You think you can stop me? You think the tickle monster shows mercy to kids like you?"

Sebastian exaggerated. Moving his hands up to your ribs. Your laughter got louder. kicking your legs harder against the floor.

"Say... im quite hungry... how many ribs do kids like you have, hm?"

Your heart dropped. You tried to push him away, but it was no use. You begged, but your pleas fell of deaf ears.

"One..~ two..~ three..~"

Sebastian started to "count." Wiggling his fingers at each rib as he did. It tickled so badly. You kicked and squirmed harder.

"Come on, kid! You made me lose count! Now I have to start all over!"

Sebastian exclamied before starting his "counting" from the beginning. This went on for what felt like forever. Your squeals and belly laughter filling the shop as Sebastian would restart at every struggle you made.

"Ugh, you know.. if I can't have get at your tasty ribs... maybe I'll have to try something else...!"

Sebastian then pretended to start "eating" your stomach. Blowing raspberries and making munching sounds.

Your face flushed. This was so childish. But you couldn't escape. You were stuck. You kicked and squealed. Shoving at Sebastian's head.

Soon, after what felt like an eternity. Sebastian backed off.

"Man... I think I've had my fill..."

Sebastian grinned as he backed off. Leaving you panting and giggling. You hugged your stomach slightly. You're face bright red for laughing. Sebastian chuckled, ruffling your hair gently.

"You good kid?"

Sebastian asked. You nodded. Pushing your hair out of your face. Sebastian chuckled once more.

"See? Told you everything was fine. You just need a good tickle every now and then."

Sebastian joked as he poked your side one last time. You yelped and giggled. Sebastian smirked and lay back down.

"Okay, okay, I'm done.."

Sebastian mumbled. You also lay back down. Resting against Sebastians tail. Sebastian pulled a blanket over you before wrapping his third arm over your shoulder.

You felt your eyes droop. You were tired. Not only from today's work, but all that tickling you went through. Sebastian smiled slightly.

"I've got you, kid..."

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

Thank yall for the requests‼️ I have two more fics coming🙌

[itsmercuriosity]

🧵NICOLA COUGHLAN AND LUKE NEWTON’S SYNASTRY CHART 🧵

Here’s a BIG preamble!

First of all I would like to state that I’m 80% sure about this synastry chart. Let me clarify: we do not know for sure their birth times, unfortunately, so I had to dive deeply (believe me) into their individual natal charts.

After a thorough analysis and having watched all the WT interviews, I came up with these charts. I’m pretty convinced that L has a 7h sun and N an 11h sun. So here’s the synastry. I cannot stress this enough: we only know their rising signs, so we are certain of the sign the planets are in but not of their houses. Aspects are confirmed, though.

I believe Luke's birth time might be around 16:20-16:45, as for Nic's I believe it to be around 10:15-10:30

Last disclaimer: this again is pure entertainment, I analyse charts of many celebrities and people around me all the time, it’s not my intention to be disrespectful. it’s just for fun! Having said that, I DO believe that they might have something in the future IF they really want to.

Lastly, I’ve been working on this for the last week so thank you in advance if you get to the end of this rambling.

Let's get it started!

ASPECTS:

- Venus conjunct Mars.

This is the first aspect you cannot help but notice. You should expect to find strong connections between these planets when there is a physical relationship. This is THE passion combination and a harmonious aspect link makes for a strong sexual connection as well as the ability to understand each other's sexual needs and drives. It also can contribute to understanding in the area of goals and is a good combination for working together toward a common goal. It is usually the Mars partner who is inclined to take the initiative (Nic).

-Venus trine the Moon.

A connection between these two emotional planets is common and desirable in romantic partnerships. The relationship feels smooth and easy; the feelings between the partners are strong and readily expressed, and there is a sense of a deep, inner connection. It is easier for them to share their inner selves.

-Venus trine Venus.

This positive aspect between contributes to harmonious living, strong mutual feelings of affection and shared tastes and pleasures. I would like to highlight that they both have a fire Venus (L in Aries and N in Sagittarius) and both in their individual charts in the 9th house (which symbolises love in foreigners).

- Their Mercurys have no aspects: This may lead to a lack of communication or understanding BUT having Mercury sextile sun - even though this usually is not an important connection in synastry- that is a positive connection, then it can overcome a lack of an aspect between the two Mercurys and give the ability to understand each other intellectually.

-Jupiter sextile the Sun. This connection allows the Sun person (Luke) to expand and helps this individual fullfil her potential. The Jupiter partner (Nic) will be experienced as a source of growth, gains, and fun. If it is a positive connection, the Sun person might think his luck has improved since the relationship began.

-Jupiter trine the Moon. This helps the couple experience the pleasure of the relationship. They have a great ability to have fun together and enjoy each other's company. There also can be feelings of deep, nonverbal mutual understanding.

-Saturn sextile Sun shows the capacity for commitment and responsibility required for long relationships, although of course compromise and accepting limitations are required. Saturn (Nic) can give the Sun (Luke) a greater sense of security and stability, while the Sun can "lighten up" Saturn. Even though the individuals will feel some of the restrictiveness of this combination, there is likely to be a sense of a deep karmic connection and acceptance that this relationship is going to last a long time.

-Venus conjunct Pluto. this is an undeniable chemistry. Especially Nic finds luke hot.

-Jupiter square Juno: it isn’t necessarily a destructive aspect for marriage. It just means they have to put more conscious effort into understanding each other’s perspectives. Open communication is a necessary ingredient.

HOUSES:

Let's talk about houses. Again this part cannot be verified because we don't know their birth times. This is just my intuition based on what we saw during the press tour.

VENUS:

L’s Venus in N’s 1st house-> He’s so smitten with her. There’s admiration. Feeling loved by him makes her feel that reconnection with herself again. He makes her comfortable with who she is.

N’s Venus in L’s 4th house: He shows her his inner self, his most vulnerable side. He thinks of a future together, he feels like being at home with her.

JUPITER:

L’s Jupiter in N’s 7h house—> She is attracted to his charisma. He makes her see love with better eyes. She wants something serious with him.

N’s Jupiter in L’s 8th house—> he is starstruck. She causes in him a combination of emotions so intense that he will not understand them at first. She will help him connect with the sides of himself that he represses or doesn’t show to others. She changes him. Great level of intimacy.

Jupiter in 8th also: money money money. this aspect gives insane amounts of luxury when with this person. also more self confidence achieved.

MARS:

L’s Mars in N’s 5th house: she feels drawn to him physically. The more he is driven, the more she gets near him.

N’s mars in L’s 9th house: she changes his life. He had a simple vision of life before her. She teaches him a lot.

MOON:

L’s moon in N’s 6th house: She sees him as a reliable person, however she thinks he is someone who finds it difficult to open up emotionally but she tries to let him know how proud she is of him. Acts of service vibes.

N’s moon in L’s 10th house: He cannot bear someone talking ill of her. For him she is superior. He is inspired by her. She gives him support and emotion in career matters.

SUN:

N’s sun in L’s 6th house: she is the peace he always wanted, she heals him.

L’s sun in N’s 12th house: For her he is very charming and has a heart of gold. He is very supportive of her.

PLANETS AND ASTEROIDS:

JUPITER (as in future spouse)

N has Jupiter in pisces. She meets her future partner during filming or when she is surrounded by art.

L has Jupiter in libra. He meets his future partner in an environment associated with arts and creativity. Also through contracts and business.

JUNO: they both have Juno asteroid in the 11th house. Their soulmate may have 11h or aquarius placements (ijbol if I think about N’s alleged 11h stellium and L’s aquarius stellium). Their soulmate might be someone that was a friend before. L’s juno is in cancer and N’s one is in capricorn, which are literally opposite and complimentary signs.

In conclusion:

IMO they are very similar and compatible. Astrology tells us that they are attracted to each other and find comfort in each other's company.

Could they be a thing in the future? Definitely, but it's up to them.

Thanks if you read this thread <3

[holyburningbushbatman]

I Pray for my Brothers and Sisters

God wants all His children to know Him and to love Him. God convicts us to pray for each other, friends! Let us do so without ceasing!

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."

Matthew 5:43-45 "You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust."

Amos 7:4-6 "This is what the Lord God showed me: behold, the Lord God was calling for a judgement by fire, and it devoured the great deep and was eating up the land. Then I said, 'O Lord God, please cease! How can Jacob stand? He is so small!' And the Lord relented concerning this: 'This also shall not be,' said the Lord God."

Ephesians 6:13-20 "Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak."

James 5:16 "Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working."

1 Timothy 2:1-4 "First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth."

Isaiah 62:6-7 "On your walls, O Jerusalem, I have set watchmen; all the day and all the night they shall never be silent. You who put the Lord in remembrance, take no rest, and give him no rest until he establishes Jerusalem and makes it a praise in the earth."

Hebrews 7:25 "Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them."

Luke 6:28 "'But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either.'"

Psalm 20 "May the Lord answer you in the day of trouble! May the name of the God of Jacob protect you! May he send you help from the sanctuary and give you support from Zion! May he remember all your offerings and regard with favor your burnt sacrifices! May he grant you your heart's desire and fulfill all your plans! May we shout for joy over your salvation, and in the name of our God set up our banners! May the Lord fulfill all your petitions! Now I know that the Lord saves his anointed; he will answer him from his holy heaven with the saving might of his right hand. Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust the name of the Lord our God. They collapse and fall, but we rise and stand upright. O Lord, save the king! May he answer us when we call."

All verses from ESV

[fionaapplerocks]

The Long and Winding Road That Leads to Fiona Apple

By Tyler Coates 2012-05-31

“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” So goes the oft-quoted line from William Faulkner’s Requiem for a Nun. Time is circular, and our relationship with our own personal histories is ever changing. This is a concept with which the enigmatic Fiona Apple is deeply familiar.

The 34-year-old singer-songwriter is about to release her fourth album—the first in seven years—aptly titled The Idler Wheel is wiser than the Driver of the Screw, and Whipping Cords will serve you more than Ropes will ever do. The spinning wheel of time cranks back and forth for Apple, who continues to re-examine her past while trying to keep up with the present. Like most artists, however, Apple finds that her fans cherish the past more than she does.

In 2000, a 16-year-old fan named Bill Magee approached Apple after a show in Upper Darby, Pennsylvania with a request: he told her he was a member of his high school’s gay-straight alliance and hoped that Apple could write a few words of support. “[I] was much more interested in interacting with a celebrity than building an alliance between gays and straights,” he admitted on his blog 12 years later where he posted a scanned image of the letter he received less than a week after requesting her response.

Apple wrote: “All I know is I want my friends to be good people, and when my friends fall in love, I want them to fall in love with other good people. How can you go wrong with two people in love? If a good boy loves a good girl, good. If a good boy loves another good boy, good. And if a good girl loves the goodness in good boys and good girls, then all you have is more goodness, and goodness has nothing to do with sexual orientation.”

“My brother was the one who told me about it,” Apple tells me just weeks after Magee posted the letter on his Tumblr, which was then picked up by various sites like Jezebel and Pitchfork. “I was like, ‘A letter I wrote to someone when I was 22 has made its way online?’ That’s the scariest thing I could possibly hear in my life. And the subject matter was so important—I know how I’ve always felt so I knew it wasn’t going to be a bad letter, but I was like, ‘What did I say?!’”

The letter’s sudden popularity online is indicative of how much has changed since Apple released her debut album, Tidal, in 1996.

For starters, she was then a 19-year-old singer-songwriter signed to a major record label and churning out emotional and dark odes at a time when her contemporaries were singing bubblegum-pop love songs.

She made headlines after appearing in the video for “Criminal.” Shot in a seedy apartment, the video featured a scantily clad and emaciated Apple, sparking criticisms of the exploitive quality of the images (and suggesting that she had an eating disorder). In 1997, when accepting her award for Best New Artist at the MTV Video Music Awards, Apple infamously shouted into the microphone, “This world is bullshit, and you shouldn’t model your life on what we think is cool, and what we’re wearing and what we’re saying.”

While the speech was replayed and parodied on TV for years following, Apple was lucky enough to have said those words before the days of blogging and YouTube; had she given the speech 15 years later, it may have turned into a career-damaging viral video and sparked a few thousand snarky tweets.

She also has the luxury of being a successful artist who doesn’t need to promote herself online. “They want me to tweet now, but I don’t,” Apple tells me of her label reps. “It doesn’t feel natural to me. But I do find it actually more interesting to see people posting ridiculously mundane shit. I like to hear about what people had for breakfast or what they did all day. It’s interesting because I don’t know how other people live.”

While Apple is hardly a recluse, she’s made few public appearances in the seven years since the release of her third album, Extraordinary Machine. The excitement following the announcement by Epic Records of the late-June release of The Idler Wheel speaks to the loyalty of her fan base. (And as for that long-winded title, it’s a callback to the much-maligned 90-word title of her acclaimed sophomore effort, universally shortened to When the Pawn…)

The Idler Wheel does not deviate from the familiar sounds of Apple’s earlier records; the songs are still layered with complex instrumentation, and her reverberant voice still takes center stage in each tune.

The album was produced nearly in secret over the last few years—a surprising move from an established artist with the resources of a major label at her disposal. But Apple explains that her experience with the label system is what allowed her to feel free to work on her own. “It was very casual, and I wasn’t fully admitting that I was making an album,” she says. “I got to use the time in the studio to inspire me to finish other things rather than feel like I was finishing homework to hand in. It wasn’t a lot of pressure. And the record company didn’t know I was doing it, so nobody was looking over my shoulder.”

Most might take that mentality as a reaction to the restrictions of her record label, especially after the drama surrounding the release of Extraordinary Machine. After collaborating with Jon Brion (who produced When the Pawn) to create an early version of the third album in 2002, Apple then decided to rework all but two of the songs with producer Mike Elizondo.

The original version of the album leaked online, and Brion suggested in interviews that Apple’s label had rejected the demo and forced her to rerecord the songs (a claim that Apple later denied). Still, it incited an uproar among her fans. An online-based movement called Free Fiona organized demonstrations outside of the Sony headquarters in New York, and protestors sent apples to the label’s executives.

The final version of the album was released in 2005 and received positive reviews and earned Apple a Grammy nomination. “I ran into the guy who started Free Fiona after a show in Chicago,” she tells me. “He apologized to me! They didn’t get the story quite right, but they did help me get my album out. I felt so bad that he had spent all this time thinking I was pissed at him—I had a physical urge to get down on the floor and kiss his shoes!”

It’s an intense reaction (she admits she didn’t bow to her fan because “it would be weird if I did that”), but Apple is still a very intense person. Dressed in a flowing skirt paired with several layers of spaghetti-strapped tank tops that reveal her slender frame (which seems healthier than in her early days, giving the impression that she must spend most of her downtime on a yoga mat), Apple fidgets in her seat during our conversation, often giving off an infectious giggle.

But she is surprisingly comfortable to talk to, not much like the somber young woman who sang of heartbreak and disappointment. “I don’t think I’ll ever have an idea of what I look like to the rest of the world,” she replies when I ask if she ever worries that her lyrics, which are sometimes in stark contrast to the up-tempo, progressive sounds of her songs’ instrumentations, give off the wrong impression of her personality. “It’s all your own perception. I could easily be concerned with how I’m taken and then have all the good stuff filtered through to me and choose to believe that. For the rest of my life it’d be the truth for me, but not the whole truth.”

Born Fiona Apple McAfee Maggart in New York City to Brandon Maggart and Diane McAfee, Apple’s musical destiny was settled at birth. The McAfee-Maggarts are, while not reaching Barrymore-level name recognition, an entertainment family; Apple’s father was nominated for a Tony for his performance in the Broadway musical Applause, both her mother and sister are singers, and her half-brothers work in the film industry—one an actor and the other a director.

She’s a third-generation performer, as her grandmother was a dancer in musical revues and her grandfather a Big Band-era musician. While Apple’s auspicious introduction to the pop world had critics calling her a prodigy, she crafted her early songs as a cathartic necessity. (“Sullen Girl” from Tidal, in particular, is about her rape at the age of 12.) “Over the years it’s transferred more into a craft,” she says. “I use myself as material because that’s what I’ve got. But these days I write less than half of my songs to get myself through things. I have to find other things to be meaningful— otherwise I’d just be miserable all the time.”

Her songs are still extremely autobiographical, which is perhaps their charm. Following in the footsteps of other singer-songwriters, especially women who emerged in the early ’90s and expressed their emotions in particularly vulnerable ways, Apple’s openness has always had an empowering appeal. Her songs seem to suggest that feeling a variety of emotions—sadness, glee, despair, insanity—is not only normal, but, like those self-reflective musicians before her, she also gives permission to her listeners to feel the same way.

Even for Apple, her older songs are relics of another time, and she now makes them applicable to her life in the present. “They all kind of become poems after a while,” she says. “You can take your own meaning out of them. It’s been a very long time [since my first albums], and I can apply those songs to other situations that are more current in my life.” She admits she has changed greatly since she started writing songs in her late teenage years, especially when it comes to how she portrays herself. “I don’t feel comfortable singing the songs that I wrote. I used to blame other people and not take responsibility. I thought I was a total victim trying to look strong.”

And she is much harder on herself in the songs on The Idler Wheel than she ever was before. Sure, she admitted to being “careless with a delicate man” in “Criminal,” arguably her most famous song, and in When the Pawn’s “Mistake” she sang, “Do I wanna do right, of course but / Do I really wanna feel I’m forced to / Answer you, hell no.”

On The Idler Wheel, Apple examines her own solitude and neuroses as well as their effect on her relationships with others. “I can love the same man, in the same bed, in the same city,” she sings on “Left Alone,” “But not in the same room, it’s a pity.” On “Jonathan,” a somber love song layered with robotic, mechanical sounds that’s presumably about her ex-boyfriend, author and Bored to Death creator Jonathan Ames, she urges, “Don’t make me explain / Just tolerate my little fist / Tugging at your forest-chest / I don’t want to talk about anything.”

But performing, as a central requirement of her career, still takes precedence. “Some nights I’m very, very nervous, and some nights I’m not at all,” she tells me. “I think, ‘This is ridiculous. I’m not a person who does a show, I’m a person who should be on a couch watching TV.’ But then it’s like I get knocked into another state of consciousness, and then I’m left behind, and the person that’s doing the show is there and there’s nothing else in the world existing other than the note she’s singing. It’s such a joy to do, but I forget about it until I’m on the stage.”

Apple has lived in los Angeles since Tidal’s release in 1996, although she admits that she’s “not an L.A. girl.” “I was supposed to stay in New York,” she tells me. “I remember being 17 and asking if I could record in New York. How did I end up here? It’s 15 years later… How did that happen?” Apple doesn’t seem to process time like other people. When I ask when she began recording The Idler Wheel and when she knew it was ready, she has a complicated answer. “It must have started in 2008. Or 2009. I don’t know! I have no idea. It’s weird to think that there was 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011.” Her big blue eyes suddenly look to her right as she furrows her brow. “Where’ve I been? What was I doing? What was that year about?”

Maybe the solitary nature of living in L.A. contributes to her aloof tendencies. “I’m not a social creature,” she says, “I don’t go to parties all the time because I’d probably just wonder why I’m there in the first place.” Her preference for being alone may also stem from the kind of personal criticisms that people tend to throw at female musicians. “I’ve gotten so used to being misunderstood. Nobody’s ever really said anything bad about my music, but when I’ve had albums come out there are always people making fun of me. ‘Oh, she’s back?’” She didn’t even expect the comments (mostly online) when the full title of The Idler Wheel was announced. “I didn’t stop to think that anyone would call it ridiculous, but people did. I thought, ‘Ahhh. My old friends.’ I’m not sure what’s ridiculous about it, but that’s what they’ve got to say.”

I cautiously mention the infamous acceptance speech from the VMAs, a moment early in her career that defined the public persona of Fiona Apple as an angry, ungracious woman. “I’ve never been ashamed of that,” she replies immediately. It was the first moment, she says, in which she felt like she could speak up—to break free from the shyness that defined her childhood and early teenage years. “I genuinely, naïvely thought that I was going to put out a record and that was going to make me have friends. I expected to give it to people and they would understand me; no one would say to me, ‘We don’t want to be your friend because you’re too intense or too sad all the time.’” It wasn’t necessarily the case.

“Do you still think the world is bullshit?” I ask when we talk about the VMAs. She laughs. “It’s not the world!” she exclaims. “Of course people think that ‘the world’ is the whole world. I felt that I had finally gotten into the popular crowd, and I thought, ‘Is this what I’ve been doing this for?’ I felt like I was back in the cafeteria in high school and still couldn’t speak up for myself.”

These days, Apple spends more time focusing on her own art rather than the reactions to it. With age has come calm and decreasing desire to pay attention to her detractors. “I’ve decided it takes too much energy to try to avoid it,” she tells me, brushing aside her freshly dyed crimson hair. “I’m not going to hide from the world.”

Source Archive.org:

https://web.archive.org/web/20120603033544/http://www.blackbookmag.com/music/the-long-and-winding-road-that-leads-to-fiona-apple-1.49114

[inanimate-insanity-fan2]

ii 16 spoilers!! its true!!!!

alright fellas, this is gonna be a long one, so strap in. let me preface this by saying i havent watched the episode since it came out, so im bound to miss some things in this analysis/breakdown/crazed ramblings of a madman. my headcanons also might leak into this a lil. sorry bout that NOW ONTO THE FUN!!!!! now, we all know the trauma we faced watching this episode. but lets talk about the funny characters trauma!! staring MePhone, since he's my favorite guy. First of all, I don't believe MePhone was aware of the fact that he created the contestants. As much as i hate the corn man, he was right that MePhone needed to hear that too. MePhone treats them like real people. Moments of vulnerability always come through with him (mainly in season 3) and he actively considers what the contestants during these. Even if he goes into denial afterwards most of the time. Examples; the entire volcano episode, the bridge episode (2nd half), season 3 finale, some rare moments in season 2 that are scattered about. I don't think he'd do that if he didn't believe the contestants were real, y'know? He sees the contestants as real people that he can form relationships with, no matter how reluctant he is to do so. He wasn't aware of their creation. SOO!!!! That leads me to my next point. This get's into headcanony territory, so bear with me. Or don't. I believe that MePhone created them sometime when he first got to the island, maybe in that intermediate period when he deleted his memories. We can see that he shut down right after he pressed delete, and maybe in his subconscious state he could've generated them. It would explain why he didn't remember. I don't believe he created them before he deleted his memories, as he was still in shock and didn't really seem capable of purposefully planning out an entire cast right there and then. He would also remember doing so after he got his memories back in that same episode. Anytime after he woke up wouldn't make sense either, as he would remember that too. I see him creating them in that unconscious state as a sort of unintentional coping mechanism. The only thing that brought him comfort during stressful situations, the reality shows he watched, being brought to life by his subconscious. this does not explain him being chris mclean in season 1. this mystery will take years to solve. perhaps future generations will still question this grand, unknowable decision by the eldritch horror known as adam i am sorry for whoever read through all of this

[wvbaandtheboys]

DREAMESCAPE: RE-DREAMED EDITION!

forthethirdfuckingtime-

Hey punchy peeps, yup it's me again I present to y'all my pride and joy, the Dreamescape AU! This time, redone with an idea I originally discarded when I was first making the AU, but I ended up using for the revamped version! Let's get into the ✨ lore ✨

THIS AU DEALS WITH DARK THEMES! BE CAREFUL TRAVELLERS!

This AU takes place in the span of the 1920s. The Macs live with their single father, Jerome/Doc Louis, having a docile and normal life. Their father works tirelessly to provide for his sons, being a middle class worker. With familiar faces surrounding their everyday lives, the family is content and lives out their days in joy. However, over a tense and perplexing time span, many people in their community begin to pass away unexpectedly with little to no closure on some of their deaths. Hysteria rises amongst the townsfolk; hysteria of a supernatural curse of well known origin, rooted in folklore, that threatens the adult population. And by proxy, the children of the town.

It is the Constellation of Shadows. An arachnoid, nightmarish entity that targets children through the adults in their lives. It invades the dreams of adults while they sleep, and takes them into its dark abyss of a web. It then mutates them, reforms them for its own purposes. Then unleashes them like wild animals to murder the children in their sleep.

Very few families have survived the Constellation's insatiable hunger for terror and demise: there are only two documented survivors of the Constellation throughout the years. Those families were never the same, suffering long term effects that led to either tragedy within them, or them disappearing from the town, never to be seen again. Hysteria once again breaks out, with the message to stay awake and alert at all costs and protect your children, as the Constellation cannot attack if you are not asleep or drowsy. However, it was only so long before the Louis household succumbed to exhaustion, and entered a deep slumber.

However, there is one hope. Father Dream. Father Dream is another folklore figure who, once upon a time, constantly did battle with the Constellation in order to uphold the safety of all dreamers. However, the feast of fear supplied to the Constellation allowed it to best Father Dream and trap him within his own seemingly unending slumber. However, Father Dream was still in control of some of his power. He blesses Mac with a special ability: the ability to resurrect the dead. Now, the Macs must face monsters of familiarity in order to make it out alive. And, in order to rescue their father before he suffers the same fate as the adults before him did. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ With the lore out of the way, let's learn about those adults: WII:

Joe - Chef (27)

Kaiser - Clockmaker (52)

Disco - Radio Show Host (25)

Hippo - Tribal King (50s to Early 60s)

Hondo - Photographer (33)

Hugger - Game Warden (44)

Tiger - Illusionist (31)

Don - Fisherman (26)

Aran - Dockworker (27)

Soda - Ice Cream Parlor Owner (41)

Bull - Priest (40)

Macho - Singer (30)

SUPER PUNCH OUT:

Gabby - Librarian (62)

Hurricane - Meteorologist (29)

Bob - Homeless (36)

Dragon - Lead Dragon Dancer (25)

Muscle - Doctor (37)

Heike - Unemployed (16)

Mad Clown - Clown (obviously shjsjs) (30)

Narcis - Nobleman (31)

Hoy - Retired Teacher (83)

Rick and Nick - Tailors (R - 28, N - 29)

Now, how did all of them meet their untimely demises? TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH, WRITTEN DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE/GORE, SUICIDE. PLEASE TAKE THIS INTO ACCOUNT WHEN READING FURTHER ON! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ WII: Joe - No one heard from him for a good while since his restaurant was suddenly closed, so it eventually drew the attention of police. When they went in, they found him in the basement of the restaurant, slumped against one of the walls and clearly long dead. He appeared to die clutching a kitchen knife in his hand. He represents Ataxophobia.

Kaiser - Kaiser’s somewhat anti-social personality did put some off from checking in on him too frequently, but they knew he was in and working when they heard the ticking of the clocks within his workshop. Concern arose when the ticking stopped. When concerned folks went inside the old man’s shop to check on him, They found him sprawled out on the floor, stiff. He was surrounded by clocks, all had their hands frozen at the hour of midnight. He represents Chronometrophobia.

Disco - Way too suddenly did Louie Brown's show get taken off the air. An announcement was made in the newspapers shortly thereafter that the host had passed away. Though they didn’t release details, he was found to have cords of recording machinery taut around his neck, still seated in the recording booth. And with the recording machine on, but thankfully not on the air. He represents Sedatephobia. Hippo - Hippo and his people (women, men and children alike) were quite sociable with the public. Seeing as they weren’t native to the town and after a great tragedy for the tribe, the king seemed to have a certain desperation to be accepted and gain a new home, considering what happened to them. However, the Hippoans were extremely generous and shared their culture with the townsfolk. But, they all just… vanished one day. It was presumed that perhaps Hippo had tried to guide them to live elsewhere, but no one can say for sure what happened to them. He represents Anthropophobia.

Hondo - Though nothing was visibly perturbing about him, laid on either a couch or his bed, his camera was in close proximity. When the photos recently taken on it were printed out, they showed cryptic, vignetted images of Hondo at angles that appeared as though another person had taken it. Though there were no signs that another person had ever been there. He represents Photophobia.

Hugger - He said he just felt tired, and was going to take the winter months to rest. No foul play, no signs of injury, no nothing. He just appeared to have passed in his sleep. He represents Nyctophobia.

Tiger - He was found with red scratch marks all over, which were initially thought to be self inflicted. However, the cleanliness of his fingernails and the angles of the markings made it almost seem like… something was trying to escape from his own body. He represents Rhabdophobia.

Don - He and his wife, Carmen, had been out all day on a lengthy fishing trip. Even when dusk had arrived and fog had started rolling in, the couple still hadn’t returned. Their fishing boat that came floating back to shore, belongings and equipment still on it, but they were nowhere to be seen. He represents Thalassophobia.

Aran - The last his coworkers saw of him, they say he was quietly sitting on the docks with his legs hung over the water. Something he readily instructed others to never do. The very next morning, he was gone. They never found him. He represents Megalohydrothalassophobia.

Soda - When the cold months came over the town, his charming little ice cream parlor closed for the winter as he said he was going to go for a trip to the mountains. After the winter was over, with no word or sign of the man, concern also arose for him. They discovered him a while after. He was completely encased in frost despite the warmth returning. He represents Cryophobia.

Bull - The toll of the church bells at night brought a sense of dread over all that heard it. He was found knelt in a praying pose at the front of the chapel. He was already dead, clutching the jewel of the necklace he wore in his hands. He represents Theophobia.

Macho - The singer known as “Deep Blue” by his many adoring fans had a dark cloud over his head. A rumor mill had churned much devastating gossip regarding his personal life. Some even say it drove him mad. Regardless of the true motive, the performer was found with a slit throat. Some suspect it was a suicide, as the letter opener that cut his throat was in his own hand. He represents Scopophobia.

SPO:

Gabby - Even though he was getting on in years, Gabby always said that there was never a time he felt alive, even since his youthful years, due to the plethora of health issues he had developed over the course of his life ever since he was born. “I don’t recall the last time I ever felt young and spry, if I even did in the first place. So, getting old really doesn’t feel any different.” As such, it was a well known rumor that Gabby read many books to cope, to feel some kind of whimsy in his ever shortening life. He was found dead in his sleep at his desk, an open book beside him. He represents Gentrophobia.

Hurricane - A thriving meteorologist, he loved the experiences of being up in the sky on hot air balloons. On an unsuspecting day during a storm, he suddenly fell unconscious mid flight. A bolt of lightning struck the hot air balloon he was riding and sent him crashing into a building. He died on impact. He represents Astraphobia.

Bob - An impoverished homeless man, he often wandered about with cigarettes on hand. He secluded himself far away from others while he smoked. No one has a clue what really happened to him, as he was discovered lying in the mud. However, it was suspected that he had asphyxiated. He represents Homichlophobia.

Dragon - The dragon dancer troupe traveled to the town from Hong Kong during Lunar New Year. He piloted the head of the dragon during the ceremony. How sadly ironic that such misfortune followed a dance meant to bestow luck. He was discovered slumped in a chair in the dressing room made for the dancers, with the headpiece of the dragon over his body.. and his own decapitated head in his hands. He represents Atychiphobia. 

Muscle - He was alone one night, and that was all that it took. He was discovered in the morning with slit wrists, surrounded by blood soaked gauze. He may have tried to save himself. He represents Hemophobia.

Heike - The once aspiring dancer faced the Constellation's wrath despite being a child himself as well. His limbs were bloody and twisted, yet he still held his signature fan in his hands, and wore his signature performing kimono. He represents Pistanthrophobia.

Clown - The circus was never the same without him. His face was painted half and half with his two circus personas: Serenata the Opera Singer, and Burlone the Jester. He represents Coulrophobia.

Narcis - For the short period of time that night, while his servants were not overseeing him, the Constellation struck. Though efforts were made to enter his bedroom as the realization dawned that he was in danger, the door did not budge until it was too late. He was found with the skin of the left half of his face completely removed. On his fractured bureau, there was a message written in his blood: “The beauty of my heart was never reflected in my face." He represents Cacophobia.

Hoy - The death of the dragon dancer deeply wounded the old man, as he was quite close to him. He died of a broken heart. (Broken Heart Syndrome) He represents Philophobia.

Rick and Nick - It seemed like death wanted to keep them together forever. They were discovered seated on chairs next to each other, their left hands sewn together. It was noted that when there was effort to cut the thread, the fingers of the brothers would twitch violently. They represent Thanatophobia.

[positivelybeastly]

From the Ashes Infinity Comics #16: Pygmalion, Part 2

Let's go. I'm eager to talk about this one, because it was good.

Ahhhh, I do love it when comic books are on the nose - and I genuinely mean that. Subtext may be for cowards, as Garth Marenghi once loudly stated, but I also feel like it's just. Too subtle, for most people. You really do just end up with a load of people who don't get the message because it wasn't loud enough, who are there because the franchise is cool and not because they internalise the messages of it, and that's how you end up with racist X-Men or Star Trek fans.

By all means, get into the franchise just because it's cool! But let's engage with the themes and the narrative and the meaning, too, yeah? Trust me, it makes it better.

Anyway, the Uncanny! The adjective applied to the X-Men most commonly since their debut in 1963, the concept of the uncanny has its roots in German philosophy, and specifically the work of Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling in 1837, but Beast and his mimic here correctly identify that it was popularised by Sigmund Freud's theories about psychotherapy and the human psyche, especially his 1919 essay literally titled "The Uncanny."

That being said, my first exposure to this word and its deeper meaning was in relation to Gothic fiction, and the use of supernatural figures like the vampire, in my English Literature class, where the following definition was perhaps a bit more apt: a. : seeming to have a supernatural character or origin : eerie, mysterious. b. : being beyond what is normal or expected : suggesting superhuman or supernatural powers. an uncanny sense of direction.

As a literary trope, the examination of the uncanny, liminality, and the creation of transgressive works exploring the human fascination with the taboo and what falls outside the bounds of 'normal', that which is considered both attractive and terrifying, is a very old human past time.

The X-Men, as mutants, were always meant to have this quality, though how much a writer wishes to touch on it will always vary. Compare and contrast Hickman's use of the uncanny to make Krakoa seem alien, disturbing, and strange, versus how very mundane a lot of especially late 00s X-Men was, with Utopia's focus on very War on Terror politics, and you can see just how different a vibe you get when you have a writer genuinely interested in exploring what makes mutants actually uncanny. Morrison vs. Whedon is another very good example of this dichotomy, imo. Morrison's X-Men are uncanny, and Whedon's are not. Both are good, but they have a very different feel as a result.

Anyway, enough waffling on about literary analysis!

Taking Ben Percy and Jed MacKay's lead, this version of Beast is very much more in line with his 90s or 00s self than the Defenders version he's meant to be closer to - 1985 Beast did not talk like this. That being said, Beast's use of affectation, facade, and code-switching to fit in means that it isn't really a breaking of canon, it just indicates that Hank feels that his goofball persona would be very ill-fitting for this stage of his life, and given the stresses he's under, I can't say he's necessarily wrong.

Browerian mimicry, otherwise known as automimicry, is a form of animal mimicry in which an animal will commonly imitate itself in such a way that it confuses and deflects attacks, i.e. a fish manifesting eye spots away from its actual eyes so as to misdirect a predator. But, as Hank points out, the form of mimicry on display here is somewhat more complex and involved . . .

And now we come to the first hint about what the actual conflict is going to be here - just how much of this mimic's thought processes are its own, and how much are Hank's? After all, while Hank has, historically born up under immense pressure, stress, and racial hatred before, that hasn't always been the case.

In Uncanny X-Men #8, he was one of the first mutants to experience racial hatred and a near lynching for the use of his powers in an altruistic manner, an experience which led him to nearly leave the X-Men. While he grew out of this misanthropy, it's interesting to see this trait potentially return in light of his inner conflict over his inner goodness and morality - it makes sense that Hank would question if he's only a good person when he's treated well, given his lack of faith in his intrinsic goodness and growing belief that he cannot be trusted.

So, we have to ask if this sentiment is the mimic, Hank, or both, especially given how sharp Beast is in this issue, and in MacKay's X-Men #4. Even an older, allegedly more morally degraded Beast, was more polite to similarly ignorant masses in Rosenberg's Uncanny X-Men, and yet, in this issue, Hank refers to them very unflatteringly, to say nothing of his somewhat brusque manner during his fight with the Upstarts . . .

"We're." "We."

Interesting.

I think this issue might well have given Psylocke more dialogue than all of Jed MacKay's X-Men run thus far. That being said, I'm not massively worried about her prominence and treatment, given that what she's gotten has been eminently capable, and she does have a solo series coming out soon, so it's not as though she's being particularly hard done by, I think.

Blankslate. I actually rather like that. It has a very pleasing simplicity to it, and it's both apt and unique, which is hard, given the number of existing shapeshifters that the Marvel Universe plays host to.

I do like that the instant Psylocke saw that Scott was considering field deployment of a vulnerable young moment, she locked that shit down, ASAP. We aren't having a repeat of Utopia's X-Force here, Scoot. Again, pulling at the relative lack of play Kwannon's gotten in MacKay's X-Men thus far, it's nice to see her so assertive and able to speak up against what she perceives as Scott's utilitarian tendencies.

Also, Hank continues to be incapable of sitting on a chair properly.

I really have to question what the fuck Scott thought was going to happen. Were you even listening to what Hank and Kwannon were saying, Scooter?

Hank really isn't used to having an outer monologue. It throws him, to hear the nasty things he thinks about himself spoken aloud, finished, and not left unanswered and unquestioned in his own mind.

It's also very interesting to see this fear explicitly acknowledged in even this version of Hank, given that this worry about rejection, and the ensuing bluster and humiliation, led to his violent reaction to the garbage intervention in Uncanny X-Men #600. He decided to leave rather than be made to leave, deciding that the X-Men had already elected to make him leave the team (not an unreasonable conclusion, given how determinedly shitty they treated him up until that point, and after it), and in so doing, made his worries manifest.

I've also talked before about the significance of moments where Hank doesn't talk. As a persistent prattler, it's worth noting his silences.

A Markov chain is, essentially, a statistical model of real-world processes, that often describes a sequence of possible events in which the probability of each event depends only on the state attained in the previous event, i.e. the prediction of a specific outcome after a number of specific events. Hence, a probability chain.

Here, Hank appears to have inputted data relating to his own life experiences, and the data available to him about the life experiences of his previous self, as well as, likely, his alternate reality counterparts, in an effort to discern his likelihood of turning out the same way.

While this version of Hank has substantially reduced life experiences compared to his older self, he still appears to be well versed in statistical modelling and probability mathematics. If he is behind his Prime self, it's likely only going to be for so long, given that this level of mathematics and modelling was well beyond his 1985 self, who was notoriously rusty at even his own chosen field of biophysics and genetic manipulation in New Defenders, having neglected his scientific studies in favour of, well, fun.

Prions are misfolded proteins that induce a similar misfolded state in normal variants of the same protein, leading to cellular death. Your most likely common experience of the word may be related to prion neurodegenerative diseases affecting humans and animals, such as Creutzfeldt–Jakob's disease, kuru, and mad cow disease.

While this is very impressive science, I think it skirts around the fact that Hank is essentially working on a gun that can kill him and reset him back to a more 'pleasing' version of the same person if someone he deems worthy of entrusting the gun to decides he needs resetting. This is horrific and exactly the kind of self-hating science that Hank would only ever conscience being used on him and only him, because he's like that.

This is the kind of thing that Simon Williams or Abigail Brand would beat his ass for doing, and then destroy, because no, Hank, do NOT keep the 'mind wipe me when you don't like me' serum around, it's horrible that you think so unkindly of yourself, you idiot!

I like Hank's weird little science lamp. The man can't just have a simple lava lamp like the rest of us, can he?

Oy vey.

To be continued . . . in another post, because I ran out of images right at the end, again.

[solstices-dreams]

𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐝𝐫 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏.

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐝𝐫. ᝰ.ᐟ

— 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢.

17 years old (aug. 23), she/they, 5’4

She was my first friend ever, we’ve been friends since elementary school so we’ve been through alll the cringe phases with each other. She’s definitely my best best friend, no shade on my others but she’s the one who gets me. I think we’ll have matching bracelets, not sure what kind but we’re matching.

She has a hispanic mom who can be strict but she loves me and her food-!! omg!! Her dad’s black and he’s pretty tall and big and he likes me too, probably calls me by some nickname b/cuz i’m so close with Maria. And he’s the good cop, so if we ever get in trouble we’ll tell him, not her mom.

Her younger brother is Matteo, (NOT mattheo riddle). He and I are also close just bcuz of Marie. He loves food and is lokey a popular kid in his grade but he still hangs out around our grade and we text somewhat often.

Maria’s usual nicknames are Marie, Mar, Mari. She’ll be the type to call you out on your bs like Angie, she also makes a couple race jokes but she never means them. I’m her token white girl when she takes me to the bsu (black student union.) She also does volleyball for a sport. She’s somewhere on the bisexual/pansexual spectrum of liking a lot of genders.

She’s in all the same type of classes as me, honors and APs and she’s best at english and history. (not better than me tho, we tie or I do better… but no jealousy !) But she’s my fav, my homegirl and also a potential s/o… She also calls you “girl” regardless of gender, unless you ask her not too. And she also makes sure to switch up your pronouns if you go by a couple.

they remind me of : dark red, scarves, soft blankets, brown color palette, hello kitty, nose highlighter, a good book with a warm fire

— 𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐨.

16 years old (june 6), she/they, 5ft

She has two older brothers who are both blonde and pale like her. Her family is academically driven and she’s super smart, (honors & ap classes) especially in math. She’s pretty soft spoken and quiet and definitely a bookworm but you can have really indepth conversations with her. If you want to vent to her she’s awesome because she gives good constructive criticism and I have her sometimes check over whatever I’m writing for school or fanfic… b/c yes, i’m a fanfic writer in my teen life dr.

She’s super organized and has really neat notes, like angie, so if I ever miss a class I’m asking them for notes. We became friends in middle school, she was an 8th grade transfer then ended up going to the same highschool as me. I don’t really think she’s do any sports, maybe track? I think she might do yearbook or matheletes, a more strict club ig? Probably photography club and an Asian ethnicity clubs and she would def run a position, maybe secretary so she doesn’t have to talk too much. It’s not social anxiety on her part she just doesn’t like having to be told to speak up all the time. She’s also crazy levelheaded, all my other friends get passionate about stuff, but she’s chill.

She has cool pins on her bags too and she’s a thrift queen, i know me and the gals are gonna have so much fun thrifting !! And Yvette is aro/ace and rarely experiences attraction, also maybe demisexual-? I don't know a ton about nonattraction terms but she doesn't get crushes or feel attraction often and when she does it can be any gender.

they remind me of : light green, neat notes, mochi, organized pantries, sterile, white, pressed sheets, glasses with thin frames

— 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜.

17 years old (oct. 3), she/they, 5’6

Holy shit- this girl… she has energy constantly. I met her in highschool. We usually call her “moxie” instead of maxine and occasionally “max.” She’s also an emoji abuser and she def has cheesy pick up lines and she sends you a shit ton of tiktoks and she uses the tiktok [proud] emoji a ton. “What’s cookin good looking? [stomps light up sketchers] [proud]”

She’s the one jumping around at parties and saying “oh my god I love this song!” Not organized at all… miss gurl is always losing stuff so I make sure to take a copy of all my homework because no doubt she’ll come asking for an extra. She does soccer, softball, and basketball. She’s pretty smart, she’s in only honors or ap history or english, she hates math so she and yvette make a funny pair.

“Y’all i’m not even joking- i just flunked that test, the only thing I got right was my name-“

She has a dad who’s like… really rich. She doesn’t really care though but sometimes she can totally forget how rich she is compared to others in the group. I love whenever she invites to do stuff because it’s always cool and paid for. She has a step mom she doesn’t particularly care for and is a little blunt with her but she’s not a bad person, just doesn’t like the step mom feeling like a replacement. Unlabeled sexuality queen, girls, guys, if there’s a will there’s a way,

they remind me of : party girl, champagne glasses, sparkles, gold, energy, party city, gold/silver tinsel

— 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐬𝐨𝐧.

17 years old (dec. 3), she/her, 5’7

She’s so annabeth chase and angelica schyuler. She’s so SMART LIKE OMG. She’s all honors and then AP lab classes so if I’m not doing well in a class i got to her. She’s the smartest in the groups (besides me 🌝) She is mother.

She’s such a queen and can explain stuff so well, she wants to be a doctor or lawyer to earn a lot of money and I have feeling she’d be really good at either. Argumentative feminist queen, I am her #1 fan girl. And she’d look so good in a lab coat, like, YES MOTHER! I trust you with my life.

She’s also very mature and she’s the tallest in our group of girls, she has so much patience for putting up with Moxie and Maddy and then me and marie’s out-of-pocket shirt and a Diego and danny’s gremelin behavior. NASTY SIDE EYE. she literally looks you out of the corner of your eye and you *knowww* you’re in trouble.

She does volleyball (she’s so gorgeous in the uniform) dive and softball with Max. She literally has amazing fashion sense, all dark and pretty with her skin tone and her MAKEUP? BARK BARK I’M SO GAY. (and she’s bi!) And she gets her braids done and humors me when I ask her a ton of questions about the process.

they remind me of : dark academia, annabeth chase, cabin 8, thought daughter, red lipstick, angelica schuyler

— 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲.

16 years old (mar. 21), she/her, 5’4

I know her the least since she and angie are really close, also Moxie a bit. She’s got energy, not as chaotic as moxie but she’s usually talking and smiling. She does volleyball and softball, she’s not as accident-prone as Angie but rarely a week goes by without her saying she hurt something at practice.

she reminds me of light pink glitter and kind of like warm sunlight through windows, not quite the burning heat of the sun but how it warms the wood if that makes sense. She definitely gives youngest sibling vibes, cuz… she is!!

Like I said… know her the least but she’s still important to the gang.

Volleyball and softball. She and angie are pretty close.

they remind me of : baby pink, crayola markers, pink eyeshadow, white mice, alice in wonderland, peonies

[traumas-tmntober-2024]

Welcome, everybody, to

🐢 🍁 TMNTober 2024! 🍁 🐢

An Inktober-inspired month-long event where every day will be assigned a prompt that you can write or draw something for!

Moderated by @teenagemutantninjatrauma, aka Trauma/Charlie <33

🐢 Rules & guidelines: 🐢

All prompts have to be TMNT related, obviously, but they can be of any iteration, including fan made ones.

Post your art and writing on whatever platform you want! If you want it archived here though, post or link it on tumblr and tag this blog!

Tag your art with #traumas tmntober 2024, #traumastmntober2024 or #traumastmntober. I will make a point of going through these tags and reblogging as much art as I possibly can to here! On AO3, tag as “#Trauma’s TMNTober 2024”!

Your art doesn’t have to be done on time and you don’t have to do all prompts. First and foremost, have fun!

Since this month ends with Halloween, I expect some art may involve horror themes, and if so, I expect it to be tagged appropriately. This is an appeal especially to writers, as I’m not sure I’ll be able to read every single piece, to tag your works with proper warnings, please.

Every day, there will be a post announcing the current prompt! As I live in central Europe, these prompts may show up really early for some people.

🐢 PROMPTS: 🐢

1. An Old Favorite

2. Isolation

3. Starvation

4. Desperation

5. A Horrible Accident

6. An Injustice

7. Revenge

8. Sunset

9. Stars

10. Ocean

11. Forest

12. Campfire

13. Rain

14. Snow

15. Phobia

16. In an alternate universe...

17. Mutation

18. Full Moon

19. Identity Crisis

20. Rejection

21. Outage

22. Impatience

23. Bad Decision

24. Redemption

25. Misplaced Trust

26. Nothing Lasts Forever

27. The Feeling of Doom

28. The Taste of Blood

29. The End of the World

30. Pictures on the Walls

31. The Best Costume

Happy creating, everybody!!

Note: I am sure other tmntober challenges will pop up again, same as last year, and if they do, they will be listed down here :)

[ordenza]

i’m unemployed yall