#this is all you're getting btw

[thevoidstaredback]

Be Thou For The People

A contradictory void of suffocating black and empty white was the last thing Edward wanted to see at any given time. Sure, there was the exception of when he was going to get his and Al's bodies back, but that wasn't now. He was sure he hadn't done anything against explicitly against any Alchemical Laws, nor had he stumbled into any Human Transmutation arrays, so why was he here?

The familiar not-presence of a not-being filled his mind when it spoke to him. "Using your own soul as a Philosopher's Stone to save your life? What a cheat."

"Hey!" Ed protested, barely keeping himself from moving from his spot. Fighting this not-being would only be a waste of the infinitely miniscule amount of time in the void. "It's not cheating. I didn't break any rules. Besides, Alkahestry works kind of like that."

The Truth laughed heartily. "You must take the time to understand that which you do not. Using Alchemy on yourself is a form of Human Transmutation. You're molding your life to go against the flow, however small the alteration might have been. Unless you are not human?"

"Of course I'm human!" Ed shrunk in on himself slightly. Of course he didn't understand Alkahestry, the research for it hadn't been readily accessible to him like his Alchemy resources! And, yes, maybe he knew, in the back of his mind, that transmuting himself was still technically an Alchemical Taboo, but he had thought The Truth would have let him off because he was using his own life as the price! Evidently, that wasn't the case. In his defense, it was either shave off a few years or die via impalement. Neither was a good case, but he'd rather live to keep his promise to his brother than to die in a mineshaft because of a bastard like Kimblee.

"What am I even doing here?" he asked with a huff. It couldn't be anything good.

The Truth's ever present grin fell ever so slightly. "I'd like to cash in a favor with you."

"Excuse me?" he blinked.

The not-being continued, "A favor. You do something for me, I'll do something for you. That kind of deal."

"Hold on," Ed said, uncrossing his arms, "Why do You want me for this? Why not pull some other poor bastard to do Your dirty work?" For that's what this had to be, dirty work. There was nothing else it could be.

This time, The Truth's smile fell noticeably. "Because very few have survived coming into my realm once, let alone several times thereafter."

Another huff. "What's the parameters of this 'favor'?"

It grinned again. "Someone has decided to go and try to cheat Death. I want you to go get him and bring him to face the Gate."

"What do I get out of this?"

"A free pass. You'll be able to recover your brother's body with no repercussions on your end, though I would still like an answer."

Speechless for a moment, Ed recovered soon enough to ask, "What answer?"

"Nothing you need to worry about right now, little alchemist." The Truth's grin split It's face unnaturally in a smile, "What do you say, poor bastard?"

With a long, drawn out, resigned sigh, Edward sat down in front of his Gate. Honestly, he'd brought that taunt upon himself. Also, could he even refuse this? "Alright, fine. What do I gotta do?" It was too good to be true, but he might as well take the chance.

"That's the spirit, little alchemist!" The Truth relaxed, outstretching the leg It'd stolen from Ed and resting Ed's arm on It's other knee, leaving the hand and wrist limp. "I'll be sending you to the other side of the Gate. A world where technology thrived and alchemy died. A world of hidden societies. It is within one of those hidden societies that I want you to be. The man who has tried to defy Death runs as the 'villain', you could say."

When The Truth paused, Edward took that moment to think before speaking. "So, You want me to find this guy on the other side of the Gate and bring him to You?" It was a miracle he wasn't freaking out. Then again, that wouldn't get him anywhere. There's a time and a place, but this was not it. "How long do I have?"

"As long as it takes you. When you're done, you'll end up right where and when I pulled you from."

'Right where...' The sudden realisation of what had happened before he found himself in The Truth's realm was near painful. Quickly, he placed his flesh hand over where he knew he'd been impaled. The last thing he was doing before coming here was healing the wound and trying to stay alive. Pulling his hand away, he found no blood and only a slight numbness in place of pain. "What?"

"Pain doesn't exist here, little alchemist, I thought you would have remembered this fact?" It was true. When he had committed the Taboo, he'd not felt any pain until he was back in his father's study with one less leg. Though, the screaming was mostly shock and panic.

"If I do this," Ed started, "What rules do I have to follow?"

"I'm not sure I quite know what you mean?" It's grin and tone said otherwise.

"I'm not gonna let you throw me into a world knowing jack shit about it or the Laws in place." He knew all too well that he wouldn't actually be able to stop The Truth from doing anything. It was actually pretty generous of it to ask him instead of just dumping him somewhere in the first place. "Knowing my luck, I'd end up breaking one and end up right back here."

The Truth chuckled. "Knowing your luck, little alchemist, you'd knowingly break them even if you did know them." Ed resisted the urge to launch at the not-being. "However, I will tell you. The world follows the same basic Laws of yours. The society you'll be in have some additional ones. All the information you need will be given to you when you go Through." It put It's chin on Edwards right palm, the elbow resting on Its knee. "I would advise you keep your alchemy hidden from a very specific certain people. I'd also advise you to trust very few."

That's not good. The Truth is actually telling him to avoid people? "I don't suppose You'll tell me who to avoid." The grin he was given was answer enough.

"You will know who you can trust," It said.

After a few more moments, Ed nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll do this stupid favor for You, but You have to hold up Your end!"

The Truth's grin was more frightening than it had been before, matching up perfectly with the one It had showed him when he was a child. "Of course I will, poor bastard." The Gate behind Ed opened swiftly and the black arms of the Gatekeepers pulled him back, "Good luck, little alchemist."

Edward knew better than to struggle. Unlike in The Truth's realm, he could feel pain in here. The pain of the Knowledge of another world was unbearable and certainly would have killed him if he hadn't been Through the Gate before. Though, the Knowledge pouring into him was significantly more than the Knowledge that he had paid for before. He couldn't stop the scream that ripped from his throat.

***

The Truth watched as Edward Elric's Gate closed. It had presented the deal as though it were Equivalent, but It knew that wasn't the case. In order for Its end of this little deal to measure up with what the Little Alchemist was doing for it, The Truth would have to give him more knowledge as well as his little brother's body and his arm and leg. The knowledge and memories Edward would acquire on the other side of the Gate would fill out the rest of the Equivalence. If Edward answered The Truth's question correctly then it might be so inclined to add something to the growing stack of Equivalence.

The Truth smiled again. "I wonder how this will play out."

***

Edward didn't know how to feel when he opened his eyes again. On one hand, he was no longer in pain from the Gate, nor was he bleeding out from his most recent injury. He still felt a small twinge of pain when he moved wrong, though. On the other hand, he wasn't in the mineshaft, so that meant his meeting with The Truth hadn't been a dream and he really did have the complete Knowledge of another world in his head. Of course, now was the time to freak out about the entire situation.

Taking deep breaths, he kept his eyes open and focused on what was in front of him. It was a red cushioned bench. Was he on a train? Maybe. "Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron," he muttered slowly, "Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Fluorine," It was slow going, but he was calming down. "Neon, Sodium, Magnesium," He tapped the middle finger and thumb on his right hand together. "Aluminum, Silicon," Breath in through the nose, "Phosphorus," He coughed a bit, "Why the hell does it smell like cider? Better question, why the hell does it taste like cider?"

Now calmer, Edward took a better look around the compartment. And wasn't that weird. Trains didn't usually have compartments unless you got first class seating. And, judging on the muffled noise outside the door, he was in common class seating. Odd, but not overly so. On the rack above his head, he found a trunk with his name on it. Pulling it down, setting it on the seat next to him, and opening it it, he found a note on top of a black cloth.

Little Alchemist, Along with the Knowledge you got when you went Through, I've also given you everything you'll need while there. Money is in the leather pouch, your wand is in your pocket with your watch, and your books and other school supplies are all in your trunk with extra clothes and robes. Anything else, you'll have to buy yourself. Have fun as a third year, poor bastard, you'll be surrounded by thirteen year olds.

"How nice of It." Ed folded the note and tucked it away. Then, he ripped it open to re-read it. "The hell does it mean 'school supplies?!" Ed hadn't been to a proper school since before his mom died, so why the hell did The Truth think it was a good idea to send him to one? On top of that, why is he with the thirteen year olds?! He takes it back. The Truth isn't nice at all. Not in the slightest. "If this is You calling me short..." he threatened loosely.

Unfortunately, Ed knew there wasn't really anything he could do aside from take it in stride. He was good at that. So, putting the note away for good, he searched his pockets for his watch and wand. He didn't get far, though, because he finally realised what he was wearing. He still had on his black leather pants, his black elevator boots, and his cropped black jacket, but he was now wearing a white undershirt, a yellow tie, and black dress thing - a robe, his mind supplied - with gold trimming. What the hell? A look into his trunk confirmed the existence of more of these robes, one of which had been directly under the note. At least they were black. Quickly, Ed took off the robe he was wearing, but left the tie. A glance at the emblem - a UK badger - had his mind telling him that it was for the Hufflepuff House, whatever that was.

In his left pocket, he found his State Alchemist watch and his wand with a leather holster and another note. He fastened the holster under his sleeve and to his left forearm and stowed the wand there. Next, he read the note.

Little Alchemist, Your wand is 13 inches, yew wood, with a core of Thestral Hair. Yew wands are said to give their wielder more power over life and death than other wand woods and is more attracted to the Dark Arts. The Thestral Hair core is unstable at best and will only work for those who have accepted death.

'Great,' he scowled, shoving the note into his trunk with the other one, 'Another constant reminder of my mistakes.' Even in a completely different world, his greatest mistake haunts him.

Accepting it with a huff, he shoved the robes he'd woken up in into the trunk and pulled out a book - quickly checking for his own journal and sighing when he found it in the inner pocket of his cropped jacket - and opened it to read. He stopped short at the new language that was registering in his brain. "What the fuck?" The new language - English - had probably been forced into his mind while coming Through. Making a conscious effort, Edward spoke in Amestiran, "Was soll der Scheiß?" Again, the passing Knowledge that this world's equivalent to his home language was called German jumped to the front of his mind. "That's going to take some getting used to." Pushing everything else aside, he opened the book and began to read Spellman's Syllabary.

***

Three books later, Edward forced himself pulled back into reality. The textbooks he read were strange. The first was a study of this worlds Runes, some of which he had studied as a kid in alchemy books. The next was about Potions, he had a feeling that he was going to like that class; The third was about the Wizarding World's history, it was interesting to compare the Knowledge he'd gotten coming Through to what was being taught; The last was about Transfiguration, and he decided then and there that he would not be attending that class at all, no matter the consequences.

Blinking as he closed the book, he found he was no longer alone in the compartment. "Who the hell are you?" were the first words he said to anyone since his arrival.

The boy across from him shifted nervously in his seat, not meeting Ed's eye as he seemed to shrink in on himself. "I-I'm sorry. It's just, everywhere else was-was full, and-and-" he stopped only to restart a different sentence, "I asked if-if I could sit here- Everywhere else is full and the train started moving and- I'm really sorry!"

"Hold on," Edward cut the kid off from speaking anymore, "It's fine. I get caught up in my own little world when I'm reading."

The brown haired boy took a deep breath, still not looking away from his hands, and pressing himself as far away from Ed as he could. His robes were crimson and ruby red where Ed's were yellow and gold. "I'm sorry." he squeaked again.

"You have nothing to apologise for."

"Yes I do. We-we don't know each other. Why would you ever let me sit here?" He stood and reached for his own trunk, "I-I'll just go sit somewhere else-"

"Stop." Ed ordered, his tone leaving no room for discussion, "Sit your ass back down. I'm fine with you being in here. I really don't care."

"But-but, I'm a Gryffindor and you're a Hufflepuff."

"So?"

"'So'?"

"Yeah, 'So?'. Why should I care about that? You're just sitting here."

"But-!"

"I'm Edward. Call me Ed."

The boy seemed like he wanted to say something, but he allowed the conversation to turn were Ed led it. "Neville Longbottom, though you probably already knew that." He did know that, but not for any reason Neville could come up with. "You're really okay with me staying?"

"Yes."

He slowly sat back down. "I don't remember seeing you around school before. Are you new?"

This question made Ed pause for a second. Nothing was telling him this kid was untrustworthy, but that didn't mean he'd tell him anything. Though, an ally would do him good. "Yeah, I'm new." Now, he was relying on what the Gate had given him. "I was sorted only a bit ago, so I don't really care about the Houses or whatever. I'm thinking about not telling anyone I'm new, though, see if I can trick everyone, y'know?"

Neville gave a small smile. Maybe there was a chance of befriending this kid? "That'd be funny."

Edward smiled, too, "You'll help me?"

"Of course!" He didn't know why, but Neville found this kid - Edward - easy to be around. He hadn't stuttered much this whole conversation and Ed was even asking him to help prank the whole school! But, that wouldn't last long. Once Ed found out how terrible at everything he is, he'll leave like everyone else.

"Hey," Ed asked, "What's wrong?"

"I just don't want to get my hopes up," Neville said shyly, "Once you realise how stupid I am, you'll not want to be around me."

Ed frowned. "Don't talk like that."

"Huh?"

"Self deprecation will get you nowhere. We're friends now, so I'm gonna help you work on that, okay?" Having a friend sounded nice. Besides, this kid is really easy to relax around. He was only ever able to relax like this around Al, but this kid was so similar to his brother that it was honestly a little scary.

"Friends? Are we really..?" A look from the blond made the brunet smile again. He didn't have friends. Acquaintances, sure, but not friends. "What're you reading?"

"The textbooks." Was the answer, "I didn't have time to read them over the summer, so I figured I'd read them now."

Neville nodded, agreeing to the logic, "Have you read the Herbology one yet?"

"No, but I can?" he offered.

A grin. "I want you're thoughts on this year's course when you're done." he sat back, "I'll wait."

Chuckling, Edward muttered, "Yes, sir," with a two fingered salute and a smirk as he began reading. It wasn't going to take him long to finish it, he knew, but his interest in whatever Neville had to say on the subject made him read slightly faster than normal.

***

The discussion on Herbology lasted from the third hour of the train ride - two o'clock in the afternoon - up until an hour before the sunset at seven o'clock. The train had come to a screeching and quick halt, cutting off any and all cheerful conversations and replacing them with collective confusion. The stop had also jolted everyone on the train, throwing most from or against their seats.

"What do you think is going on?" Neville asked his blond friend.

"I don't know," Edward stood from his seat, "But I'm going to-"

A sudden chill made itself known to the two boys. Their warm breaths became visible in the cold air and the glass of the windows quickly frosted over. Edward was thankful that he had winter automail on because he did not want to deal with frostbite, thank you. All sounds, muffled or otherwise, were muted over by a loud silence. Even their own breathing made little to no noise. Then, Neville started to tremble.

"Neville?" The boy in question had his hands loosely covering his ears and his eyes were wide and unfocused, seeing something Ed could not. He fell to his knees as tears started to fall from his eyes "Neville!" Edward recognised a flashback when he saw one. He'd seen some of the older soldiers have flashbacks to the Ishvalan War and was glad the fighting and war efforts hadn't reached Resembol outside of Winry's parents leaving and refugees joining the town.

A boney, charred black hand made itself known on the glass window of the door with a quiet tap, the window around the hand turning white with the cold, but the handprint stayed clear with an illusion of warmth. Slowly, the door opened and the owner of the hand was in full visibility, despite the cold seeming to fog everything else over with a thick mist. It was covered in a black cloak that hung so far and so loose that Ed couldn't tell if the thing was floating or standing. The hood covered where it's face should be and the sleeves seemed to be it's arms, falling over the things hands.

'A Dementor.' The Knowledge the Gate had forced into his head supplied, 'You're wand is protecting you.' Yew wood had power over life and death, so it was therefore able to protect against beings such as this one. The thestral hair core only seemed to amplify this. The words Expecto Patronum entered his mind.

Ed hadn't ever seen anything like this before, let alone faced something like it, so he was having a hard time overcoming his shock. When he did, though, he pulled Neville into a hug without turning his back on the creature. His wand fell from it's holster and into his left hand and he whispered the spell he was told. "Expecto Patronum!" His given Knowledge about the spell let him know that it was incredibly difficult to produce. It uses the castor's happiest memory as fuel to fend off Dementors, who feed off of misery. The happier the memory, the stronger the spell. The surprise Ed felt when a fully corporeal Patronus came into existence to push the Dementor out and away was immense. When the dark creature was gone, Ed watched as the glowing tiger made of silvery light approached and laid itself around him and Neville. A sense of calm overtook the train compartment and Ed found he could breathe easier. The room started to warm up with the Dementor now gone.

"Are you alright?" Edward asked Neville quietly once the boy had stopped trembling.

"I-I" he gulped, "I think so." He pulled away from Edward slightly, not noticing the tiger wrapped around him yet. "What was that thing?"

"A Dementor." Ed found a small bit of amusement that his companion hadn't noticed the silver magic yet.

Confused at why the blond was smiling, Neville started to ask why, but stopped short when he noticed the glowing tiger that he was somehow leaning against. It had wrapped itself around the two, it's tail going behind Edward and its head beside Neville. "What-"

"My Patronus, apparently," The tiger acknowledged the two with a nod - as if satisfied that they were now alright - before disappearing.

"You can cast the Patronus Charm?!" Neville had seen it mentioned in passing in a few books he's read, but, as far as he knew, it was a NEWT level spell! They wouldn't be learning that until Sixth Year!

"Apparently. That was my first time doing it." And using magic. Edward patted himself on the back for a job well done on the first try. Neville didn't need to know that part, though.

"You know what the tiger means, right?"

"It means something?"

"Of course it does!" Neville shook Ed by the shoulders, "The tiger means strength and cunning and majesty and independance and immortality. How did you not know that?"

Ed's brain short circuited. There was several things to unpack there, but the one he was focused on was the whole 'immortality' thing. What the fuck?

"You good?" Neville's voice pulled him back from his mind.

"Am I alright? I should be asking you that!" He lowered his voice. "You had a flashback."

Neville shook his head. "I don't really wanna talk about it." That made sense. He wasn't going to push. "Well, should we go see what's going on?" Edward smiled and nodded, helping the brunet up after standing himself.

There was a knock on the door. "Everything okay in here?" a man's voice called from the other side of the door.

Ed opened it, "Yeah, we're good."

"Who're you?" Neville asked from over Ed's shoulder. He was a whole four inches taller than the blond, much to the latter's irritation.

The man pulled chocolate out of his jacket pocket and handed a bar to the boys. "That was a Dementor." Then, he paused for a second and looked around the compartment. "Did either of you cast the Patronus Charm?"

Edward crossed his arms. "Who are you?"

The man seemed to size the two up for a second. "I'm Remus Lupin, your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year."

"Cool. Never heard of you." Neville gasped and backed up a few steps, obviously surprised at Ed's gall.

Remus laughed, "No, I suppose you haven't. Now, did you two cast a Patronus?"

"Yeah?" Ed raised an eyebrow, "How did you know?"

"Good job," he sent a quick glance to Ed's tie, "Ten points to Hufflepuff. The Patronus Charm leaves a kind of residue in the air. Lingering happiness, you could say."

"Huh. Cool."

"Anyway, I need to go check on the rest of the students. Be sure to change into your robes before we get to the school." Then, he walked away.

Ed closed the door and snickered.

"What're you laughing at?" Neville asked, a weak glare in his eyes. Edward had some audacity talking to a teacher like that! Though, Neville supposed it was a nice change. He wasn't gonna admit that out loud, though.

"His name." Ed moved away from the door and sat back in his seat.

Neville sat across from him again. "What about his name?"

"It means," he started to laugh again. "It means 'Wolf Wolf'." The Knowledge he'd gotten had included the myths of this world. The one he was thinking of was of Remus and Romulus of Rome. They had been raised by the wolf Lupa. "If that man has nothing to do with wolves, I'll eat my boots."

Neville giggled, "I'd pay ten galleons to see that."

"Oh, you're on!" The two shook hands as the train began moving again.

***

When Edward read 'school' on the note The Truth had left for him, he was expecting something closer to the ones back home, like a building no taller than three floors. Not a whole ass village. When he expressed this to Neville, the boy told him the the village - Hogsmeade - was not the school, before leading him over to the carriages. Most students, Ed noticed, were ignoring the horses altogether. The few that saw them gave them a wide berth. He wasn't about that. He walked right up to one, dragging Neville with him, and patted it's side.

"What is it?" Neville asked.

"A thestral." he answered.

Tentatively, Neville reached out to pet the horse as well. "It's beautiful." The two soon had to leave the thestrals and jumped into the carriage. They didn't say much as they waited to arrive at the school, though they were joined by a blond in royal and sapphire blue robes before they started moving.

Again, Edward's first image of a school was maybe three floors in a very rectangular building. Not a damn castle. He barely refrained from expressing his excitement in front of his extra companion. Though, he did have the information Given to him come to the forefront of his mind for a moment, just long enough to skim through the history of the building. It was a lot and it would be sorted through later.

"You don't have to hold back," the girl said, "I know you're new here."

"Are you sure I'm new?" Edward asked her, "There's a lot of kids here, you could have just overlooked me before."

"Quite sure." she nodded, "The wrackspurts that like to stay at the school haven't gotten to you yet." Her ice blue eyes gleamed for a moment. "My name's Luna Lovegood."

"Edward, but you can call me Ed."

"Nice to meet you, Ed. Neville."

The brunet squeaked. "Um, hi."

Luna giggled, "We haven't met before, but your reputation proceeds you, as does mine."

Neville blink dumbly before saying, "Loony?"

She smiled, "Yes,"

"Oh, my god!" Neville covered his mouth in mild horror, "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay." She didn't seem to mind.

While the two students who weren't on their first day of school conversed, Edward had let himself openly - but quietly - gawk at the castle that was apparently a school. At first, he had to do a double take. Why would they be going to a bunch old ruins? But then the focus of the world seemed to shift and he couldn't help himself. He'd never seen a castle in person but this was a fantastic first impression on him. Now he could hold bragging rights over Mustang! Though, he wasn't sure if the tingling in his ports was natural. He couldn't very well ask the two because they obviously had all their limbs. The closer he got to the castle, he noticed, the more alarm bells started to go off in his head. Then, the tingling got worse.

"Ed?" Neville called, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah.." was his distracted answer. He rubbed his right shoulder port with his left hand, "..yeah."

"Are you sure?" Luna asked, her eyes on his right hand.

Before he could answer, his head erupted into a splitting headache and he doubled over, gripping his head in his left hand. 'What the hell is happening?!' He wondered. There was a quiet voice screaming at him to get out and leave, trying to force excuses into his head. The tingling in his ports turned to a stabbing pain, rendering his right arm and left leg useless

"This is a violent reaction to the wards," Luna said, though Ed couldn't be sure he really heard her.

Neville was chewing on his bottom lip, "Why, though? He was perfectly fine on the train."

"Is he a muggle or a squib?"

"No. He performed magic on the train when the Dementor entered the cart."

"Hmm. This is a problem."

Ed came back into focus about then, the pain in his head down to a tolerable hum and his automail ports only feeling slightly heavier than normal. He methodically moved all the joints in his automail that he could, just ot make sure everything was in working order, not that he could actually move them again. "What...the hell was that?"

Luna sat back in her seat, though she was no less concerned than before. "The wards. I don't think the castle likes you very much."

"Why wouldn't the castle like him?" Neville was wondering several things she could have ment, but he was going to try and stay on track for now. He could ask more questions later.

She humed. "Hogwarts doesn't like muggles. Squibs like Mr. Filch are tolerable, though. She must really dislike you for some reason."

"I'm sorry," Ed said, "'She'?"

"The castle."

"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, okay." Maybe he has lost it. He got hit in the head and he's lost his mind. That's the only explanation for whatever was going on. Apparently sentient castles were a thing now? Great. Fantastic.

"Either way," Neville chimed in, leaving the matter of the Hogwarts' apparent sentience for a later date, "Do you think you'll be okay for the Welcome Feast?" Then, he backtracked to when his first conversation with the blond. "Actually, what year are you?"

Ed's eyebrow twitched. He's fifteen years old, damn it, so why is he being but with people two years younger?! He huffed quietly. "Third year."

Neville brightened up. "That's my year!" Then, he deflated, "But we're not in the same House."

"So?" he still couldn't wrap his mind around the whole 'House Rivalry' thing going on despite the reasons having been shoved straight into his head. "What House we're in shouldn't matter."

"You want to make the whole school thing you're on your third year here, yes?" Luna asked, though neither boy was sure how she found out about that little plan, "Then just play into that. Don't go out of your way to interact with each other, and no one will suspect a thing."

"Nah," Ed turned down. He didn't like the idea of shoving Neville aside to keep up appearances. "I'll just play into the Hufflepuff House Traits." Yes, he knew enough about those to recite them in his sleep. "Justice, loyalty, patience, and propensity for hard word. We're friends now. I don't leave people behind."

Luna smiled, "Well, I don't know how much help I'll be, but-"

Ed cut her off. "Hey, as far as I'm concerned, we're friends now, too. Besides, you seem interesting."

"Thank you. You're interesting as well."

Neville was going to stop questioning anything now. Though, he had to admit that they made a pretty fun group, despite only having just met each other. Friends. What a weird concept.

"Now," Ed said as the carriage came to a stop near the castle, "let's go back to the reputation thing. You both have proceeding reputations? I'll have to step up my game. I've been here for two years and people are only just noticing me?" He clicked his tongue and shook his head, "A damn shame."

The two laughed, fully intent on playing along with this endeavor of tricking the whole school. Luna still hadn't told them how she found out about that. "Anther time, Ed. You know which table you're going to?"

"The yellow one, right?"

"That's the one!"

"Okay. I'll see you two later?"

"Of course."

Now alone, Ed took a second to look around at the flood of students heading up to the castle. They'd pretty much all sectioned themselves off into four main groups. Red, yellow, blue, and green. The red and green groups were all sneering at each other and were being separated by the yellow and blue kids. And, based on everything he'd been Given when he came Through the Gate, he was going to have to tread carefully. Politics. Ew. Despite all reservations, he joined the yellow group and followed them into the castle.

The Entry Hall was just has grand as the rest of the castle, and very sparsely decorated. The doors in front of him were tall and opened on their own to let the flood of students into the Grand Hall. It was beautifully decorated, but Ed wasn't quite sure he liked the ceiling. It was amazing, nonetheless. The five tables were arranged in a way that basically promoted against Inter-House relationships. The teacher's table was fine, but the four House Tables were all separated quite obviously, and the banners above them only amplified this. With a huff, Ed sat down at the end of the yellow table. The Hufflepuffs around him didn't seem to take notice of him. Good. All the better for gaslighting the staff and student body.

A few minutes after everyone had sat down, a stool was placed in front of the teacher's table. An old pile of cloth sat on top of it. Then, the doors to the Great Hall opened once again and a stern looking teacher - Professor McGonagall, Ed's mind supplied - walked in, a gaggle of obviously nervous kids following after her. That was how the Sorting Ceremony started.

***

It took an hour, but every single one of the first years had been sorted between the four Houses. It was off-putting for Ed to see the absolute disgust or rage or other negative emotions on the students' faces when someone was sorted into a House that wasn't their own. Seriously, why are they all getting so upset about a kid being placed where they'd fit in best? He didn't outtwordly react, though.

All the House tables had ranging reactions to each placement, but Hufflepuff had the least negative out of all of them. The Slytherins sneered at everyone who wasn't with them, especially if they were sorted into Gryffindor. The Gryffindors returned the favor. The Ravenclaws weren't nearly as bad as the other two, but they did avoid watching anyone walk to their table. They didn't make a sound when anyone was sorted into Hufflepuff, though. The Hufflepuffs, clapped politely for everyone, but there were a few that they didn't clap for. They were mostly Ravenclaws.

According to the Gate, it was Gryffindor versus Slytherin and Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws got along, while the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs got along. None of them actually went out of their way to interact, but classes styled like that were normally more productive than a Gryffindor and Slytherin class.

Ed was gonna change that. Maybe. It was on his list now that he'd met Luna and Neville, but it wasn't a priority. More of, if it happens, it happens.

"I welcome you all, whether you are returning for another year or you are only just coming in, to Hogwarts for another year or learning." the old man in the middle of the staff table said. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, he knew from the Gate, was wearing obnoxious pink robes with his beard tucked into the blue belt. "I only have one thing to say to you all, now that you've been seated: Tuck in!"

Upon his command, dishes and food and drink appeared on all the tables, covering the wood to the point it could hardly be seen. Everyone started to serve themselves as conversation erupted throughout the room, engulfing it into a cacophony of sound and movement that was, in all honesty, overwhelming Ed.

"Hey," someone said from next to him, their voice quiet against everything else, making it stand out ot his ear more, "Are you okay? You look a bit pale."

Ed pushed an answer out of his throat in a voice equally as quiet. "Yeah," he lied, "This is my third year and I'm still not used to this much noise."

The kid, Cedric, he recognised from the Gate, nodded, "Yeah, I get that. When we get back to the dorms, we can put a silencing charm over your bed curtains."

"Isn't there already a silencing charm on them?"

"Yeah, but that's just to muffle the sound going in or out. I'll put one on that'll completely silence the noise going in."

That didn't sound to bad. "Edward Elric," he introduced himself as he finally began to get himself food. Despite what Mustang believed, he did have manners. He just doesn't use them around the bastard because he sees no reason to.

Cedric also began eating. "Cedric Diggory." They let the conversation sit for a second, the fifth year student was making sure to be quiet. It didn't to a lot in the grand scheme of the room, but the sentiment was appreciated. "Forgive me, but I don't recognise you. Are you a visiting student?"

Ed shook his head, the lie coming easy to him, "No, I've been here, since year one. I just don't like to draw attention usually."

Cedric raised an eyebrow. "Really? You don't seem the type."

"Huh?"

"You're," he gestured vaguely at Ed, "vibe, I guess. It basically screams for attention." Ed didn't say anything. Cedric flinched. "Right, sorry, that was rude of me." he cleared his throat, "Are you going to hide yourself in the background again this year, or are you going to try and make friends?"

Ed pretended to think for a moment before answering, "I made some friends on the train earlier."

"Oh? That's good."

"Yeah. If we ever want to spend time outside of classes, though, it's inevitable we'll draw attention to ourselves."

"Oh?" he said again, "And why's that?"

"We're all in different Houses."

"Ah. Yeah, I can see where the problem lies."

Before their conversation could continue, the food and drinks and dishes were taken from the table. "House elves." Ed muttered under his breath.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood from his seat again and cleared his throat, calling everyone's attention to him. Once every student was looking at the old man, he smiled with a twinkle in his eye as his gaze moved from student to student. Ed made sure to not meet the man's eyes. "As always, a wonderful feast." he began, "Before I send you off to your beds, there a a few things to be announced and reminded. The Forbidden Forest is, to those who do not wish to die a most gruesome death, forbidden. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you all that a list of prohibited objects ha been posted to his office door on the second floor." He turned slightly to the left side of the staff table. "I would like to introduce you all to this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Remus Lupin." Ed was giggling behind his hand while everyone clapped. The man stood, waved a bit, then sat back down. Dumbledore continued, "Classes begin tomorrow at eight in the morning. I wish you all a good night."

Again, the room became very loud very quickly. Cedric shot Ed an apologizing look. "I'll met you in the common room, okay?" Ed nodded as the brunet stood and called for the first years to follow him.

Ed Knew where he was going, but he didn't really know. So, he followed everyone else as they left the Great Hall. He made sure to make himself seem small - because he was not small - as he walked in the middle of the crowd. Cedric and someone else had taken the first years on a different route, so he resigned himself to being surrounded by people he's never met before in his life. Which ones are his dorm-mates, he wonders. He doesn't really care to know at the moment.

The group of students wearing yellow accented robes wandered down to the basement - a floor above the dungeons - and to the kitchens. At least, near the kitchens. One of the boys at the head of the group tapped the barrel two from the bottom of the stack twice, then thrice, muttering 'Helga Hufflepuff' as he did so. The passage opened up and the Hufflepuffs all filed into the common room.

The room was very cozy and smelled like freshly cut grass and rain and burning firewood and freshly baked bread. Overall, it felt like home did. The earthy tones to the room only amplified this fact. The ceiling was white marble, the floor was off-white tile with a dark green mosaic in the middle, and the walls were off-white and light grey bricks. Wooden supports pillared up in a few places, even scattered about, and were connected at the top by arches. The room itself was round and very big. There were two wooden staircases leading up to the second floor landings, separating the male and female dorms. Alcloves took up the walls of the room, filled with bookshelves and couches and matching chairs and darker area rugs. A large fireplace took up the wall directly opposite the door, the space in front occupied by several more armchairs and couches. There was an area with only bean-bag chairs and Ed decided that he needed to get one of those in his own world. Aside from pictures that had been hung up, the bulletin board by the door, and the furniture, plants took up every available space. Round windows lining the top of the walls and warm lanterns hanging from the rafters completed the room.

Everyone settled into the common room nicely. No one went to their rooms yet, so it was a bit crowded. Not overly so, though. For Hogwarts being the only magic school in Britain, there weren't a lot of students.

About ten minutes later, the two House Prefects for Hufflepuff brought the First Years in. Everyone was very friendly to them, and they all quickly warmed up to each other and their Housemates. Eventually, though, the older years started to taper off into their rooms. Ed followed Cedric into the Third Year boys' dorms.

"So," Cedric said, "I see the common room wasn't too loud for you?"

Ed shook his head "Nope. It was a manageable level. Besides, it feels like I've come home after a long trip." Well, the common room felt like how he imagines it would be like when he and Al went back to Resembool after they get their bodies back.

Cedric frowned slightly, but ultimately didn't say anything. He quickly finished the charms on Ed's bed curtains before turning back to the blond with a smile. "Well, if you need anything, feel free to ask me or your roommates or anyone else in the House. Professor Sprout is also more than happy to talk to her students."

Ed smiled softly at the older boy, "You act like it's my first day," It was, but he wasn't going to tell Cedric that. Not now, at least. Maybe a different time.

"Of course," the brunet smiled back, "Right." he went to the door, "Well, I'll let ya get some sleep. See you in the morning?"

"Yeah," the blond nodded, "See ya then."

The door closed and Ed found himself alone in the room. It was hexagonal in shape, the floor was off-white tile, the walls off-white and light grey bricks, and the ceiling was white brick. The wall trim was carved wood, matching the rafters and corner beams and door, and climbed two feet up the wall. The beds were all four-posted with soft yellow blankets, white sheets and pillowcases, and had black and gold bed curtains. To the right of each bed was a wooden nightstand with three drawers. On the left was a dresser with five drawers. Trunks sat at the end of each bed, and a yellow rug with the Hufflepuff coat of arms on it covered most of the floor.

Ed easily found his trunk and bed, closing the curtains around him before he let himself get comfortable. It was weird, laying in this bed. It seemed to solidify the fact in his mind that this was real. He's in a new world, far away from anything familiar and safe. Magic is everywhere, and all laws of Equivalence are ignored! He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, so he grabbed a book from his trunk and started to read, mumbling to himself the whole while.

***

He must've fallen asleep at some point because his pocket watch was now telling him that it was now five in the morning. Ed sighed and dragged a hand down his face before taking his hair from the braid he'd slept in. It was still early, so he'd have the bathroom to himself for a while. Good, because he hadn't had a shower in days and he was feeling dirty. His hair was also getting oily and it was not a pleasant feeling.

#fma #harry potter #fanfiction #crossover #fma x hp #I started this on WattPad #now I write on Ao3 and haven't posted this anywhere #I'm very proud of this one and it will be going on Ao3 at some point #just not right now #this is all you're getting btw #have fun #hope you like it #There is an audience for this #I swear

[boop-le-snoot]

hi all new followers i am but a stephen strange lovebot. fret no more, there will be new fics soon 🥰 i may be dealing with war r/n, but after watching mom i have once more succumbed to the magic doctor dilf disease and cant stand the main symptom of dehydration 🥵 boy am i PARCHED.

so idk when but there will be filth. every night i put myself to sleep with Thoughts of choking on his fingers, letting spit fall freely from my lips & around his hands. have you seen the size of those things?

booby people, it is our time to shine. only with dr strange™, you can read "grabbed a handful of your breasts" and not make that sideways stare👀 when the author's writing isn't exactly inclusive... yano what im talking about. anyways, this isn't benny boy but it's a good visual, okay?

(the lack of black girls in "man woman hand size difference" photos is astounding... smh)

#psa #this is a way of me apologizing #this is all you're getting btw #<- said like an average tony stark enjoyer. taking absolutely no responsibility #bun is feral #buns ramblings #stephen strange

[vaguely-concerned]

sometimes I think of all the on-the-surface warm, well-meaning but deeply ineffectual advice and attention john gives harrow through harrow the ninth (make some soup and get some sleep! get a hobby! don't be so hard on yourself! self care harrow! as long as I need take no actual responsibility in this relationship whatsoever I would have loved to be your dad!) set up against the stark truth that with his other hand he has been staging her attempted horrific murder again and again and again like a living nightmare on the logic that it will 'put her down or fix her'. and then I find that I wish there is a hell. a special hell where twitch streamers turned necromantic death emperors go

#the locked tomb #harrowhark nonagesimus #john gaius #harrow the ninth #this is why I don't buy john as misunderstood and initially well-meaning AT ALL #this is a pattern you see with him again and again and again -- right down to his interpersonal relationships #(and indeed it's in the more grounded interpersonal relationships you can most clearly see him as he is I think #the fantasy death empire of a thousand years doesn't register quite as viscerally because it's like. heightened; not quite real #but the emotional violence and manipulation that surrounds him? oh boy that is EXTREMELY real and scarily well-observed) #there's a premeditation to so much of what he does (contracts with planets that only end 'in the event of the emperor's death' anyone? #yeah john we get it you're hilarious and I wish you weren't) #the greatest trick john ever pulled was making anyone think he's just a lil guy. what does he know he's only god #when you first read the book the complete callousness of the other adults is so horrible that john seems like an oasis of care #(though you start to get this uneasy feeling when that care never seems to translate to like... relief or soothing or resolution) #and it makes it feel almost obscene when you find out what's actually going on #it's the mercy & augustine enabler hour but at least they're completely honest in their cruelty there #while john is -- well he sure is being john huh #this is just me being angry with him btw philosophically I don't think this is how the story will or should end #(with john slam dunked right into hell that is) #it's just... harrow is so vulnerable. and what he does to her is so insidious and fucked up #john is very deeply human. unfortunately the capacity to quite simply suck so much is deeply human too

[faeriekit]

The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

*

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

#dp x dc #Jazz fenton #tim drake #that one time Tim specifically hired a fake uncle so that Bruce couldn't adopt him #free to a good home #Jack Fenton knits btw #I'm not going to continue this but i thought it was a cool premise and needed its time. Have fun with it if you want to! #this is dedicated to all the fulltime nannies at the library who are fully just college girls raising babies #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jazz said is anyone going to raise this baby and was targeted by ninjas for it #I don't have any future plans BUT there is a moment where Dick tries to sneak into her apt to 'check it out' and she fully Gets Him with a #TBI and a Fenton CreepStickTM #also. parents who try to shape their kids by denying them every form of human comfort and access to their interests. You're dead to me #also also also I'm still a Tim Drake Autistic truther #not NOT inspired by the Say Uncle by Megarakles. This one's for you fellow fans #also. if he goes with her. He gets parented for the first time ever and it Sucks Ass lol. #faer fic

[skullfragments]

soooo i've been real busy this past month and change working on this monster of a painting! it was originally for the GO Ref library study club but clearly took much longer than i anticipated😅

for those of you who don't recognize it, this is based on one of my favorite historical paintings, Judith Beheading Holofernes (1620) by Artemisia Gentileschi. i love the Baroque period and this painting (as well as her other works) makes me insane. here it is Good Omens style so maybe all of you can be insane with me <3

"Aziraphale (and Crowley) Beheading the Metatron"

(non-bloody and non-glowy versions under the cut)

#IT'S DONE #can i get a wahoo #dear tumblr pls don't fuck up the quality #sara does art #good omens #good omens fanart #shout out to the GORL server!!! #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #the metatron #OFF WITH HIS HEAD #i will never attempt digital oil painting again #(pls stop me if i do) #artemisia gentileschi #ITALIAN BAROQUE QUEEN #italian baroque #i need you all to know that the suggested tag that came up was 'italian barty crouch jr.' #david tennant you're already in this picture that's enough #baroque art #judith beheading holofernes #the superior version btw #tw blood #didn't you have a flaming sword? it was flaming like anything #if u zoom in pls appreciate the tartan bowtie detail #that shit took me way longer than it should have #as well as the approx 15hrs each i spent on azi's sleeves #did i miss any tags?? #ART #i'm going to hibernate now thank you

[redysetdare]

I don't think a lot of people realize that lot of their advice to disabled people often boils down to "Get over it." they are trying to be helpful but their idea of helpful is "Just do the thing" because that's what they do. for them they just do things. It comes naturally to just do it.

They don't know how to bridge the gap between you and the task. For them the bridge is already pre-built and stable. For disabled people the bridge is run down, not well kept, it feels unsteady and is hard to get across without being slow and cautious - hell for some people there is no bridge and we need to build it ourselves but we don't have the bridge building tools and no one gives them to us.

"Just cross the bridge." They say before walking over their pre-built bridge. They never gave you the tools to build a bridge to cross.

#text #I hope this makes sense #disabled #neurodivergent #adhd #actually adhd #actuallyadhd #idk how to tag this post really i dont post a lot in disabled spaces... #by disability i mean all disabilities btw #i suffer from ADHD and chronic pain ad many other things #and all of them cause me problems that make it hard to 'just do it' #so hearing 'advice' that is just 'do the thing you're struggle to do' really gets on my nerves #especially when the people giving that 'advice' throw a hissy fit when i say that its unhelpful

[teaboot]

when I was 13 I was on fictionpress dot net when I read a story about a pack of werewolves that wore silver ear piercings to show their rank in the pack and the more hoops you had the higher your rank was and if you were demoted they just ripped them out and I thought that was so fuckin metal that I pierced one of my own ears several times on one side using a leather needle and a bunch of dollar store studs and am still lopsided to this day

no real moral to this story but original werewolf romance fiction writer from 2009ish if you're out there I hope you're still making cool shit

#Piercings #Werewolves are cooler than vampires btw that is my stance on the subject forever #If you're gonna be a creature subsisting on violence and terror than you might as well cut loose right #Most unrealistic thing about vampires is that they're always shown dressed all fancy #Not me you'd have to hunt me down to get me in a blouse #Hell you'd be lucky to get me in pants

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

y'all need to get a grip. you blab all day about how much you hate bigots and hateful people and how evil it is to dehumanize anyone and then you turn around and say "kys" and "i think [x] should all just kill themselves" and other disgusting, violent and childish trash

so many people on here are just full of hatred and vitriol and turn into frenzied sharks anytime the target 'deserves it' and they think they can get away with it and not be called bad people. then they whine about how sad it is that we can't all just get along and if only all the evil people in the world would stop doing evil things wouldn't that be nicer

you're just as vicious, hypocritical and fanatically puritanical as the caricature you have made in your minds of the people you think you have nothing in common with. if you've ever told someone, ANYONE to kill themselves you're not advocates of justice, you're not artisans of peace, and you certainly don't have any moral high ground that would allow you to pass judgment on others

#i'm tired #you're so terrified of being bad people that you convince yourselves you could *never* be bad #and then any expression of hatred towards others (the “bad people”) gets reframed as proof of your own moral character #((making you even more afraid of being bad because you don't want to be at the receiving end of the hatred and so on and so forth)) #you can say whatever you want about religious people and esp christians but 1) you're as religious as they are but at least they know it #and 2) most of the christians i've met are magnitudes more forgiving of others than this website's self-righteous preachers #(this isn't about anything people have said to me btw it's about what i see reading blogs from all across the social/political spectrum) #this about the radfem-hating liberals and the pro-life-hating radfems and the liberal-hating pro-lifers. Round and round we go #it’s about the people who put rabid antisemitism on my dash and whose only socio-political analysis is to call EVERYTHING bad #“Just like nazism” #Yapping about how much more moral and enlightened they are than ppl who introduce nuance into complex topics while they parrot slogans #I hate slogans so bad

[thisismisogynoir]

I love it when women hate men. I love it when women are allowed to vent to each other about how horrible and creepy men are. I love it when women form friendships with and prioritize each other over relationships with men(whether they're attracted to them or not). I love it when women put men dni in their bios and on their nude photos and on posts on their blogs. I love it when women refuse to mollycoddle and accommodate entitled male feelings with "but this doesn't mean I hate all men, I know a few men who are great, I love my father/sons/brothers/uncles/male cousins/guy friends" I love it when women complain about men WITHOUT "not all men" being a disclaimer. I love it when women avoid socializing with/refuse to be around/befriend/get close to men because they know men can't be trusted. I love it when women make "kill all men" jokes. I love it when women offer absolutely no concern or care for men's feelings and if their misandry offends men whatsoever because why should we, men are the oppressor class who have raped and killed and abused us and kept us as subjugated as second-class citizens for millennia, they regularly mistreat us and the women in their own marginalized communities still every single day and make this world so much harder and more awful for us to be in, and if we choose to hate them and not spare them any sympathy then so be it, and I don't just mean "men as a class" either, you can be a woman who doesn't want to have anything to do with any man on an individual basis and completely cuts off men from her personal life too and ykw I will love and fucking support you in that because men deserve absolutely NOTHING from us. If they're so tough and strong then they can handle it just like they can handle being lonely. If you are a woman who hates men, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A LESBIAN AND/OR A TRANS WOMAN, then just know that I love you. I love you, I support you, and you are safe here.

#was going to make a post about how much i hate that women aren't allowed to hate their oppressors but i decided to spin it into something #positive instead #this is supposed to be the feminist site that makes reddit mgtow piss their baby diapers so let's go back to despising men and not coddling #their feelings and let's dye our hair blue while we're at it #i am so tired of this new wave of guilt-tripping and gaslighting women who hate men and don't trust or want to be around them #i hate how we're made into villainesses or the problematic ones for not valuing them in our lives or for wanting to guard ourselves or be #safe from our oppressors #and i'm tired of people who don't know the first thing about feminism being like 'BUT THAT'S TERF RHETORIC WHAT ABOUT X MINORITY MEN' #guess what women can also be x minority that you're trying to protect the men of and we get to hate men too #trans women are included when i say women btw and trans men are included when i say men #if anyone has the right to hate men more than anybody else it's trans women esp trans lesbians because they put up with so much shit #from men that even cis women do not and they especially know how vile men are behind closed doors #so #terfs fuck off #radfems fuck off #and if anybody tries to make this post more appeasing to men or 'not all men's this post you are getting blocked and hit with a hammer #feminism #misogyny #sexism #patriarchy #tw men #tw rape #tw abuse #misandry #terfs dni #radfems dni #feminists need to go back to being scary and unpalatable for men none of this 'but some of them are good!' bullshit #men are entitled to nothing from us #and if you try to prove me wrong then you are just proving my point if you have nothing good to say then simply keep scrolling #ok? ok.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bingqiu ponies (Happy Birthday @Piosplayhouse!)

#poorly drawn svsss #svsss #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #equineswap au #They live in the same universe: I'm making it canon right now #I do think there are probably better horse breeds to assign these two #but as far as my little PD-SVSSS guys go - I think these fit alright. #Arabian for the gracefulness and elegance. Beautiful horse (all horses are beautiful so its a close race) #(and the missing rib. Cause....you know....) #Didn't quite get the head shape right but there is always next time. #Shetland binghe for the handsome little guy energy. I personally think a non silly little guy LBH would be a shire horse. #This is 100% an open invitation to debate and discuss in the comments and tags btw. I am no expert on SV or horses. #Also HI PIO! If you're reading this I just want to say thank you a million times over for everything. #You've been so kind and supportive and I think you are a brilliant and hilarious person. The tides of the yaoi wars turned when you enliste #I hope this next year for you brings wonderful things. You're a brilliant force in this world and we all are drawn to your light. #Happiest of birthdays to you B*)

[dubiousdisco]

Johnny's ass keeps pushing Sento away from the support on his back because it's too big btw, do you think Sento knows. Is Sento aware that johnny's cheeks are constantly pushing it. And if so, do you think Sento cares at all, being a sword and all. Is that mundane for a sword. Does Sento compare whose backs or waists or butts or hands felt nicer. Does Kenshi know. Would it tell Kenshi that his hands are the most caring but Johnny's ass is the biggest.

#maybe that's just how it works. being a sword. even if you're sentient. #johnshi #<- target audience #I'm assuming that all the souls in that sword (or most of them) held it before and some kept it on their backs #so now i'm wondering if they get there agter they die and start thinking they should have kept sento in a different position #or if they mind the climate or where the sword is kept #like do they feel it? they are in it but do they feel it #do they ever think 'if I knew it felt this way i would have cared for Sento in a different manner' #i know im anthropomorphizing the sword but the sword has people in it #sento: hey descendent can you light a fire we're cold #kenshi: Oh of course! #sento: thank you. do you want us to give you the grace of vision so you can see the white boy's ass btw #kenshi: what #sento: its a really nice ass. who said that. #kenshi: #mortal kombat #im sorry i juat wanted to talk about the souls in there feeling thinfs through the sword but that implies they felt johnnys ass #and i wanted to make a joke about it #inside sento: #- Akira Taiga-sama had the nicest hands but Hayao-sama had the greatest butt. #both of them also inside the sword hearing this: thank you ascendent you honor us #no but really i kike the idea the sento feels that kenshi is caring for it 🥲

[nibbelraz]

When a plot point YOU wrote comes back to bite you in the ass

#svsss #shang qinghua #SQH #scum villian self saving system #scum villain #scum villains self saving system #like he really thinks all those wife plots and plot points AREN'T GONNA GET HIM??? #LIKE SURE SHEN QINGQIU IS GETTING THE MAJORITY OF IT BUT YOU CHANGED THE STORY TTOO #YOU'RE BOUTA GET PLOTTED BY YOUR OWN HAND #“God is so mean to me” YOU ARE GOD YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF #Im obsessed with him btw #my art #nibbelraz

[lavared]

-

(More details under the cut)

-

[...]

"...You know, the usual? Turning into a gross spider, brooding in the shadows, doing your mother's dirty work, crawling back to the swamps so you can finally leave us alone???"

"And why, pray tell, should I do something else when I can watch you make a spectacle of yourself instead?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about this new embarrassing habit of yours. You've been spending an awful lot of time hiding behind the trees to ogle poor unsuspecting lasses."

"I'm-I'm NOT! First off, how long have you been spying on me, exactly? No, wait- I don't really want to know that. And second, I'm not doing anything, and I'm definitely NOT ogling. I'm just standing guard."

"(Scoffs) Oh, are you really? I didn't know standing guard involved all this blushing and heavy sighing. We might have done it wrong all this time, I see."

"(Sighs)...Listen, believe what you will. The Commander asked us to keep watch, so I suggest you do the same, preferably twenty or eighty feet away from me, alright? Thanks."

"As your dear Commander wishes. But I suggest you close your mouth while on...duty. We already have a dog, we don't need another slobbery creature in our fun little party."

#yep i'm back on my bullshit #it took me forever to finish this but life is hard sometimes #pardon my writing there might be some mistakes but i just felt the need to put some context behind this thing #plus i hate this sketch now #it's so not what i wanted to post but an imperfect piece is still better than nothing at all right #so take it as it is i just needed to get this out of my system #btw if you're wondering morrigan's outfit was inspired by a cool recolor of the mage robes #and alistair's armor is my take on the in-game diligence armor #my art #sketch #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age: origins #da: origins #da:o #dao #dragon age morrigan #dragon age alistair #morrigan #alistair #alistair theirin

[inkskinned]

this is sort of pathetic, but when you were younger, you were sort of puzzled by the cartoon representations of fathers: how a kid would be outside with a mitt, waiting to play catch.

it's not that your father never played catch with you, but you also didn't like when he did. something about a hard ball coming quickly towards your face doesn't seem exciting. not that you'd ever say you don't trust him. you trust him, right?

it's not like he never tried to teach you anything. or never tried to parent. on rare days, a strange person would walk in your father's skin. bright, happy, magnificent. this version of your father was so cheerful and charismatic that you would do anything to keep him. and this is the version of your father that would laugh and gently coax you try again. this is the version of your father that would break down the small elements of a problem and point them out so you have an easier time with them.

as a kid, those days happened more often. but somewhere around 11, you started being too much of a person, and he was often cross about it. when he'd try to sit you down to learn something, you spent the whole time with your shoulders around your ears, nervous, uncertain. terrified because you didn't immediately understand how to navigate something. worried you will run out of his goodwill and then you will have the Other Father back, and you will have ruined a good day for your entire family. something about you being visibly afraid - it just made him angry. he would accuse you of not wanting to learn and storm away.

on tv, it's not like there's a lot of versions of men-who-are-mostly-fathers. they can be good dads, but usually their stories are not told in the household. so it's normal that your father is there, but he's never around. you know he was in the house, somewhere, it's just not that you guys ever... "hung out". he just seemed to get kind of bored of you, annoyed you weren't made in his perfect image. frustrated with how much energy it took to raise a kid. over time, you kind of adopt a bittersweet band around your throat - he knows nothing about me. he says at least i never abandoned my family.

and it's technically - technically - true. he was there for you. sometimes he even made an effort and made it to the big moments; the graduations and the dance recitals. he grins and tells everyone that he taught you. it almost erases the days in between, where he complains because you need a ride to school. the weeks that go by where he doesn't actually ever speak to you. the times you say i am struggling and he says figure it out on your own. i can't help you.

and that's fine! that's all fine. you can call him if you are having a problem with your car. or if you need a ride to the hospital. he loves playing hero, he just doesn't like the actual work that comes with being a father. and you've kind of made your peace with that; because you had to, because you don't want to live your life like he does; the whole world at a managed distance, a little rotating and controlled orb he can witness and take credit for but never truly love.

as an adult, you are rewatching some dumb cartoon - and again, the child standing in the rain, with a mitt, waiting for their father to come play catch. as an adult, there's this strange creeping dread - this little thing? this little thing, and their dad can't even show up for that? oh god, holyshit, it's not about the mitt, is it. oh god, holyshit, your father spent most of your life leaving you hanging.

#spilled ink #writeblr #:) lol . anybody notice how i write about dads in second person exclusively #me: haha silly cartoon #also me: ): this child is not getting what they need #also btw this is about a father but it might apply to any parent or caregiver #there's a really weird space of like #''this person was technically around me but either ignored me or was actively harmful to me'' #and like u learn this very strange ritual of like... this person is my parent/caregiver on a technicality #that you almost spend all ur time with them like... tiptoeing and acting as THEIR parent so u don't upset them. #like you're 17 and ur mom is suddenly hit by a wave of wanting to talk to you so she's like :) lets make breakfast together :) and ur like #uhhhhhh okay?? bc you feel like this is absolutely going to go wrong and is why u usually make breakfast alone #and she starts being like: THIS is called a TEASPOON ... & u know all this stuff but you also know to just be very quiet #bc if you say like ''mom ive been making this breakfast every day since i was 13'' she would FREAK OUT and be like #DONT ACT LIKE I NEVER DO ANYTHING FOR YOU DONT ACT LIKE I DONT CARE ABOUT YOU. FUCKING DISRESPECTFUL . #so u have to smile like ur a preschool teacher and be like. OH COOL! i didn't know A CUP existed! tell me MORE! :)

[shaniacsboogara]

Taking a minute to appreciate the way the folks at Watcher take time to appreciate and support their LGBTQ+ fans, because... Of course they've always been great with general fan engagement via incorporating fan submissions into shows, the way they run their social media, etc... But they've kicked off pride month with an entire merch line, designed by queer artists, the proceeds of which go to support queer people... This isn't just performative "participate in pride month because it's good for business" bullshit, this is genuinely amazing. They aren't plastering rainbows on top of their content to get more engagement and brownie points from fans, they're genuinely advocating for what they believe in and actively showing support to people who really need it right now. I know my blog here is mostly bullshit / meme content, but I just want to take a moment here to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, to EVERYONE at Watcher. Thank you for not only creating hilarious, innovative, and wonderful content, but also for showing genuine support and love to the LGBTQ+ community. What you do means the world to so many people, and all of us Watcherinas are eternally grateful <3

#didn't wanna get too personal in the main post but it makes me so happy as someone who isn't currently in a safe place to express my views #like what they're doing is EXACTLY what i want to be doing in regards to advocating for LGBTQ rights #and also the way they make sure to include asexual representation??? #it genuinely brings tears to my eyes it's so hard to find that #btw simone if you're reading this i appreciate your work so much you're amazing at what you do thank you #watcher #pride month #all hail the watcher #shane madej #watcher entertainment #ryan bergara #steven lim #shane and ryan #puppet history #ghost files #mystery files

[tkbrokkoli]

so is this an autopsy or a threesome

#disco elysium #I'm feeling feelings and they are weird and idk what to do w them. love this game btw #fandom related #personal log stardate #edit: so this post blew rly off huh! i didn't expect to get any notes at all tbh. this is my most famous post! for now... #I love your tags guys idk what the locked tomb is and all these other things you're tagging but I'll make sure to check them out ✌