agentsphilinda replied to your post: big bipolar mood tonight where i had a fabulous...
This is such a mood, I’ve been in a really depressive period and going out and talking to people made me feel a lot better… And the second I got home I crashed and had a good long cry.
exactly. i was by myself all day and took care of some things and once i was done i couldn’t convince myself to watch things, which should’ve tipped me off that this was coming, but i was still holding on very tight--and now that the rest of the household is back i started crying.
consider: melinda is a burned hufflepuff, phil is a soft slytherin, so both of them are considered weird in their houses and people in their house don't quite accept them because they're so different (though they make their respective friends). they find each other one day in the library and end up becoming best friends, sneaking into the kitchen late at night for snacks, and in their seventh year both get on track to become aurors and fall in love
cont: so I started reading your hp au tag and I was wrong about a lot of what I thought would happen in it but teachers philinda is better and also i need this fic
I am very, very attached to teachers!philinda- I think at one point, Phil would have wanted to be auror, but he realized somewhere along the way he realized he could help more kids as a teacher. He was the kid who was picked on because he wasn’t a pureblood and he grew up in a muggle home and he didn’t necessarily fit into his house perfectly, and I think he would have wanted to be the professor kids could go to if they needed someone to talk to.
And I think Melinda always would have been on the auror track- her mother was a legendary one and is still heavily involved with the Ministry, and Melinda herself is a gifted wizard, her parents had honed her skills since she was a child, it was part of coming from a pureblood home. And I think she would have loved being an auror- it was hard to be away from Phil, to only have the months he was home from Hogwarts together and holidays, and the times she visited the castle, but she liked the sense of purpose being an auror gave her.
But after the girl- after that night- it’s harder to feel like she has a purpose. It’s not even Phil that convinces her- it’s Fury that tells her about the position opening. He’s the one that convinces her that she can teach kids; that she can make a difference. That Hufflepuff needs a new head of house, and her name is at the top of his list.
The first day, the sound in the great hall is nearly overwhelming- her office in the Ministry had been quiet and secluded, and the hall is loud and overbearing and she can hear her own breathing in her ears. There are so many heartbeats and children and everything feels so alive she almost feels out of place, until there are warm fingers against her wrist and Phil’s comforting presence at her side.
“Welcome home,” is his soft whisper, and even Melinda can’t help the small twitch of her lips as her fingers close around his briefly.
were you bat mitzvah'ed? if so I dare you to post embarassing bat mitzvah pics 👀
I was!! however I have blocked the entire event out of my memory because 2014 was. a time. (also I’m not taking that dare #1 because I don’t have any of the pics on my laptop and #2 because. 2014.)
Agents of SHIELD: Renew x100000 i am owed 50 seasons of Meinda May kicking butt after god robbed me of Carrie Fisher owning Episode 9 and Saving Star Wars
It’s instinct. Or perhaps it’s habit; she has made a career out of carefully choreographed encounters. Whatever it is, the end result is her hand moving from the blanket-covered stone beneath her to the larger hand only inches away.
“Sorry,” she says, pulling instantly back.
He’s so damn fast though and catches her fingertips. “Does it hurt?” His voice is all concern, no anger at all. That’s not new—like she said, choreographed relationships were her bread and butter, she knows how to keep a man off his guard—but the way it cuts across her heart is.
“Not me.” Her hands are one of the few parts of her body where the thorns are only on the outside.
His loose hold on her grows firm. “Okay then.” He rests their hands on the blanket like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he’s just another in a long string of men she’s shared romantic moments with. Like it isn’t hurting him just to touch her.
But it isn’t. Natural. Nothing about this is. The moment might be—and that’s a first for her—but everything else? Him? Her? She could laugh if it wouldn’t tear up her throat and looks back to the horizon—just in time too—to get some stability back.
“What’s it look like?” he asks, voice soft and reverent after long seconds.
Grassy fields and hills stretch out before them, a river of gold pooling at their end. The sky’s gone purple, then red, then pink, and now a glossy white where the sun’s just beginning to crest the black hills.
“You really can’t see it? Not even…” She’s not sure yet how to ask about his powers—the ones that aren’t teleportation and blindness because those are kind of obvious.
“I can,” he admits, a wry twist to his voice. She hates when he talks like that, hates it more than when he’s all calm and patient and begging her to let nature—as if nature has anything to do with this—take its course. “But not like you. The good part for me was about an hour ago, when the stars started going out. I remember they just sort of fade into the sky as it gets lighter-”
There’s a question mark hanging in the middle of that sentence so she hums an affirmative.
“-but for me it’s not like that at all. They kind of pop. Their essences sizzle and explode like popcorn in a pan.” He tips his head back far, his spine arching so he’s turned towards the opposite end of the sky. “They fill up the dome of the world, one by one, and when it’s over, it’s day.” He jerks upright again just when she’s starting to wonder if it’d be better to cut his back open on her arm or to let him crack his head on the rocks behind them. He grins at her. “Warmth. Light. Life. All that good stuff.”
“And you can sense it?”
He shrugs. “I can sense the quantum energies. And with practice…”
She focuses on the sunrise again. “You can tell the difference between them all.” She’s tired of his speeches about practice and patience and perseverance.
In typical fashion, he ignores her fuck off tone. “Works with people too. At first it was just big stuff—the elders I could tell from children, humans from Inhumans, men from women.”
She stares hard at the horizon, letting her eyes water but refusing to blink or look away. It burns but it’s better than listening to his damn preaching about the “beauty of terrigenesis” or whatever.
“After a while I could tell individuals apart. I can tell Jiaying apart from Skye apart from you.”
“Well I hope so.” She doesn’t mean to engage, really, but her sharp tongue was the only part of the old Raina that still fit with this new body she’s got.
“It’s deeper than looks.”
Oh, god. This is gonna be one of those lectures again. Did he really bring her halfway around the world for this?
His hand tightens around hers and she knows it’s gotta be hurting him. She can feel him bending close, that big forehead of his brushing the tips of her quills. “I can’t tell when the sun really rises because it doesn’t make a difference to me. It’s so big, you know? All that energy hits me way before it actually gets here. But I knew when it started this time.”
She’s so busy trying not to listen that it takes a few seconds for his words to reach her. When they do, she pulls back, ensuring she doesn’t scratch him when she turns to face him. (Idiot’s so close she’d blind him if he wasn’t already.)
“How?” she asks, genuinely curious what’s so different about now.
“It made you happy.” He smiles in that way that makes the thorns inside her go all soft. “And when you’re happy, you’re the prettiest thing in my whole world. Prettier than stars even.”
Her body’s all brand new, nothing human left about it, so it doesn’t mean a thing that her heart stutters in her chest or her mouth goes dry.
“You’re an idiot,” she says, facing the sunrise again and not caring at all if she cuts him.
“And you’re beautiful,” he says. Again. He called her that the day they met and it-
It doesn’t matter what it made her feel because it’s already been established that this body doesn’t work the way her old one did. She probably just had indigestion or something. Probably does again now thanks to all that terrible Afterlife food.
So the smile she can’t seem to wipe away no matter how hard she tries, that doesn’t mean anything either. It’s certainly not because of him.
alright, so I have no idea if you take requests, and I wish I had your skills with manips (I fail miserably at them, haha) but if you ever get a chance, May as Wonder Woman would be KILLER
As Requested. This is the only thing I can do for now since I’ve been quite busy as well. I hope you like it. :)
