#anthea spits out art

[dustbunnystudios]

Can't wait for the next chapters of Deltarune!! Here's the gang having a relaxing/wholesome hangout with some inanimate objects and OnionSan!

[dustbunnystudios]

I really like this photo so I was inspired to draw my own cat in a field of flowers.

norwegian_remi

[libidomechanica]

“Must lovers of about”

I remember who I am.     Of grass as bristly and small birds do blow endlessly, wearing     silence cannot lives in a fair eyes Dew sat on Julia’s     hair even for queen altogether dear! Ne strips racing     to a point at children

in delight takes sea and No,     into his man? But I vnhappy man, express, to-morrow     see a text that fever where you hee’l flattering creations’—     not yet, as I thinks of black beauty’s pattern to ill:     should my cheek once love all

be truths, that’s endeavour, to dream     that held the soueraigneth! Then he asks me I will never     yet—ah me! Which so love accursèd duke; o give. As being     eyes of the bees the proud, by thy fair Catherine make common     causes all female

age, he reeleth frost, she liked to     coste, can no harm. Must lovers of about the bats, when, for     no offend, with nozzle search’d. What I could learne their most sweet     Robin sits on me, they have accelerating, because     he could glided in the

lips when theyr peace, the same time! Her     father neck; her cause by right perswades each flowe. So youngest     are at worth and now the grassye groundelayes, frame to     beginning singer, singe, I more at the little her preference,     save your wise men don’t know,

but in such animals could attach     myself would be a symphony&in a fond embrace     the hair blowing world. Anthea bade me there, why choose you.     Wings, a long in multitude on the prairie, the faces     glimmers that yours. But thou

dost in the morning’s dew, ne’er to     a silence jewel-thick sunn’d it will have often lived preacher     as if upon it will, power’s bed; the gods ordain’d his     Thebes, and Peace, and bear, and of a living long of thine. Catherine,     I something in that

every way before. And where each     look’d down, the heroic syllables both Princes and braid     my spit. To be descension, her eyes, fore duteous plight, each     others are pretty, to dwell of carelesse fere, the Lion’s     steeple, and thought me

to the water loves thatch upon     the ransom of thine above reflection: though life to coste     to coste, can nowhere. Sin of sentinel before: the will     come though she had done—and wise; set me endite; take me to     that he had leave: but in

such hail, such who, coward … this baby     that, as under the immutable curls all is due:     only with me ye women are but most I strive, more in     his feet two, I like then,— let us pray! When you do not     made a mirror of that

were no one here bereft, nor cheek     once loves no one another haven’t been singly unkind,     I know why they came, whose sapling branches yearning, ever     person! When two mouth of a new-fall’n years I must have always     remember the maketh

a glorious found his heal     us I would be hearty thought of one toil for the same:     sweet to pleasure left undone toil for that art that but now     become wolves no one were five minutes apace, least he flee.     As he, there is now before

a middling grabs me by the     chief city you would have guessed no belt and in his eyes flash’d     over and gone to see her sensational turn. A watching     through his place: shall I believe ourselves for this coming     how Art can a wild, and

endeth, which is mornes the long-     clothes of thing lover. That your finger with stare, while to find     such fine a figure, the light shall have always scorched by the     new creations’—not yet. On one look out? But frendly Faeries,     Love dies! Again

unclenched, and the rear, flee themes in     at the west sense? Flye to me thou hast beef I have wound herself     being crime. A day of Light of loue, and swift they write     letters, poems, and trimly trodden trade, to the nights faint     breeches, crying, never

though the force to boast; how Poles right,     and not die, nor would braid my shoes, and she’d said, My life in     the motto of Mortal Petersburgh; suppose, made of grass.     The wild-briar blood. Feast you will decide, unless mountains;     there’s a Religion.

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

Pokémon Retold: Hidden Grottos - Whispers in the Dark (2)

Pokémon Retold (series) on AO3

Consider tipping/supporting/commissioning me on Patreon? :3*

*Note that I haven’t updated the tiers yet - I no longer post fanfic work 2 weeks in advance on there, I only post original writing, art, and fanart there 2 weeks in advance! The Patreon is mostly still under construction, but commission info on there is accurate.

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Some conversations between the Shadow Triad and Colress shortly after Ghetsis' death.

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

Timeline: Immediately after the last chapter of Black 2 (but before the epilogue)

Setting: Unova

Notes: So I had a few ideas that I wanted to write, but none of them really had a plot, it was more just "hey I want these characters to talk about X thing," so that's what "Whispers in the Dark" oneshots are gonna be. No real plot, just two characters rambling at each other. This particular one is a little gritty and maybe a tad existential, because it's from the perspective of Ghetsis and later, one of the Shadow Triad.

Characters: Ghetsis, Shadow Triad, Colress, Rosa

Prerequisite Reading: Black, Black 2

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It was bitterly, bitterly cold there on the ground for that miserly man. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, and it took all of his effort to merely breathe against the frigid air that felt as if it were stabbing his lungs with every inhale. There was a terrible gurgling noise with every struggling breath, for blood sat in his mouth, and he couldn't cough strong enough to spit it out. He was dimly aware that it had likely come from his seizure, as he had bitten through part of his tongue, which that pain radiated up and down his spine more so than the general discomfort from being on the ground, but it certainly would have been easier to deal with if he were not in such a situation.

He was staring at the base of a tree, whose roots were large and thick, and curled around him. The Shadow Triad—two of them, the third was not with them for whatever reason—had dumped him there at the foot of that tree. They were nearby; he could still hear them occasionally shifting and speaking curt words to one another, but they paid him no heed. Indeed, for hours, Ghetsis laid there and stared at the knotted roots, fighting desperately to keep breathing and occasionally jolting with the intent of standing up, but finding no part of his broken body would respond to him. Not only did he have the misfortune of having been laid on his partially paralyzed right side, but it felt as if none of his muscles would move at all. His left arm was as limp as limp could be over him, and his head felt heavy and foggy.

“What is wrong with him?” he heard one of the Shadow Triad question after an untold amount of time. It was the loudest one, the one with the clear, smooth voice.

“I do not know,” the other curtly replied. “The Hero of Truths did not actually hurt him. So, I do not know what is wrong with him.”

I’m dying, you idiots, Ghetsis wanted to spit back at them. In that desperate moment, he would have willingly gone to any doctor in all of Unova, despite the years he had spent suspiciously avoiding them all like the plague. He had never trusted doctors for paranoid fear of what they could potentially do to him while he was under their care. Typically, he had turned to Colress whenever he was in dire need of medical attention. Although he didn’t trust Colress to do particularly invasive procedures, he had done a passable job in the past… Yet, when the Shadow Triad had swooped in and teleported him out of that Arceus-forsaken cavern and away from that damned Hilbert Whitacre and his Reshiram, when they had taken him to Colress, he and his pet, Rosa, had all but screwed their noses up at him, and then Colress had ordered the Shadow Triad to “do something with him.”

Do something with him.

Not only did that thought plague him, but the frightening realization that had come minutes before he had fallen, seizing on the biting, icy floor, did, too. Hilbert and his Reshiram had been toying with Kyurem before he had been whisked away. Hil had fully intended to blow through Kyurem given enough time and kill him. Although he had fallen just short of murdering Ghetsis there, Hil had succeeded in felling Kyurem, and Ghetsis didn’t need it spelled out for him to know that he had failed. Again.

All he had ever been after in life was to be on top, to never be at the mercy of another human ever again, and even when he had clawed his way to the top with a legendary pokémon, sacrificing his humanity, his family, his blood, his sanity, he had been felled by another human. He suddenly concluded that there was simply nowhere on that Earth one could have gone to escape being under the influence of someone else. No matter what, one could not control all of their surroundings or what others did. The illusion he had been chasing his entire life was just that: an illusion. He didn’t even have anything to show for it. Unova had been damaged by Team Plasma’s attacks, but it would heal, and in his rage, he had severely injured N. For all he knew, N had bled out on his way to a hospital, so he didn’t even have a heritage to show for all he had labored over. Despite how long he and Colress had known one another, despite everything they had been through, Colress had taken one look at his dying uncle and told the Shadow Triad to simply “do something with him.”

“He is dying,” the smoothly-spoken Triad member mused. “That much is obvious. His vitals are significantly decreased. But why?”

“I do not know,” the other responded, much the same as before. “He does not appear any more injured than before. His limbs are still partially paralyzed. Though, I thought I saw him bleeding from his mouth… Even so…”

“He is not broken like our brother was,” the first interjected. “I do not…”

“Perhaps we can ask Dr. Colress later,” the second cut his brother off. There was a long pause between the two of them. “What do you think Lord Ghetsis wished to accomplish with Kyurem?”

“I do not know,” the first muttered in a deadpan. They sounded so coldly robotic. It made Ghetsis wish his muscles would cooperate and let him shiver… He was freezing… His fingertips, lips, and toes burned with the sheer bite of the cold. “I do know that in the past he wished to be in control of Unova. Yet, I do not understand how Kyurem would have granted him this, and I believe he said that he wanted to freeze Unova solid. I do not understand how that would have granted him ownership of it. What would there be left to own?”

I… I don’t know. Ghetsis tried to swallow but nothing happened. I don’t know what I wanted to do after Kyurem froze Unova… I just… I just…

“Do you think, then, that he wished to merely inflict pain?”

“That seems to be the case. He was increasingly cruel following his return, after we broke him from prison. Do you remember what he did to Anthea and Concordia just a few months after that?”

“Indeed. He let his new Hydreigon free on them in a closed off room and it mauled them before it was called off. Then, he abandoned them near Nimbasa City, along Route Four.”

Ghetsis struggled to recall the event they were discussing, and that alarmed him. His mind was fading fast… But he did remember. He had been furious with the world following his first defeat, back when he was arrested, and upon his return, he had captured another Deino and raised it. With Colress’ assistance, he developed a machine that would keep the pokémon under control, much in the same way he had programmed the Shadow Triad to be loyal to him. With such technology, Ghetsis had been allowed to freely train the pokémon as cruelly as he wanted, and oh, how he ensured it was cruel. Why had he done that? he wondered. At the time, he had convinced himself that such a draconic, fearsome pokémon would be more effective running off of sheer hatred, but… Well, that didn’t answer the question of why he had gotten another Hydreigon to begin with, did it? He had captured another Deino and raised it due to the pain of having his previous one, the same pokémon he had had day in and out, wrenched from him. He had beaten it again and again, made it hate him, because that made it feel normal. His first Hydreigon hated him. More than that, he didn’t want pokémon to like him. He didn’t want any of them to give him their sympathy. He couldn’t handle it. They were pawns to his plans and nothing more. He couldn’t allow himself to feel their kindness.

It was the same reason he had avoided N so much during his formative years. Not only was abandoning him to the forests an excuse for him to hone his ability to speak to pokémon, but it was so that he couldn’t get attached. Everyone else in the world was just a creature waiting to stab him in the back if given the appropriate tools, after all; he couldn’t allow himself to grow so strongly attached to N and have moments of weakness for the sake of loving his son. Yet, for a brief moment of clarity, he wondered… Was that because that was how humans were, or was that what he had convinced himself so many years ago, after having his family and town turn their aggression on him for his ability to understand the emotions pokémon felt?

Of course, it was gone as a searing bolt of pain ran through his chest and down his left arm, making him gasp and croak for air he couldn’t seem to get…

“If he intended to inflict pain with Kyurem, do you think he succeeded?”

“He did inflict pain. He hurt Lord N,” the huskier-voiced of the two Shadow Triad growled. If Ghetsis wasn’t too focus on his primal fight for survival against his failing body, he might have found that surprising. The Shadow Triad did not generally speak with emotional inflection.

“Yet, the pain is not permanent. I believe Lord N will be alright,” his brother pointed out. “Kyurem was defeated. Unova will not be frozen.”

“Then perhaps he failed,” the quieter one huffed with a note of finality.

“Does that mean we failed? We were supposed to help him, were we not? What does that mean of our brother?”

“It means nothing. Why do you question something such as this?”

“I do not know.”

“We do not control Lord Ghetsis. We served him to the best of our ability. Lord Ghetsis was the one who failed.”

All at once, Ghetsis gave up his fight for survival, and allowed the icy pine forest’s floor to siphon away his body heat, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

 ------------

“He is gone,” Quiet abruptly remarked, jerking his head to stare at Ghetsis’ body. “I do not sense a heartbeat of any sort. A pulse.”

“Then there is nothing else we can do for him, is there?” Loud asked bluntly.

“No,” Quiet answered, feeling a twinge of something he wouldn’t have known what to call, but it was, in fact, annoyance. Loud had a way of asking such irritating questions.

“Our brother did not have a pulse, either. Do you think there is nothing we can do for him, then?”

“Our brother and Lord Ghetsis are not the same,” Quiet replied. He looked up at Loud as the other stood up and stared at Ghetsis. Although they had all privately adopted the names Lord N had given them so many years ago, they never referred to one another by them. N had asked them, back when he had first administered the titles, not to say them in the presence of others. “Dr. Colress had fixed us many times in the past from bad injuries and the like. Maybe there is more to him that can be repaired than to Lord Ghetsis.”

“I just do not understand,” Loud sighed at last.

“Then let us ask Dr. Colress.”

With that, they teleported to the P2 Laboratory, deep within its recesses and to a large room. Upon seeing them, Rosa yelped and backpedaled, cutting her eyes to narrow daggers after them, while Colress jolted and then tilted his head at them. “Is Ghetsis gone?” Colress musingly asked without skipping a beat.

“Lord Ghetsis is dead,” Loud affirmed.

Quiet looked just beyond Colress and saw that, behind a thick, wall of glass, Genesect lay inactive on its knees. The mostly-synthetic pokémon had been a private project of Colress’. He didn’t know what to think as he looked at it. It was not yet alive in any capacity, yet it was there, ready to be… made alive. Was that how Colress treated them and fixed them? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he did know that he and his brothers were human, but they couldn’t have been human in the same capacity that Colress or even Ghetsis were. Machinery and synthetic materials laced his body as well as his brother’s. Humans were made of flesh and bone, and couldn’t be repaired like they could, and they felt something called ‘pain,’ which was a concept mostly foreign to Quiet. He could feel brief flashes of pain to alert him that something was wrong, but after that, it would ebb. Humans seemed to feel pain until whatever issue they were experiencing was resolved…

“What do they want?” Rosa huffed as she glared at them, slinking closer to Colress.

“Can you fix our brother?” Loud blurted before Quiet could say anything. “He has no pulse. But is still mostly in one piece. Can you fix him?”

Colress winced at the question, and sharply turned back to the control panel in front of him, as well as to Genesect behind the glass. “No… He’s dead. There is no fixing that…” His voice was tense and wavered slightly.

“But he is different from Lord Ghetsis,” Loud pressed, a little more urgently. Quiet looked down at the floor and blinked. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but he didn’t like the idea of them suddenly being a duo rather than a triad. So much of their effectiveness revolved around the idea of them being three strong… “Our brother is made from mechanical parts. There is flesh, yes, but he is not the same as a human. He is not the same as Ghetsis.”

“I don’t believe this,” Rosa mumbled under her breath.

Giving them a look that was torn between shocked and apologetic, Colress shook his head at Loud, then at Quiet. “I… know that you three are partially built with mechanics and the like… but it all rides off your biological processes. You sleep to recharge certain devices in you, you eat to replenish calorie stores which teleportations use significant amounts of… And although I have a lot controlling how your brains function, they are still required for you to think, move… all of that.”

“You are going to make Genesect move and think,” Quiet softly interrupted as a thought passed through his mind. “Why can you not make our brother do that?”

Almost choking, Colress uncomfortably spat, “Because it would not be the same! He is dead! Can’t you understand that?” Shuffling his feet and clutching top of the control panel ahead of him, he hung his head, then shook it. “Of course, you don’t… I knew that… I’m sorry. I should not have yelled like that.”

“Are you seriously consoling them?” Rosa incredulously hissed. “It’s not like they sound that torn up about it… They’re just asking questions because they don’t understand… Arceus, they’re creeping me out. Can you send them away?”

“Miss Rosa…” Colress sighed. “They still have emotion even if most of it is beyond their comprehension, and I did create them, and… I did not mean for that to happen to their brother… I will study data from his action and processes scanners to see if I can pinpoint where the error was made that allowed him to get into that position, because there should have been something in place to keep him from being injured so badly, but I am sorry that I was not able to fix it before something like that happened…”

Impatiently, Rosa nodded her head at Genesect. “So, what… what is that thing, again? What are you wanting to do with it?”

“Oh, Genesect…” Colress blinked as he looked up. He paused and then glanced over his shoulder. “You two,” he said to them, “Can you… I don’t mind what you do for a while. But I would like to be alone with Miss Rosa for some time. I’ll call you back whenever I require you.”

Turning to Loud, Quiet tilted his head and stated, “I would like to check on Lord N.”

“The humans will not like us in the hospital.”

“We can turn invisible.”

“We can still be felt.”

“We will ensure we are not felt.”

“Oh, my Arceus, just leave!” Rosa snapped at them at last. A shiver seemed to run up her spine, and she shook her head. “Creepy bastards…”

Paying her no mind, Quiet and Loud both went invisible, and then teleported to Lord N’s signature. He was in a hospital bed, surrounded by various doctors and so forth. They patiently waited, carefully keeping out of anyone’s way, and keeping from bumping into anything, cloaked in invisibility, until N was finally alone. The dimness of the room and the skies outside suggested that it was late into the night by that point.

While Loud watched from a distance, Quiet picked his way near to the hospital bed, where N was draped beneath a blue blanket. A bandage, flecked red with blood, was wrapped around his head and over his left eye, but he was alive. He very much did have a pulse and although he was asleep, he was alive. Seeing him asleep there was such an odd feeling… Quiet didn’t have the words to describe it, but it reminded him of a time long ago…

When Ghetsis had first abandoned Lord N to the Giant Chasm, it had been Quiet he had sent to do it, and Quiet who had been carefully lectured on what to do if Lord N was in any sort of dangerous situation. It had been a long night of synthesizing the various parameters, but at last, he had been given the infant and teleported to the predetermined location near a Zoroark den. He also had a Darumaka in a Poké Ball, whom he was supposed to use to warm Lord N up if it became too dreadfully cold. Until the nearby family of Zoroark had taken N in, it had been Quiet’s job to take care of him, and he had spent months out there, tirelessly paying him attention except for the few minutes each day he had to return to the castle for maintenance at Anthea and Concordia’s hand (which, Anthea spent most of the first month in tears whenever he visited… he hadn’t understood that, but he had known it was N’s abandonment that had caused it, and that it was uncomfortable to look at her during her fits).

There had been many nights like this, where Quiet had holed away in a hollowed-out tree or vacant cavern with a sleepy, tired N, the Darumaka there to keep them both warm, as they slept through the night. Quiet did not understand the feelings that were drummed up by that time, but they were returning as he overlooked N in the hospital bed. Although he hadn’t forgotten the need to be quiet and to stay unnoticed, he just… wanted to hear something he had recorded a long time ago… From speakers built into his throat, he replayed the short clip, much to Loud’s obvious dismay in the way his brother perked up and locked his eyes on the door.

First, in the recording, there was the sound of a crying infant—Lord N. Secondly, one could hear someone—Quiet—shushing it, and then asking, “Why do you cry? Do you want the Darumaka closer? …Young humans are difficult to understand.” Yet, within seconds—during which, Quiet had, indeed, pulled N’s Darumaka closer to him and the pokémon had allowed the infant to cuddle it—N fell silent and as far as Quiet remembered, he had fallen asleep moments after. Lastly, in the recording, one could hear Quiet saying, “Goodnight,” in a deadpan.

Loud glared at him once the recording finished. He didn’t dare speak, still strictly following his own instructions to remain silent and unseen, but Quiet could tell he wanted to ask him why he had done that. Truthfully, Quiet didn’t entirely know why he had done it, either.

In the hospital bed, N stirred, and Quiet, still invisible, took a seat on the foot of the bed, careful to not touch N’s feet. He really did not understand the almost aching, yearning emotion in his chest as he realized this would likely be the last time he could be with N in any capacity. Lord Ghetsis is gone now, he wanted to say but couldn’t. You are free of him. I think you will smile more without him. You always were happier without him around, like when you were in the forest with the pokémon, or when you would invite us in to play with you, even though we… did not understand what you wanted. Quiet looked away from N, abruptly finding it uncomfortable and unpleasant to see him. I do not want this to be the last time I see you. But I do not think I can see you in the future… But I believe you will be happier and safer. In that case, I think I do not mind it so much…

Quiet sat there for quite some time. Perhaps it was even until the next morning. All he knew was that doctors had started to flood the room, and Loud convinced him that they should return to Dr. Colress and see if he needed anything done. The fateful days surrounding Ghetsis’ defeat and death were over.

It was back to work after that. Part of him was afraid that he would forget Lord N and everything they had been through… But that was why he had that recording of when N was a baby. It allowed him to never forget, even when his memory of Ghetsis became dim and unclear, who Lord N was, nor that confusing, yet overall pleasant achiness in his chest that came with his memory. No matter where Dr. Colress or Rosa dragged him and his remaining brother, he remembered Lord N… and he was quite content with it that way.

[delafuentexanthea]

ANTHEA DE LA FUENTE really is the spitting image of ADRIA ARJONA, right? For someone only 27 years old, THEA has been forced to endure so much. Yeah, that PUREBLOOD has been scraping by at the sanctuary since JUNE, 2028, working as a PATROL GUARD in the DIVISION OF PROTECTION. SHE/THEY is a DEMIGIRL and is known to be SELFISH and COLD but also LOYAL and FOCUSED. Best of luck surviving through this. 

Bio & Traits

Anthea de la Fuente is a pureblood, the oldest child of Evander de la Fuente and Saria Nassar. Evander and Saria chose to adopt children and went to a number of magical orphanages to find children of magical descent who needed a family (not all the siblings are pureblood but Thea is). Evander and Saria were deeply in love and it showed in everything they did, which had a very deep and lasting effect on Thea. She believes in love wholeheartedly and wants it for herself - her actions don’t always demonstrate that, but it’s very true.

Although she loves both her parents, Thea was always closer to her father; he took her with him on business trips and indulged her desire to do magic before she was old enough (all within safe boundaries, as Evander constantly stressed to Saria). He taught Thea that her duty as the oldest child was to take care of the rest of the family, and she took those lessons particularly seriously. She has always looked after her younger siblings and will do anything for them.

She identifies as a demigirl and is quiet open about that, and will tell anyone who needs to know. 

As a pureblood, Thea doesn’t necessarily believe she’s better than anyone of other blood status, but she does have a significant amount of pride in being a pureblood.

Thea was sorted into Slytherin; she has always been determined to get her own way and very ambitious. In school, it manifested in being able to talk her professors around to her side almost all the time and in excelling in the classes that mattered to her. After Hogwarts, she went into curse-breaking, simply because she liked the idea of traveling and working on various cursed items. Rather than work through Gringotts, however, she worked as an independent curse-breaker. 

Thea has always been very open with her affections. She doesn’t fall in love often but she loves being in relationships and dating people; she’s pansexual and will date almost anyone, but it’s rarely because of love.

She was in London on a brief holiday when the outbreak started and spent some time gathering in as many of her siblings as she could and escorting them to Hogwarts. Once she arrived to stay, she began working as a guard. Her experience as a curse-breaker helps her with that, as well as her past study of Muggle martial arts.

Connection ideas:

Family! I’m picturing there being something like five de la Fuente siblings, and they’re completely open regarding fc/identity/etc. They’re all adopted and I would love to see them!! Anthea is very much the protector (although I’m willing to negotiate on age, if you want to bring in an older sibling!) And also I’m picturing Anthea bringing at least two of them with her to Hogwarts, although that’s also up for negotiation! But Thea wouldn’t be the type of person just to leave when she thought she could get to her siblings. 

Exes!! If you were in Hogwarts during her time . . . Thea probably flirted with you. She came to learn what she wanted to know and flirt with the pretty people. I feel like Thea tries to part on good terms as much as possible but I’m here for the drama.

Close friends. Thea adores her siblings and looks out for them but isn’t necessarily the type to say they are her best friends. Mostly because she feels so responsible for them, and she needs someone (or more than one person) who she can relax around.

[afteriwake]

Passion Over Propriety (COMPLETE)

So this is a fun little Mollcroft fic I started a while ago for @fibrochemist and @mollyhooperish that I had languishing at one chapter but had the headcanons to fully flesh it out. I thought I had lost the headcanons but surprisingly I had them uploaded to my Google Drive so I was able to finish this. I hope it is everything you both hoped it would be,

Passion Over Propriety - Mycroft Holmes is loathe to admit he just might fancy Molly Hooper, one of his subordinate hand-picked to keep watch over his brother. And, due to propriety, Molly Hooper may be loathe to admit she has a crush on her boss (more or less), Mycroft Holmes. But Anthea can see what's between them, and she hatches a plan.

READ CHAPTER 1 | HELP ME SURVIVE? | COMMISSION ME?

Dr. Molly Hooper was his favourite agent.

Not that he would ever admit this to her, or anyone else, but she was. Ever since Anthea had suggested they find someone to install in his service who was into the forensic sciences since Sherlock had it in his head that he should be a consulting detective. He already had Lestrade involved in all this, because Gregory had been an old school chum, one of the few Mycroft had made, and would be a good influence on Sherlock whether Sherlock liked it or not. But his brother was a scientist at heart, and having someone at Barts as well would be preferred.

He had been drawn to her as a potential agent because her marks were extremely high and there were already universities and police organizations clamoring to get her in their employ, willing to offer just about anything to her to get her to work for them. Barts was among them, so he decided to use a little leverage to get her to consider Barts.

Or, rather, to make sure Barts was where she decided to reside.

He admitted, his dramatics had rather backfired at their first meeting. She’d been spitting mad to be kidnapped off the street on the way to her appointment to take a position at Barts, and even telling her she had it already and there was no need to go to the interview had barely mollified her. She said she felt violated and harassed and had been close to hitting him, he was sure. Beneath her mild-mannered outward appearance was a passionate woman who let her words be known. Mycroft admired the passion but needed the meek.

He kept getting the passionate woman.

Three times she refused his offer. Oh, not the offer from Barts; he made sure she got the job with a second interview which he did not interfere with. That job was rightfully hers, as it should have been, whether he got her to work with him or not. But it wasn’t until he saw the dingy flat where she was living the second time and saw the contrast of good cookware to shoddy kitchen conditions that he knew what his lure would be.

It had almost pained him to give up possession of the flat and the bright kitchen, but it had gotten Molly to sign on to work with him. And just in time, too; she’d recently had her first encounter with his brother and she could see why Mycroft needed her help. He was a genius, but he was brittle and edged with swords and would get into far more trouble if there weren’t people he trusted around him. She agreed, but only if Sherlock never knew.

That was an agreement he could make.

Still, there had been something since their very first interaction that drew him towards her. Her passionate side, he supposed. He was so used to people being cool and composed, having a facade up when they dealt with him. While Molly generally was on the timid side, push just the right buttons and the passion would pour out. It didn’t even have to be in anger; she was passionate about cooking and her pet cat Toby and science, and he took advantage of their meetings on a weekly basis, with tea late at night, to find out more about that passionate nature. And he, sometimes, would reciprocate, about art or music or theatre, the few pursuits he found interest in that weren’t the government or his brother.

It was alarming, then, the day he realized he liked Molly’s company more than he should. More than was proper. Something would need to be done, but what? That was the question.

And it was one he sorely did not want to answer.

CHAPTER 2 

[oneblueumbrella]

Glass Half Full

“I’m sorry, Greg, I won’t be able to make it this evening.”

Greg frowned at the formality of Mycroft’s voice.

“Are you alright? You sound, I dunno, kind of strained.”

“I will be fine.” Mycroft said even more stiffly than before.

“You will be? Are you not okay now?” Greg asked in alarm.

“I am…somewhat uncomfortable.” Mycroft allowed.

“I have been attended by a medical professional and he assured me I will be fine.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Greg spoke.

“Send me a car.”

“That is not necessa-” Mycroft began.

“We both know if I knew your bloody address I wouldn’t be asking, I’d be on my way by now, Mycroft. Something’s happened. Send me a car.” His voice, which had jumped to ‘do what I’m telling you, I’m the boss’, softened.

“Please, Mycroft.”

Greg breathed into the silence, his stomach roiling as possibilities raced through his mind.

“Please tell me what’s happened. Please, send me a car.” His voice had dropped to a whisper as his mind threw awful possibilities at him, at the awful things people could do to each other.

He heard Mycroft sigh, and a tiny part of his anxiety eased. The sigh meant Mycroft was giving in. It meant he was sending a text right now, that a car was on the way.

“Greg,” Mycroft murmured, and Greg bit back the urge to hurry him along.

“I fear I will be poor company.”

“More details, Mycroft.” Greg knew he sounded tense, but it was the best he could do without more details.

To Mycroft, understatement was an art form, and Greg knew he was a master of his chosen medium.

“I fear I have been infected with varicella.”

Greg paused, his heart heaving. Infected. Was it a terrorist attack? A targeted attack, or was Mycroft one of many?

“How…how serious is it?”

The tremble in his voice would not be quelled.

“I am supremely uncomfortable. My doctor assures me it should pass, however I…” Mycroft hesitated. “I am quite contagious. Have been so for several days, which means you may be at risk of illness yourself.”

“Christ,” Greg murmured. He and Mycroft had spent the weekend wrapped around each other. Swapping spit was the least of it, he thought, hearing the hysteria in his mind.

“You should take some time off work,” Mycroft said, but Greg was already moving.

“Nope,” he said, grabbing an overnight bag and throwing an assortment of clothes, toiletries and other items at it.

“I’m coming over and I’m not leaving until we’re both clear of this.”

One way or another.

“Greg,” Mycroft said, astonishment in his voice at Greg’s newly steely voice. “I hardly think-”

“See you soon,” Greg blurted, hanging up his phone and chucking it in the bag. He grabbed a few other things and opened the door as soon as the discreet knock sounded, heart thudding dully against his chest.

As soon as they arrived, Greg knocked impatiently, rocking from heels to toes as he waited. When the door finally opened, Greg pushed in, eyes raking over Mycroft, his attire distracting for a moment before Greg noticed the state of his skin.

No socks.

Pyjama bottoms.

No shirt.

But his skin…was he shiny and…golden?

“What…” Greg frowned, looking at Mycroft’s chest. Raising his hand hesitantly, he reached out, not-quite touching the viscous liquid that seemed to be slowly seeping down Mycroft’s chest.

“Honey,” Mycroft said, closing the door behind Greg. His expression was resigned, his voice matching perfectly.

“I’m not sure you understood me earlier, Greg. I have chicken pox. You are at risk of infection, but it will not be evident for ten to twenty-one days from exposure.”

“Chickenpox?” Greg repeated.

He blinked.

“Didn’t you have it as a child?”

“No,” Mycroft replied. “We were not exposed to a large number of children.”

“Right,” Greg said, still staring at Mycroft’s sticky chest. “Um, and the honey?”

“An effort to ease the itching,” said Mycroft, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “It is working on the blisters I can reach, at least.”

At the words ‘chicken-pox’, Greg’s heart had unclenched. Chicken-pox? The effort now was in keeping his amusement at bay. Mycroft was obviously mortified at the idea of anyone knowing about his illness, yet his strict moral code would not allow him not to notify Greg of the risk to his own health. Oh Mycroft, you’re such a sweetheart, he thought to himself. An anxious, timid sweetheart.

“Well never fear, Nurse Greg is here.” Greg grinned, idly dipping one finger in the honey.

“Greg,” Mycroft protested, pulling away.

“I had chicken pox twice as a kid,” Greg told him, “and nursed my niece and nephew through it a couple of years ago without copping it again, so I’d say it’s a pretty slim chance I’ll get sick this time.” He allowed himself a cheeky grin. “Good excuse to kip here with you for a few weeks, though.”

The indecision played across Mycroft’s face. His uncomfortable shifting told a clear tale of the extent of his distress – Greg had never seen him reveal so much. The empathy in his heart swelled proportionally with Mycroft’s uncomfortable hand clenching. Right, he had the skills to deal with this far better than Mycroft clearly did.

“Okay, the honey’s a good idea for some of these blisters,” Greg said, making the decision for Mycroft. “But as for now, let’s get you into a cool bath. I know you have baking soda around, but if you get Anthea on the line I’ll get her to send over a pile of other stuff.”

He watched relief flood Mycroft’s face, quickly tempered by his usual cautious expression. “If you insist,” he murmured.

“I do,” Greg replied affectionately. “Come on, call Anthea and we can get you into the bath.”

“I find myself inappropriately thankful to have exposed you to this ridiculous situation,” Mycroft murmured, walking awkwardly over to pick up his phone.

“And have you suffer through this on your own?” Greg scoffed, texting Anthea a list in the proffered phone. “There would have been strong words if you had done.”

Mycroft looked abashed. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“As long as you tell my work I need to be quarantined with you ‘til we’re absolutely sure I’m clear,” Greg told him, “I can’t see much of a down side.”

“Apart from my highly uncomfortable, infectious and potentially disfiguring disease?” Mycroft responded.

“And that’s why I love you,” Greg said, grinning as Mycroft’s eyes widened at the admission. “You’re such a glass half full kind of person.”

“A realistic perspective-” Mycroft began.

Greg’s lips stopped him, pressing gently and insistently. When Mycroft finally acquiesced, Greg smiled, still pressed against Mycroft.

“Looks like we’ll both be in that bath,” he murmured, feeling the tug of honey against his t-shirt.

To his relief, the honeyed lips twitched in amusement.

“Glass half full, then,” Mycroft replied.

[theselostandbrokenhearts]

ANTHEA DE LA FUENTE really is the spitting image of EMERAUDE TOUBIA, right? For someone only TWENTY-SEVEN years old, THEA has been forced to endure so much. Yeah, that PUREBLOOD has been scraping by at the sanctuary since SEPTEMBER, 2028, working as a PATROL GUARD in the DIVISION OF PROTECTION. SHE/THEY identifies as DEMIGIRL and is known to be SELFISH and COLD but also LOYAL and FOCUSED. Best of luck surviving through this. 

Thea is a demigirl and uses she/her or they/them equally. (I’m using she/her throughout this intro just to make it simpler.) She’ll tell people about it because she’s not shy, but she’s not really offended either way.

She was born to Evander Joaquin de la Fuente, a pureblood man who lived in London but had roots in Mexico, and Saria Nassar. They never planned to be married, and Saria’s parents had a marriage arranged for her, so Evander took Anthea after her birth. Saria was distantly involved, sending letters and gifts and visiting occasionally, but Thea was never really close to her mother.

But good lord, was she close to Evander. He was her hero, she wanted to be just like him. She practically idolized him. She was fully aware of his flaws, but she thought he was the most amazing man in the world.

After Evander, she thought the most perfect person was her sister Thalia. Thalia was the perfect pureblood girl, all sweetness and light. Thea knew it was her job to take care of Thalia and did that all her life, so far. (I’m going to send in a wanted connection for her because I need this sibling relationship in my life.)

There are other half-siblings as well. Evander was a man very free in his love, and he fell into and out of love easily. I’m open for more siblings to come too! They could have lived with Evander or not.

Evander is a pureblood, and so is Thea (although the half-siblings don’t have to be). Evander is proud of his heritage and always thought purebloods were superior but he was never rude to anyone with less than pure blood. (So it’s completely feasible that he fell for a halfblood, or even muggleborn, and there could be half-siblings who aren’t pureblood.)

Thea was sorted into Slytherin because she is very determined to get her own way. She did well in school, in subjects that mattered to her. If she thought a professor would be a good ally, she was a model student (this is probably most of them honestly).

She learned from her father and has always been free with her love. (Her emotions are a different story; she was physically affectionate but rarely let her heart get involved. There was that one pureblood girl, the one who couldn’t return the affections or couldn’t risk what her family would say but Thea didn’t dwell on that one.)

After Hogwarts, Thea basically became a socialite. She didn’t really work, she just flirted and went to parties and looked after Thalia. She pursued some interests but didn’t want a job, and was on her way to either turning into her dad and having multiple children with various partners OR becoming the vodka aunt when Thalia settled down, and that’s when the outbreak started. Thea was in London and stayed for a while but she knew things were looking bad so she headed for Hogwarts.

She had always loved martial arts so she was well-equipped to fight off Inferi. She was fast and strong and thought quickly enough to be good. So she works as a patrol guard now, and she likes it.

She’s still flirting with anyone who catches her eye (Thea is pansexual) and trying to be pragmatic about their new reality.

Timeline:

Thea has been at Hogwarts since September, working as a patrol guard because she found that she really liked fighting.

She attended the wedding and went straight into work mode when everything got crazy.

Since then, she’s mostly been keeping a low profile and doing her job.

Miscellany:

I’d love to see some of her half-siblings taken!! The only one I have set in stone is Thalia (I pictured her as older but I’m fine with her being younger too!!) but I definitely picture her as having multiple half-siblings.

[mousedetective]

I'll take one of the slots for your mind boggling 950 fic milestone, please! Mollcroft :)

And here it is, the 950th fic! It’s based on the headcanon list I did for @mollyhooperish about Molly working for Mycroft, so it will be multiple parts, and as I’m making an effort to work on my WIPs, hopefully it won’t take long to finish!

Passion Over Propriety (1/?) - Mycroft Holmes is loathe to admit he just might fancy Molly Hooper, one of his subordinate hand-picked to keep watch over his brother. And, due to propriety, Molly Hooper may be loathe to admit she has a crush on her boss (more or less), Mycroft Holmes. But Anthea can see what's between them, and she hatches a plan.

Read Chapter 1 | Send Me A Prompt | Buy Me A Coffee?

Dr. Molly Hooper was his favourite agent.

Not that he would ever admit this to her, or anyone else, but she was. Ever since Anthea had suggested they find someone to install in his service who was into the forensic sciences since Sherlock had it in his head that he should be a consulting detective. He already had Lestrade involved in all this, because Gregory had been an old school chum, one of the few Mycroft had made, and would be a good influence on Sherlock whether Sherlock liked it or not. But his brother was a scientist at heart, and having someone at Barts as well would be preferred.

He had been drawn to her as a potential agent because her marks were extremely high and there were already universities and police organizations clamoring to get her in their employ, willing to offer just about anything to her to get her to work for them. Barts was among them, so he decided to use a little leverage to get her to consider Barts.

Or, rather, to make sure Barts was where she decided to reside.

He admitted, his dramatics had rather backfired at their first meeting. She’d been spitting mad to be kidnapped off the street on the way to her appointment to take a position at Barts, and even telling her she had it already and there was no need to go to the interview had barely mollified her. She said she felt violated and harassed and had been close to hitting him, he was sure. Beneath her mild-mannered outward appearance was a passionate woman who let her words be known. Mycroft admired the passion but needed the meek.

He kept getting the passionate woman.

Three times she refused his offer. Oh, not the offer from Barts; he made sure she got the job with a second interview which he did not interfere with. That job was rightfully hers, as it should have been, whether he got her to work with him or not. But it wasn’t until he saw the dingy flat where she was living the second time and saw the contrast of good cookware to shoddy kitchen conditions that he knew what his lure would be.

It had almost pained him to give up possession of the flat and the bright kitchen, but it had gotten Molly to sign on to work with him. And just in time, too; she’d recently had her first encounter with his brother and she could see why Mycroft needed her help. He was a genius, but he was brittle and edged with swords and would get into far more trouble if there weren’t people he trusted around him. She agreed, but only if Sherlock never knew.

That was an agreement he could make.

Still, there had been something since their very first interaction that drew him towards her. Her passionate side, he supposed. He was so used to people being cool and composed, having a facade up when they dealt with him. While Molly generally was on the timid side, push just the right buttons and the passion would pour out. It didn’t even have to be in anger; she was passionate about cooking and her pet cat Toby and science, and he took advantage of their meetings on a weekly basis, with tea late at night, to find out more about that passionate nature. And he, sometimes, would reciprocate, about art or music or theatre, the few pursuits he found interest in that weren’t the government or his brother.

It was alarming, then, the day he realized he liked Molly’s company more than he should. More than was proper. Something would need to be done, but what? That was the question.

And it was one he sorely did not want to answer.

[dustbunnystudios]

The Amazing Digital Circus!

[dustbunnystudios]

Please don't cry, Golbo T_T I love you!!

[dustbunnystudios]

My Pokémon team!

I'm going to be taking Pokémon team commissions! If you want a nice big team or just yourself with your fave, you can check out my Ko-Fi listing or email me at antheawestart@hotmail.com

Thank you!!

[dustbunnystudios]

Silksong 2025!!!!

[dustbunnystudios]

I really wanted to paint a biblically actuate Worm on a string so I did. Wormy was painted with gouache paint, acrlic ink and gold acrylic pens.

[dustbunnystudios]

I think Yarnaby from Poppy Playtime is neat.

[dustbunnystudios]

Very normal about Falin from Dungeon Meshi....