#*whispers* all pharmacists are witches

[cinnaminsvga]

🥀 | yoongi

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ vampire!yoongi ft. lots of miscommunication (all because newly-turned yoongi doesn't know how to talk to women lol) | 2.6K words → a/n: SURPRISE i am miraculously alive and well (?) back at it again with some weird monsterfucker propaganda... it's been months since i've written a fic so pardon the lacking quality but i Am Trying... also i added ghost!maknaeline bc i think they'd be cute... umm this might become a series if anyone is interested but i think it works as a standalone... enjoy!!!

When Yoongi first agreed to being turned, he never imagined being so tired all the time. Even as a mortal, Yoongi had never been the most energetic soul. He preferred loafing around at home or reading a nice book by the fire. He rarely left his drafty villa, always isolated despite the nearby town. The most cardio he would ever do was when he’d take the few steps needed to get to his piano and play a few soft songs for the ghosts wandering down his halls.

He knew the neighbors liked to whisper about him, liked to refer to him as a local boogeyman to scare naughty children. “Beware the man who sold his soul to the devil,” they warned, though Yoongi supposes their silly rumors weren’t so far from the truth. Although, it was only a month ago that he did “sell his soul,” just not for the reasons that people might have expected.

Still, being a vampire was still very strange and new to Yoongi. He’d known about spirits and ghosts for as long as he can remember, but even he thought that creatures of the night were nothing more than an urban legend. All it took was one high-stakes game of cards and an empty promise to pay back a debt for Yoongi to realize that it probably isn’t smart to make deals with ghoulish-looking men in strange clothing in the first place.

It wasn’t all bad, save for the never-ending fatigue and deathly pallor to his skin. He was still Yoongi, just… worse, if you will.

For safety’s sake, he hadn’t told anyone about it. He was a bit embarrassed, to be honest. If his brother found out, he’d surely get an earful (or a stake through his heart, though Yoongi hopes his Seokjin hyung would remember all the good times they had together). Most importantly, he could absolutely NEVER tell you about his turning. That would be absolutely humiliating.

You were a witch doctor he had met just a few weeks prior to his turning. You had just moved into his sleepy town as a “pharmacist” who could “magically” make any ailment disappear. You had decided to move there on a whim after being exhausted from the high-paced nature of the big city.

You had spotted a small line of ghosts trailing after him on the night you had moved in. He had been on the way to the convenience store for a caffeine fix, and you had been on the way there to grab a couple of toiletries you had forgotten to pack.

You were so sweet, shyly approaching him under the guise of asking him if he could reach for a snack on a high shelf. But he could see your worried gaze fixed on the three spectral children climbing on his back, though he did nothing to shoo them away. After all, they had no mass, so as long as they didn’t lick his neck or something weird, he was fine with letting them be menaces.

When he had his back turned away from you to grab your snack, he could hear you quietly telling the ghosts to get off of him. They only laughed in response, their giggles always sounding a little muffled and distorted.

Yoongi plucked the bag of chips from the shelf and turned back to you, catching a glimpse of your annoyed expression before you could school it back into something more neutral.

“Is something the matter?” Yoongi asked smoothly, handing you the bag. He amusedly watched as your brows furrowed, not even hiding that you were glaring pointedly at the little gremlins making faces at you from his shoulder.

Jungkook, the youngest of the three ghosts, climbed on Yoongi’s head before proceeding to pull down his pants, mooning you with his spectral ass.

“Uh, nothing,” you eventually said, huffing indignantly as you stomped away. Yoongi caught you discreetly poking your tongue out in annoyance before you turned to another aisle.

Thus began your cautious attempts at exorcising him without trying to “alert” him to it. It was amusing to watch you try to “save” him from the three little ghosts that decided to cling onto him, and it was even more amusing to watch you fail repeatedly every time.

Yoongi made no comment when you were suddenly bumping into him everywhere he went. There was always a terse grin on your face as you performed as many anti-ghost spells as you could, but none of them ever seemed to work. The truth was, ghosts could only be exorcised if the haunted person in question wanted them to leave, but Yoongi had found himself a little fond of these stupid little kids. They might be slowly sucking the life force out of him, but Yoongi didn’t really care. They were just kids, and he’s always been too soft for his own good.

Your many encounters with him created a subtle friendship of sorts, one that Yoongi found himself enjoying. He was never been one to foster friendships with living beings, but perhaps your sweet attempts to save his soul might have defrosted his little grinch heart. But he wouldn’t ever tell you that, of course.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were very pretty, for that matter. He certainly would NEVER tell you that as well.

Was he feeling guilty for not telling you about his ability to see ghosts? Slightly. But was it cute watching you trying to outsmart three little ghost babies to no avail? Very much so.

So, Yoongi stayed quiet and enjoyed your company, even if you had no idea who he was or what type of things he was capable of.

That was until he got into that damn bet with the stupid bloodsucker.

Probably shouldn’t call him that, given that I’ve become one myself, Yoongi groaned internally. He’d been hiding in his house for a month now, and your “random” visits were surely on the horizon. He wasn’t sure if you’d immediately clock that he’d turned into a vampire, but he wasn’t going to risk it. If you found out, then you’d find out about everything, and that wouldn’t be a good impression.

Yoongi knew he wasn’t great at interacting with people, let alone people he had a crush on. But at least he knew that lying to someone for extended periods of time was probably not in his favor.

Little Jungkook fluttered close to him, his smoky form twinkling from the moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “When is the pretty witch coming to visit?” he asked, a little forlorn. Among the three ghosts, Jungkook was the one who’d grown attached to you the most. “I miss playing with her…”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his face. “Hopefully never,” he responded, voice muffled by his hands. He peered through his fingers and saw the two other kids floating by his doorway.

Jimin, the older twin, nudged Taehyung forward to speak. “Y-Yoongi… I think she’s coming soon,” Taehyung whispered, a tinge of excitement evident in his tone.

“You can’t keep hiding from her forever… She's sure to find out anyway,” Jimin warned, uncharacteristically stern.

Yoongi stretched his tired limbs, his aching back cracking as he pushed himself off his sofa. Time moved weirdly ever since he turned into a vampire. This month had felt like a day, so it was hard to tell how long he'd been sitting so still. His creaking bones gave him an idea though, that's for sure. “I know… how much do I have to bribe you three to scare her away?”

Jungkook giggled, floating over to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder. ���Nothing. We do that all the time for free,” he snickered.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’s true… but she never seems to go away even when we do.”

“In fact, I know she thinks we’re cute,” Jimin said, and Yoongi couldn’t help but agree. Your cat and mouse game with the three idiots was probably past the point of annoyance and more towards the territory of playfulness. You likely noticed how they weren’t exactly the malicious ghosts that people feared, so you humored their antics.

(Yoongi hoped that you stuck around for him, too.)

“How much longer ’til she gets here?” Yoongi asked, walking to his bedroom. The air was stale inside the room, not having to use the bed as much as he once did. He opened his closet, trying to find some better-looking clothes than the threadbare robe he had decided to live in. He plucked a nice button-up shirt, before thinking better of it.

Am I really going to look like a stereotypical vampire when I meet her? What’s next, a cape?

“She’s a few blocks away,” Taehyung responded. The ghost paused, looking at the shirt Yoongi had put back. “No, wear that. She likes it when you wear that shirt.”

“She thinks you look regal in it,” Jimin agreed, grabbing his only pair of slacks. “These, too. She likes your butt in them.”

If Yoongi were still human, he’d probably blush. “I told you boys it’s rude to eavesdrop on her thoughts,” he scolded.

“You like the reassurance, though…” Jungkook muttered, but Yoongi ignored him.

“Two minutes away…!” Taehyung reminded him before disappearing. The two others followed suit, likely going to meet you before you arrived. Yoongi sighed, a headache slowly forming by his temple.

As promised, after two minutes, there was a knock from his front door. As Yoongi reluctantly approached and reached for the doorknob, he could hear you arguing playfully with his little friends.

“Taehyung, no pulling! I just got my hair fixed,” you whined. Despite your words, Yoongi could hear the affection in your voice, plain as day.

“You look really pretty today, noona…” Jungkook giggled, and Yoongi could imagine Jungkook placing a chaste kiss on your cheek in greeting. “Are you finally gonna tell hyung about your crush on him?”

“What are you talking about?!” you yelped. Yoongi heard something fall, then a string of curses from you. “Oh gosh, the food! I hope nothing spilled…”

“Don’t worry, noona. I doubt Yoongi hyung is hungry,” Jimin giggled slyly. “Unless you count how he’s hungry for you…”

Before you could reply to Jimin’s out-of-pocket comment, Yoongi swung open the door, an alarmed expression on his face. “H-hey, Y/N,” he began, a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

You froze when Yoongi suddenly appeared. You were in the midst of rearranging the plastic bags of take-out food with your jaw agape, likely about to chastise Jimin for his rudeness. You floundered for a second before straightening up quickly. Your cheeks were a cute shade of red.

(Yeah, maybe he was a little hungry…)

“Yoongi! Oh god, sorry, I was just…” you stumbled for a moment, trying to figure out a way to explain yourself. Behind you, the three stooges grinned evilly, full of satisfaction.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asked instead, bending down to gather your bags. The smell of take-out Chinese wafted into his nose, and he had to hide his growing smile. His favorite food, you had remembered. If he could eat, he’d be salivating.

“Yoongi hyung is salivating for a different reason…” Taehyung muttered, reading his thoughts. Yoongi and your eyes widened in alarm, causing the three kids to guffaw in response.

“Sorry, I was on the phone with somebody and the bags slipped,” you coughed, quickly grabbing the rest of the bags. In your haste, your hands accidentally touched, making you gasp in surprise.

“Gosh, Yoongi! Your hands are terribly cold! Are you alright…?” you asked, trailing off. When you tore your gaze away from his pale hand, you slowly turned to face him fully. Due to the uproar caused by the kids earlier, you hadn't been able to look at Yoongi properly since you arrived.

Yoongi braced himself, a terse smile on his lips.

You observed him silently, a mysterious emotion flitting through your face. Yoongi saw the way your gaze shifted to the injury on his neck, which he had recklessly forgotten to at least try to cover up. The dots were connecting, and Yoongi waited for you to make the first move.

To his surprise, you started by staring inquisitively at the kids. “Did you guys…?” you asked, suspicious. This was the first time you had openly addressed them in front of him, and Yoongi was shocked. Not only for that, but for also potentially thinking that they were to blame, somehow. Didn’t you trust them by now?

Jimin looked affronted, scoffing at your train of thought. “Us? Of course not! Why on earth would we do that to hyung?”

Jungkook huffed, wrapping an arm around your waist with a sad pout. “Yeah! Why would we hurt hyung on purpose? You don’t think we’d do that, right?” he asked, eyes watering with hurt tears.

Immediately, your expression softened. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” you trailed off, sighing. As if remembering where you were, you snapped back to reality, staring incredulously at Yoongi as if he’d grown three heads. Well, or turned into a vampire, he supposed.

“Yoongi! What on earth happened?” you asked, terrified for him. Or perhaps, terrified of him? Yoongi knew he should be feeling guilty, or embarrassed, or maybe a little ashamed, but all he could see was your worry for him, and his dead little heart would have skipped a beat if it still could. God, he was pathetic.

Instead of answering you truthfully, Yoongi chose to run away from his problems, like he always did. “It’s just a mosquito bite,” he explained lamely. He rubbed the very conspicuous marks in question, wincing slightly. It might have been a month since he turned, but it still felt as tender as it did the day it happened.

You stared at him, unimpressed. “In the middle of winter? When you rarely step out of your house?” you asked sarcastically. You gave him a steely glare. “Be serious with me for a second, Yoongi.”

But Yoongi couldn’t. He couldn’t tell you, or else he’d literally die a second death, from embarrassment or heartbreak, he couldn’t tell.

“I… I don’t actually know,” Yoongi lied. It was sort of true. He didn’t know that the stupid bet would actually mean he’d give up his soul to pay for an impossible debt. He had been swindled, that was it. He still didn’t understand how he could’ve been so stupid.

“He didn’t know he was stupid… what a joke,” Jimin murmured, causing the others to giggle in turn. You and Yoongi ignored them.

When he didn’t explain further, your shoulders slumped, defeated. You likely didn’t believe him one bit, but you were never the type to push. You were probably as shy as he was, which had caused its fair share of misunderstandings in the past. Most of the time, those misunderstandings helped Yoongi, though he often wished that he didn’t need them. One day, he’d be honest with you, but for now…

“May I come in, Yoongi? There’s something I have to tell you…” you started, eyes shifting behind you. The kids hovered closer, watching you with curiosity.

Yoongi felt the air turn colder, though he wasn’t sure if it was just him, the wind, or the ghosts doing it. Or maybe it was you.

Yoongi opened the door wider, gesturing for you to come in. “Please, make yourself at home…” he whispered before closing the door gently.

Outside, the three boys didn’t make a move to come in.

“Now… we wait,” Jimin whispered. The other two nodded, faces determined. They floated to the second floor of Yoongi’s villa, still keeping their ears to the floor. As much as they wanted to interrupt, they knew this was an important development for the two of you. They wanted to give you a false sense of privacy, but they could never stop themselves from hearing the gossip. God knows that these rascals would be bored without their daily dose of real telenovela romance.

In the living room, Yoongi took a seat as far away from you on the couch as possible. He laced his hands with an iron grip, forcing himself to stop any fidgeting.

Breaking the silence, you sighed tiredly. “So… where do I begin?”

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (Lucemond, Head witch hunter Aemond, pharmacist Lucerys)

Lucerys was a pharmacist learning to be a healer, being taught by his aunt, Alys. They lived together, closer to the woods than to the village, and we're known as the medical experts who runs the village apothecary. It was at a time when the village wasn't shrouded with whispers and fear of witches being spread by the Faith of the Seven.

Then it came, men in green, calling themselves witch hunters, protectors of the innocent, fighters of the Faith. Leading the group was the Holy Queen's own son, Aemond Targaryen.

It was fine at first, they were simply spreading the word of their religion, though the village follows the old gods, they were welcoming to them.

But when the Seven realized who they truly worshipped, they began calling the town a witch's town, one filled with black magic and sorcery. Soon, even the most level headed mayor could not calm the waves of hysteria as the townsfolk either converts, or leave the town all together. Soon the majority of the town consisted of hysterical townsfolk who believed in the Faith and people egging them on, and the rest who refused to follow. They were branded as witches, some were falsely accused of witchery, and was burnt at the stake.

Lucerys' aunt was one of them. The accuser was a man who Lucerys knew was rejected by his aunt months ago. He accused her of creating a love potion and exchanging his medicine with it. The charges were false, everyone knew that, yet Lucerys watched as they continued to accuse her, the man who gave her flowers, the woman who marveled at her young face, the old man who, just weeks ago, thanked her for curing his back pain, they all turned their back and screamed for her death, and Lucerys, no matter how hard he denied the allegations, how he called all of them liars and provided proof, how he fought so hard to keep his aunt, his only living relative alive, was forced to watch Alys burn with the rest of the innocents.

Lucerys knew it wouldn't be long until they would call him a witch, so he prepared himself to leave, the wretched village deserved no healing from him, not after killing his aunt.

It was too late for him to run, however.

The head witch hunter, Aemond, noticed his existence. In fact, ever since he saw him at the witch's trial, he dreamt of him, thought of his crying face, his screams. Then those dreams turned from him suffering to him in the throes of pleasure, his tears and cries so sweet it burned Aemond:s soul, and once he wakes, he craves what he saw in his dreams, and he hates it. What was worse was that he blames Lucerys for what he feels about him. He believes Lucerys cursed him, for why then would he feel such things towards a man?

He captured Lucerys, demanding he lift the curse, the spell, whatever he placed on him. Lucerys, though not knowing what Aemond was talking about, absolutely refused, believing that whatever it was was a ploy to get him to "admit" to witchery, and to burn him just like his aunt.

And Aemond did wish to do so, to burn the boy, if it meant freedom from his interest in him. But the villagers, the ones who followed the old gods, heared about Lucerys' capture, and begged Aemond to release him. After his aunt's death, he was their only village healer, one who knew about the healing properties of the plants in the woods, the only one willing to heal them without the hysteria of being around "possible witches".

And Aemond, seeing how these people rally for Lucerys, began to plot.

So he gave Lucerys two choices. To convert to the Faith, and continue to heal the people, or to reject it, and burn with the rest.

[lumineescente]

Seungjin drabble (slowtober challenger)

hii im doing a thing called slowtober (made by @/oeildesaturne on instagram, french speaking folks check it out!! although be aware of tw mental health and eds talks) and i’m posting on twitter a seungjin au per word

I’m late in the updating on tumblr but for the eight days (october 22nd - 25th) The word is "ritual"!

I went with an inaccurately historical au, European (France) 17th century Seungmin is a "witch" like they used to call them and Hyunjin is an apothecary/pharmacist

As a personal tmi I really ADOOORE this period of time and if i get to write this au, it'll be inaccurate for several reasons but I did spend a lot of my free time when i was young reading about it and learning about it sooo! This was so fun

Tw: period related homophobia (implied)

AND if you enjoyed this challenge who is now over you can vote on this form for your favorite that I’ll be writing into a full fic on ao3! (“soumettre” is “submit” btw)

if you want to check all the drabbles you can go here

The clock on top of the front door ticks in a familiar motion. Hyunjin does not bother looking at it, silently counting the sounds in his head and when he finally reaches sixty, the door opens. 

He has to stop himself from smiling too brightly. Seungmin is a very predictable person, Hyunjin means it in the most positive way, and with time he had learned with enthusiasm to understand all of Seungmin's rituals. He is not sure if the latter has noticed that. 

"Good evening," Seungmin's voice whispers. 

The shop is empty. It is a late Thursday night and no apothecary should be open at that time, except Hyunjin's definitely not a simple apothecary. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." 

Hyunjin swallows back the fact that he has been waiting for him all night long. He just shakes his head, "of course not." 

The nobleman seems relieved. The lights in the shop are dim, it would be best for both of them if no policemen starts wondering about the shop activities on the side. He knows very well that Seungmin is also a very careful man and would have made sure to come here in a discreet manner, like most of Hyunjin's clients he has as much to lose as he does. Maybe worse. Seungmin puts his hat and coat on the coat hanger near the door. He watches the way he carefully folds the coat, in an inexplicable yet seemingly very important way, because he does it like that all the time. A man of ritual, Hyunjin thinks.

Hyunjin does not need to tell him anything because he knows his way around and they are both comfortable enough by now. After all they both know each other deepest and most dangerous secret. Sometimes Hyunjin can't help but wonder if Seungmin might keep another kind of secret. Sometimes with the way his eyes linger on Hyunjin when he believes he is not seeing him, or when their fingers brush and his cheeks are colored in a pink tint… sure sometimes Hyunjin lets himself think about it. 

“Full moon’s ritual?” Hyunjin asks him, when Seungmin is ready to listen to him, even if once again, he knows that the answer is yes. Seungmin’s practice seems to be mostly oriented toward the moon and its phases so Hyunjin carefully checks it every night. 

“Yes,” Seungmin answers, “and some other things I need. I got a bunch of my, uh, clients asking for my help.” 

He slides a piece of paper on the counter. Hyunjin carefully looks at it. Seungmin’s handwriting is neat and precise. He describes exactly the quantity of each plant and other ingredients he needs. Seungmin was actually the only person Hyunjin has ever met who had more knowledge than himself on the subject. Maybe because Seungmin comes from a higher line, richer and more powerful, he has access to information way before Hyunjin could, receiving books and reports from overseas expeditions, places Hyunjin barely manages to imagine in his own mind. He is not sure why Seungmin still comes to him, in his little shop, in a part of the city which probably takes him a while to go to, and risks being caught. Or maybe he does not let his mind wander in the reasons. 

Hyunjin has already prepared everything for Seungmin, he just needs to take a few other things in his cupboards. Seungmin waits for him patiently, looking around in the shelves to keep himself busy. 

He still remembers the first night Seungmin came to the apothecary. Hyunjin's side practice is not known by many so Seungmin must have been close to one of his most important clients to be there, as there is no way to randomly find about it, Hyunjin always makes sure of it. Seungmin was very shy, and embarrassed, like he was not sure why he had come here at first, or maybe like he was not sure if it was safe enough. Their first talks were mostly in codes, making sure that both of them were on the same page. Hyunjin never ever judges his clients. He has seen it all, and he does not care what they will do with what he gives them. He is far from stupid, he knows the amount of poison murders that has been happening in the high classes and he probably knows he has played a part in those killings, some would say. He sleeps better at night, not asking any questions, only handing the ingredients. What they do with that is far from his worries, once they have closed the door of his practice and he is counting the money. People might die. He gotta live. 

Seungmin seemed different. The shyness first of all had nothing to do with most women or men discretion. None of them were really shy. They were commanding, arrogant, haughty, but they knew what they were to lose if they got caught. Seungmin spoke softly, handed him a carefully folded piece of paper, a very beautiful paper Hyunjin had noticed, and the ingredients written on it had nothing to do with the usual... preparations he has been asked to make. Another thing Hyunjin had noticed immediately was how cute and pretty Seungmin was, he kept that to himself. 

Slowly but surely Seungmin warmed up to him, because Hyunjin always made sure to make Seungmin comfortable and it was obvious that it made the latter happier a bit more every time. More and more Seungmin would smile genuinely at him, dare to look him in the eye, linger a bit longer in the shop when it was not necessary, brush their hands whenever he had to grab for what Hyunjin was giving, explain to him why he would buy this and that, or make a compliment. More and more Hyunjin would stay awake at night thinking about him, making sure to remember all the rituals he was following, in his own practice or in his life. 

Hyunjin looked forward every time he knew Seungmin would cross the back door of the shop. 

“Here,” Hyunjin tells him when he is done measuring everything Seungmin needs. 

He makes sure to let his hand linger near the package and Seungmin does exactly what he expected and his fingers brush the back of his hand. He is happy with the small touch. 

“I have something for you too,” Seungmin says. 

“You do?” 

Seungmin takes something out of his pocket, “one of my own clients offered me this, you might have heard about it… chocolate powder.” 

This time Hyunjin can not hide his surprise, “I’ve heard but…” 

Seungmin has a shy smile, “it’s good, and you can make it sweeter.” 

“I thought only the people of court had access to it,” Hyunjin comments, staring at the powder like it would have been a magic one, “I did not realize those were your clients.”

Seungmin puts a finger over his lips, “I have a few secrets I might tell you one day.” 

Hyunjin stays quiet, when Seungmin winks at him, he giggles. Seungmin puts his own package in his pocket before going back to his coat and hat.

“Good night, Hyunjin,” he whispers softly. 

Before Hyunjin can answer anything, the man is gone. Hyunjin gasps for air, his heart beating faster in his chest, and his cheeks burning red.

[uss-bigsurprise]

"...You'll need a prescription for that, sir."

Sanderstober day 27: Depict any classic Halloween monster in a conventionally mundane job that they would actually be very good at. — Inspired by AJ!

It's a witch as a pharmacist! Is she a little overqualified? Maybe. Does she somehow always immediately know which medications you can or cannot combine (and will she provide you with some helpful tips and tricks on how to battle a cold with just some herbs and boiling water)? Absolutely.

[eeveecryptid]

※ ADVENTURES IN HELLSCREAM

a thrilling saga of shit i’ve heard while visiting a haunt with my friend, with the occasional moment of my own commentary and things that actors said. may include nsfw material. feel free to change names/pronouns/etc.!

“ new york is so weird. ”

“ i hadn't realized the street sign had changed, so i thought the taxi had stopped so a pigeon could cross the street. ”

“ you can never tell with some taxis. ”

“ never said i was a smart person. ”

“ all i know is monster acting and horror puns. ”

“ watch your head-- that means duck. ”

“ i have a single braincell at all times, sir/ma’am. ”

“ i don't have to duck, i'm too small! ”

“ some of us only have one braincell at all times! ”

“ does your candle ever just die? 'cause same, bruh. ”

“ it helps that they have more lights on, 'cause it's spooky. ”

“ finally, someone loves me! ”

“ i think i peed a little bit, and i need a pharmacist. ”

“ i'm glad i wasn't just trippin'. ”

“ i don't like that, all of a sudden, careless whisper is in my head. ”

“ that girl/guy is. . .very talented. ”

“ (name)-- bitch, don't leave me behind! ”

“ stop being so short! ”

“ i'm sorry that it's my genetics! ”

“[ startled ] you're very talented. ”

“ uh-oh, sisters! ”

“ i found (name), (name)! ”

“ that's (name)'s mama! ”

“ i can't hear for shit. ”

“ the others will take care of you. ”

(creepy lullaby voice) “ when the blazing sun is gone, when the nothing shines upon, though i know not what you are, twinkle twinkle little star-- ”

“ someone's not having a good time. ”

“ oh boy, claustrophobia tunnels. ”

“ what are you doing in here? ”

“ i don't know, (name), i just wanted to fight, man! ”

“ what are you guys doing in here? ”

“ i'm looking for cupcakes! ”

“cupcakes? you know, i'm the cupcake person around here! ”

“ sometimes you just gotta find a bunch of jars and heads. ”

“ ruh-roh, rhaggy. ”

“ would you do it for a scooby snack? ”

“ are you ready for dinner? ”

“ i gotta make sure you know what you're getting yourself into, alright? are you ready to BE dinner? ”

“ alright! i like your style! ”

“ come on this way, this is what we're gonna do. we're gonna send you through the tenderizer, alright? then we're gonna make sure you're seasoned and ready to go. then i'm gonna dice up and eat out your hearts, alright? ”

“ ---spicy! ”

“ you won't feel a thing! ”

“ you shouldn't have said that, now we have to find out how properly marinated you are! ”

“ surprisingly, this is the lowest my heart rate has been all day. ”

“ that was a real pain to get through. ”

“ go go, power rangers! ”

“ look, it’s sharita repulsa! ”

“ ’go go go’, isn't that what you said? ”

“ sucks to suck for that guy. ”

“ so, um-- can i eat your face? ”

“ yeah, i don't really like it, so you can have it if you want. ”

“ would you like to join us and become part of the menu, perhaps? ”

“ ----jinkies! ”

“ ‘jinkies’? what does that mean? is that a magic spell? ”

“ is that a magic spell? ”

“ yeah, i am a witch, so-- ”

“ okay, cool, works for me, let's go. ”

“ this is the playground, how do you like it? ”

“ don't mind the waste, it's perfectly safe. ”

“ my daddy was a clown, my mama was a witch. it was a little bit of a shock to both of them when they found out. ”

“ wow, which one do you take after more, the clown or the witch? ”

“ which one do you take after more? ”

“ my dad, the clown. ”

“ perfect, you'll fit right in! ”

“ i don't know what i am, really. ”

“ you don't know what you are? ”

“ you can always just /choose/ to be a clown. ”

“ we can convert you tonight! ”

“ another clown always said i was kinda funny-looking. ”

“ i never said i was a fast clown, now. ”

“ you ever just get whacked in the face with plastic tubes? ”

“ do you think i could cut off your toes and deep fry like chicken nuggets? ”

“ i know words-- sometimes. ”

“ the floor breathes. ”

“ hiya, (name), what a nice boat! do you want it back? you'll float too! ”

“ we're in the endgame now, boys. ”

“ sounds like we've got newcomers. ”

“ fire in the hole! ”

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

I'm completely blown away by your responses to this work. Thank you each and one of you who read it, left kudos, reblogged or just said a kind word. It means a lot <3 This second chapter was prewritten before and I did not want to make you wait! :) For those who's been asking about posting in future I plan to update this fic once a week, probably on Wednesdays (but not necessarily). I’m still figuring out the way I want to tell this story but I guess we'll just see how their relationship develops until the present times. At first, I thought of it as little flashbacks but now it seems more necessary to show all the steps of growing together before we arrive at the Angst. Once again excuse me for any mistakes that might be there. ( Yes, I'm still looking for my beta? ❤)

It’s also available on AO3 :)

Posting a little behind the schedule here but... Enjoy!

1.The beginnings

                                              CHAPTER 2: Sassenach

" How did you break your nose?" I asked him (out of nowhere to be honest) finishing the last stitch on his forearm. The tissue there was split about 3 inches long, quite deep. It ran atop his other scar (where did he get it from?) and once healed it would make a cross sign.

'' Huh?" My patient lifted his head looking at me. For whatever reason, I felt my stomach turn into a warm pool. ( why?) That was the first time I had a chance to examine his face properly, to register his features in my mind. His eyes were strangely blue, the shade of blue that reminded me of my vacation to the Maldives. The stubble of gold reddish colour was sprinkled along the sides of his jaw (I wondered whether it was his style or he just did not bother to shave). His face was framed by short cut curls, sticking out slightly near his ears. (I had to fight an urge to tuck them behind).

I nearly dropped an anesthetic when he spoke. The deep flush crept up my neck, reaching my cheeks when I realised I was staring at him.

" Ye didna ask me how I cut my arm but ye ask me about my nose?" Jamie's eyebrows rose as he smiled, small dimple on his right cheek appearing for me to remember. " Is it yer trying to compare the size of my nose and..."

" No." I cut him off coldly, biting on my lip, his sudden remark threw my professional mask off.  The smile on his face was wiped out in seconds, eyes fixed on mine. I cursed in my mind (what is wrong with you, Beauchamp?). He was just trying to make a joke and I'm going to have PMS or why else I had snapped again? I almost physically felt the awkward silence that fell on the room, spreading its dirty hands to ruin any possible professional etiquette I tried to maintain. But, it did not have a chance when we spoke together.

" I'm sorry. I did not want to sound mean".

" Sorry, that was verra stupid of me to say, Sassenach".

The phone vibrated in the pocket of my jeans before I could answer him. With quiet "excuse me" I pressed decline thinking that Geillis can wait a couple of minutes more, though she would say she'll curse me with all her long line of witches in the family. " What does it mean? Sassi-nak?" I asked taking the last band-aids (only with Disney theme left) from the drawer.

" It means English." He snorted behind my back but when I turned his gaze was surprisingly warm. I swallowed. I had to admit he was beautiful. Beautiful in the way that hypnotized me and I thought that if I could paint he is the perfect model for that.  " Or simply an outlander." Jamie watched me opening up the band-aid (which happened to be with Micky Mouse).

" Really? " I narrowed my eyes. Satisfied with my work I gave him the last instructions. " All done. Don't scratch it, don't swim, avoid sport. You may take showers and keep the bandage until you get home". Feeling my phone buzzing again I smiled at him, watching him put on the same woolen coat (dark navy, ending just above his knees) and tartan scarf, I grabbed my own coat.

" I'm sorry I kept ye after yer work hours". He said quietly and suddenly took my black jacket out of my hands. "It's alright." I responded taken aback by his gesture." It's my duty". I could feel his warm breath at the nape of my neck when my back faced him. I grabbed my purse mumbling incoherent 'thanks' and feeling stupid that I acted like a schoolgirl. (Has he noticed that? Christ.)

" What do ye call us, Scots?" Jamie looked up at me when he stood in the doorway. " Nothing really. Is it already not offensive enough?" I bit inside of my cheek trying not to laugh. He smiled. " Aye."

We said goodbye in a rush being interrupted by young nurse Mary Hawkins who has had about a million questions to me. Saying to James Fraser that he can come back in a week for sutures removal I had spent another 20 minutes talking to a father of one of my patients.  Geillis was cursing me in three long text messages to which my response was a crap emoji.  She had planned on going to some fancy restaurant and spending a ridiculous amount of money on some luxurious dishes, saying it would cheer me up. I wasn't particularly agreeing with her on the thought "Ye look like shite and behave the same. Tis time ye put aside all that Frank story" and was going to spend time home but Geillis wouldn't be one without trying. Typing the message on the screen I mentally counted how much time I really have to get home, change in something more suitable and meet Geillis.

"Sorry, hon. Had one more patient. xx"

" Was he hot?"

" What makes you think it was' him'?"

"Just hope for ye, love"

I rolled my eyes and shivered at the cold wind (bloody hell, Scotland, it was just September?) running down the stairs I successfully avoided the puddle when a familiar voice called. "Sassenach?"

In his hand, he held a takeaway coffee from Starbucks "Just black. Americano. Did I get it right?" " Right" I whispered back. (why? why did I whisper?)

" I'm sorry again for yer wee nose. And yer coffee" Jamie smiled handing me the cup, our fingers brushing slightly, me noticing how warm his skin was despite the brutal Scottish weather. I shook my head and looked down at my shoes. He was smirking. (really?) 

" It's okay. Sorry I barked at you then." I chewed on my lip, feeling my toes go numb in the cold. "Be careful with your hand". 

"Aye, I will."  He had asked my name then and I blurted "Beauchamp", his eyebrows rose and I laughed "Claire. My name is Claire."

Being awfully late for a dinner with Geill, cursing why did I buy this bag that was as big as bloody house, I finally found the keys in the depths of it. Throwing it on the hall floor and kicking my boots off on the way to bedroom I scratched Adso behind his furry ears (who had been sleeping, paws up, sprawled on the carpet in the living room). I jumped into the shower almost breaking my ankle at the slippery tiles. I had to give Geillis a credit. Truly I was feeling as I stood on the edge of the cliff, one foot hanging above it. The emotional state that had me hooked for the last few weeks because of a nasty remark I'd received from Frank in the text message. " You have to cut off the bullshit, Claire. You are not as great a woman as you think". I simply replied, "Fuck you, Frank Randall". But it kept lingering at the back of my head and surely soon enough I started thinking perhaps it was me who did everything wrong and that is why we divorced? Had it been my friend I would have said that it's a talk of insecure man and nothing surprising in a fact that man tries to blame a woman. This is as old as the world and you cannot beat yourself up for it and possibly think you've done something wrong. There were multiple reasons why we have broken up, on both sides. It just didn't work. But his remark threw me off the track and I've got stuck in this state for past two weeks.

Thinking that Geillis's idea of the restaurant actually might be a good distraction I grabbed the purse from the floor when my eyes stumbled at the coffee cup I have left on the bureau shelf. Feeling familiar warmth rising from my belly and going up up up my body making me smile I took a few sips of now cold drink setting it aside. Only then I've noticed a set of numbers scrabbled on the side. It was a number and I did not need to guess long whose it is.

Dinner with Geilis was indeed a distraction. A good one for that matter. We went through all our work weekly news and now for the last twenty minutes, she was telling me in all explicit details about her last Tinder date. Sipping on the nutty red wine I could not help but admit that Jamie has lingered at the back of my mind all evening. When the waiter brought us the check and we were trying to split the sum James Fraser became our next topic of discussion. "Ye ken that he left ye his number on purpose?" Geillis smirked putting away her wallet. " Yes. But what then?" I nodded with my shoulders. "I saw him just twice and the first one was not much of a success." The pharmacist rolled her eyes when we stepped out to the drizzle of rain, lighting a cigarette. " Christ, Claire. I saw him. He was smoking hot. Ye canna just let that chance flow by." The cloud of smoke hid her face for a moment and I coughed. "And ye dinna need to have serious relationships with him. Or just sex with no promises is taboo for ye these days? C'mon. Relax, Beauchamp."

I knew she was right in a way. I was overthinking it. In the last five months after divorce with Frank I had shared a bed with men, went on meaningless dates. Why couldn't I do it now? Jamie was attractive and kind. I definitely could give it a shot.

For the next week, I was swirled into the chaos of work, night shifts, new patients, Adso having stomach problems. I did not have the time or chance to call Jamie. And when I finally remembered about it, sitting in well-worn pajamas, eating crisps out of the packet on the couch I'd realised I threw the cup into the rubbish bin. Thinking of it as bad omen I tried not to dwell on it much but my plan has been changed by Mary Hawkins who apparently took off the sutures of Jamie and with red face shoved a note into my hand while I was filling in the charts. All the way home I felt as if the note in my pocket will burn my hand off.

Looking at the piece of paper with neat handwriting that said "I'd hoped it would be the Sassenach who removes my stitches. *smiley face* P.S. I hope my handwriting is good enough this time because I have a feeling ye couldna read the phone number. Fancy a good Scottish whisky instead of coffee? J." I dialed Geillis, pacing the room in circles, Adso following me with a look  "Are you okay, Mama?"

" That's the lad ye bumped into in Lallybroch? The one with stitches?" Her voice sounded dangerously excited. " Mmmh" I hummed noise of approval, staring out of the window.

" He knows his ways" She chuckled. "Tell me ye will go and see him?" I leaned my forehead against the glass, the warm breath making it misty.  "He's my patient." A long line of cursing on the other side followed my answer and it made me smile. That's why I loved Geillis though sometimes she was a lot to handle.

"Well, a patient ye treated... like what? Ten minutes? Plus, ye've seen him before so it's like ye know him. I will kill ye with my own bare hands if ye dinna call him at least."

I chewed on my lip and glanced at Adso as if it could shake off my doubts. " You know what? I'll meet him." I stated simply.

" That's the spirit, lassie!" Her happy squealing made me grimace. "Dinna forget to shave". After another five minutes of a stream of advice from my best girlfriend I took out the Starbucks paper cup from the trash, I threw it in the evening before (he better be worth it). Not to give myself a chance to change my mind I dialed right away.

We agreed to meet in a pub of Jamie's choice (he had promised it's one of the best in Edinburgh) I spent a good amount of time thinking what to wear. What does one wear to a pub? To date in the pub? (seriously?) Was it a date at all? As my wristwatch showed 6pm I finally stood in the hallway 30 minutes before meeting James Fraser (not as my patient). I had promised myself to keep this easy and fun. I'm just seeing this handsome Scot, having a couple of drinks with him, flirty chit chats, maybe ending up in mine or his apartment as a bonus. Easy and fun.

"Get your shit together, Beauchamp." I hissed to myself taking the last look in the mirror. Highwaisted jeans, cream sweater and suede high heels boots that I've bought being drunk last Christmas and never wore (heals and I were from different worlds). It was definitely an upgrade since Lallybroch market accident but it did not scream "Look, I've just spent two hours figuring out my outfit!".

Getting into the cab (not that I had planned on being drunk but my inner voice knew better) I texted Geillis the name and GPS location of the pub.

 "In case I get abducted, you know. xxx".

" Yer ridiculous but I still love ye. Have a good shag. Kidding. Have fun. xxx"

Nodding at cab driver's "Have a good evening" I stepped out to the busy street, full of noises, tipsy people, the smell of street food mixed with weed smoke. Glancing last time at my cell phone where Jamie's text shone on the screen five minutes ago "I'll be inside, ye can find me at the bar. ;)" I walked inside the pub.

The first time we met (or rather bumped into each other) I haven't noticed much besides his bright hair and a soft smile. The second time, James Fraser was my patient and despite all medical etiquette written I kept thinking how good-looking he was. Neither times I felt nervous or confused, I felt at ease with him and only anticipated what he might be if we meеt in normal set up? Now I caught myself fidgeting my fingers along the strap of my purse, eyes scanning the crowd. It wasn't hard to spot him. His tall posture was slightly bent across the bar as he spoke to the bartender, the red mop of hair shook in agreement and then he turned his head.

 I was halfway there when he noticed me. I had smiled when he leaned to press a kiss to my cheek, his lips dry and warm, body dangerously close to mine.

" Claire". He hummed with a deep noise coming up his chest. I dropped my coat on the back of the stool when Jamie slid it aside for me to seat.

"I took a chance and ordered for ye." He pointed at two tumblers of whisky on the polished wooden counter.

"Taking a risk?" I smirked, my fingers feeling a cold surface of the patterned glass. " Oh, aye." If a look could burn then Jamie's eyes would’ve made a see-through hole in me. "Sláinte!"

"How's your arm?" I tilted my head, watching his lips meet the glass surface. It could have been a mesmerizing movie scene I'd watch again and again. "Do ye always talk about yer work, Dr. Bechaam?" He grunted glaring at me. " But since ye asked, it's fine, though I was verra much disappointed it wasna ye there to remove the stitches." I felt goosebumps running down my skin, making each little hair erect, all the same, familiar warmth rising at the bottom of my belly.

"How come?" I quirked one brow in a question (although I knew the answer).  "Ye have a good touch, Sassenach" Jamie shook his glass, ice clinking, before gulping it down. Feeling slightly more reckless I licked the tingling sensation off my lips, leaning closer to him. "I could check it for you if you like. To see if there is no infection".

The rest of the evening we spent in easy banter. Jumping from one topic to another, fun and serious, sad and happy. He had told me about his family "Wee Maggie was verra jealous of the Micky Mouse band aid ye gave me". I told him about my times in medical school (how I broke my arm in the third year trying to pass a note to Geillis on the exam). He remembered his most embarrassing date with his first girlfriend Annalise. I shared my last awful experience with meeting a guy after speaking with him on Facebook. Jamie said he likes horses, I answered: "I'm interested in botany".

All the time I was strongly aware of our knees touching, of him laughing (loud and so genuine it made my heart skip a beat) and bending forward, his warm breath lingering above my skin, our fingers brushing accidentally when laid atop the bar counter. Two hours later we stood outside the pub, his coat loosely draped over my shoulders for extra warmth "Aren't you cold?" I had asked then. "No, Sassenach. We Scots made of solid stuff" He laughed, fishing his cell phone out of the pocket. I was fidgeting from one foot to another thinking how I might get him inside my flat? I was tipsy, feeling quite reckless and more than conscious of his attractiveness. 

 "I'll get ye a cab, text me when yer safe home, aye?" He glared at me, his pinky lightly caressing the inside of my wrist when he called a taxi.

" Jamie, don't you..."

 He did not let me finish, tucking away the stray curl behind my ear, his warm fingers tracing the line down my jaw. " I would verra much like to kiss ye. May I?"

Without much words I stepped forward, his lips crushed under mine. Jamie hummed appreciative "mmmm" his fingers tangling in the hair on my nape. I could feel the lines of muscles under his shirt when we were pressed along each other, my hands going up and down his arms. I inhaled deeply when we parted, watching him lick his lips.

"I'll see ye around, Claire?"

[angelbabylu]

Something Wicked // LH

pairing: witch!oc x vampire!luke

word count: 5k

warnings: smut, fluff, magical stuff 

notes: this is the most self indulgent thing i’ve ever done. it is comprised of a few different elements: first i got the idea for this from this book series about a witch falling in love with a vampire. on top of that, i’ve always been obsessed with higher education for supernatural creatures (like hogwarts but as a university) and i decided to add some of that element to this fic as well. next, there are a few allusions to Macbeth and Les Miserables in this because i really enjoyed how they fit with the story line. and finally, Luke is french in this?? bec i thought it would be hot & also i loved the idea of him being made a vampire during the french revolution. this fic ended up being mostly character and world building and then smut lol but i may revisit this universe again with some actual plot at a later date. 

title: from Macbeth 

:: ::

It was almost 9 pm when the wind began to pick up outside Margo’s half-opened window. It usually wouldn’t have bothered her–she loved the ominous rustle of the trees and the way the wind’s magic made her feel as if she could fly. But tonight, it was whipping jet black hair into a frenzy in front of her face, making it almost impossible to read the book of potion ingredients that sat in front of her. At first, she had tried tucking the offending strands behind one ear, then another. When the hair tie she used to secure it into a curly knot atop her head broke, she groaned in frustration, her head slamming on the desk with a dull thud.

“Alright you fucking mop,” Margo growled to her curls. “I’ll close the window.”

She was surprised to find the rest of her room dark when she moved away from the incandescent lamp that lived on her desk. The enchanted item had slowly increased in brightness as the sun had given way to its rival, assuring that Margo’s studies weren’t bothered by such trivialities as not having enough light to read.

It took only five long strides for Margo to cross her room, but in that time her mind had moved from the conveniences of being a modern witch back to the potions test she was going to take the next day. Mutely, she recited the four fundamental potion bases and what effects they could help achieve. She was on the third when a bright flash of lightning pulled her from her thoughts and stilled her hand on the window sill.

That explained the way her hair was behaving, at least. There was a thunderstorm brewing, and her hair’s natural propensity to disobey increased whenever electricity stirred in the air. She closed the window and went back to her desk; she had more important things to worry about. By the time the deep roll of thunder disturbed the air, she was tucked back in her chair, nose buried in her book.  

Margo didn’t look up again until her senses drove her to do so. There was a slight tingling in her thumb–a witches sixth sense that told her another being was coming her way. Eventually, she didn’t need any of her preternatural senses–the loud clacking of heels against old wood floors announced the arrival easily enough.

Mildly annoyed, Margo sat back. It was too much to ask for more than a few hours to herself–especially when her sisters were involved. She had barely taken a full breath before the door to her room was slammed opened revealing Serena, dressed in what had to be her most revealing outfit all year. The leopard print skirt was tight and short, struggling to fully cover the entirety of her ass. The top–well Margo wasn’t sure if she could call it a top. It was more a flimsy piece of mesh and two strips of fabric to cover her breasts. But if anyone could pull it off, it was Serena. It was not just her amazon like appearance that made this possible, but also the obvious confidence that rolled of her and the way she commanded attention as soon as she entered a room.

Much like she did now.

But Margo had known Serena too long to be intimidated by her.

Raising an eyebrow tauntingly, Margo asked, “Trying to catch an incubus?”

The sharp sound of Serena’s heels was the only response as Serena moved deeper into the room to sit on Margo’s bed. The bed was raised to allow space for storage underneath. Often times, Margo found herself leaping just to get on to it, but Serena was tall enough that she could sit down without a struggle.

Finally, Serena met her eyes again. “Not everyone has a hot vampire boyfriend drooling over them, Mar. I definitely wouldn’t mind an incubus.”

And there it was. The reason why Margo had thrown herself so wholeheartedly into her studies that night.

A warmth started to spread on her cheeks and to the tips of her hair as she blushed. “Shut up,” she grumbled, hating the way just the mention of his name sent her pulse skyrocketing.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Serena said as she played with one of the many earrings up and down her lobe. “Maybe you should invite him to the party tonight.”

Margo rolled her eyes and ignored the girl on her bed in favor of her text. “I’m not going to the party tonight, Serena. I already told you that.”

“Oh for Circe’s sake, Margo.” Serena’s voice was colored with annoyance. “Just come to the party. Live a little.”

Margo kept her eyes focused on the page in front of her. Under Fire Potions, she began reading the uses – poison, hallucinogens, mind-alterations, etc. Serena got increasingly agitated behind her, but Margo continued to ignore her.

When Serena grumbled, “Margo?” Margo finally gave her the response she had been looking for.

“I said I am not coming.” Margo gestured wildly to the mess of notebooks, sticky notes, and highlighters strewn across her desk–though this was not the only reason she would be missing out on the festivities.

Margo had other plans come the witching hour. She tried not to let her face betray that fact, knowing that Serena would not take lightly to her ditching her party for a boy.

“You’ve been studying all night. Take a break and come celebrate with us.”

Margo had argued with Serena enough to know that a simple no might not suffice. Instead, she uncapped a highlighter and grumbled, “Serena, if you don’t leave me alone I’m going to hex you green for the next 24 hours. Then, neither of us will be able to enjoy the party.”

Such use of magic on school grounds was, of course, strictly forbidden. But Margo would happily risk probation for the few minutes of blissful quiet it would bring. Luckily, no one had to hex anyone. Serena accepted her defeat and left Margo’s room, muttering, “Your loss.”

Margo and Serena were both students at the University of the Arcana. They were the world’s worst kept secret. The things that mortal beings feared most were real and living among them, though not with as much horrific tendency towards the cruel as mortals liked to believe. Or, at least, no more so than the mortals themselves. Witches, vampires, demons, shapeshifters–they were human just like everyone else, just a different subclass of humans.

Part of the human experience, unfortunately, was going to a university and getting a degree. Here, Margo studied horticultural magic. It was a degree with which, as her mom liked to remind her, she could go on to become a pharmacist. That was not her plan. She wanted to own a greenhouse someday–maybe do some rudimental medicinal remedies for people in her community. She often dreamed of this simple life on a countryside somewhere.

For now, she was forced to live on a campus large enough to be a country of its own. Not only that but the sorority Gamma Nu with which she had pledged required her to live with twenty-nine other student witches. As much as she hated it–it was a campus requirement. No student witch was allowed on campus without pledging to a coven. That, unfortunately, meant that her sorority sisters never gave her a moment of peace.

Serena had only left Margo’s room for twenty minutes before the heavy bass of some modern hip-hop song began shaking her room.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Margo yelled to no one in particular. The tips of her fingers began to spark blue as she itched to hex someone. It seemed that her sisters couldn’t be bothered to cast a privacy spell on their party, thus subjecting Margo to the loud, rhythmic thumping that would make studying impossible.  

Regretfully, she was terrible at noise redirection spells. Any attempts to soundproof her room would end in disaster. Her plans for the night, to study and retain all that she could before he came, we’re steadily being foiled by distractions at every turn.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to steer her mind to a different route. She just needed to change locations. If she trudged around disgruntled enough, the house would recognize her need, and provide her with a solution. The house was sentient, as all witch abodes were. Something about the excess magic in the air caused them to develop a mind of their own. Sometimes, it was more harm than good, as the house had been known to get rid of entire rooms when it was in a mood. But, just as often, it had been known to give a witch exactly what she was looking for.

Holding out hope, Margo packed up her belongings and slipped out of her room.

“Okay house,” she said pleadingly, hoping it could hear her over the thundering of the music and the storm outside. “Show me someplace quiet I can study.”

For a minute, the only thing she saw was a little black ball of fur that dashed past her feet, following the music downstairs. Witches didn’t have familiars per se, but that never stopped her sisters from ironically adopting every black cat they came across.

“House?” she asked impatiently. A door banged open down the hall.

“Thank you,” She whispered, making her way to the door. It led to the library, which was one story down on the eastern wing, but the laws of physical space did not much apply there.

She couldn’t bring herself to fully step inside, however. This was obviously one of the house’s jokes.

The library was soundproof, that much Margo did know. But it was also haunted by two loud, gossipy ghosts.

“Oh dear,” a larger woman said from her position knitting by the library’s fireplace. If not from the way she was tinted silver and slightly translucent, one might not have known she was undead. “Elizabeth, come see! The studious one did not get invited to the party.”

From somewhere on the banister of the second floor came a tinny laugh. “Well, that’s no surprise to me!” Elizabeth responded. “Look at the way she dressed.”

Margo resisted the urge to pull at her old sweatpants and the UA sweatshirt she wore. “Shut up,” she grumbled. Before shutting the door, she added, “I was invited by the way! I didn’t want to go.”

She ignored Elizabeth’s pointed, “What kind of girl doesn’t want to go to a party?” The sound of which lingered until much after Margo had closed the door.

The house rumbled underneath her, making it clear it was laughing.

“House!” she snapped, annoyed at his antics. Another door appeared in front of her in that instant. This time, she did step inside it. It was the abandoned potions laboratory she hadn’t known existed. A quick survey of the place revealed it was in the basement. Which, happily, seemed to be enchanted, for all the noise of the party disappeared as soon as she closed the door.

It was perfect.

Margo toiled over the cauldron in the laboratory for hours, using whatever preserved ingredients she could find to build practice potions. Having always been a tactical learner, this made the art of potion making so much more accessible to her. The fire underneath the cauldron burned hot, causing her to shed her sweater for the loose grey tank underneath. Eventually, she piled her hair up and away from her face, to avoid the way the steam had caused it to stick to her cheeks and the back of her neck. The ingredients were old school–more animal than plant-based, as she preferred to work with. But Margo made it work nonetheless. 

                    Eye of newt.

                    Toe of frog.

                    Wool of Bat.

                    Tongue of Dog.

Round and round the boiling pot she went, throwing in the ancient ingredients and murmuring incantations, learning the form way better than any text could teach her. She was so lost in the art of it all, she was sure nothing could pull her out.

Then the witching hour came, and a sharp prickling sensation in Margo’s thumbs told her that someone was looking for her. Or something. It was much bigger and much more powerful than Serena–it sent her witch’s sense haywire. She knew just who was it was. She had been waiting for him all night. For a moment, she debated going up to the party, finding him, and dragging him back down to the basement. But, there was a spell she knew, old and powerful, that would bring any creature to her in an instant. Of course, with ancient magicks, there was always a chance of attracting unwanted, much more dangerous attention.

Sighing, she lifted up a quick prayer to Hecate, then said, “Fuck it.”

Turning away from the cauldron, she recited the old but powerful spell.

By the pricking of my thumb, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks.

She closed her eyes for a breath, and when she opened it, he appeared in front of her like an apparition. At first, he was nothing more than a blur of black and silver. He had entered the room at full vampiric speed, and her eyes had to take a moment to adjust, to register what she was seeing.

Her heart began pounding in her chest, not unlike the rhythmic thumping of the bass she had heard earlier. Run, her instincts told her, recognizing that there was a predator, much larger and much deadlier than her in the room. She tried to calm the pounding she could now feel in her throat, with a breath. It came out shuddering.

Now that her eyes were fully adjusted, she could see the way his pupils dilated, no doubt at the sound of the rush of blood through her veins. As he advanced on her, she took a few steps back. Eventually, she was stopped by the edge of the table next to where the cauldron still bubbled over.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Vampires were at the top of the human food chain. Because of that, everything about them was designed to draw prey in. Luke was no different. The way he talked was an aphrodisiac, the smallest hint of an old French accent rolling off his tongue lasciviously, drawing a longing from her core. She felt the moment her body realized that she was in no immediate danger, and her heart started hammering for an entirely different reason.

“I know,” she responded, trying to sound cavalier. It was why she had thrown herself so wholeheartedly into her studies that night. At some point in the afternoon, she had received a text. It was just five words, yet it had made her toes curl with desire. Witching hour. I’ll find you. The modern monster’s equivalent of a booty call. Margo, not one to betray her studies for a man, had spent all afternoon with her nose buried in a book. Now that he was right in front of her, she was confident enough in what she had learned that she had no trouble stepping away from the cauldron for the night.

Instead of getting closer to her as her whole body ached for, Luke moved to survey in the room. In turn, she surveyed him. His movements were cat-like, each motion deliberate and graceful. The white, silk shirt he wore was unbuttoned halfway down and tucked into a pair of black leather pants. A peek at the smooth expanse of his chest made Margo yearn to reach out and touch, but she stayed backed up against the table, allowing him to walk the layout of the lab.

“Pilar said you were somewhere studying,” He referenced her housemate easily as he walked around the room almost aimlessly, first glancing into the still bubbling cauldron, then the ingredients that lined the shelf. Ungraciously, she felt jealousy rise to the surface, sending pinpricks of magic down her spine. Margo was well aware of Luke and Pilar’s brief tryst a few months before, and in moments like these, when her senses were bridled by lust, she couldn’t help the primal instincts of possessiveness.

“Potions test.” She responded. Then, because she couldn’t quite put the thought out of her mind, she added, “Pilar needs to mind her own business.”

She was proud of herself when the words didn’t come out sounding shaky or hoarse.

“She’s worried about you, ma chérie. All you do is study.”

Margo tramped down her envy and reminded herself that she hadn’t spent all day studying just so she and Luke could fight about his over-friendliness with his ex. Instead, she tried to focus on nudging Luke’s eyes back to her with a suggestive comment. “I’m not studying right now.”

At her goading, Luke finally gave her the attention she craved. He turned to look at her, his smirk dangerous and promising.

“I prove to be an adequate distraction, no?”

She didn’t see him move. Rather, one moment, he was across the room with a jar of dragon scales in his hand, and somehow, in that same instant, the jar was back on the shelf, and he was next to her, tucking an escaped curl behind her ear.

Immediately, she heaved her chest up to him.

The way he tutted was almost regretful as he traced the line of a barely visible scar, one that he had left on her chest less than 24 hours before. “Oh, ma chérie. You’re already addicted to my touch. I can hear how your blood sings for me.”

Bowing his head, he gently brought his lips to the scar that rested just above the swell of her bosom. “Are you ever,” he paused slightly as if choosing his next word carefully. “Scared of this?”

Scared of this. Scared of them. Historically, witches and vampires did not come together for anything more than sex and political alliances. But, there was something deeper between Luke and Margo. The memory of how indignant she had felt when Serena mentioned her hot vampire boyfriend rose to the surface. Even now she had a hard time with the state of their relationship-how quickly she had come to fall in love with her predator. He often reminded her of the power that he held over her and how her sense of self-preservation became nonexistent whenever he was around.

Luke nipped at her skin lightly, not enough to draw blood. It wrenched her from her thoughts and into that moment with him. When her heart stuttered, he stared up at her, a wolfish grin playing on his face. In moments like these, they both regressed to their animalistic impulses, running on deep, primal instincts left over from their ancestors.

“You forget, Hemmings, that I’m powerful too,” Margo muttered a quick incantation, and this time, the speed with which Luke moved was not due to his vampiric abilities, but rather the invisible bands of wind that twisted around him, pulling him off her, and restraining his wrist. His attempts to burst free of his magical binding was futile. He pulled at his invisible restraints and bared his teeth in warning to her.

The animal inside him did not like to be tied up.

She ignored the way her blood roared in her ears, focusing only on the fact that if it sounded loud to her, it would be deafening for Luke.

Reaching out to the potions table, Margo grabbed a knife she had been using earlier, wiping any traces of ingredients from it with a quick, cleansing water spell. Then, she held it up to her breast. Both her and Luke tracked the way the cool blade as it came to rest against her skin. The grey tank top, as unattractive as Elizabeth’s ghost would find it, did the job of sparking Luke’s interest. She wore no bra underneath, so it hung low on her ample bosom and was thin enough that her nipples all but poked through.

She pierced the skin right where Luke had scarred her before. In response, Luke’s pupils dilated further until his blue eyes were almost completely black, and his breath began to get ragged. Now, it was her turn to smirk.

“I might be addicted to your touch,” she purred. “But you’re addicted to my taste.”

Luke impossibly broke free of her binds and had his hands gripping at her sides in a second. He buried his face in her neck, not going for her blood until he got express permission to do so.

“Can I?” His voice was rough and riddled with want. She nodded once, and Luke dropped his mouth to her heart vein and started to drink deeply.

Nothing that Margo had experienced in her 21 years of life was as erotic as a vampire drinking from her chest. In popular culture, vampires drank from their lover’s neck. That was too impersonal of an action, Luke had informed her. Vampires drank from a mortal’s necks when they planned to drain them and leave them for dead. There was something much more sacred about their relationship, something that made the idea of taking blood from that public place repugnant to him.

As he sucked deeper on Margo’s chest, a shiver of lust set inside her aflame. She could feel herself grow wet from the pull of blood out of her and into him. It was an aphrodisiac, and she was powerless against the feeling it brought. From the way Luke flexed his fingers at her side, she could tell he was just as affected by it as she was. He pulled away to thrust his erection against her.

“Wanna drink while I’m inside you,” he begged.

She didn’t trust her voice not to come out in a ragged plea, so she nodded mutely, already reaching for the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head. Luke hoisted her up unto the table she had barely noticed digging into her back. Instead of returning to the wound on her chest, already closed from the healing properties in his saliva, Luke went for her nipples, sucking on one as he rolled the other between his forefinger and thumb.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered almost reverentially.

He started on a path downwards, kissing her stomach, licking into the dip of her belly button. “You know,” he began as he knelt in front of her, fingers already poised to remove her sweatpants. “Since the change, I’ve questioned my belief in a higher power. But when I do this with you, I know He’s real. Nothing else but an omnipotent deity could have created an angel as beautiful as you.”

Margo bit her lip. Having spent some time with the romantic era poets of the mid-1800s, Luke was prone to outbursts like these in the midst of sex. Margo liked to tease him about it.

“I’m no angel,” she retorted a slight quirk of her lips. “I’ll be right there in hell with you, Luke Hemmings. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Luke took a moment to respond, choosing instead to remove her sweatpants and panties. Then, he placed a few chaste kisses to the inside of either thigh, letting his scruff rub lightly against her teasingly. Margo’s hand shot out, running through his hair a few times, before trying to lead him to her folds.

Instead, he chose that moment to respond to her earlier comment. It was always like this with them. Push and pull. Two opposing tides of want, dragging their sex in different directions. “You are too intoxicating. The devil will try to steal you from me.”

Luke brought his mouth back to her stomach, lapping at the salt of her skin. He nibbled slightly, causing her to release a shuddering breath.

“The devil can’t have me,” she cried between gasps. “I belong to you.”

That was just the motivation the vampire needed. “And I to you,” he growled. It was a guttural sound coming from deep within. In the next moment, he brought his tongue to her, pressing it against her clit.

He spent his time worshiping her folds, before adding one finger inside her. Margo’s legs fell open wider in response, inviting more.

“How does every inch of you taste so good?” He asked in another bought of reverence. Margo’s only response was a cry of euphoria as Luke’s fingers scissored in and out of her, drawing immeasurable pleasure. For a few moments, she basked in the sensation of a lover taking his time to reduce her to cries and shudders. When she came the first time, she was so lost in this sensation, she wasn’t cognizant of the little sparks of magic flittering off her, falling to the tables and the floor.

It was not until Luke muttered, “Shit,” that she opened her eyes to see smoke rising from a hole burnt into the hardwood floor.

“Fuck,” she cursed, still panting. “My bad.”

They glanced at each other for a brief moment, taken by the heat of each other. Then, they devolved into laughter. This wasn’t the first time Margo had burnt something in the midst of their passion, and it wouldn’t be her last.

Luke stood and picked her up amid their laughter. In response, she wrapped her legs around his waist and peppered her face with kisses. “Take us back to your room,” he begged. He raised one foot in the basement of the old house as Margo whispered her incantation, and when he put it down, they were back in her second-floor room.

“God, I love magic,” He breathed, depositing her on her bed.

“Me too,” she responded, and with a wink, all his clothes disappeared. Luke was unconcerned with their dematerialization, knowing from experience he would find them neatly folded at the foot of her bed the next morning.

Crawling on top of her, he slotted their mouths together in a motion they had done so often it became ritual. They spent a few blissful moments, rubbing unbidden against each other. But Luke was impatient. Soon, he was pinning both her wrists above her head with one large hand and entering her slowly.

At first, his thrusts were slow, deliberate, as he got used to the feeling of being inside her. Then, when his movements started to become more erratic, Margo bared her chest to him, knowing exactly what he wanted. His teeth pierced the scarred flesh easily, and he moaned at the first drop of blood that made contacts with his lips.

He released his hold on her hands then, so his were available to wrap his hand around her throat, grip at her side and play with her clit or nipple as he saw fit. The animal in both of them moved about in unrestrained movements as they devolved into hands, teeth, and hips. He drank until it felt like the open wound in her chest was somehow connected to her pussy, each deep suck causing her walls to contract.

She groaned, one hand in his hair, the other in the sheets. It was heaven for her, but for him, it was even better. Curious, Margo had once asked what it felt like to make love to her and feed from her at the same time. He said it felt like being burned alive in the best way possible. Passion consumed every inch of him, setting him aflame.

When he pulled back from her chest, they were both seconds away from climaxing. Immediately, he brought one finger to her clit, playing with it as he thrust inside her. She came, and he followed. This time, a soft glow of light radiated off her in pulses, matching the pulses of her orgasm. Her magical reactions to him were getting stronger.

She turned her attention to the man now draped atop of her, breathing in deeply, taking in the heady scent of the room.

“Smell something you like?” she teased, knowing he liked the smell of them tangled together in the room. Luke loved being unable to smell where he ended and she began.

“Yeah,” he breathed in response, still visibly affected by Margo’s blood. Margo laid there a few minutes running her hand through his hair, waiting for him to come down from the high she had caused.

When Luke was back to himself again, he flipped them, so she was lying atop him. With a quick incantation, Margo brought the blanket gently over their shoulders. Peacefully, they settled in for the night.

“I love you, mon cœur,” Luke uttered the sentiment first.

Margo repeated it.

“Wake me up at 8?” She wanted to get some last minutes revisions done before her test at 10 and one of the best things about having a vampire boyfriend? He didn’t need sleep, so she had a personal alarm. Margo thought the kiss he placed atop her head was an affirmative and a goodnight all in one. He had one more thing to say.

“Le suprême bonheur de la vie, c'est la conviction qu'on est aimé; aimé pour soi-même, disons mieux, aimé malgré soi-même.”

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather in spite of ourselves.

It was a quote from his late friend, Victor Hugo. In moments of reminiscing, Luke thought back to the time he’d spent with the author and poet. He had told her once that he never believed he would find the happiness Hugo spoke about. But he found it with her.

She squeezed his side gently, a silent admittance that she loved him as well. 

:: ::

Part 2: Man or Beast

end notes: shout out to anyone who recognizes the names margo, serena & pilar who are elle’s sorority sisters from legally blonde the musical lmao. let me know what you think! love yall!

tag list: @5sosnsfw / @bloodmoonashton / @lukescaboose / @5sex-of-summa / @deviantnines / @halcyonnhood / @gh0st-0f-y0u-95 / @aspiringwildfire / @cal-pal-cuddles / @hotmessmichael / @hereforlukescruff/ @softforcal / @ohhmuke / @fratcalum / @calumamongmen / @ashtonandcalslefthand / @asht0ns-world / @colorful-queen-of-the-roses / @heavenlydrarry / @slowlyelectronictragedy / @myemptywallets / @pagesuponstpages / @fallfrxmgrace / @thefireisgone / @michaelorwhat / @dammitbands / @sugarcoated-pain / @sublimehood / @cal-puddies / @singt0mecalum / @irwinkitten / @myloverboyash

[otheroutlandertales]

@scotsmanandsassenach sent us the following picture as a prompt: 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 

Witches - Part 6

by @whiskynottea

Claire had spent all morning trying to track down Raymond while cursing the fact that her time-travelling abilities hadn’t landed her in front of him -- even though she had focused as hard as she could on her beloved frog-man while touching her necklace stone.

But she was, at the very least, in the right time.

She had forgotten how terribly loud everything was in the future. It gave her a headache, to listen to the hum of mechanical sounds all around her, ongoing, everlasting, annoying. Her mind ached for a chirp, for the rustle of leaves dancing in the wind, for simple, beautiful things.

Belatedly, she realized she didn’t long for 18th century Paris. What she missed, was Scotland. Lallybroch.

But she had a purpose here and time was pressing.

She had checked every pharmacy in the area. After awkward conversation upon awkward conversation with clueless pharmacists, she arrived at the conclusion that Raymond owned none of them. Which was totally unexpected. Wasn’t a pharmacist the modern translation of an apothecary? What was he doing, now? Where was he?

It was relentlessly hot, and she was sticky with sweat. She was thirsty and tired, and even though time travel had been easier this time without carrying Jenny and Ceana along, and nausea had subsided within the first hour in the future, she felt weary. And impatient. Time was wearing thin, and fear crept inside her heart.

What if she failed at finding Raymond?

Claire drew a deep breath and shook her head to scatter the ominous thoughts.

She continued walking on the sidewalk, looking at the Parisians as they passed by her in hopes that he’d simply appear before her eyes. Nobody graced her with a second glance, and, for once, she felt grateful for the self-absorption of the modern world.

She walked by a boulangerie, and the scent coming from inside, butter, sugar and flour mixed in heavenly doughs made her stop in her tracks. Without meaning to do it, her head turned for an infinitesimally short moment, to look longingly at the baguettes and fresh croissants.

Her eyes got wide, and she felt her heart dance in her chest at the echo of a tune he had taught her when she was a child. Raymond was there, smiling at the cashier and turning to leave with a pain au chocolat in hand.

Good gracious!

His eyes went as wide as hers the moment he glanced at the door. Claire stood shock-still and Raymond assumed a nonchalant walk until he was by her side.

“Pretend you don’t know me,” he murmured.

Claire tried to suppress the urge to hug him and scowled at him instead. She didn’t speak. Still wondering what all this was about, she noticed the small gesture of his hand as he stepped in front of her; she followed him, a few steps behind.

She kept a reasonable distance behind him until they were outside the crowded part of the city centre. She had almost lost him among the tourists in front of Notre Dame, and a feeling of despair rushed through her. Just as panic started to set in, she spotted him again. Raymond had reduced his pace allowing her to catch up to him. Finally, when they left the busy streets, they walked alongside one another.

“It’s not safe,” he said, still not looking at her. “You’re not safe.”

Her throat suddenly was too tight for air pass through. She felt her heart constrict in her chest, her palms slick with sweat. This was not what she expected to find in this time.

They were supposed to be safe. They left home and split up for this exact reason -- to be sure no one could trace them. Maybe seeking out Master Raymond was wrong. She could see what he meant now. He had taken the hardest path, traveling to the future to draw them away from her.

Flashes of enemies calling her La Dame Blanche in that narrow Parisian alleyway made it difficult for her to process the words he was saying. It was daytime now, but that terrifying night still had the power to wake her in the dead of the night, when her guard was down.

Claire matched Raymond’s every step, thinking. He had sent her to the Scottish Highlands to be safe and she had ruined everything by traveling back to him. She dared a glance at Raymond. His face was somber, his eyes fixed on the end of the street. But his lips were pressed together, in that thin line that was indication enough of how irritated he was.

They took two more turns, the sun now hidden between tall buildings. Raymond checked the vacant alley carefully, then dipped a hand inside his pocket. Keys clinked for a moment midair, then the largest one was in the lock, and he softly opened the door. He didn’t look at Claire, just entered the building and let the door swing back, stopping it a moment before it slammed shut.

Claire moved towards the door, repeated Raymond’s inspection of the alley with a quick turn of her head, and followed him.

He was waiting for her just behind the door, and his grim expression vanished the moment she smiled at him.

“Ah, mon cherie,” he whispered, then crushed her in his embrace. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

“I needed your help. And your advice,” Claire said with a bashful smile.

“I see. Let’s go upstairs.” He looked at the narrow stairs, then back at her. It was as if he didn’t mean to, but her smiled again. “You will tell me everything over a cup of hot chocolate.”

“Oh, hot chocolate,” Claire moaned in a dreamy voice, then followed him up the stairs.

His apartment was small, but it held a warmth in it. Bright sunlight shone through the wide windows, flourishing ethereal, streaks of dust above the furniture. A small table, overloaded with books, a comfortable couch, two armchairs. The walls were covered with bookshelves, interrupted by two impressionist paintings that looked suspiciously like originals.

Raymond nodded towards the kitchen, then asked her, in a serious tone, why she had come. She saw displeasure and fear in his eyes. “I told you to avoid risks, especially so soon.”

Claire nodded, aware of the peril of the situation. “I won’t stay long.”

“No, you won’t.” His voice was determined, and she saw the man Comte St. Germain had learned to be afraid of. Raymond reached for the milk in the fridge, then turned to look at her and his expression softened. “Are you well? In Scotland?”

A wide grin spread on Claire’s face. “I never expected to say that after parting with you, but I have found something as close to a family I can ever get.” At Raymond’s raised eyebrow, she continued. “I know I’ve not been there that long, but it feels like family. And my sister, Jenny, is an oracle -- a very powerful one. She’s the reason I knew where to look for you.”

Raymond sighed, his shoulders dropping a few inches, and a soft smile loosened up the tension on his face. “At least you brought me good news, Madonna. I was concerned about you.” Pouring hot chocolate into a large mug, he passed it to her. He took his own from the counter and headed to the formal living room.

“Why do you think it’s not safe here?” Claire asked once she was seated in the lavish armchair.

“It’s not what I ‘think’. I know it’s not. This is the third apartment I’ve lived in since being here.” He scratched his jaw, avoiding her eyes for a moment, selective with his next words. “Life is dangerous, Madonna.”

“Why don’t you go somewhere else? To another time?” she asked without giving it great thought. It was the obvious thing to do.

Raymond smiled wistfully. “The more I travel, the more he’ll travel. I’m not a young man anymore, and I’m tired of getting chased across the centuries.”

Claire nodded without fully comprehending. If he asked her opinion, she would advise him to run to another time and let the Comte search for him.

“It doesn’t matter.” Raymond’s voice was sweet and made Claire’s head pop up to look at him. He looked older than the last time she’d seen him. “What matters is to keep you safe. So you better tell me now, why are you here?”

“I want to save someone. A boy who’s to be executed without a trial, by an abusive redcoat, drunk on power.” Raymond lifted both eyebrows, but didn’t say a thing. “I need a poison, something that will make him look like he’s dead. I’m thinking of a neurotoxin that would induce paralysis. And the antidote, of course.”

“And how exactly is this plan going to work?” he asked, placing his now empty cup on the table.

“He will drink the poison the morning of his execution. When they’ll visit his cell he will seem already dead. And then we will retrieve him and I will heal him -- if I can.”

“I’m happy to hear doubt in your voice, Madonna, because healing a person when he’s so close to the other side is not an easy feat.” He paused and looked at her for a long moment. “But then, you should trust in your power.”

“It’s not something I have tried before…” Claire trailed off when she saw him shaking his head.

“In life, mon cherie, we do things we’ve never tried before. Things that lie in an unknown, terrifying ground. It’s not the deed itself, it’s who we are that determines our success. The most important step you have to take, is to believe in yourself. And then, to learn your limits and push through them. It’s the only way you’ll become better, even if that means you’ll fail again and again before gaining a victorious smile. No one ever gained a full life by staying in their comfort zone. And you’re the White Raven.”

Claire buried her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. “I’m the White Raven and I found you on accident. How pathetic is that.”

Raymond chuckled. “At least you’re lucky. Luck is often underestimated.” He looked at Claire, with another wistful smile. “But you can’t count on luck. Anyway,” he said. “Now we have to decide on the poison. I’m thinking atropa belladonna or hemlock. Maybe aconite. I’m also thinking that if you had read the books I’d given you, you would know by now what is safe to use and you wouldn’t have to travel through time to consult me.”

Claire grimaced and placed a hand over her heart, as if a deadly wound had been inflicted on her. Raymond laughed.

“I wanted to be sure,” she said a moment later. “I don’t want to kill him by accident. I thought of curare, too. It affects the lungs, but not the heart. Maybe it will be easier for me to bring him back.”

“Oh yes, good choice,” Raymond murmured. “Very good choice. Maybe sharing my herb encyclopedias with you hasn’t been in vain, after all.” He grinned slyly, then shot out of his chair and hurried toward the door. “I have a pharmacist or two I can trust. I’ll go get the curare. And you'll need some pyridostigmine or neostigmine, too. As an antidote.”

“Or edrophonium!” Claire shouted, still seating in her armchair. Her limbs were still heavy, and she luxured in the feel of the slippery silk that covered the sturdy dark wood.

Raymond stilled at her addition, nodded, and opened the door. “Don’t leave the house,” he warned, and left.

Claire distracted herself while waiting for Raymond first by looking out the window, then by perusing his library. Her eyes widened with elation when she saw A Review of Chemical Literature (Specialist Periodical Reports) standing thin next to an immense tome of human anatomy.

It was published only a few months ago. This must be her lucky day, afterall. Thirty minutes later, she knew that the duration of curare’s action had a range from 30 minutes to 8 hours, depending on the variant of the toxin and dosage. Alex’s respiratory system would paralyze and even while being conscious, he would be unable to control any muscle of his body. It would take four to six minutes to make his heart stop. Four to six minutes to get him out and heal him.

Mere minutes. Claire’s own heart shrank inside her chest, threatening to stop as she held her breath. She would have too little time. She might not get to him fast enough.

The door opened and Claire started at the intrusion. She hadn’t heard Raymond walking up the stairs.

Claire turned slowly to face him, waving the journal in her hand and grinning, ready to show him how she had embraced his love for reading. Before she had fully faced the door though, she froze.

It wasn’t Raymond. This man didn’t wear the silken brocade vest and coat she had last seen him in, but she would recognize him everywhere.

The Comte.

His expression was not belligerent; instead, his posture was relaxed. He was grinning at her, calm and arrogant. He stood tall, with beautiful blue eyes and strong cheekbones, and she thought he might have been beautiful if he were not so terrifying. His cold stare made a shiver run down her spine and all she wanted was to recoil and hide.

“Finally,” he said, and Claire could almost see triumph thick in the air around him. “We meet again.”

She stepped back and her shoulder hit the bookcase. She was trapped. But she wouldn’t be defeated. She looked the Comte in the eye, defiant, daring him to approach her.

A chuckle left him, low in his throat, in a way a hunter might laugh at his prey. Claire didn’t trust herself to talk. Her hands were shaking. As though he had sensed the nearly imperceptible movement of her long fingers, a scent of her fear, he took a step, coming closer. “You’re coming with me.”

It was then that realization dawned on her. He didn’t want her dead, as she had thought all this time. He needed her to be alive, because this was the only way he could benefit from her.

She was ready to decline his offer when she heard Raymond’s voice from behind the Comte. “No, she’s not.”

Claire saw the small man crouch, then slid a package on the wooden floor to her. The moment she got it in her hands, Raymond spoke again, his voice clear as a bell. “Fly. Now!”

“Don’t you dare.” The Comte’s menacing voice made her look up at him. He was holding a gun, pointing it at her.

Claire shot a last, regretful glance at Raymond, clutched the package close to her chest, and touched the stone of her necklace with her free hand. She didn’t have time to think. She closed her eyes, and felt the stone’s vibration running through her together with a burning flash on her shoulder.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, heard the Comte walking closer to her, and disappeared.

Part 7

[cthulus-sugar-baby]

Music n Shit

@wicked-witch-of-albion here's the thing you tagged me in...

1. The Trapper and the Furrier by Regina Spektor

The lawyer and the pharmacist went walking through paradise

And all the sick were around and with fevers unbreaking

Crying and bleeding and coughing and shaking

And arms out stretched, prescription collecting

The lawyer and the pharmacist went walking through paradise

Pressed suits in a courtroom, aroma of chloroform

And they smiled at the judge, disposition so sunny

Cause they didn't have the cure but sure needed the money

2. The Rose-Colored Boy by Paramore

Rose-colored boy

I hear you making all that noise

About the world you want to see

And oh, I'm so annoyed

'Cause I just killed off what was left of the optimist in me

3. Skinny Love by Bon Iver

I told you to be patient

I told you to be fine

I told you to be balanced

I told you to be kind

Now all your love is wasted?

Then who the hell was I?

Now I'm breaking at the britches

And at the end of all your lines

4. Ultralife by Oh Wonder

Turn down the voice inside my head

Cos heaven only knows why we feel this emptiness

But I will climb out, find another view

Now I've found you

5. BITE by Troye Sivan

Kiss me on the mouth and set me free

Sing me like a choir

I can be the subject of your dreams

Your sickening desire

Don’t you wanna see a man up close

A phoenix in the fire

So kiss me on the mouth and set me free

But please, don’t bite

6. Palo Santo by Years and Years

Strike a match and whisper my name

(Burning, burning)

Speak in tongues

Bend me 'til I break

(Burning, burning)

And I'm giving in to your fever touch

Let it all begin when the fire starts

You're the darkness in me, Palo Santo

And the memories are filling up with smoke

You remember me and I start to choke

You're the darkness in me, Palo Santo, oh

(Burning, burning)

7. He'll Never Love You (HNLY) by Hayley Kiyoko

Talking until 3 A.M

Giving me that look again

Yeah, I know, yeah, I know, I'm the drug you never did

Higher than you've ever been

Yeah, you know, yeah, you know

Took me like I was a hit

Addicted but trying to quit

Get over it

Act like you already did

So thirsty, you're drowning in it

8. Animal by Troye Sivan (The whole song, honestly)

I want you all to myself

Don't leave none for nobody else

I am an animal with you

No angels could beckon me back

And it's hotter than hell where I'm at

I am an animal with you

9. The Night We Met by Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

10. Big God by Florence + the Machine

You keep me up at night

To my messages, you do not reply

You know I still like you the most

The best of the best and the worst of the worst

Well, you can never know

The places that I go

I still like you the most

You'll always be my favorite ghost

Um, I don’t know anyone on this site so.............

[l0chn3ss]

Color Me Red: A MaStar Reverb, 2018

View Art by @happyisahabit​: [Artwork]

Read Story by @l0chn3ss​: [Read Here: FFNET | AO3]

Bonus Recordings by @fynneyseas ♪

Betaworks by @psychadelicrose ♥

Chapter 3: Crystal is the color of reflection, of intention [ x ] 

Maka entered the pharmacists’ office with Black Star trailing behind her. To her surprise, he had made it through an entire week of following her around without ever meeting her superiors. That needed to change, Maka thought, especially if he was planning to stick around.

“Over here,” she said to him, gesturing into another room to the side. “Past this point, only authorized personnel can enter so I’m not sure--”

“As the young prince’s page, I’m allowed anywhere that he is,” Black Star grinned.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

Regardless of if he was permitted or not, he brushed past her through the open doors without a care and despite her protests. As Maka found out earlier in the week, Black Star was as impatient as he was cocky, his first impression as tame as it got. She struggled to keep his ego in check, but in all honesty, she hoped that his encounter with her coworkers would humble him.

In character and without looking where he was walking, he collided right into a child who was running past the door, causing their head to bump into his stomach and then fall from the impact.

He yelped in surprise but was too late to catch them, watching them land on their bottom with a squeak. Everything went still for a moment as the shock registered, and she quickly moved passed him to get to the kid.

“Sorry for him, boss.” Maka squatted down until she was eye-level. “He’s my new troublemaker.”

“Boss?” Black Star blinked incredulously.

“Damn right, I am!” the little voice called out, tone not matching the squeak that came from her mouth. She rubbed her forehead where he hit her, rolling on her knees and clutching the edge of her dress with a small fist. “I should have you thrown out!”

Before Black Star could properly respond to that outburst, another child seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“You fell, Angie,” they said softy, tugging at the sleeves of the girl in an effort to help her up.

“No thanks to this idiot here.” She shot Black Star a look of disdain.

“Listen, if you hadn’t been in the way--”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” she exclaimed indignantly.

Raising her hands in a surrendering fashion, Maka said, “It’s no one’s fault,” before she was quickly interrupted by the girl.

“What are you even doing here?” she targeted at Black Star. “Authorized people only. Did you read the sign on the door? Can you read at all? I’m twelve and I learned how to read!”

Sputtering, he replied in a frazzled voice, “I-- I can read!”

“Then do you have a cut?” She paused to wait for his head shake before continuing. “An owie? Are you hurt? Sick? You got someone who is? No? Then you have no business here! Get out!” she screeched, stomping up to him and giving him a resounding kick to his nether regions.

Black Star’s eyes went glassy, and he bent over and dropped like a sack of potatoes, shaking. No scream managed to escape from his mouth, but his hands flew quickly to his crotch, face turning red before he buried it into the carpet below him.

It was time for Maka to step in again.

“Now now,” she began, “he’s actually here to meet you all.”

If the girl were a puppy, her ears would’ve perked up. “Meet me?”

“Yes, you, and Feir, and Lila, and Kilik.”

“I’ll go get him,” the other child said to no one in particular, sneaking away.

“Oh.” The girl flipped her short hair over her shoulder and returned to Black Star, looking down at him directly and sizing him up as he struggled to even glance in her direction. “I’m Angela Leon! The Chameleon Witch of Clarines! You can’t have an autograph but you can bask in my presence!”

It didn’t seem like Black Star heard her, so she repeated it again with the same amount of conviction. It took that second time for Maka to realize how utterly beat he was, so she stopped Angie from delivering her introduction a third time and instead helped Black Star to a lounge chair nearby. She patted his hand in pity until he regained awareness.

Only after his spirit re-entered his body did Angie grace him with the third round of the same statement, this time with a little less power than the others.

Maka further explained, “They--”

“Who’s they?” Black Star said weakly.

“They call her the chameleon witch because of how compatible and flexible she is with different medicines and procedures. There’s really no one else who is specialized in no specialty, so Angie is a kid genius,” Maka nodded to Black Star, checking in with Angie every so often for confirmation.

“You got that right! Good minion,” she patted Maka on the leg-- the highest she could reach without spending so much effort.

“So,” Black Star began carefully, “You’re the boss?”

“Y--”

“That would be me, not that little scamp,” said a new voice.

Maka laughed when Black Star jumped in his seat, following the voice to its owner, a young man in a white coat and black framed glasses. Behind him were two similar looking children who followed after him like ducklings, one a little more shy than the other.

“Ah, you were free after all,” Maka teased.

“Well, if Lila is the only asking me to come, then I can’t refuse her.”

The young child clinging to the young man’s left side was the same as before, a short girl who peeked behind his leg to look over at Black Star. She nodded at the sound of her name but didn’t come out from her hiding place.

“Did you say ‘Hi’ yet, Lila?” he asked, patting her back.

“Hi,” she said, sinking deeper behind the young man.

“What’s your name?” he urged once more, providing it only when she proved to be too timid to say herself. “This is Lila, and her brother is--”

“I’m Feir,” the second kid said, eyes wide and curious, already approaching Black Star in his seat. “Lila is my twin. Uncle Kilik is taking care of me and her.”

Black Star looked to their caretaker questioningly, “And I assume that’s you?”

“Correct, though they’re also my aids.”

“Is it safe for them to be around so many… poisons?”

Kilik hummed, “To put it simply, their mother-- my sister-- is currently filling in for the head researcher at Lyrias, so I think it’ll be fine.”

“O-oh.”

“Regardless, welcome to the Pharmacists’ office, Black Star. I heard you were looking after Maka as she trains. She’s mentoring with Angie,” Kilik nodded towards pharmacist, “and I’m the head of our department. The Young Prince already sent notice, so where Maka’s allowed, you are, too.”

“Ha,” Black Star said in stage whisper to Maka. “Even better.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight him. Instead, she could see that he was far out of his comfort zone, overwhelmed with the amount of new faces and the nature of their greetings. But if he were sticking around like he told her before, he may as well get to know the people who Maka would be working closest with. He didn’t look like he knew how to start or introduce himself, so Maka decided to do it for him.

Gesturing to him, Maka cleared her throat and announced, “May I introduce, Black Star, ex-assassin, page of the young prince.”

He stood up and added tentatively, “And appointed bodyguard of Maka, Court Pharmacist In-training.”

“Self-appointed bodyguard,” Maka sniffed. “And! Self-appointed page!”

Despite smiling at her ire, he seemed worried from his introduction. He didn’t know what to say after that, but instead of letting the silence settle in the room, Lila came closer to him.

In the way she did, she asked innocently, “Do you need an ointment for your penis? It’s maybe swollen.”

As though the ice had broken, Black Star turned pink and dropped his formal facade. He looked to Kilik before responding, “It-- I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Kilik said, concerned.

“Really-- I’m fine.”

Lila patted his lap. “Angie’s kicks hurt. Kilik knows, too.”

“No seriously, it doesn’t hurt anymore. My dick is good.”

Angie snorted, “We aren’t talking about a ‘Richard,’ you illiterate.”

Black Star snapped, “I know that--”

“You kicked an assassin, Angie.”

“He’s an ex-assassin because he sucks at his job, then.”

“I don’t--”

“Look!” Feir laughed, pointing at Black Star. “He’s as red as Maka’s hair!”

Looking over to check, Maka saw that there was some truth to the statement. What little they were able to see of Black Star’s face was completely flushed, and he turned redder at the attention that he gathered. What a poor guy.

“At least I’m not some five year old running around the office like a hazard!”

“I’m twelve, not deaf!” Angie screeched, swinging her leg back for another kick before anyone else could stop her.

<– Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 –>

[recentanimenews]

Manga the Week of 6/23/21

SEAN: June staggers on, despite all efforts to stop it.

ASH: That it does.

SEAN: Airship has print releases of Kuma Kuma Kuma Bear 6 and Classroom of the Elite 8. They’ve also got early digital releases for Neon Genesis Evangelion: ANIMA 5 (the final volume) and ROLL OVER AND DIE: I Will Fight for an Ordinary Life with My Love and Cursed Sword! 4.

J-Novel Club has some manga volumes out digitally, including the debut of Der Werwolf (Jinrou e no Tensei, Maou no Fukkan: Hajimari no Shou), based on the light novel. It runs in Comic Earth Star.

Also debuting in manga form is Welcome to Japan, Ms. Elf! (Nihon e Youkoso Elf-san), again based on the light novel. It runs in Comic Fire.

The light novel debut next week is Villainess: Reloaded! Blowing Away Bad Ends with Modern Weapons (Doushitemo Hametsu Shitakunai Akuyaku Reijou ga Gendai Heiki wo Tenishita Kekka ga Kore desu). Yes, a girl is reincarnated into the world of an otome game where she’s the villainess. Except… she was a huge military nut in her past life. Therefore, screw becoming a better person, she just needs MORE DAKKA. This is from the author of Her Majesty’s Swarm, and hopefully will interest me more than that one did.

ASH: It’s fascinating to see how these sub-sub-subgenres evolve.

SEAN: And there’s a J-Novel Pulp series debuting as well: Jessica Bannister and the Midnight Séance. Supernatural reporter!

Also out next week: the 12th and final volume of Full Metal Panic! and The Unwanted Undead Adventurer 8.

Kodansha has some print. There’s Bakemonogatari’s 9th manga volume, Blood on the Tracks 6 (yes, I know), Boarding School Juliet 15, Cardcaptor Sakura Collector’s Edition 8, Cells at Work: Baby! 2, The Daily Lives of High School Boys 6, Gleipnir 9, Grand Blue Dreaming 13, Love and Lies 10, Whisper Me a Love Song 3, and The Witch and the Beast 5. That’s a LOT, so don’t be surprised if you see some of these on the list for manga the week of July 7 with me saying “yes, I know” next to them.

ASH: That is a larger batch of print! (I’m not going to complain much about that, certainly.)

SEAN: Debuting digitally is Saint Cecilia and Pastor Lawrence (Shiro Seijo to Kuro Bokushi), a 4-koma series about a somewhat useless Saint and the Pastor who has to take care of her. It runs in Shonen Magazine R.

Also, we see Abe-kun’s Got Me Now! 6, And Yet, You Are So Sweet 3, Back When You Called Us Devils 2, DAYS 24, Harem Marriage 6, Those Snow White Notes 7, and When We’re in Love 9.

MICHELLE: I’ll be checking out a couple of these, at least.

SEAN: Debuting for Seven Seas is Sadako-san and Sadako-chan, a one-shot about the girl from the Ring getting introduced to the modern world – can you crawl out of a Youtube video? This ran in Comic Walker.

ASH: I’m curious about this one.

SEAN: Also out from Seven Seas: D-Frag! 15, Drugstore in Another World: The Slow Life of a Cheat Pharmacist 2, Magical Girl Spec-Ops Asuka 11, and Sorry for My Familiar 8.

Square Enix gives us a 4th volume of Suppose a Kid from the Last Dungeon Boonies Moved to a Starter Town.

The debut for Yen On got bumped, but there’s still some new light novels out next week from them. We get Death March to the Parallel World Rhapsody 14, The Greatest Demon Lord Is Reborn as a Typical Nobody 6, Haruhi Suzumiya 11 in print, Konosuba: God’s Blessing on This Wonderful World! 14, Re:ZERO -Starting Life in Another World- 16, Solo Leveling 2, Sword Art Online 22, Sword Art Online Alternative Gun Gale Online 9, and That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime 11.

Yen Press has two debuts. The first is the manga version of a light novel we’re getting in July. If the RPG World Had Social Media… (Moshi Role Playing Game no Sekai ni SNS ga Attara) runs in Dengeki Daioh “g”, and the premise is the title, as has been the norm lately.

The other is your name. The Official Visual Guide, which contains art, storyboards, character designs and interviews.

ASH: That should be a visual treat, if nothing else!

SEAN: Lastly, Yen also gives us I’ve Been Killing Slimes for 300 Years and Maxed Out My Level 6, The Royal Tutor 15, and Toilet-bound Hanako-kun 9.

ASH: I need to catch up with Toilet-bound Hanako-kun; I’ve really enjoyed what I’ve read of it so far.

SEAN: What manga is steamrolling over you without stopping?

By: Sean Gaffney

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Obi drinks/breathes in sth that makes him behave like a cat (more than he already does). How would Shirayuki react if, for example, he came to her feet purring?

The Samese delegation isscheduled to arrive at midday.

It’s not like they haven’texchanged knowledge with foreign nationals before. As far as she had been told,it was the very reason that her scholar city existed as it did today. Lyriassat at the crossroad of the continent, pumping knowledge and scholasticdiscourse to the rest of the world. It was a safe spot, a place to debate andpreserve. Last month alone saw a conference with scholars representing no lessthan seven different nations, all bringing with them their respective research,for better or for worse.

You wouldn’t think that from the way everyone was acting. Overnight, the whole ofLyrias has gone from being a sanctuary of knowledge and reason to a madhouse ofsuperstitions.

A witch, iswhat they whisper among themselves. Oneof their Red Devils.

Work had all but grinded to ahalt, merchants and all their staff falling ill and casting Pavilion Street inanticipatory silence. The libraries, once a place of peace and serenity, was filled with anxious scholars pouring through tomes; not an unusual occurrencein and of itself, but instead of references for pedantic points, they soughtprotective sigils to sew into their clothes. Some had even found their way tothe pharmacy, leaning across the counter to whisper requests for potions ortinctures meant to repel malignant spirits.

It was perfectly ludicrousnonsense.

“There’s no such thing asmagic,” she patiently informs them one by one, passing them a relaxant instead.

From the skeptical look ontheir faces, it seems that she is the only one that knows that.

~ ~ ~

“Why did Makiri only make theannouncement today?” she wonders aloud, pulling down her extracts of lavenderand tea tree down from the top shelves. “Wouldn’t it have been better to givepeople a chance to prepare for this?”

Ryuu grunts. “Relationsbetween Clarines and Sama have never been good. It was probably to avoid anassassination attempt.”

She descends the ladder. “Butthe Wars ended when I was just a baby,” she reasons. “It wouldn’t make senseto—”

“Miss.”

She yelps, fingers clenching around wood as her foot finds thelast rung of the ladder. “Oh!” she exhales, feeling the pressure of a familiarhand against the low of her back. “It’s just- You startled me.”

Obi grins down at her, theskin around his eyes tense and drawn. “Apologies,” he says, rubbing the back ofhis neck. “Lord Makiri has sent me to come fetch you.”

Shirayuki frowns, turningtowards him. “Why?”

“He would like you to meetthe delegation,” he replies, visibly uncomfortable. “And I am to join you.”

~ ~ ~

From the mezzanine, she cansee everything.

Heads bow towards others inhushed conversation, buzzing with equal measures of awe and curiosity as theyjockey for a better view. Oddly enough, when the carriage surrounded by great beasts of dogs grinds to a halt at the Universities doors, it is the most senior members offaculty that look the most haunted.

“The more powerful the witch,the more distorted her features,” Haki says quietly as a red clad figure descends, a ripple of floating cloth. It’s like watching an experiment with magnets the way the masses seems to take onecollective step back when she passes. “It is an act of kindness to hide herpower from the people.”

Shirayuki watches dumbfoundedas the geology chair make a sign warding against the evil eye.

“A word of caution,” Hakisays, leaning closer. “Do not speak yours or anyone else’s real name in herpresence.”

Obi is curiously silent inthe face of such advice and Shirayuki frowns, staring up at the other woman.“Is all this really necessary?”

Haki shifts her gaze down toher, the striking color of her eyes even brighter under the midday sun. “Iwouldn’t talk like that where people can hear.”

~ ~ ~

The voice behind the layersof gossamer fabric is not a young one nor a crones, but a woman in her prime.Her accent is thick, but her enunciation is easy enough to understand.

Especially when she venturesinto territory she’d rather a stranger not tread.

“You are blessed, littleone,” the witch croons, heavily gloved hand reaching out and falling just shortof her head. Shirayuki has been watching the witch handling samples for thelast hour without once changing them and it is a challenge to not flinch back.“The spirits must have great plans for you to grant you such a gift.”

Shirayuki smiles tensely.“It’s genetic, actually. My father is a redhead, too.”

The witch pauses and eventhough she cannot see her face, she can the weight of a heady stare upon her.

“Is that so?”

~ ~ ~

It comes apropos to nothing.

One moment she is leaningover samples, pointing towards various herbs and explaining their most commonuses in Clariness and Tanbarunian medicine, and the next a hand has banded like steel across her wrist, yanking herviolently from the delegation and throwing her behind a wall of black wool.

It’s when she sees the cloudof white powder circling a dark head that she is able to put together some of whatjust happened.

“Obi!” she cries, turning himto look at her. His face is absolutely coated in the substance except for wherehis arm shields his nose and mouth, eyes still closed, and she reaches into herpocket, running a handkerchief over his eyelids.

“Obi,” the witch hums, hertongue curling around the sound. “You’ve been wearing that name for too long.”

Shirayuki looks over inalarm, the figure in red framed by huge men in thick furs. She is incredibly calm for someone who just caused aninternational incident. The situation calls for diplomacy.

“What do you think you weredoing?!” she demands instead.

The witch ignores her, muttering something low and indistinguishable. All looping vowels and clicking consonants, and Shirayuki wishes that she had brought Ryuu with her. He at least knew something of the language.

Obi’s eyes snap open and glares, feralyellow framed by ghostly white.

Shirayuki whirls, her voice shrill.“What is this powder? What did you do to him?”

She laughs lowly. “Don’tworry about your little pet,” she croons. “It was meant for you and I wouldn’tharm an equal. All it is, is a little mix to help you see what you truly are.”

~ ~ ~

It’s a hallucinogenic mixedwith suggestion, is what it is.

She figures that much out by the time she gets him back to the clinic. He nearly knocked her over twice by rubbing against her side and then startled her into tripping by making strange little chirping noises against her ear. 

“Suzu!” she calls, pushing Obi into an examination room. “I need a change of clothes and some washrags! Some papers to collect samples, too!”

She doesn’t wait for him to respond. She pushes Obi down onto a bed and takes his face between her palms, forcing him to look. His pupils are blown wide when they open, entirely too focused.

“Obi,” she breathes, smoothing her palms across his cheeks. She can hear Suzu entering the room behind her. “Obi,it’ll be okay. We’ll get some food into you and-”

He leans into her hands and purrs.

~ ~ ~

“It says-” Ryuu begins,glaring balefully over the edge of his book at the sound of a bottle beingtipped to the ground. “It says that the spore’s effects should wear off in afew hours.”

Another bottle tips, rollingacross the countertop falling over the edge.

Shirayuki sighs, getting up andpulling Obi away from the cabinets. “Let’s just hope that it’s the Gala Fungiwe suspect it is.”

“Are we sure it’s not aspell?” Suzu comments, eyeballing Obi as he rubs the crown of his head against her neck.

She huffs. “Not you, too,”she groans. “Look. We are pharmacists. You should know that—”

“We don’t know what is overthat border,” Suzu counters, his face grim as he watches Obi upset her balanceright into a seat. “None of us do. He could be stuck like this forever.”

“He won’t be,” she snaps, herhand running a smooth line down his back when Obi stretches himself across the settee.“He’ll be back to himself as soon as the spores effects wear off.”

Suzu raises an eyebrow,watching Obi curl himself up at her side and kneed his palms against herstomach. Her cheeks heat.

“I highly doubt he’ll want to.”

~ ~ ~

“I came to check to see ifSir Obi was faring well,” a low voice drips through her closed eyes. “But itseems he can be in no better care.”

Shirayuki slowly peels hereyes open, blearily blinking as Haki appraises her with a bemused grin. Or rather, not her, but Obi. Day must have faded to night, for she glows in the dim.

“He fell asleep,” Ryuu says,sorting out the herbs that she was supposed to earlier in the day. “She saidsomething about not wanting to move him.”

She’s so warm, the weight ofObi’s head and the soft bristles under her palm lulling her back down. Sometime during the her sleep, she had to have laid down, but Obi is still curled atop her legs, hands flexing gently against her thighs and purring quite loudly.

“Of course,” Haki murmurs asher world darkens. “What sort of mistress would disturb a sleeping kitten?”

“Have you heard anything?” Shirayuki presses quietly, her voice thick with sleep. “Will the effects fade?”

“Rest assured, Lady Shirayuki,” Haki murmurs. “Your Sir Knight will be back with you at dawn.”

The relief is so palpable that she feels it down to her bones and Obi shifts, rubbing his head against her stomach.

“That’s good,” she yawns, eyes fluttering shut. “But I’ll miss my lap cat.”

[sabraeal]

Creatures of a Brief Season: Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

It may be the same country, but Lyrias is a world away from Wistal.

Snow lines the streets; the cobbles are clear but large banks squat against the storefronts, glistening in the lamplight. Even during the day it’s dark; not an endless night, but more a gray that never gets lighter than a thunderhead. The people here are bundled up tight, their daemons thickly furred. Tanbarun’s commonfolk might only dream of bears and wolves, but here they are as common as dogs.

“You must be the pharmacists from the capital!” says the girl before them, the monkey daemon perched on her shoulder wearing a small jacket. “I’m Yuzuri, one of the botanists. Is this your first time here?”

She doesn’t wait for their answer, just turns to the university, striding up the steps with the sort of confidence that says she expects them to follow. Shirayuki casts a long glance at Ryuu, and they fall into step behind her.

It’s clear why Yuzuri was picked as their guide; she’s effervescent, happy to hold a one-sided dialogue only occasionally punctuated by a timid answer from either of her charges or censure by her daemon -- for dominating the conversation, of course.

“Ah, here’s something to get your blood up,” she says, tapping the side of her nose impishly. Her daemon sighs, long-suffering. “The library!”

The doors swing open and -- and not even Wistal has so many book in one place --

“It’s where all the researchers hang out,” Yuzuri adds, and that is when the whispers start.

Shirayuki braces herself. The doors haven’t yet closed, and already there’s a thousand murmurs fluttering over the gallery, like moths clinging to a screen in summer. Ryuu shoulders closer to her, not quite asking for a touch, but wanting to feel her solid at his side. She knows better than anyone how little he’s liked the idea of this trip; Lyrias may be Clarines’ ivory tower, but for the two of them, Wistal is safety. Knowledge tempts her, but –

But she is not a normal girl, not like the one in front of her, leading the way with a swagger as her monkey daemon shakes its fist at the bystanders. She hears them muttering, hears those are Garrack Gazalt’s assistants, that’s the child herbalist –

That’s the girl whose daemon won’t settle.

She thrusts back her shoulders, holding her head high. She’s above this. She’s above rumors. At least here they’re only about her daemon.

“Oh look,” drawls a deeper voice, close. Shirayuki turns to see a fox-faced man sitting on one of the tables, mouth rumpled with ennui. “It seems some completely useless people have come.”

Shirayuki doubts she is going to like it here.

It doesn’t take her long to change her mind.

Suzu ducks under the table, his “I’m a bachelor!” coming up clearly through the wood, and Shirayuki is filled with a strange sort of fondness for this blunt, strange man and the strange dunny bird that sits on the table, watching her with eyes far too big for its head. When her mouth opens, it seems to encompass the whole of her head, and Shirayuki has to stifle a laugh. Everyone here is so -- different that she hardly seems to stick out at all. After the initial shock of her shifting daemon, the most common remark directed to her is a disappointed, “You’re not Garrack Gazalt.”

It’s...refreshing.

“He’s really not settled?” Suzu asks when he comes back up, eyeing Perkunas where he is stretched across the table as a brindled tabby.

“No, he’s not.” She shouldn’t like a stranger coming so close, but -- but there’s something about him -- him and Yuzuri both -- that puts her at ease.

Perkunas must feel it too; he shifts a few times in quick succession -- a white fox, a sparrow, a lap-sized dog -- and Suzu watches him with something verging on respect.

“Amazing,” he hums, eyes as wide as his daemon’s. “Let me take a closer look.”

Shirayuki hesitates. People don’t get this close to her, not after -- the tower. After Tanbarun.

“I won’t touch him,” Suzu says, not gentle but -- assuring. Earnest. “I promise.”

She nods. “All right.”

Suzu says he has theories, but he never gets to expound on them. Kirito’s friend collapses, and then they are all swept away with the epidemic that leaves humans weak and their daemons untouched.

But she cannot help but wonder what he might have said. If he thought them...fixable.

Shirayuki can’t help but wonder if she’d want to be.

She hates to admit it but – but –

Shirayuki loses heart, after the gate.

Seeing Zen gives her strength, it does -- but it also reminds her she is too slow as well, that she is only human, that lives hang on whether she is fast enough, smart enough, resourceful enough –

It’s too much, and seeing him just makes her want to put her head on his chest and give up. It makes her want to let someone else do the saving, because she is tired, she is exhausted, and every step feels like a pitfall.

She leans her head against her hand, swaying on her feet, and –

A shadow falls across the window.

“Od Ana,” she breathes, opening the latch. Her plumage is covered in snow, and when she shoves her body through the opening it sprays all over the floor. “Get it, you’ll freeze.”

“Too late,” the eagle says, rotating her wings awkwardly. “I hope you don’t choose to stay here, darling. My feathers can’t take it.”

She sighs. “I’m so glad to –”

“OD ANA,” Perkunas shrills, turning to a monkey mid-leap. His small hands clasp around her neck, pulling the bird close.

“—See you.”

“I can tell.” She butts her head against Perkunas, both of them murmuring to each other for a moment before Od Ana turns back to her. “Obi sent me. He said you’d be missing him by now.”

She almost starts to say he would, but the words get caught in her throat behind a painful, hot knot. “I do,” she admits. “I’m so tired.”

Od Ana clucks at her. “Get in bed, then. No use falling down on your feet.”

“I can’t,” she sighs, “everyone else – no time –”

“Then one of the couches.” Her tone brooks no argument. “Just for a moment.”

“All right.” She nods her head. It pounds with the motion. “A moment.”

She rouses in the night, the smell of ozone and musk filling her nose. Under her hands she feels the spiny sleekness of feather, and she almost comes to wakefulness, almost protests -- Obi wouldn’t --

“It’s fine,” Od Ana says, so close. “He’d want you to.”

She nods, Perkunas’s ermine form laying tightly between them, and she sleeps.

It all happens so fast.

Kirito falls to his knees, but Skojare is quick to shift to a bear, and the boy has just enough strength to hold on when they send him back to Lyrias. Shirayuki considers going with, but Obi is focused on trailing the seeds back to their source, and Kirito could be in no better hands than his own daemon.

He’s still sore about the avalanche when they arrive, which is -- fine. She’s still confused about his comment about his heart, and she’d rather him silent than have him say anything more like -- like that. And when they stand humbled before the glow of the Olin Maris, they’re both short of words.

Obi sends Od Ana back to the university, asking for her to bring aid, and it’s all going well, mystery solved, until --

Until she fall to her knees. Ah, so it’s gotten her too.

“Miss!” Obi cries out, running to her side. Perkunas is already there, butting his head into her arm, whining worriedly.

“The body gets a lot worse, all at once,” she pants, sweat inching down her face in itchy runnels. Obi breath is coming heavy too. Is he --? “You’re sick too.”

“What?” She hears his panic, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. She knows it too well from Tanbarun. “I’m not --”

She reaches over, pulling up his pant-leg. The breath disappears from her lungs.

She had expected the bruised rosettes blooming across his thighs, but not -- not --

“What happened?” she breathes, staring at the thicket of scars carved up his legs.

“It doesn’t matter,” he mutters, stepping out of her grasp. “We need to get you back. Perkunas can turn into a bear and --”

“I can’t get too big,” Perkunas says, and they both stare. She’d never asked him to do something like that, not since they were children, but she’s never though he couldn’t. It never occurred to her to ask. “I can’t get to anything big enough to carry both of you.”

Obi opens his mouth, but Shirayuki already knows what he’ll say. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Miss --”

“Od Ana is already bringing half the guard here,” she reasons. “We should stay together.”

His mouth purses, lips turning white while he thinks.

“All right,” he says finally. “We’ll wait. Together.”

It’s cold in the cave. Even Perkunas draping his wolf form over her like a blanket can’t keep her warm. The addition of Obi does, though he declines to let Perkunas flop over his lap as well.

“I wonder what they’ll all say when they find out bodies like this, a hundred years from now,” Obi wonders idly, and she cannot tell if he’s delirious. “Probably some very unkind things about your virtue, Miss.”

It’s a transparent jab to get her to shrink from him, but he needs her warmth just as much she needs his.

“We’ll be dead, so it won’t matter.” She can’t keep herself from adding, “And we’d be skeletons anyway.”

“’Those skeletons had a lot of sex,’ is what they’ll say,” he continues, and he must be a little delirious, to speak so frankly in front of her. He’s much more fond of subtle innuendo. “‘I bet that man skeleton was very good and very handsome. I bet he’d been with loads of lady skeletons.’“

“Perkunas is right here,” she reminds him. “In my arms.”

“Mm, they’ll wonder about that I bet.”

She gives him as flat a look as she can muster. “I think they’ll wonder more about where your daemon is.”

His playful expression instantly evaporates. Ah, perhaps she is feeling some of the cognitive effects of the poison as well.

“Were you born like that?” she asks quietly, into the stifling silence. “In Sama, they say the witches are --”

“No.” It’s the most direct answer she’s ever gotten about a personal question. “I wasn’t.”

“Did it...” She hesitates. She remembers the fall, remembers the way she burned. “Did it hurt?”

He’s silent for a long moment. “Yes. So much.”

“Why did you...” Perkunas nuzzles closer to her, both of them reliving the agony of having their tether stretched so forcibly. “Why did you do it?”

He shrugs, his heart beating fast beneath her hand. “It was the only way to be free.”

In the end, it’s not her decision to come back, but --

But she thinks she might have anyway, given the choice.

“Maybe the problem is that you don’t know what you should be,” Suzu postulates, addressing Perkunas where he lays on the floor. He’s having a play-dead competition with Obi.

Shirayuki doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Obi’s asleep.

Perkunas perks up. “But I know a lot of animals!”

“There’s so many,” Suzu tells him. “I’d only seen a drawing of a potoo once before Hermia turned into one.”

He pulls down a book, thick as his hand. “Maybe we should take a look.”

Perkunas looks at her.

She shrugs. “It certainly couldn’t hurt.”

It’s just play. Just an accident.

Perkunas sniffs and grunts, in his favorite form this week: something they call a red panda. It’s different from usual; here he rarely turns to anything that is something other than brown or gray or white, but there’s something about this strange creature that makes his personality come to the fore. Shirayuki likes it, likes the doggish way he smiles and the funny way he turtles when he falls on his back.

She’s working at the window, Od Ana perched above her, Ryuu at her back. Perkunas is making a ruckus, Obi pretending to be some sort of bull fighter as he runs through his cape. He’s not being careful, and the panda’s paws are furred between the toes, and he just…slips.

It all happens so fast.

The glassware rack is piled high behind Obi, and on instinct he reaches out, digging his hands into Perkunas’s fur and –

And she feels it. His hands on her back but yet not, touching her so deeply. It should not feel this way, not feel good --

Something shifts.

“Oh no,” Perkunas whimpers, belly pressed to the floor. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t --”

She can hardly breathe.

“M-miss?” Obi stutters, his hands leaving them. “I didn’t – I should have asked – but I – are you hurt –?”

“No,” she breathes, shaking her head. Oh gods. Oh gods. “It’s just…”

He comes to her, hand hovering at her elbow. She’s confused at how he can’t feel it, can’t tell -- but then she sees his eyes, wide and scared, and she knows did, that he knows he’s forever marked her -- “Miss?”

Their eyes meet, green bleeding into gold. She wonders if she’s marked him as well. “It’s Perkunas. He settled.”

[chulochingoncomelon]

No Pool on the Third Floor.

Entering high school my freshman year was the best and worst. I had recently lost my Pawpaw and in all honesty, I was a loner. I liked it that way, but I never really fit in either. I used to be a very active, almost devil child. Don’t worry, my friends would bring it back out of me by the end of the school year, but due to loosing him, I felt lost and alone. I also started questioning my religion during the next few years.

First day of school. Megs, Kyle and I were standing side by side. Staring at the front entrance to the three story monster. The school was old and falling apart. The school would later be torn down to a huge asbestos problem. Awesome knowing I was breathing that in all my critical developmental years. Kyle, on the way to school that morning had pointed out how much Megs had “developed” over the summer, thus starting his life long infatuation with her. Me, well, I never really saw her in that way. I had always seen her as my best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. My many girlfriends through the years would see her as a “threat”, I just saw her as Megs.

There we were. We all had received letters from the school over the summer to report to the auditorium or first day, kind of as a welcoming. We were to find out our homerooms, our schedules, and if need be to pick different classes due to them being over filled. Megs, Kyle and I all were planning on taking honors classes, for them it was to get into a good school. As for me, I was wanting to take my mind off loosing Pawpaw.

Walking into that building out of nowhere I felt a painful, hard thud against my back. My neck and head reared back as I headed towards the concrete. Luckily I pulled my arms up just in time to break my fall. There I was laying on the ground and what felt like a million pounds on my back. The tingling in my hands gave me notice that they were pretty scrapped up. Whispering in my left year was a raspy, southern draw. The voice calmly said, “Hey, fucker…where have you been?” The weight was lifted off and I was pulled up by my backpack. I was violently spun around and there looking at me was Josh. One half of the Baker twins, one of my closest friends.

I had known Josh since birth. Really. His twin sister, him, and I were all three laying next to each other in the hospital nursery. We have been by each other all these years. Josh was an over the top man’s man. If there was a sport, he played it. If there was something dangerous, he’s done it. In other words, he was always full of shit, but I loved him just the same.

So the three have now become the four. Later on, Barrett would enter and fall out of the group just as quickly. We headed to the auditorium. We casually took seats in back. With Josh and Megs on my left, and Kyle on my right. Its funny, I just now realized no matter what, he would always be on my right where ever we went. We looked at all the freshmen coming in and out. Nervously taking seats. Reviewing their schedules that we were handed as we signed in and entered the auditorium.

There a couple rows down I caught sight of the strangest looking guy. Hair disheveled. Looked like a mechanics shirt on. Grease stains on his jeans, and a nervous tap going on. As I watched him, it appeared that it wasn’t a tap, but a symphony of movements between his feet and his right had. What was he doing? I recognized his movements because I had done the same many times in Pawpaw’s farm truck. He’s shifting gears. Wow. Was this guy really shifting gears, sitting by himself.

So the principle of the school walks out on stage and introduced himself. He welcomed all the new freshmen, yada yada yada, and then introduced us to our homeroom teachers. For our freshmen year this would be our first class, kinda as an transition into high school life. After the orientation assembly the four of us stood up, compared notes and we were off to our first classes. Kyle and I were in the first class together with Ms Blaylock, Megs was in Saravia’s across the hall, and Josh was in Gym.

Megs, Kyle, Josh, and I adventured down the hallway not four shot steps when a giant of a man steps up. “Hi”, he said, “I’m David. Welcome to Woodhall. I’m a senior here and I am gonna help you to your first class. Lemme see.” He snatched Josh’s schedule. “Ooo. You got Coach Stanley first class. your gonna need to get your gym clothes. If you ain’t got them first day, you gonna run 5 miles. Here head to the third floor. You will find the pool. Enter in and I will meet you with your gym clothes. You got twenty, right?” Josh nervously reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Steve reached in and grabbed the first twenty he saw and pocketed it. “On your way,” Steve said, “shoosh, I will be there” and walked away with Josh’s money and his schedule.

Not only was there no pool, but there was no Coach Stanley, nor was there a gym clothes fee. Josh would only find out after wondering the school for the next hour and half.

Kyle, Megs and I took off in the opposite direction. The two of us said bye to Megs as we entered Blaylocks room. There she was. Packaged dyed black hair, so stringy, quickly and haphazardly straightened. Wrinkles so deep on here face, they reminded me of a relief map of the grand canyon. She stood just around six foot tall. Eyes of the palest blue, cold and piercing. I felt my throat choke up. “Take your seats you two. Your late!” She said, with her deep witch voice. The only two seats that were available were two in the very back. One next to that crazy, greasy, truck shifting kid, and the other right behind it. Kyle of course ran to the very back seat, which left me next to the trucker. “Hi,” he said, “My names Charlie, what’s your’s?”

“Andrew, but you can call me Drew”

Kyle leaned in, “Im Kyle, his BEST friend. Remember that!” He leaned back. I looked over my shoulder at him, and gave him a side to side disappointed shake of my head. “Don’t worry about him, he’s a closet queer” I said to Charlie. Kyle kicked my chair. Charlie and I would later join the navy together, he will pick up the nickname CB, and be apart of the trifecta. We would meet Billy in boot camp, and the three of us would have many adventures together in the coming years on that submarine.

“Attention Class,” came the voice of the biddy, “We are going to take a pop quiz over your required summer reading. Pens only. If you read, and know the work, you won’t make any mistakes”. Seriously. This lady is going to be the death of me. The rest of that year with this woman was exactly the same. She would be the sole reason Kyle has to take summer school.

After our horrible first class we met Megs in the hallway outside her classroom. We walked together to our next class. Honors Biology. All three of us. We enter the room and it looks like Dr. Frankenstein’s lab. An entire wall with pickled animals and their dismembered body parts. Aquariums filled with other with bugs and snakes. Towards the back of the room were four, hip high, black topped counters. Two on either side. Around each was four stools, two on one side, two opposite. Along the back wall was a chalkboard that ran from one side to the other. In the front, same, but, it contained a a second board that could slide and cover half the board if need be. The sixteen chairs in the room sat in four rows of four facing the front.

We instinctively took a seat in one of the empty chairs. In came a total of eight other students. When the bell rang, the eleven of us sat there. In dead silence. I swear to this day the pickled pigs head mouthed “get out” right before the teacher walked in. In walked this little man. Hair like a mix of Albert Einstein and It the clowns. A graying pale red, with the worst comb over on top. The hair around the side and back was sticking straight out. A multi brown checkered shirt under a sweater vest and a lab coat. A dark blue bowtie pulled the whole outfit together. He shuffled in, down the middle of the chairs straight to the back of the room. We all watched as he approached the back board and began to write. He stops. Still looking at the board and said, “how do you all expect to learn by facing and sitting at the wrong end of the classroom?” He continued to write.

we get up and each grabbed a stool. Dr. Harrolds would end up being one of the funniest teachers we ever had. He, I believe, was the final push Megs needed to end up becoming a pharmacist. Over the years she would spend countless hours with him. Learning, studying, and admiring his grandfather type charm.

Kyle and I would end up having one other class together, Gym. Megs and I would share Geometry and English. Josh and I would have History. Megs and Josh would end up being in marching band together, where they would meet Barrett. Barrett would end up being her on again, off again boy friend in between dating Josh over the next four years. Josh will end up cheating on Megs with a girl from a neighboring town, and end up marrying, and having two kids after college.

Kyle and I throughout high school will laugh about the love triangle between those three, while secretly he would want to be the forth. After high school, Barrett will slowly distance himself from the rest of us, till one day will email us one of the rudest and undeserved emails, and officially end our friendship. I always thought it wasn’t really him, but the woman who would trap him in a relationship, who sent that email. I will probably never know.

About halfway through the school year, Kyle got deathly ill. Kyle contracted meningitis. I thought I was going to loose him too. After some recover time, he was able to return to school. Unfortunately he also had a shit load of classwork and tests to make up or else he would have to repeat the entire school year. Well, remember how I said Megs and I shared Geometry together? Our Geometry teach quickly learned that we could not sit next to each other, due to our undying love to talk to one another. He forced me to sit in the back right of the classroom, and Megs in the front left.

On this greatest day, Kyle happened to have a make up test in our class. When he entered, the teacher saw the look on Megs face and mine and said, “hell no. You three are not going to sit anywhere close to each other. Mr. Kyle, you are going to sit in the back left corner, and not a peep out of any of you. Understood?” We three nodded in disappointment.

Now for some odd reason, every single classroom had two chalkboards. One in the front and one in the rear, both stretching across the entire wall. As Kyle took the test from the teachers hand, and proceeded to sit, I pulled out my notebook and started writing everything that was on the board in front. I get bored very easily. Looking around, and seeing our teachers back was turned, I began to find something to do to entertain myself.

I began to try and screw with kyle. Slowly making small balls of paper, i flicked them at Kyle. A few times he looked up with that death stare of his and mouthed “stop it” while pointing at his test. Thats when I saw it. In the chalk rest laid an old, wooden pointer. A grin crept across my face. I slowly reached up and placed my fingers on it. There was enough chalk dust in the tray that stretched across the bottom of the board for it to glide effortlessly and quietly across to the other side. I did a couple warm up motions, and then flick. I let it glide towards kyle.

it hit the wall next to kyle and made a loud thud. The teacher, Megs, and the entire class whipped around and was staring at Kyle. Kyle’s head raised in startled bliss. He looked at the teacher, the to Megs and then at me. That’s when I saw it. A crack started creeping up the wall beside him. It went up the cheap several layers paint, cracking the plaster underneath. I know I must have looked absolutely scared shitless. As it reached the ceiling, I heard the teacher yell at the top of his lungs “RUN! IT’S COMING DOWN!”

As the rest of the class, including myself got up out of our chairs, knocking over desks, in a fight to the door all Kyle could do was slowly look up in horror. I made it to the door as soon as I heard the crash. A cloud of white dust followed me out. My whole back was covered in plaster dust. Coughing and sneezing I turned back inside. Waving my hands to clear the air in front of me. The teacher grabbed my arm. He tried to pull me to safety, but i quickly jerked my arm from his grasp. As the dust cleared, I saw him. Kyle was still sitting in that chair.

Parts of the ceiling surrounding him. He was covered head to toe in white soot. The plaster had fallen right on top of him. All coming from the point of impact from the pointer that I threw against the wall. His face slowly growing more and more red, and all I could do was double over in laughter. I laughed so hard. Megs walks in and sees me on the floor laughing. She looks at Kyle, and she lets out the biggest giggle I have ever heard. We are both dying with laughter.

kyle is screaming and yelling at both of us so much. We couldn’t understand a single word he was saying, between his angry stutter, his wiping his face clean, and coughing. By now the whole class was laughing. The teacher was shaking his head in disbelief. The principle came running seeing all of us laughing, kyle in a rage, the teacher throwing his hands in the air and walking towards the lounge stating “This is why I am an alcoholic”. Had to be one of the funniest scenes ever. We three got sent home for the rest of the day, but it was so worth it.

[granvarones]

yo bruce, you’re wack!

you would think that yt cis-gay men would learn to keep their condescending mouths shut but they don’t learn. ever. they do, however, love to tell black and brown folks what to do, think, feel and say. 

earlier this week, news broke about a top doc at mazzoni center, the largest LGBTQ agency in philadelphia, being on paid leave amid an internal investigation of alleged misconduct of a sexual nature. what does that mean? well, that can mean a lot of things but as a former employee of mazzoni and as a philadelphia resident, i can say that for years there were whispers about boundaries being crossed with clients. if you have worked in non-profits for as long as i have, you know that these accusations are seldom investigated or even addressed. this is because it would shine a terrible light on the agency, and that could potentially jeopardize funding. so it is often swept under the rug, ESPECIALLY if the accusations are made against a person who is in a position of great power - ya know, like an executive director, manager, or doctor.

anywho, after the news broke, about 30 mazzoni center staff members WALKED out! this is huge because front-line workers are often bullied into silence out of fear of retaliation from leadership. but hunty, on tuesday mornting, mazzoni staff said “fuck it! we stand by our patients!” this is also huge as patients, clients, and participants of LGBTQ and HIV orgs are often erased and minimized to deliverables. i can also tell you that it took me years to unlearn that agencies were more powerful than community. i can learn that as service providers and activists, our commitment should always lie with community. so kudos to mazzoni front-line staff for literally standing in that commitment.

naturally because mazzoni center is nationally renowned, many community members came to the defense of the agency, its CEO nurit shein and their top doc, robert winn. of course, this was no surprise because people defended iCandy’s owner after video surfaced of him joyfully saying the N-word over and over and over again. iCandy is a philadelphia bar located in the gayborhood, but the defense of mazzoni’s CEO and top doc that i found to be the most ridiculous was that of bruce yelk. apparently, he is the producer of Distrkt C in washington, dc. let’s take a look at his post.

oh bruce, where the fuck do i begin. oh yeah, i know - SHUT THE FUCK UP! he calls the current “mazzoni issues” a “witch-hunt.” LMAO!!! demanding that mazzoni center keep patients safe from predatory staff is a “witch-hunt”? you’re hella whack bruce! he also goes on to state that “there would be no mazzoni center without nurit shein and dr. winn.” as a former staff member, let me say that it is the FRONT-LINE staff that keep the patients and community members coming back. it is the FRONT-LINE staff, who are often overworked and underappreciated, that keep that place from folding. the only thing nurit provided was a safe space for dr. winn to exist without any accountability. how do we know this for sure? a fuckin’ former board member went on record just two days ago stating so in a piece written by timaree schmit for the philadelphia weekly. mark coyne, a pharmacist who served on the board of directors for mazzoni center for 8 fuggin’ years from 2008-2016 confirmed that allegations against dr. winn were brought the attention of board during his term. he also stated that CEO nurit shein did not take the allegations seriously because they were made anonymously. ya know, as a sexual abuse survivor, i will tell you that telling someone is HARD AS FUCK because people still refuse to believe sexual abuse victims. also, medical providers have a lot of power. to be forthcoming about a doctor’s misconduct, especially a doctor who is so beloved by the community, could potentially put one’s medical care in jeopardy, especially if you’re poz.

mark coyne also stated in timaree’s philadelphia weekly article that a former board president received an anonymous letter from staff members detailing allegations of sexual relationships between dr. winn with “one or two patients.” it gets fuckin’ better. the former board president does what she is supposed to do and calls an emergency meeting to address the allegations and nurit shein shuts her down! so yeah, bruce, tell us again how there would be no mazzoni center without nurit and dr. winn?

bruce then goes on to defend nelly fitzpatrick, former director of LGBTQ affairs in philadelphia and pa house representative brian sims who both waited too damn long to address the anti-Blackness and racism in philadelphia’s gayborhood. brian sims himself has said that he dropped the ball. but according to bruce, brian got “bashed” for not “speaking up on 1 issue.” yeah, he said that. according to bruce not speaking up and against racism in the gayborhood is not a big thing. lawd!

bruce also goes on to write that DC’s gay scene “cares about each other, works together and conducts themselves in a respectful manner.” which one of us is gonna tell him about the DC’s racism and anti-Blackness in the gay scene - especially at JR’s?in the event that you missed that story bruce, read all about it here.

so it gets even better. when someone challenges him on the dress-code at woody’s, a philly gay club, and how the “no timbaland boots” was rooted in anti-Blackness, bruce responds with this:

i should mention that the owners of woody’s have gone on record stating that there is no dress-code and nor has there ever been.

yo bruce, which “culture” wears timbs and “thinks nothing about punching someone before talking about the issue?” i am not wearing timbs right now and i still wanna punch you. then when he was challenged about his white privilege, this fool responds with:

LMAO!!!

why do i bring all of this shit up? great that you asked. well ya know the lgbtq march on washington is happening the same exact weekend as capital pride and bruce, who is the producer of District C in washington, dc is slated to make some major coins. i am thinking for any of us who are planning to be in DC that bruce doesn’t deserve our coins. it’s clear who he values, and it isn’t those who are not white and in “leadership” positions.one more thing bruce, your beloved doctor just resigned.

so i am tired of typing and centering this wack ass cis-yt gay dude and i will leave you with this queer proverb by xin ania:

stop letting racists hide behind queerness!