#Frog Chose This and is determined to do it well and studies up

[elizabethrobertajones]

Oooooh Frog has one pink eye and hair that grows in pink because Azem was a ridiculous pink person back in ze day. I have had a Revelation. An Echo Vision of mine own into their deal :'D

Mostly this just means I have a better grasp on poor Emet-Selch, respectable serious white haired anime man being followed around by perpetually giggling lavender-haired Hyth, and freewheeling pink Azem who is rapidly turning into drunk-girl-in-a-bathroom-goes-on-a-D&D-adventure-textpost made flesh in my imagination.

Ancients aren't asking what he sees in them, they're asking what THEY see in HIM.

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 9

3rd Person POV

Hermione, who had come back with (Y/n) the day before term had started, takes a different view of things. She is torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row - "If Filch had caught you!" - and disappointment that he hadn't, at least found out how Nicholas Flamel was.

(Y/n) had opened her mouth to say something, but Fred and George had darted across the Common Room and dragged her away and towards Oliver Wood, her three friends staring after her, and catching her apologetic gaze before Oliver snaps at her to pay attention.

Oliver seems to be working the Quidditch team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood is becoming a fanatic, but Harry and (Y/n) are on Wood's side. If they win their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, they find that they has fewer nightmares when they're tired after training.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Oliver Wood gives the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall of their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" Wood orders. "That's exactly what'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at the words.

"Snape's refereeing?" he splutters through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going go be fair if me might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of team - besides (Y/n) - land next to George to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," says Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which is all well, thinks (Y/n), but I don't need a repeat of what happened last time, whoever did it.

The rest of the team hangs back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry and (Y/n) sprint straight back up to the Gryffindor common room, where they find Hermione and Ron playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron though was good for her.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," says Ron when Harry sits down beside him and Hermione shifts to make room for (Y/n).

Then Hermione catches sight of (Y/n)'s face. "What's wrong?" she asks, a worried look on her face and Ron looks over at (Y/n).

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry tells the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," says Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," Ron offers.

"Pretend to break you leg," Hermione says.

"Really break your leg," at Ron's words, everyone turns to him.

"I can't," says (Y/n), then she signs. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville topples into the Common Room. How he had managed to climb through was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

Everyone but (Y/n) and Hermione laugh, and (Y/n) leaps up an performs the countercurse. Neville's legs spring apart and he gets to his feet, trembling.

"What happened?" (Y/n) asks him, leading him over to sit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Malfoy," says Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urges Neville.

"Report him!" (Y/n) agrees with the brunette.

Neville shakes his head. "I don't want more trouble," he mumbles.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Harry says.

"He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier," Ron says.

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville chokes out.

(Y/n) feels around in the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulls out a chocolate frog. She gives it to Neville, who looks as though he is about to cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," (Y/n) says.

"The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin?" Harry finishes.

"Thanks, (Y/n), Harry ... I think I'll go to bed ... D'you want the card (Y/n), you collect them don't you?"

As Neville walks away, (Y/n) looks at the Famous Wizard card.

(Y/n), reading the card, smacks herself in the face and everyone turns to her. "I found him!" (Y/n) hands the card to Hermione and she sprints upstairs and grabs a alchemy book from her nightstand.

"I never thought to look in here," (Y/n) says, sprinting back downstairs and over to her friends. "Snape gave me this a few weeks ago to read."

(Y/n) opens the book and flips through the pages. "Nicholas Flamel is the only know maker of the Sorcerer's Stone."

This doesn't have the effect she had expected.

"The what?" ask Harry and Ron.

"Honestly, don't you read?" Hermione asks.

"The Sorcerer's Stone," (Y/n) begins pacing back and forth, her friends watching, "it was a legend, but I guess now it's true." (Y/n) runs a hand through her (H/C) hair. "It can transform any metal into pure gold and can produce the Elixir of Life, which makes the drinker immortal. If I remember correctly, Flamel just turned six hundred and sixty-five."

"The dog must be guarding the Sorcerer's Stone!" Harry begins.

"I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone removed out of Gringotts!" Hermione finishes.

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" exclaims Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it!"

At Harry's mention of Snape, (Y/n)'s mouth spreads into a frown.

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," says Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

. . .

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron are still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that (Y/n) remembers about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," she tells the other five. "If I don't we'll be behind in the cup. If we win, I'll show them ... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," Ron comments and (Y/n) shoots him a incredulous look.

As the match grows closer, however, (Y/n) becomes more and more nervous, whatever she told her friends and sister. The rest of the team isn't very calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the House Championship was wonderful, no one had done it in seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Harry doesn't know whether he is imagining it or not, but he seems to keep running into Snape wherever he goes. At times, he wonders if Snape is following him, trying to catch him on his own. Potions lessons are turning into a sort of weekly torture for Harry, Snape seemingly getting worse in each class. Harry didn't see how he could - yet sometimes he had to horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

(Y/n) knew, when they had wished her and Harry good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see her alive again. (Y/n) hardly hears a word of Oliver's pep talk as she pulls on her Quidditch robes and picks up her Nimbus Two Thousand.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did (Y/n) know that her friends had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They had gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any signs of wanting to hurt (Y/n).

Back in the locker room, Oliver Wood had taken (Y/n) aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, (Y/n), but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

(Y/n) nods, a determined look on the Seeker's face.

"The whole school's out there!" says Fred, peering out of the door. "Even - blimey - Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harry and (Y/n) exchange looks. "Dumbledore?" Harry asks, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred is right, there's no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry could have laughed out loud with relief. (Y/n) was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare hurt (Y/n) if Dumbledore was watching, Harry thinks. Maybe that's why Snape is looking so angry as the teams march onto the field, Harry thinks, which Ron notices as well.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," the ginger tells the other girls. "Look - they're off. Ouch!" Malfoy had poked Ron in the back of the head.

"Oh, sorry Weasley, didn't see you there," Malfoy grins at Crabbe and Goyle. "Wonder how long (L/n)'s going to stay on her broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron doesn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, is squinting fixedly up at (Y/n), who is circling the came like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they chose people for the Gryffindor team?" says Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awards Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter and (L/n), who've got no family, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money - you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville goes bright red but turns in his seat to face Malfoy. "I'm worth twelve of you Malfoy," he stammers.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howl with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron's nerves are already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about (Y/n), "I'm warning you, Malfoy - one more word -"

"Ron!" says Hermione suddenly, "(Y/n) - !"

"What?! Where?!"

(Y/n) had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which draws gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stands up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as (Y/n) streaks towards the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, (L/N)'s obviously spotted some money on the ground!" says Malfoy.

Ron snaps. Before Malfoy knows what's happening, Ron is on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitates, then clambers over the back of his seat to help.

"Come on, (Y/n)!" Hermione screams, leaping onto her seat to watch as (Y/n) speeds straight at Snape - she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe and Goyle.

Hermione watches to see Snape turning on his broomstick to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches - the next second, (Y/n) had pulled out of the dive, her arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in her hand.

The stands erupt; it had to be a record, no one could remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

"Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game's over! (Y/n)'s won! We've won! Gryffindor's in the lead," shrieks Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging a beaming Pavarti Patil in front of her.

(Y/n) jumps off her broom, a foot from the ground. She couldn't believe it. She had done it - the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors come spilling onto the field, Harry sees Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped. Harry lands beside (Y/n) and they feel a hand on their shoulder and they look up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," says Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry and (Y/n) could hear.

The Gryffindors run to lift (Y/n) onto their shoulder; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.

Harry leaves the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He leans against the wooden door and looks up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. (Y/n) had done it, she'd shown Snape. . . .

And speaking of Snape . . .

A hooded figure comes swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walks as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry recognizes the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner — what was going on?

Harry jumps back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he sees Snape enter the forest at a run; he follows.

The trees are so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he hears voices. He glides toward them and lands noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

He climbs carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. Below, in a shadowy clearing, stands Snape, but he isn't alone. Quirrell is there, too. Harry can't make out the look on his face, but he is stuttering worse than ever. Harry strains to catch what they are saying.

". . . d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus . . ."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," replies Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry leans forward. Quirrell is mumbling something, but Snape interrupts him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I —"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," says Snape, taking a step towards him.

"I-I don't know what you —"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hoots loudly, and Harry nearly falls out of the tree. He steadies himself in time to hear Snape say, "— your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't —"

"Very well," Snape cuts in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."He throws his cloak over his head and strides out of the clearing. It is almost dark now, but Harry can see Quirrell, standing quite still, as though he was petrified.

. . .

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaks.

"We won! (Y/n) won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping (Y/n) on the back."And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right — talk about showing Slytherin!"

"Everyone's waiting for you and (Y/n) in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens," Ron continues.

"Never mind that now," says Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this. . . ."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy — and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus-pocus'— I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through -"

"So you man the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" asks Hermione in alarm, (Y/n) shifting thoughtfully on the desk she was sitting onto of.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," says Ron.

Hermione glances over at (Y/n), who is sitting silently, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What is it?" (Y/n) asks.

"The thing about the loyalty confuses me," (Y/n) says, jumping off the desk. "Who would Quirrell need to prove his loyalties lie to? Dumbledore right, what if Quirrell is trying to get the stone? What if that whole stuttering thing is an act? I've never been a hundred percent about him myself."

Ron shrugs her off, "It must be Snape."

"Not necessarily, not to be rude or anything, but I'm his favorite student," the others nod in agreement. Then (Y/n) turns to Hermione. "Who was sitting behind Snape at the first Quidditch match?"

"Quirrell," Hermione says.

"My point exactly," (Y/n) says but Ron and Harry shrug her off again.

"It's definitely Snape," Harry says and (Y/n) shakes her head and walks back to the Gryffindor Common Room alone.

Despite herself, she grins when she portrait whole swings open and the Common Room erupts into cheers as she steps through. Oliver and Fred come over and lift (Y/n) up onto their shoulder and everyone begins to cheer:

"(Y/n)!"

"(Y/n)!"

"(Y/n)!"

Word Count: 2963 words

[kazsbrecker]

I want to know everything for both Rue and Julien, and I know it will take you awhile so I apologize in advance, but all the HP questions for my bbs!

Rue 1.What is their blood status (pureblood, muggleborn, etc)? What are their thoughts on the concept of blood status? Half-blood who doesn’t believe in the concept of blood status. Rue thinks blood doesn’t have anything to do with magic. If she had to say where she thinks magic comes from, she thinks its more of a power that is connected to the soul or to one’s will. 2. What is their wand wood and core? Vine wood, phoenix feather core, ten inches, slightly yielding. 3. Do they bring a pet to Hogwarts with them? No. Harry and Rue picked out Hedwig together (since one owl was all that Hagrid could afford as a gift). While Rue is fond of the owl, Hedwig is certainly Harry’s familiar. But Rue discovers her own familiar after a young Niffler sneaks into her bag after a fourth year Care of Magical Creatures lesson and refuses to leave Rue. She names him Professor Puck and he’s a little menace and she loves him. 4. What Hogwarts house were they sorted into? Why did the hat put them in that house over the others? Was it a quick sorting or a hatstall? Are they happy with their sorting? What Hogwarts house would they least fit into? Ravenclaw because of Rue’s deep curiosity and love for magic, her respect for intellect, and her desire to create/invent. She was nearly a hatstall because the Hat wanted to place her in Slytherin for her ambition, self-preservation, and resourcefulness; however she fought with it and convinced him Ravenclaw would suit her better. Rue was pleased to have won the debate and was sorted into Ravenclaw. Initially she wanted to be sorted in Gryffindor just so she could stay with Harry, but that’s the house that suits her least. 5. What subject is their favorite at Hogwarts? Which is their least favorite? Is their favorite the same as their best subject? Transfiguration is Rue’s favorite subject (partially because she deeply respects McGonagall and also because she is really gifted at it). Her least favorite was Astronomy first year because she wasn’t fond of heights. Even though she never takes Divination, she does not like it at all. She doesn’t believe in fate and despises the concept of prophecy. She adores magic and views it as a force of will and chooses to believe more in the individual and in choice over ‘fate.’ Rue’s best subjects are Transfiguration and Potions because she had to study them closely to become an Animagus. Charms is up there as well since Professor Flitwick adores Rue. 6. What electives do they chose in third year? Care of Magical Creatures (because Julien asks her to take it with him and she can’t say no to him) and Study of Ancient Runes because she thinks it’s a fascinating class (and Tom recommends it) 7. Do they earn more house points or do they lose more? Earn because Rue does very well in her classes (McGonagall and Flitwick in particular reward her with a lot of points in class). Rue doesn’t loose points because she is breaks the rules, she only does it when she knows she won’t be caught.  8. How do they do on their OWLs? On their NEWTs? Rue does extremely well on both OWLs and NEWTS, making mostly O’s and an E, rivaling Hermione for the top spot.  9. Thoughts on Quidditch? Do they play? And if so what position do they play? Honestly Rue does not understand anything about Quidditch. She does not know what makes it so popular and appealing, and would rather be petrified then ever get on a broom again after first year. So she doesn’t play, but she does try her best to support Harry, Julien, and Ginny in Quidditch. She’ll come to the games and cheer when ever Tracey tells her something good has happened. 10. What Wizarding treat (bertie botts, chocolate frogs, etc.) is their favorite? Sugar Quills. She has a bit of a sweet tooth because growing up Dudley would always steal any candy away from Rue. She eats Sugar Quills during Charms a lot, but Flitwick never gets onto her. 11. What is their Patronus? What happy memory do the use to conjure it? Rue doesn’t have a patronus. None of her memories are strong enough to conjure one. Even ‘happy’ moments like seeing her parents in the Mirror of Erised holds a reminder of what she has lost. 12-15 have been answered here! 16. If they trained as an Animagus what form would they take? Rue becomes an Animagus between third and fourth year. Her form is a red-tailed hawk! 17. What do they do/want to do after Hogwarts? Rue will become Hogwarts’ transfiguration teacher and will also do a lot of spell creation and potion research as well. 18. Which Unforgivable Curse would they be most likely to use? What would be the reason for it? If Rue had to use one, it would be the Cruciatus Curse, because she has a quick temper and a ruthless side, so she would be more likely to want to cause pain (only if she believes they deserve it). But in all honesty, Rue can be quite creative when it comes to spells and knows ways to cause pain or death outside of the Unforgivables. 19. Which Unforgivable Curse would they hate to have used on them the most? The Imperius Curse, no question. The idea of someone controlling her, imposing their will on her disturbs Rue deeply. Pain she can handle; death she doesn’t fear. But being controlled? Someone turning herself against her? She couldn’t bare it. 20. Which Deathly Hallow (wand, stone, or cloak) would they want? Why? Eh this is a spoiler, but actually, Rue ends up earning the loyalty of the Elder Wand. She didn’t know it and didn’t actively want it, but it is the Deathly Hallow that suits her best (I have a whole symbolism idea of the Deathly Hallows correlating with Rue, Harry, and Tom).  

Julien 1.What is their blood status (pureblood, muggleborn, etc)? What are their thoughts on the concept of blood status? He is a pureblood and his family is part of the Sacred 28. While he grew up immersed in the culture of purebloods, he (and his family) doesn’t buy into blood status.  2. What is their wand wood and core? Redwood, dragon heartstring core, 12 and half inches, surprisingly swishy. 3. Do they bring a pet to Hogwarts with them? Yes. Julien has a pet lizard named Scamandar. 4. What Hogwarts house were they sorted into? Why did the hat put them in that house over the others? Was it a quick sorting or a hatstall? Are they happy with their sorting? What Hogwarts house would they least fit into? The Hat sorted Julien into Hufflepuff as soon as it was placed on his head. He is pleased with the sorting because his family has always had a strong affiliation with Hufflepuff. It was his father’s house and he’s always admired his dad. I would have to say Ravenclaw is the house that would least suit him. Julien isn’t really studious, analytical, or introspective. He is bold and daring (especially in Quidditch)  like a Gryffindor but is also is and determined to reach his goals like a Slytherin. 5. What subject is their favorite at Hogwarts? Which is their least favorite? Is their favorite the same as their best subject?  Flying Lessons first year because Julien has always been a natural talent at flying. Beyond that, Care of Magical Creatures because his favorite aunt is a magizoologist and it’s his best class since Julien actually studies for it and loves it. His least favorite is History of Magic because Binns puts him to sleep and also Potions because he just doesn’t vibe and Snape is a horrible teacher. 6. What electives do they chose in third year? Care of Magical Creatures (naturally) and Muggle Studies (because he is genuinely interested in learning more about the muggle world. While he’s shared a lot of pureblood customs with Rue, he has enjoyed learning more about what it was like to grow up among Muggles). 7. Do they earn more house points or do they lose more? Julien earns points for Hufflepuff in Quidditch, but then loses points because he loves all Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products and has been caught with them many times. Especially in fifth year. 8. How do they do on their OWLs? On their NEWTs? Julien does alright. He doesn’t study hard and seems to pass with luck more than anything else. E’s and A’s, but with a Dreadful in History of Magic. Only gets an A in Potions and Herbology because of Rue and Tracey. 9. Thoughts on Quidditch? Do they play? And if so what position do they play? Quidditch is Julien’s greatest love. He nearly rivals Oliver Wood in his level of obsession. He’s always been a talented flyer, but he also works very hard, practicing on the field nearly every day. He is a Keeper, and becoming the Hufflepuff Captain sixth year is his greatest accomplishment. He’s known since he was young that he would be a professional Quidditch player and he has never doubted it or strayed from that goal. 10. What Wizarding treat (bertie botts, chocolate frogs, etc.) is their favorite? Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, because he thinks it’s entertaining to make bets on what flavour someone will get. He’s unusually lucky and gets sweet flavors more often then not, but he thinks it’s more fun to eat the weirder ones. 11. What is their Patronus? What happy memory do the use to conjure it? A stallion, and he uses memories from his best Quidditch game and the general memory of the freedom and pure joy of flying on a broom.  12. What is their Boggart? What happens to it when they cast Riddikulus? Julien is afraid of Dragon Pox after watching his grandfather die from it. His boggart is himself with Dragon Pox and when he casts Riddikulus, the Boggart becomes a little dragon because he thinks actual dragons are awesome. 13. What does Amortentia smell like to them? Treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and cinnamon. 14. What spell is their favorite? Which do they use the most? His favorite spell is the knitting spell Mrs. Weasley teaches him. He uses Episkey the most because he hurts his fingers a lot during intense Quidditch practices. 15. If they needed it, what form would the Room of Requirement take for them? A cozy room with a bed so he can take a nap.  16. If they trained as an Animagus what form would they take? Julien would be a flying squirrel. 17. What do they do/want to do after Hogwarts? Julien succeeds in becoming a professional Quidditch player, becoming the youngest Keeper of the England National Teem. When he retires after a fantastic career, he becomes a popular Quidditch commentator. 18. Which Unforgivable Curse would they be most likely to use? What would be the reason for it? Julien is my precious boy, who would rather dodge, use shield charms, or stupefy. But if he had to he would use the Killing Curse because while it causes death, it is a painless death. He couldn’t bring himself to torture someone or Imperio them. 19. Which Unforgivable Curse would they hate to have used on them the most? The Cruciatus Curse. It’s not really the pain he fears, because he’s used to breaking bones in Quidditch. Really he’s scared of being driven insane by the torture. His father was once best friends with Frank Longbottom, so Julien grew up knowing what happened to them. He once went with his dad to visit Frank and Alice at St. Mungos and Julien has never forgotten it.  20. Which Deathly Hallow (wand, stone, or cloak) would they want? Why? After fourth year, Julien would ant the resurrection stone in order to summon Cedric’s spirit in order to say goodbye. Cedric was like a big brother figure to Julien and his death deeply hurts him.

[luucypevensie]

ik it's a lot but could you do all the hp questions for my baby Cordelia??

I was waiting for someone to ask me this! Thank you Maddie!

1. What’s their blood status (pure blood, muggleborn, etc)? What are their thoughts on the concept of blood status?

Cord is a muggleborn, and when she came to Hogwarts, she was shocked by the whole blood status concept. The shock wore away into disgust, and in the end, Cord thinks it’s just absolutely ridiculous

2. What is their wand wood and core?

Applewood and Unicorn hair

3. Do they bring a a pet to Hogwarts with them?

Absolutely! As a belated birthday present, Cord’s Aunt Andrea bought her a barn owl that she named Horus (after the Egyptian god)

4. What Hogwarts house were they sorted into? Why did the hat put them in that house over the others? Was it a quick sorting or a hatstall? Are they happy with their sorting? What Hogwarts house would they least fit into?

Cord is sorted into Slytherin, which the whole point of her story. When she was under the Sorting Hat, they had a little convo about all the houses and she asked why no one seemed to like Slytherin that much. The Hat gave her a little bit of background, and Cord made up her mind right there and then that she was going to turn around Slytherin’s reputation. She was warned that she might run into some trouble with her housemates, but Cord was determined. Everyone was shocked when the Hat finally yelled “SLYTHERIN!” after their 5 minute conversation. As for which house she would least fit into, I think that would probably be Gryffindor because she values determination more over chivalry

5. What subject is their favorite at Hogwarts? Which is their least favorite? Is their favorite the same as their best subject?

Charms is definitely Cord’s favorite, as well as her best, subject. She loves actually being able to perform magic because it’s something that she never thought she would be doing. As for her least favorite subject, it’s Potions, though it’s not because she doesn’t love the subject. It’s her least favorite because Cord hates Snape (even though he’s her Head of House)

6. What electives do they chose in third year?

Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies (she got permission to take more than two electives)

7. Do they earn more house points or do they lose more?

Definitely lose more, because she sasses Snape all the time. Though, around the other professors, she’s usually a really good student, thus earning back some of those points she lost

8. How do they do on their OWLs? On their NEWTs?

Cord does REALLY well on both her OWLs and her NEWTs, she’s neck-in-neck with Hermione concerning top grades in their year

9. Thoughts on Quidditch? Do they play? And if so, what position do they play?

Cord really enjoys Quidditch, and wants to play after first year. However, Malfoy gets the Seeker position in second year, leaving her to wait until third year to try out. She goes for the Keeper position because she played goalie in soccer growing up. Her skill as a goalie really helped her, and much to the other Slytherins’ chagrin, Cord was made the new Slytherin Keeper

10. What Wizarding treat (Bertie Botts, chocolate frogs, etc) is their favorite?

Cord ADORES Cauldron Cakes; she loves any baked goods like cupcakes in the muggle world, so she would gobble up a bunch of them on the train to Hogwarts

11. What is their Patronus? What happy memory do they use to conjure it?

Cord’s patronus is a gazelle (hint hint nudge nudge). As for her happy memory, it’s her, Daphne, Tracey, the Golden Trio, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott all together in a meeting for the Hogwarts Jane Austen book club, laughing and being happy together

12. What is their Boggart? What happens to it when they cast Riddikulus?

Cord’s boggart originally was her parents, but after the Department of Mysteries battle, her boggart became her girlfriend, Cheyenne. Whenever she cast the Riddikulus spell, Cheyenne becomes an old lady with a long gray braid

13. What does Amortentia smell like to them?

To Cord, it smells like the ocean, the Quidditch pitch after a good soak, and treacle tart for Harry

14. What spell is their favorite? Which do they use the most?

Silencio, she uses it to turn off the voices of the Slytherins who make fun of her and her status as a muggleborn

15. If they needed it, what form would the Room of Requirement take for them?

Well, I came up with this headcanon that Cord, Daphne, and Tracey (the Antimony Trio) form a band during their years at Hogwarts, similar to the Hex Girls. After their first performance in third year, they would use empty classrooms to practice. However, after Harry discovers the Room of Requirement for the DA, the Antimony Trio begin using it for band practice on non-DA days. In sixth year, they held a private concert in the Room of Requirement before the holidays for DA members (it was AWESOME)

16. If they trained as an Animagus, what form would they take?

A black panther

17. What do they do/want to do after Hogwarts?

Honestly, Cord wants to work in the Ministry to better Muggle relations with the Wizarding World. She feels like both worlds could learn from one another more

18. Which Unforgivable Curse would they be most likely to use? What would be the reason for it?

The Cruciatus Curse; she actually used it on the Death Eater that killed Cheyenne because she was so upset and furious

19. Which Unforgivable Curse would they hate to have used on them the most?

The Killing Curse; she couldn’t bare to imagine what would happen to her aunt if she were killed since they lost her parents

20. Which Deathly Hallow (wand, stone, or cloak) would they want? Why?

The Resurrection Stone; Cord would only use it to see her parents one more time to say goodbye to them because they were taken away from her so suddenly. She would probably also reassure Harry’s parents, Sirius, and potentially Remus (I’m debating actually killing him off because I hated his and Tonks’ death sm) that she would look after Harry and make sure he doesn’t get into anymore trouble haha

[pitviperofdoom]

Fundraiser Commission #8

Thank you for donating $20!

Prompt: “For the commission, I would like PitViperOfDoom to write a followup to their one shot Helping Hands. After Bakugo is expelled some members of Class 1-A (probably the Bakusquad) decide to talk to the boy whose abuse led to his expulsion. Only, it doesn't turn out to be just them helping him. He seems to have incredible insights into how they can improve how they use their quirks.”

This one gave me some trouble, but I’m happy with how it came out!

---

Lunch Rush’s katsudon is the only katsudon that Izuku can honestly, though not without some guilt, describe as better than Mom’s. Of course, unlike Lunch Rush, Mom’s quirk doesn’t help her cook beyond bringing the ingredients within reach. In Izuku’s wholly unbiased opinion, that concession puts his mother’s cooking back up on top.

Fortune smiles on him when the school cook puts out a fresh lunch tray out just in time for him to claim it. It makes up for how his day has been going so far. No one’s been mean, of course, but the rumors about yesterday have already started spreading, and there’s only so much of his classmates’ whispering that he can stand before he starts screaming from the stress.

Izuku turns away, debating whether to sit with his classmates or hide in the classroom to eat, only to find himself flanked on both sides by hero students.

Very familiar hero students, at that.

“Come sit with us, Midoriya!” Ashido Mina chirps near his ear.

“Unless you got somewhere else to be.” Kirishima is on his other side, holding a tray loaded with pretty much every meat available in the cafeteria. “It’s cool if you’ve got somewhere else to be, but we’d love for you to join us.”

Izuku’s head swivels back and forth, gaping at both of them in turn. “Um…” On instinct he shoots a glance at the table where a lot of his 1-C classmates usually sit. Shinsou and Ichioka stare back at him incredulously. Mochizuku grins and gives him a thumbs-up.

“Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure… lead the way.”

Ashido whoops and takes the lead, while Kirishima and a boy whose name Izuku doesn’t know hang back to walk with him.

“Hi, Midoriya!” the unknown boy says. “I just realized neither of them said that yet.”

“Hi,” Izuku says nervously. “Um, sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced?” His memory supplies him with the image of the boy slapping a length of tape over Kacchan’s mouth.

“I’m Sero Hanta!” The three of them reach the table where Ashido is sitting, along with two other girls and a boy with bright yellow hair. They introduce themselves as Uraraka, Asui (“Call me Tsuyu-chan!”), and Kaminari, and Izuku mumbles something incoherent as he slides into the seat by Kirishima. They’re all friendly enough, but out of all of them, Kirishima makes him the least nervous.

For a moment, Izuku sits frozen and speechless among students he doesn’t know. What is he supposed to say? The last time any of them saw him, he was crying after getting beaten up in front of them; what do they expect out of him?

“Oh!” he blurts out, then winces when Kaminari drops his chopsticks. “Thank you.”

In an instant, everyone is staring at him. He’s made a terrible mistake.

“Sheesh, Midoriya, you scared me there,” Kaminari laughed.

“Sorry,” Izuku says sheepishly. “But I mean it. Thank you, for yesterday. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course we did!” Ashido says, shocked.

“You’re in hero school, buddy,” Sero adds. “If there was ever a place where we ‘have’ to do that kind of stuff, it’s here.”

Izuku blushes. “Not everybody would have.”

“Yeah, well, not everybody is in UA’s hero course,” Kirishima points out.

“Including Bakugou,” Asui says dryly. Uraraka snorts beside her, then sobers.

“I probably shouldn’t laugh,” she says, wrinkling her nose to keep from doing so. “But I mean… Aizawa-sensei told us on the first day that he’d have us kicked out if he didn’t think we could make the cut. He literally told us that, and booted Mineta on day one, and Bakugou still pulled that. I mean, what did he think was going to happen? He’s lucky he just got transferred to Gen Ed!”

In spite of himself, Izuku gives a snort of his own. “Kacchan’s used to the rules not applying to him,” he mutters.

Kaminari barks out a laugh. “Sorry, I just… Kacchan? Seriously? How’s a guy like that end up with a cutesy nickname like Kacchan?”

Izuku shrugs, suddenly self-conscious. It’s a weird feeling, seeing people laugh at Kacchan instead of him. “Our moms were in the same pregnant yoga class. Technically our first playdates happened before we were born. We were really close when we were four. I don’t remember us not being friends.” He hesitates, poking at the egg in his katsudon. “Then his quirk came in, and mine didn’t, and… everything was different after that.”

Worried that he’s brought down the mood, he glances around at the others to gauge their reactions. Kaminari’s face is scrunched up like he smells something bad. Uraraka and Sero look indignant, Asui looks grave, and Kirishima looks like he’s about to cry.

“Sounds like a lousy friend,” Ashido says blithely.

“Ashido!” Sero elbows her, which, considering his elbows, must pack a punch.

“What? He is!”

“No, you’re right,” Izuku says. It’s taken a while to admit it, but he’s had some help with it. Kacchan was a bad friend. He acted the way he did because he chose to, not because Izuku deserved it. “He’s always been… competitive. Even when we were in daycare together, he was obsessed with being better than everyone. Every time I talked about the things I liked or the things I was good at, he’d remind me that he was better at them than I was.”

“That’s gotta be exhausting,” Kirishima says.

Izuku shrugs. “He was my first friend. I didn’t know being friends wasn’t supposed to be like that. I know better now, of course!” he adds quickly. “But back then, I thought it was normal.”

“What kind of stuff do you like to do?” Uraraka asks. “I mean, you already know we’re all on the hero track, but what about you?”

Izuku fidgets, suddenly nervous. “Oh! Um… well, I still really like heroics. Learning about… about heroes, and their statistics and stuff.”

“Like… business course stuff?” Kaminari asks.

“No, not really.” Izuku shakes his head. “Not the, um, marketing. I’m no good at that. I mean more like… the mechanics of their quirks and equipment, and their battle strategies and combat techniques. That kind of thing. See—” He falters for a moment. “When I was little, I wanted to be a hero. And even after I found out I was quirkless, I still looked for ways that I could become one. So… I watched them, and studied how they work. I still do. I know it probably sounds strange, but…”

“Lots of people make hero analysis a career,” Asui says, tapping her lips. “I’ve heard the Public Safety Commission have people for that.”

“Hey, yeah,” Sero says. “Even if you can’t be a hero, you can still work in heroics.”

“Yeah, I know…” Izuku says. It’s a good consolation prize. He thinks he could even be happy doing it.

“Nah,” Kirishima says.

Izuku turns to him, startled. “What?”

“Nah,” Kirishima repeats. “I think you could still do it. Become a hero.”

Izuku gapes at him.

“Dude, you grew up with an ultra-competitive jerk who tried to make you feel bad about yourself, you found out you didn’t have a quirk, and you still didn’t give up! You kept looking for ways to make it happen! You got that… that determination, y’know? That manly spirit. I think as long as you have that, quirks don’t matter. You could totally be a hero.”

For a moment, Izuku can only stare. “Well…” he stammers out when he finds his voice again. “You’ll be the first kid my age who thinks that.”

Ashido’s hand shoots up. “Second!”

“Third!” Uraraka and Kaminari say in unison.

“It only makes sense,” Asui says serenely, smiling at Izuku’s shocked face. “Just look at Aizawa-sensei. His quirk levels the playing field, but other than that, he fights without any special power.”

Izuku blushes fiercely under all the encouragement. “There’s never been a quirkless hero before,” he mumbles. “It’s unheard of.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible!” Ashido says. “It just means nobody’s done it yet.”

It’s a wonderful moment, which Izuku swiftly ruins by bursting into tears.

---

“Well, Midoriya,” Shinsou says dryly, clapping him on the shoulder so hard it almost hurts. “Don’t forget about us now that you’re famous enough to hang with the hero kids.”

“It’s not like that!

Mochizuku slaps his other shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable!” she chirps cheerfully. “That open spot in Class 1-A is mine.”

“There are two,” Izuku points out.

“And three of us,” she says cheerily. “Watch your backs, boys!”

---

Ashido Mina

Quirk: Acid. Allows user to secrete corrosive liquid through her skin. Acid can be generated in high quantities from any area of skin. Can be manipulated by user?

Kirishima Eijirou

Quirk: Hardening. Allows user to harden any part of his body. Protects from physical threats by absorbing blunt force and preventing cutting damage.

Asui Tsuyu

Quirk: Frog form. Gives user features and abilities of a frog, including leg strength, wall climbing, extending tongue (more? Ask her?)

“Whatcha doin’?” Kaminari asks, almost dropping his tray on Izuku’s lunch table. With a yelp, Izuku shuts his notebook and shoves it in his bag with practiced speed.

“Nothing! Just notes for class!”

“Okay, man, chill,” Kaminari says. Around them, the others are taking seats as well. “You do you. Good for you for getting in on brains and stuff.”

“Man, seriously!” Ashido agrees. “I’m no good at that stuff. I’ve had on-off tutoring since I started middle school. People who can just sit down and study and get A’s on their own are incredible.”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help sometimes!” Kirishima points out.

“Oh yeah, I know!” Ashido grins and fist-pumps. “Besides, I got in with my awesome skills! I can figure out everything else as I go!”

Izuku tries not to stare as she swings between complimenting him and complimenting herself. Ashido Mina is one of the most incredible people that he has ever met. It’s not just her wild coloring, either; nonstandard skin and hair colors are fairly common in the world of quirks. Even Izuku’s colors would have been improbable at best, if not impossible before quirks came into being.

But no, what stands out in Midoriya’s eyes is how smoothly Ashido’s effortless confidence meshes with her kindness. She thinks highly of herself, for good reason. She’s pretty, she’s athletic, and she has a fantastic quirk and a magnetic personality. But unlike the other good-looking, athletic, charismatic people with fantastic quirks that Izuku has met before, she doesn’t seem to feel the need to prove it to anyone. She just is, and that’s enough for her.

Bashfully, Izuku tells her as much, stumbling over his words as he struggles to make himself understood without offending her by accident. She listens, frowning thoughtfully as he manages to articulate his thoughts.

“That’s a weird thing to think about,” she remarks when he finishes babbling.

“Sorry,” Izuku mumbles.

“No no, I don’t mean it like that!” Ashido assures him. “It’s just… if somebody’s really confident but feels like they have to prove how good they are all the time… then they can’t really be that confident, can they?”

Izuku stares, openmouthed, before his jaw slowly shuts again. He hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Maybe that was Bakugou’s problem,” Kaminari muses. “You know? ‘Cause I’ve never met anybody as desperate as he was to prove how great they were.”

“Kacchan’s the most confident person I know,” Izuku points out. “That was his whole problem. Everybody praised his quirk, and how strong and smart he is, and that’s…” That’s why he got away with everything.

“Yeah, but he has a garbage personality,” Kaminari says bluntly. Ashido barks out a laugh, Uraraka and Sero snicker, and Kirishima purses his lips like he’s trying not to follow suit. “What? He does! Maybe that’s why he’s so obsessed with being better than everybody, so he can make up for the fact that nobody’s gonna like him otherwise.”

Izuku shoves in a mouthful of rice so he won’t have to answer, reddening when he catches Asui’s attention.

Rather than calling him on it, she turns to Ashido. “Ashido-chan, you pulled some cool moves in class yesterday. You’re really good at aiming your acid.”

“Thanks! I work super hard on that!”

“How do you train with your quirk without destroying stuff?” Sero asks, latching on to the new topic.

“My quirk’s not that bad,” Ashido says, huffing a little. “I mean, it used to be, but that was just when I was a little kid. You know, before quirk counseling.”

Izuku listens carefully. He’s always been interested in quirk counseling; it was something he was left out of, obviously, and there was only so much that he could observe from afar before his teacher told him to go back to his word searches.

“It till melts through concrete,” Asui points out. “How do you practice with it?”

“I can change how strong the acid is,” Ashido explains. “If I’m really pulling punches I can get it to the same level as like, lemon juice. So it’d suck to get it in your eyes or in a paper cut, but I’m not gonna melt any walls. It’s good for target practice! Which is still really hard, because it’s liquid.”

“Can you change anything else about your acid?” Izuku asks, now leaning forward with interest.

“Yep! I can change the, uh, what’s the word.” Ashido gestures vaguely. “I can make it thicker instead of just liquid.”

“You can control the viscosity?”

“That’s the one!” Ashido points to him. “My favorite trick is to make it super weak and, uh, viscous, so I can slide around on it! I asked for a good boot design that would help me keep control, too.”

“Could you make it solid?” Izuku asks. “Like gelatin? That might make precision easier, with less of a risk of sending out droplets when you throw it.”

Ashido’s dark eyes widen. Her lips part in surprise, before a wide, delighted grin spreads over her face. “Jelly bombs,” she whispers. “Midoriya, you’re a genius!”

Izuku flushes deeply. For the first time, he thinks that maybe his new… friends? Are they friends? They’re certainly treating him like one, he thinks.

Well. Maybe, for once…

“Hey, uh, guys?” he says, voice cracking with leftover nervousness. Before he can chicken out, he reaches down to retrieve his notebook. “Want to see something I’ve been working on?”

It’s the most fun he’s ever had in the lunchroom before.

[headoverjojo]

That BucciG with an s/o that owns a lot of unusual pets killed me! It was extremely cute and funny. And i was wondering if i could request BucciG with an s/o that owns a Hedgehog? Bhaha sorry it's a little bit ridiculous but im kinda intrigued, i own a tiny friendly 🦔 and it's funny how people just go "uuuhhh spikes" or "does it bite" 😆

Hiiii honey!! Aaaaaa I’m glad you liked that :,) It had been so fun to write!! And I hope that you’ll like this one too :3 Here we go!

Bruno’s gang with a s/o who owns a hedgehog

(Under the cut for length!)

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno was visibly surprised when his s/o informed him about their domestic pet. A hedgehog? He had no idea that hedgehogs could also be domestic pets! He’s utterly curious to meet the little one, asking his s/o what should be the best approach to befriend their hedgehog. He loves them and he knows they love their opet, so he wants to do his best to befriend them!

As they suggested, he approached the little one when the sun was setting down and the hedgehog was more active. he let it sniffle his hand, covered by a glove, to study him, patient. They had told him that the hedgehog would have needed some time to grow accustomed to him, so Bruno didn’t feel sad or demotivated when they trotted to their owner to get their food. It was just the first step!

Bruno is a calm person and this helps immensely. Thanks to it, the little one doesn’t freak out due to sudden movements and feels safe around Bruno. After some time, Bruno finally manages to befriend them! It’s a great day for him! Now he can say he’s part of the family for real, as also his s/o’s pet has accepted him!

Leone Abbacchio

Abbacchio frowned. Intensely. A hedgehog? Really? Why not a dog or a cat, even a hamster? Why a hedgehog? He wants to know! He makes them explain in details why they chose such a peculiar animal, listening intently to their answer. In the end, he just sighs, agreeing to meet their pet; it’s clear that they love them and he doesn’t want to disappoint them refusing to meet the hedgehog.

Even though he thought that he would have felt pretty neutral towards the hedgehog, he just fell in love with them. They were so small, so timid… Abbacchio had a soft spot for small animals, and the hedgehog is just as cute as their owner. Not that he’s going to say that! Being him a calm and collected person who doesn’t make weird or sudden moves, the hedgehog never felt fear around Abbacchio, growing quite fond of their owner’s boyfriend in a relative little time. Even Abbacchio’s s/o is surprised!

Abbacchio usually can’t sleep a lot, so he likes to spend time reading on the couch, usually, not to bother his sleeping s/o. These are the moments when he and their hedgehog can bond, as hedgehogs are more active at night. Abbacchio takes care of them, watching them trotting around when they’re near, cleaning their cage, even giving them some worms as reward when they do a lot of movement! In the end, the hedgehog almost seems to be more attached to Abbacchio than to their owner!

Guido Mista

During his childhood and early teenage years, Mista had a ton of pets. Most of them weren’t even domestic pets, but strays that had, in fact, adopted his family. Cats, dogs, even a couple of seagulls… there was always an animal around his house! But he has never seen a domestic hedgehog. He’s so curious to meet them!

His s/o told him how to behave with the little one, and Mista did his best to act as they said. No sudden noises, no weird movements… even if inside he was screaming and dying due to too much cuteness, externally he stayed calm and chill, letting the hedgehog sniffing his hand. The Pistols were watching them closely, curious; it was something new and strange for them too! And, among them all, in the end the hedgehog chose as their favourite Number 5, as he was the softest and quietest, when Number 3 didn’t make him cry, of course.

Mista is an attentive person, both to his s/o and their hedgehog; he’s up to share their cage’s cleaning duties, to feed them when his s/o isn’t at home… it’s not a burden! And he has time to bond with them. Even if he knows he shouldn’t give them treats, as hedgehogs tend to become fat, he can’t help but doing it, sometimes! Once, the Pistols, when he wasn’t watching, even tried to give them a piece of salami!

Narancia Ghirga

Narancia is absolutely ecstatic when he hears that his s/o has a pet! He could never own a pet, when he was a child, aside from a orange cat that his mother adored, and, after her death, they simply disappeared. So he’s happy to know that his s/o has a little friend at home! And maybe they can be his friend too? He’d love it so much!

His surprise when he sees it’s a hedgehog is immense. Hedgehogs can be domestic pets?! Since when?! And how do they take care of their hedgehog? Do they bite? Or throw their stings?! Some of his questions are so innocent and funny that make them sincerely laugh. So, they sit down with him, explaining in detail how the life with a hedgehog is, while gently caressing their hedgehog’s small muzzle and belly. Narancia is dying inside; he wants to pet them too!!

However, he has to be patient; the hedgehog needs time to grow accustomed to him! He’s impatient, however; when will they finally be accustomed enough?? Now? In two hours? One day? His s/o has to be very patient and to bear with his pouts and even demotivation, reassuring him that the hedgehog just needs a little time! And, as they said, when the little one finally warms up and goes near to Narancia to get their food, he’s ecstatic again! They’re friends now!

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo never had the chance to own any pet in his life, as his parents didn’t want a “ball of fur”, as they said, and a distraction in their home. So, Fugo is quite happy to know they have a pet! It may also be sort of therapeutic… until they say it’s not a dog or a cat, but a hedgehog. What? Has he heard well? How strange, a hedgehog as pet…

Before even trying to approach the little one, Fugo does some research about domestic hedgehog. He sincerely wants to do the right things! He’s used to break things, but this time he’d like to do something good and positive. So, he approaches the little one with method, following the instruction he has read, by letting them sniff his gloved hand and study him all the time they need, staying calm and quiet. In the end, he’s rewarded with the hedgehog’s friendship!

Fugo is a really responsible man, ready to share everything with his s/o, being those pleasant things or less ones, such as cleaning the hedgehog’s cage. He shares the hedgehog’s care with his s/o and in the end this repays him with the hedgehog’s love! Fugo always beams in joy when the little one trots to him to sniff him or to get a worm or two, and his s/o can’t help but to smile sweetly when he sees them interact. They’re so cute!

Giorno Giovanna

Even if he never owned a pet -his mother already did a horrible job with her child-, after awakening Gold Experience he grew used to the most extravagant animals, such as frogs, snakes and so on. In order to use Gold Experience’s power at its best, Giorno studied various animals and how to better use them; so, he’s not totally unprepared when his s/o tells him that they own a small hedgehog. Now he’s curious to meet them!

Giorno is a patient and determined man. If befriending the little one will require days, even weeks, he’ll brace himself and be constant for all the needed time, letting them slowly approaching him, sniffing his gloved hands and he’d slowly gain their trust by sticking around and giving them food when it’s time for them to eat. He’d do his best to help them to associate him to positive things, slowly, without any rush. And when the hedgehog is finally comfortable around him, Giorno’s smile is so happy that he seems the teenager he is, for once!

Even if it doesn’t seem, Giorno spoils them. They’re so cute, with their little muzzle, their soft little belly… he just can’t resist. He surrendered the first moment he saw them and he goes on even now! Of course he’s careful, for example, to not give them too much food, as he knows that hedgehogs tend to become fat and he doesn’t want them not to be healthy! He’s also really careful to the room temperature, always checking to see if it’s right for the little one. More than one time his s/o catched him with the hedgehog on his lap; he’s really warm and their hedgehog is not stupid. Again, they’re so cute together!

[zenonaa]

If you’re okay with rarepairs, any chance of some Celeste/Mukuro? Maybe with 16 (fireplace)?

A gothic lolita-style outfit with white lace, black stockings and red high heels probably isn’t the best attire for traversing through an industrial wasteland, but Celes makes do, even after being offered a change of clothes by her classmates. She strides forward with her chin held high, wearing her cumbersome twin-drill pigtails through crumbling relics, wobbling only occasionally on the unlevel ground.

Despite what the derelict buildings say with their cracks, in their tears of moss and gaping, screaming holes, they’re not hundreds of years old. In fact, two years ago, this very area thrived, had been a city glossy and sleek and modern, and in the centre of it had been a school so prestigious that it gave the illusion that the world had been built around it.

That site, with the only building left intact in the city, now lies some way behind Celes as a result of a full day’s trek. Come nightfall, the temperature drops and the sky drains from a blood red to a starless black. Mondo waves them over to what used to be a house, and everyone troops toward it. Touko covers her face as she scampers in and Celes lingers in the bloodstained hallway, peering over her shoulder. Sakura and Mondo flank the front entrance, watching everyone come in, and their stances go on the defence when the last person approaches.

Mukuro. She glances up for a flicker of a beat as she passes through, her wrists bound behind her back with rope. Unfortunately for Makoto, when the class voted on how to deal with her, his side had been outnumbered. They can claim they forgive her actions in the school prior to their escape, but that doesn’t mean everyone trusts her completely yet.

It also doesn’t help she chose to put her blonde wig back on so she resembles her sister, the cause of all this.

Mondo and Sakura keep their gazes homed in on her. As they should. After all, Mukuro’s sister is the one who unleashed an earthquake of despair through this city. Through Japan. Through the whole world.

They practically frog-march Mukuro to what seems to be a living room, where they join the rest of the class.

“Alright,” says Kiyotaka, standing in front of the group. He holds an electric torch, aiming it upward, which makes the shadows on his face flit about whenever its angle changes even slightly. “I suppose we should try to get some sleep. If we sleep in pairs or small groups and use the blankets we found earlier, we can trap in body heat and keep warm.”

Touko recoils with a sneer. “I… I’m not sleeping with any of you!”

“I concur,” says Byakuya, adjusting his glasses with pursed lips.

“So what? You would rather freeze to death?” Aoi asks, gritting her teeth.

Leon ruffles the back of his head. “Eh, it depends who I get to sleep with.”

The atmosphere prickles. Kiyotaka’s eyes waver, and he opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, someone else pipes up.

“Actually, before thinking about all that, you need to check for any drafts first,” says Mukuro.

Everyone turns to her. She stands between Mondo and Sakura, her face a blank mask. However, the voice had undeniably been hers.

“Pardon?” says Kiyotaka, his elevated finger wilting.

“If we’re staying here, we need to try to close off as many places cold air can come in as possible,” explains Mukuro in monotone. When she masqueraded as Junko, she drawled and squawked and giggled, but her demeanour now is cool and stiff, and she speaks surprisingly softly. “Towels… newspapers… spare blankets… whatever’s available needs to cover any gaps or holes. And all the doors need to be shut, and all the windows have gotta be shut and covered too. Focus on that, then worry about sleeping arrangements.”

Everyone else exchanges thoughtful looks. As for Celes, she cups her chin and continues to survey Mukuro, who resumes standing silently, looking like she has nothing to do with everyone here.

Half an hour later, roughly two thirds of the class are lying on broken furniture, several brought in from other rooms, while Kiyotaka, Mondo and Hifumi sleep on the cold floor, having volunteered to. That had been another nugget of wisdom from Mukuro - the floor absorbs body heat and does not give it back. They all sleep on their coats, not wearing them, bundled in blankets found during their scavenging. On a couch, Celes listens to the patchwork of snores and breathing surrounding her as everyone drifts off to sleep.

Well. Most of everyone.

Someone has to be awake at all times. Right now, it’s Aoi and Leon, leaning against the wall either side of the door. Flames crackle in an old fireplace, and as Celes turns her head toward it, she sees Mukuro is still awake. Not just awake, but sitting upright, facing the fireplace with her back toward everybody else.

Slowly, Celes sits up. Her detachable twin tails sit in a corner of the room on some towels. She shares the couch with Sayaka, their feet by the other’s head, but Sayaka doesn’t stir, not even as Celes picks up her cushion and climbs delicately off the couch. In the corner of her vision, Aoi and Leon quiver, watching her, but Celes ignores them, striding over to Mukuro and sitting down on her cushion beside her.

Mukuro doesn’t turn her head, continuing to study the licks of fire contorting in front of her. While Celes detached her twin tails, Mukuro still boasts that blond wig of hers, which makes some sense. With her hands bound, it’s not like Mukuro can easily remove it.

“It’s a shame we didn’t find any marshmallows,” says Celes in a light tone, cross-legged. “I would have had Kuwata-kun feed us some over the flames. He’d make a subpar butler, but I can’t be picky with what I have… perhaps as a host…?”

She trails off, and Mukuro doesn’t fill in the next part of the conversation. Instead, she continues to blank Celes, who notices and tilts her head to one side.

“I don’t believe it’s your turn on the rota for guard duty,” Celes comments, touching a finger to her chin.

“Neither is it yours,” comes the blunt reply. Rather than snap back at her, Celes perks up, her lips twisting into a simper.

“You got me there, Ikusaba-san,” she replies quietly with a twinkle in her eyes. She hugs herself.  “I’m not used to dwelling in such depraved conditions, you see. I’m accustomed to living in comfortable, four poster beds in lavish locations.”

Mukuro doesn’t answer, nor does she spare a glance. Celes tightens her smile.

“As a soldier, I’m sure you are used to this sort of environment,” says Celes.

“I am, but not for the reason you’re thinking,” states Mukuro, and Celes raises her eyebrows. 

“Oh?” coaxes Celes. The fire crackles.

“I was homeless for a long time.” Mukuro doesn’t take her eyes off the fireplace at any point, still. “So was Junko-chan. We never stayed long with foster families. Junko-chan didn’t like to.”

Spoken so matter-of-factly. Celes grimaces. This girl is either incredibly selfless or incredibly stupid, or both. Which, Celes supposes, is ideal for a henchperson, and is why Junko played one role and Mukuro played the one she did.

“You’re not going to win yourself any favours by referring to her as that,” Celes points out. “That ‘-chan’… is rather affectionate, isn’t it?”

Mukuro shrugs.

“She’s the only person I’ve ever had. I hate her, but I love her,” Mukuro replies. “But don’t worry about me betraying you guys. When the time is right, I’m going to unleash all my despair onto her and take us both down into the pits of hell.”

In her first display of emotion this night, Mukuro cracks a grin, but one so obviously fake. She stares at the fire, and as Celes follows her gaze, she imagines the flames wrapping around Mukuro’s limbs and pulling her into their ashen core. 

Most would have been alarmed by how casually Mukuro spoke. Celes takes it in her stride, though she does pull a face. 

“Talk like that is why you’re still tied up,” Celes informs her, and she sighs, pressing her index fingers together, hovering the tips over her lips. “Ikusaba-san, if I may be forthright with you, hinging your existence on such an individual sounds rather… troubling. Wouldn’t you rather live your life for yourself?”

“… No.”

Hesitation, right there. Yet, Mukuro looks so serious. So determined. So stoic. So different to how she acted when pretending to be her sister. Celes wonders if this is the real Mukuro, or if this is just another costume.

“Ikusaba-san, your loyalty is attractive, but dare I say it is to a fault,” remarks Celes, and she twirls a lock of hair around her finger. “Surely you are more than just a shadow of your sister? More than just a plot device?”

Mukuro’s lips deform. She’s thinking. But she doesn’t say anything.

“Like… what are your hobbies?” prompts Celes, and Mukuro inhales. 

Celes quickly puts a finger over Mukuro’s lips.

“… not involving your sister,” Celes finishes sternly.

Then Celes removes her hand. Mukuro doesn’t answer immediately. Her brow creases.

“I like… darts?” Mukuro says. “And… um…”

Nothing.

“Any books? Comics? Games?” Celes persists.

“Ah!” Mukuro jerks her head up. “F.P.S.!”

First Person Shooters. Of course she does. Celes rests her cheek in her hand, pouting. For a few moments, they sit as still as those sleeping around them, but then Mukuro turns her head toward her.

“Why are you so interested?” asks Mukuro slowly, and Celes doesn’t move.

“Hm?” goes Celes. That frosted look that glazed Mukuro’s face thaws, her face warping as she bares her teeth.

“In me,” clarifies Mukuro. She twitches her head, unable to gesture to herself with her hands. “Why are you interested in me? What is it, huh? Do you want something from me?”

Her voice hikes above a murmur, but the rest of the room remains dormant. A rush of excitement throws up a grin onto Celes’s face.

“Me? I just want your friendship,” says Celes, and she rests a hand on Mukuro’s shoulder, which quells Mukuro’s simmering anger if only by making her hesitate.

“But why?” blurts Mukuro, wide-eyed. Celes’s shoulders shake with amusement.

“I think you would be useful,” says Celes, in a language that Mukuro can understand. Mukuro’s expression hardens with understanding. “You know how to survive out here, and fight. But… you’re also kind of intriguing, you know? You’re a mystery… and I hate it when other people have mysteries.”

Mukuro blinks and mouths the word ‘intriguing’, wrinkling her brow, like she has never heard it used in that context before. Celes leans closer and cups Mukuro’s cheek, and they stare at each other, one in confusion, one calmly. Then Celes’s hand drifts up and she takes off Mukuro’s wig, dropping it to the floor.

Underneath, Mukuro has cropped black hair. At a distance, she could be mistaken for Celes, but up close, Celes can see Mukuro’s freckles, her washed out blue eyes and the clumps in her mascara. The gentle blush on Mukuro’s face.

She strokes Mukuro’s cheek.

“I’m interested to see what the real you is like, Ikusaba-san,” whispers Celes.

And then,

“Likewise, Taeko-chan,” replies Mukuro, just as quietly. Celes tenses. 

Mukuro smirks. It could be called a smile. Whatever it is, it makes Celes’s heart skip for the first time in ages.

“How…?” Celes’s face threatens to crumble, and she swallows hard. Feels the vibrations through her body. Mukuro oozes smugness, jutting her chin, but not breaking away from Celes’s hand.

“You told me,” says Mukuro. “Though you won’t remember that.”

Celes’s heart races, but locked up in her chest, it can’t give her true feelings away to anyone else. And if Celes directs her attention away from it, her heart can’t betray her true feelings to even herself. In this case, she focuses on the face she cradles in one hand. Mukuro’s.

Only, doing that makes Celes’s face heat up.

No. That must be because of the fireplace. She tells herself that.

“Well…” Celes stretches out her smile as much as it can go. “… I look forward to getting to know you again. I want to know what sort of person you really are.”

The sort of person she would confide her real name to.

Their silhouettes tremble, framed by a low fire, with Celes touching her hand against Mukuro’s cheek. Nearby, Aoi and Leon share bewildered looks and shrug at each other, while everyone else continues to pretend to be asleep.

[peepingtoad]

// @kagettbayo​ 

Naruto smirked quickly packing his things, he was supposed to leave with Master Jiraiya today. He didn’t really rest much that night only because of all of the excitement. He was going to learn so many awesome things from this guy and the fact he actually WANTED to take him was the best thing that could have ever happened to him at this point. The boy’s heart sped up already having had a few lessons with the old Perv; the man was awesome as far as Naruto was concerned despite his appetite for women.

Naruto’s heart raced as the boy carefully selected his items balancing it against his other things for the sake of weight. He was told he pack wisely because they only carry but so much or it would slow and weigh them down. Thankfully, Naruto saved his money all of the time for the future and therefore had the funds to take in case of emergency. Naruto spent hours giving it thought not even sure how long they would be gone. As reminder he constantly told himself that whatever he chose he would have to carry whatever he took.

The life of a nomad was fast paced and not too often did they carry much in their travels.He had already learned one lesson, not to let Jiraiya know what he had in monetary value for the sake of his masters “research”. Tucking some coins and bills into the frog he quickly shoved it into his pouch on his back. Smirking to himself, Naruto knelt down crossing his legs pulling his foot to him with a smirk. Taking the hem of his pants he slit the bottom stitches of orange with a smirk placing two strips of plastic inside it to build a foundation inside the cloth making sure they were thin enough to hide but thick enough to protect the money. He rolled up majority of his funds up sliding his fingers over it to smash it together perfectly so it was flat wrapping it into a thin sheet of plastic to protect it in case he got wet. When he slid the money into place in his pants he sewed it closed covering it with a patch on the backside of the orange cloth with double cross stitches to secure it.

When finished Naruto lifted his leg into the air satisfied studying his pant-leg to make sure it was undetectable not only to his Sensei but also to anyone they would come in contact with. Upon approval, the boy jumped up tugging his jacket on turning while zipping it closed finally finished with his checklist.He didn’t even take time to use the door his breakfast cup of ramen secured between his teeth. Taking a deep breath he looked at himself in the mirror reaching down to pull his bag onto his pack. After carefully tying his headband into place he took the ramen into his hand careful not to spill it on himself with too much movement.

Keep reading

Jiraiya left the hospital that fateful evening with a tumult of emotions in his heart. What had started as an ultimatum, telling Naruto that he would only agree to train him if he abandoned his goal of saving Sasuke, had ended with him rescinding on it entirely. Of course, there was little real conviction as he'd laid down those terms--only the dull ache of a pain he knew all too well, and his desire to protect Naruto from that very same disappointment that plagued him. But he should have known that knucklehead would stubbornly refuse to give up--that was the very same person he used to be, after all. And it only took that stubbornness to spark in Jiraiya the remembrance of that, to accept that it was no bad thing to be a hopeful fool in this world.

Not that he'd ever tell Naruto outright how he'd helped his infinitely wise master to find a little of himself that evening. He doubted the kid would really understand it, for a start, and even if he did Jiraiya would probably never hear the end of it... but it wasn't only that. It still felt like it was just too soon for him to truly hope for a chance to reconnect with his own friend, after he'd spiralled to the point where he killed their own sensei...

No--for now he would channel that unanswered desire into helping Naruto restore his bond however he could, and if one led to the other, well...

Although Naruto was still in bandages when he eventually took his leave, he still instructed him to prepare himself for their departure as soon as possible. Knowing that chakra of his, he would be fully healed soon enough; besides, there were a few things Jiraiya needed to take care of before he whisked Naruto away for three years of adventure and solid training. Connections to reach out to, intel to chase up, a safe route to map out--the sage was a whole lot more prepared than one would believe from his typically capricious behaviour.

It could almost lead one to believe that this had been the plan all along.

As it happened, however, it did take longer than he'd hoped to find himself once more within Konohagakure's walls--a good number of weeks, in fact. Without a doubt, Naruto would be incredibly impatient to get going by this point, but the tardy sage at least had the courtesy to send on a toad heralding his return, instructions laid plainly within a scroll for the boy to get his things together and meet him at a certain place and time the following morning.

Which left Jiraiya with only one thing to do--to enjoy one last night of freedom from a boisterous pre-teen. 

He chose to do so at an inn that lay several miles from the village outskirts, where he sat smoking his pipe on the chilly balcony while gazing at the crescent moon that glimmered sharply from behind rolling clouds. It was here that he reflected on that conversation once more with a serene smile, remembering the determination that shone vividly in Naruto's eyes, and his ardent promise that he would find Sasuke and pull him back from the darkness.

The following morning brought with it a crisp chill that touched the greenery surrounding the inn with a dusting of frost.

This didn't trouble Jiraiya too much, however--after all, it was at the crack of dawn that he had to leave if he was to make it back to Konoha on time, and as the morning rolled on the world would likely return to its green, sunny state. Besides, it was at times like this that he could really appreciate this specific time of day that was so rarely seen, where the sun rose blood orange and stained the sky pink and gold--although a great deal of that appreciation also came from having just slept somewhere warm and sheltered.

Again, a luxury that may not always be an option once he had Naruto in tow. It was imperative that they remain on the move, difficult for unfriendly individuals to predict or trace. But that was exactly why Jiraiya was the only one who could take him from his shinobi duties for such an extended period.

With this thought in mind, there may have been a distinct air of lamentation when he bid the pretty receptionist goodbye, leaving his room key, a generous tip... and naturally, a flirtatious note slipped in with the bills.

It was around ten in the morning by the time he made it to central Konoha. That was half an hour earlier than he'd suggested they meet up, so it was no surprise to him that there was nary a yellow head to be seen amongst the sparse crowds that milled about the high street. Jiraiya was fine with that, and took the opportunity to check out the bargain bin outside the bookshop, where he frowned upon eventually uprooting a barely-touched copy of 'The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi'.

Bargain bin. Bottom of the pile. Really.

With a slightly sour expression, he opted instead to grab some tea to go, and by the time he leaned against a wall to await his apprentice's arrival, it was already past the meeting time. Although it was much warmer now, he still had the sniffles after that bracing journey here, but a warm drink certainly helped to alleviate both that and any creeping impatience at being left hanging.

Ten more minutes, and I'll burst into his little apartment and cast Toad Mouth Trap... that'll scare the little bastard awake...

Just as the devious thought crossed his mind, his own name rang through the peaceful morning atmosphere, carried upon a most shrill voice, which Jiraiya answered with a snap of his head towards the source, and a barely withheld laugh of his own. As the orange blur skidded to a halt before him, he waved away the resulting flurry of dust.

"You trying to make your own shoes catch fire or something? Because I’ll tell you know that does not count as Katon." He said with a raised eyebrow, and extended a hand with the intention of ruffling blond spikes... only to falter as he was presented with... something. Something wrapped. He blinked dumbly for a moment, one that stretched on long enough for it to be clear that he would in fact require an explanation.

"... Birthday?"

Shit--was it his birthday? He mentally shook himself to recall the exact date. He supposed it was chilly enough to possibly be November by now, so... sure, he’ll go with it. Who would ever complain at being given a gift, besides?

"Ah. Yes. Of course it's my birthday. The big five-one... ahaha..." God save me!!! Jiraiya thought to himself with a forced grin as he accepted the mystery present and began to unwrap it. "... Well, Naruto, I dunno what to say! Hardly expected you to spoil me like this after... after I..."

With the way his jaw dropped upon unravelling the scroll, one might suspect it contained all the ancient secrets of the world--but no. It was simply a piece of erotic art. Or so it would appear to some run-of-the-mill uncultured swine. Jiraiya, however, knew--of course he knew!--that this was a one of a kind item with no known replicas, almost legendary for being the only depiction of one certain geisha in existence.

This gift... was kingly.

So stunned was the sage that he hardly realised Naruto had already wandered off--not until he finally managed to form the simple word 'how', at which point it was, of course, too late to receive an answer. He carefully wrapped the scroll once more, and placed it back within its bag, before tucking it safely into one of the pouches on his pack. He'd have to safely seal it away later. This was for private enjoyment only (and possibly framing and hanging in three years time, when he finally was able to visit his home).

Upon catching up to the young Uzumaki, his large hand finally came to rest atop his head with an affectionate ruffle.

“Thank you for that, Naruto. You have no idea just how touched I am.” And how touched I will be later, too. Touched by myse--��“However! Back to business! We’ve got a good solid day of walking ahead of us, so I hope you packed li-... light...”

... Dammit. There he goes again.

Only this time, Jiraiya wouldn’t go bounding after him. He was the sensei, he called the shots. So he proceeded to pass over the threshold of the gates all too casually, nose turned slightly up towards the air as he waved back at the ever-bored Kotetsu and Izumo. The kid would have to calm down and stick by his side eventually, he was sure... and lo and behold, he did, if only to immediately start with the requests.

“Oh, you mean like that Rasengan you’ve only semi-perfected?” He said innocently enough as he clasped his hands behind his head, but the single eye that peered down at Naruto paired with the teasing smirk spoke perfectly otherwise. “Or the fact you can only seem to summon a decent-sized toad when you’re on the verge of death?”

Oh, it was mean, but Jiraiya just couldn’t help teasing the kid.

“If you’d been listening, then you’d have heard me say that we’ll be walking a hell of a lot until we reach our first pit stop. That means we need to keep up our energy--but if you wanna practice your chakra control for the Rasengan while we do so, be my guest. The sooner you no longer require a clone to form it, the better... but you’ve gotta remember, we’ve got three years ahead of us. Three long, gruelling years, Naruto. You’ll be begging me to stop teaching you jutsu by the end of it, believe you me...”

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

Field Time in Borneo

By Jennifer Sheridan

As some of you know, my main field research takes place in Malaysian Borneo, in the state of Sabah. I travel there frequently for work (ecological fieldwork), and I was lucky enough to be asked to serve as an instructor for a graduate field course held at one of my main field sites in October of this year. This particular site, Danum Valley Conservation Area, is one of the largest expanses of lowland primary forest remaining in Borneo, and because I have been going there regularly since 2010, it holds special meaning for me. Thus, I was very eager to share my enthusiasm for and knowledge of this place and its herpetological inhabitants with students.

This particular field course is run by the Tropical Biology Association, based out of Cambridge (UK). TBA courses are wonderful for many reasons, but one of my favorite features is that they are an even mix of students from Europe and, in the case of the Danum course, Southeast Asia. Because students in SE Asia don’t always have the same opportunities for continued graduate education as do students in Europe and the US, this course provides much-needed capacity building in a region that suffers from the highest rate of deforestation (and thus biodiversity loss) in the world. This year’s course featured students from 12 countries, and was nearly 2/3 female—another important capacity-building measure, given that women remain underrepresented in the sciences.

The structure of the course is also one that I think works well: two weeks of detailed field instruction and exercises, introducing students to methods of surveying and studying multiple taxonomic groups, followed by two weeks of students working in small groups to design, execute, and present original research projects. For me, as a scientist working at the site long-term, this structure also allows me to test new methods or gather pilot data for potential future projects. This year I supervised two groups who chose to work on frogs: one group who radiotracked a species of frog that had never been tracked before, and one group who measured the biomass of frogs on three different streams. The former project was intended to serve as pilot data for future radiotracking studies in primary and disturbed forest areas, to determine whether movement patterns and dispersal of amphibians are impacted by fragmentation. The latter project was partly because I had never measured this before and was curious what the biomass of frogs on these streams was, and partly because knowing biomass, in addition to abundance and diversity, can help ecologists like me better understand how loss of species or communities (multiple species of frogs, for example) impacts ecosystem function. Both of these projects, though small, will be written up by myself and the students who conducted them, and submitted to regional peer-reviewed journals for publication. In science, publications such as this are important both for me as curator, as well as for students just beginning their careers.

In addition to the wonderful educational and research opportunities this course afforded all of us, I happen to just love being in the field. I wake up to the sound of gibbons or birds calling. I get to hike through the jungle to get to my pristine streams (most frogs in Borneo are stream-breeders), which are so beautiful. I can talk shop with other researchers, like the fellow instructor I met who studies carbon stocks of Sabah forests, and who will now collaborate with me on my long-term research project. I look for frogs along streams at night, and in doing so I get to see loads of other wildlife, like snakes, sleeping lizards and birds, fluorescent caterpillars, glow-in-the-dark fungi, mouse deer, civets, slow loris, tarsier, and clouded leopard, just to name a few. The dual nature of my job—sitting at my desk analyzing data, managing the section of amphibians & reptiles, and writing papers, then going out and living and working in the jungle—is one of the greatest things about being a scientist, and one of the reasons I love being a curator. This was one of the greatest field months of my life thanks to the amazing students, my fellow instructors, and the luck of seeing so much great wildlife, and now I get the pleasure of sharing the results of that trip with the public as well as the scientific community, while exploring other projects with our expansive museum collections. I really can’t imagine doing anything else.

Jennifer A. Sheridan is the Assistant Curator in the Section of Herpetology at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

[1soos]

The Country Witch

Chapter One: New Beginnings or A Bit of Luck

genre: romance, magic!au

pairing: taehyung x reader

warnings/things to look for: witch!reader, magical elements, eventual smut

length: 3.1k

summary: You move to a house in the country and are met by a golem on your first night.

a/n: look at this gorgeous edit that @6v6tmn did of Taehyung for this story! I’m honestly still on the floor.

The dirt squelches under your determined steps. You are waterlogged, wet to the bone, and the rain shows no signs of letting up any time soon. As a general rule, you don’t go outside in storms, in this aspect you are like most people. Normally, you would be inside right now, warm in your home or taking shelter in a shop in town until the storm passes, especially one of this magnitude that seemingly came from nowhere, but “normal” hasn’t been a part of your playbook for a long time. You try not to feel personally attacked by nature’s impromptu deluge. The National Weather Service was scrambling to make sense of it, but the weather alert that had popped up on your phone nearly an hour ago now, said that the storm clouds had settled over your neck of the woods literally and specifically, the heart of the small country town curiously safe from the sepia toned curtain falling in front of the sun.

You’re not exactly Filled with Foreboding, you know what that feels like, paralyzing and ominous, but you’re on edge. You’d been overly cautious all day which had slowly pissed off the movers through the day. You’re positive they were talking shit about you being a micro-managing asshole on the hour drive back to the other side of town, and in a way, it’s totally justified because nothing had come of the uncomfortable hollow feeling in the bottom of your stomach and you’d made their job all the harder for your hovering.

It’s your first day in your new house, and you haven’t believed in coincidence since you were 13 years old, so whatever, or whoever, is channeling the sky is clearly doing it to mess with you. Weather can be tracked and studied, patterns giving people time to plan their lives around nature. This, whatever this is, has a distinctly unnatural feel to it. Like someone conjured storm clouds over your new house to send a message.

Everything had made it inside before the clouds rolled in and you’d waved the movers off before the rain dumped out of them. You’d hoped for a blessing, but this is slightly more aggressive than anything you’ve seen in the past. You’d been expecting an animal blessing. Sort of like the whole bird poo thing that people decided was good luck but was really just shit. (Storks are the only flying creature that deal in luck and they definitely do not roost in the Pacific Northwest.) Rain though, rain means frogs and you’d take a frog over a bird anytime. If the rain brings frogs, then you absolutely know that you chose the right place to practice.

You’d walked through the house after the movers left, getting a feel for it, noting the space and imagining everything in it’s proper place. You ended your self-guided tour in the attic. There are a lot of reasons, good and bad, that you decided to buy this house, but a main one was this attic. It’s big and open; the whole length and width of the two floors below without walls and doors bisecting the house’s inherent energy. A massive window facing the backyard and following along the edges and angles where the pointed roof meets the floor makes you think that the architect added this with the light of the sun and moon pouring through in mind. You’d walked over and fiddled with one of the latches, making sure that it won’t come open with the force of the storm, a faint buzz from the bottom left corner let you know that you don’t have to worry about any damage to the house from outside forces, which is certainly a handy bit of craft.

As if to emphasize that point, a jolt of lightning illuminated the backyard followed closely by a cracking boom of thunder that shook the house. Despite knowing that you were safe inside, your heart picked up speed as a streak light cut across the sky, hitting the fence that borders your property. The wood of the fence didn’t catch fire, rather it crackled to blackness and splintered apart, but that’s not what caught your eye.

An exaggerated bump had developed under the branches of the white oak in the west corner of your yard sometime between the last time you’d looked out some 30 minutes before and that moment. Your fingertips tingled like all the blood ran out of them. A sourness spread through your gut and you know you shouldn’t have, but you headed down the steps pooling your energy, hot and vibrating, into your hands. You opened the door and immediately feel the pull of the wind and the rain, the smell of wet dirt filling your nose as you step away from the fortress that is your house.

There’s a voice in your head telling you to go back inside and another railing over the ruination of your shoes, but louder than all that, was the need to investigate. Playing detective has gotten you in trouble before. “Special circumstances,” you explain to no one, teeth rattling around your skull and sputtering to keep water out of your mouth. The temperature had dropped dramatically since the afternoon and you find yourself wishing that heat were one of your talents.

It’s gotten so dark that you don’t notice the miniature hill that’s taken up residence isn’t covered in grass. Like someone had dumped a load of new dirt, now turned into a black pile of mud. Or, you think, pacing the length of the protrusion, like someone buried something roughly the size of a human. The wind steals the “Fuck,” right out of your mouth.

The wind picks up and changes the angle of the rain so that it’s pelting you from the side. A bright slash of lightning cracks somewhere above you and the pile…it’s writhing. Slowly, torturously, as if it were alive and in pain. Setting your hands on it, you push out of yourself and down into the dirt, feeling for black or blood magic. Instead, you find life, but it’s small and steady, inconsistent with human life and not thrumming with the kind of massive energy it would take to move like this. You help it find its way to the surface anyway and snort when a rather large frog fixes it’s eyes on you.

“Thought one of you might show up,” you sigh in relief, and it croaks in response. The pile is still. One of your eyebrows travels up your forehead and you point a skeptical look at your new friend. It shrugs, an interesting thing for a frog to do to say the least, and launches itself off its perch squelching down into the grass, bunches it’s muscles up again and hops through the air. You don’t think anyone has referred to a frog as majestic before, but the word begs to be used as it glides through the rain, only stopping at your back door to turn its whole body and look at you expectantly.

“Okay, definitely not your garden variety luck frog then.” Thunder booms overhead, reminding you of its presence. You cast one look back at the stationary pile, uneasy with leaving it as is. The frog bellows impatiently. Hesitating, looking from the annoyed amphibian to the pile of dirt, you sigh and head toward the house.

You hold open the door for your first guest, its heavy, wet body slapping against the kitchen tile leaving a trail of mushy chunks of mud.

“Make yourself at home,” you call out to its back as it heads up the back stairs, “I’ll just clean this, I guess.” Trying very hard not to be too sulky about the mess and the fact that cleaning and housework in general are things that must be done manually.

You grab the box that has cleaning supplies in it and fish out paper towels. The sharp, quick noise of the towel tearing along the perforated edge is immensely satisfying. As is the crinkle of the plastic shopping bag you’re using as an on-the-go trash bag to throw the used towels in. You love noise. Not the noise of a city, metal grinding together and people yelling over each other in a crisscross pattern, but personal noise. It’s up to you how quiet or how loud your home will be because it’s your home and you decide what to fill it up with.

You follow the mud trail the frog left to the attic, wiping with less enthusiasm than you started with. It’s sitting in the center of the floor, in fact, you’d say the exact center which is a strange choice. Though, it’s probably good to know. You call for a piece of chalk and draw a circle around the frog.

“Thank you,” you say, and the chalk goes back to whichever box it came from. “Thank you, as well, Frog.” It nods once regally and hops out of the center easily.

“I grant you roam of the house, but I’m for bed,” you say grandly, but Frog stares at you even as you leave the room making you feel ridiculous.

It’s barely 9 o’clock when you flop onto the blow-up mattress in your room, the storm has dissipated to a drizzle. Your thoughts float from Frog and the mysterious unit of dirt currently occupying your backyard to decorating the house. It’s been an eventful evening even for you. You thought that by deciding to move clear across country, basically out in the woods, that life would settle in around you. That by leaving everything, the bad and the good, behind there would be nothing left for you but peace. Perhaps that is a tad too optimistic for the life you lead. Yes, you would have control of your space and only you would dictate how you live but being lonely doesn’t suit you. It’s part of why you let Frog in, aside from the risk of being given bad luck by an ultimate luck dealer if you didn’t, just knowing that Frog is wandering around the rest of the house, full of boxes and the buzzing undercurrent of energy, is a great comfort.

You must have picked a good place if a luck frog is staying with you on your first night; a comforting thought to have as you slip into sleep.

 …

 You sit straight up in bed, the deepest dark of night surrounding you, wakened by a crash on the floor below. You grab your phone and blind yourself with the screen’s brightness to check the time, knowing before you even look what it is. Three in the morning on the dot. Your stomach twists.

Your fingers tingle, electric pricks of power readying for use.

Barely marking the steps, you fly down the stairs, opting for speed instead of stealth, to confront the perpetrator of the crash.

And there, naked, though covered in clumps of dirt and various bits of nature, stands a man, looking as panicked as you feel.

He takes a step forward, fear overwhelms you, and your hands come up in front of you on instinct, but you’re too late. You feel sluggish, power draining and consciousness slipping. You crumple to your knees, hardly feeling the harsh impact, only being able to tell it was rough by the scrunched concern on the intruder’s face, which is now very close to yours. His mud slicked arms wrap around you for support. A tear falls out of the corner of your eye. He reaches to wipe it only to realize how dirty he is and yank his hand back.

No. No, no, no. How could he have found you already? Your heart thuds, hard and painful inside your chest.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry! You’ll be fine!” His voice is deep. It rattles in his chest, you feel the vibrations against your arm. It’s oddly comforting, considering the danger you’re in. His words and actions are strange considering he just drained your energy like it was nothing.

Your eyelids are getting heavier, harder to force open. His muscles tense under and around you and when you open your eyes again, you understand why. He’s carrying you. A steady rising motion as he carries you directly back to your room. A faint croak comes from directly in front of the both of you; Frog leading the way.

“Traitor,” you croak back, and the man stiffens around you, picking up speed.

He could have dropped you straight from his arms to the mattress, he could do a great many more horrifying things, but he lays you down with utmost care. The moment his arms aren’t around you, the cold creeps in alongside the fear and you try to roll away from your perceived attacker.

“I’m so sorry, but you have to rest now.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, warmth spreads through your body. Your muscles relax, and you drift.

The last thing you see is Frog with its full attention on Tall, Dark, and Muddy.

 …

You wake, this time, to a smell. Pancakes. The scent so thick, you can almost taste them on the air.

The sun is shining brightly through the windows, you groan and make a mental note to put the curtains up first. You fight your way out of the deflated middle of the air mattress and sitting cross-legged on the wood floor, test your magic. You cradle your energy inside of yourself and push it out into your hands. It’s there. It’s still there. He didn’t take it.

And then another thought.

He didn’t take your magic and he’s still here.

Idiot. Doesn’t he know what you can do to him?

You fumble down the stairs, head and body aching like the worst hangover you’ve ever had, making as much noise as you like in your own house. You may not be back to one-hundred percent, but you’re damn sure that you won’t be caught off-guard again.

You tread heavily into the kitchen, feet slapping against the tile not unlike Frog last night, hands ready.

You know that he knows you’re there, but he’s pointedly staring a hole into the floor. He’d bathed in the hours since you saw him last and commandeered one of your flat bed sheets, knotted and twisted around him in some places and barely covering anything in others. There’s an involuntary thump of something fragile under your ribs as you watch him avoid your gaze, focus entirely on the rapidly cooking pancake in the hefty cast iron skillet your mother had given you years ago to “help ward off evil.” Which is certainly interesting in this context.

You clear your throat and when he jumps, you raise your fisted hands and flick your fingers out in his direction, freezing him and everything else in the room. Not a witch then or he would still be moving. You must move quickly. Your ability to stop time, while helpful in a number of situations, is brief and confined to the room you’re in.

You cross the kitchen to him and place your hands on his arm, reaching down into him like you’d done with the pile of mud last evening, but all you feel is warmth, but not human heat caused by cells and a metabolism and mitochondria because there is no heartbeat, no trace of blood in him anywhere. Not a warlock or any other human variation. Something made into the form of a human, able to perform human tasks.

A creation of Malachi’s would have had orders to kill you once your powers were harvested, but here you stand, in your kitchen, in a home that’s barely yours with your hands on someone’s creation.

Time unfreezes much faster than you’re used to, an unfortunate side effect of last night, not that you notice. The sound of the cooking pancake barely registering as you’re lost in thought, combing through years of magic lessons to classify the strangely polite, and possibly dangerous, creature in your home. Though, you think, if he’d wanted you dead or to take your powers, he would have done so when he had the upper hand.

A low hum catches your attention and you look up into the face of the creature.

He stares at you, unstartled by your seemingly split-second closeness, with deep brown, almost black, eyes. His equally dark brown hair falls over his forehead, dusting his thick eyebrows, and then, so small that you’re not sure if it’s there, a crack on the outside crease of his right eye.

“Oh,” you drop your hands to your sides and take a step back and fight the urge to apologize.

The corners of his mouth turn up in a small tight smile and he goes back to watching the pancake, waiting a few moments before flipping it carefully.

“I have questions.”

“Okay,” he says and gestures with the spatula to go ahead.

“I guess I’ll go for the obvious one first: who are you?”

“I feel like a Taehyung,” he says thoughtfully, “I know that I’m not human, but that I look like one. I’m not sure what I am though.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Yes!” He looks so pleased to know something and that fragile feeling is back in your chest. “I’m here to protect you.”

“If that’s true, then why did you attack me?”

Discomfort floods his face and he fidgets. “I was scared. I could feel all this energy coming at me and I just knew I would die if I didn’t defend myself, but it was you. I’m supposed to protect you, that’s like, my only job and I’ve already messed up. But the house wouldn’t have let me in if I wanted to do you harm!” He finishes quickly.

“You drained me, took all of my energy, my power. How?”

He whines a ‘sorry’ and shrugs his shoulders.

“Did someone send you?”

Another shrug. “I clawed my way out of the mud in the yard last night. That is my first moment. I don’t know how I know the things I know or how to begin to know the things I don’t. All I know is that I’m here for you. I have to keep you safe.”

The mud. Fuck, you’re so stupid. Of course, he came from the mud.

And of course, he could be only one thing.

You look at him, eyes wide with discovery. “Taehyung, you’re a golem.”

masterlist

[silverliningslurk]

these nights shall become us

Pairing: Nursey/Dex Rating: T Length: 4.5k Summary: Nursey starts sharing a room with Dex. The weird thing is, Dex never seems to actually sleep in it. Nursey thinks it's a problem Dex has with him. He's also determined to work this one out, however much Dex tries to avoid it.

Read on AO3! 

Nursey was, although he'd never admit it, a bit offended when Dex realised that the dib flip would be shared.

He'd not reacted well.

Perhaps it was an understatement to say he was a little offended, because he was a lot offended, and he'd even thought he and Dex had been getting on well.

It led to one of their biggest fights so far, because even though Dex wanted another flip, Lardo and Ransom both said no. Ransom lived by rules, and the By-Laws were rules - laws, even - of the Haus. They were to be abided by. If Dex had agreed not knowing the possibility of a split vote, that was his fault.

Dex shot back that it wasn’t exactly usual for a coin flip, and stormed out.

Nursey had, until that point, been quite excited about it. He liked sharing a room; it was so far away from the lonely house his mothers called home, and he'd never had to do it before Samwell.

Chowder was quite upset by the whole thing, and worked his magic in pleading Dex to come around. In the end, he begrudgingly agreed to it, provided he could sleep on the bottom bunk.

Nursey was fine with this. He rather liked the idea of watching Dex work at the desk from the upper bunk, unnoticed.

He may have also had slightly ulterior motives for being happy about sharing a room with Dex, and slightly greater reasons for being offended when Dex reacted badly.

So, they went their separate ways for the summer. Nursey spent it between skating at the ice rink, contacting the rest of the team via every social media platform available to him, and being more than a little invested in how often Dex replied to his texts.

It always amused him how someone interested in computers could dislike using them in a social way. He had Facebook, but barely updated, his wall mostly his siblings posting stupid things, and the occasional friend from home (Dex never talked about them. Nursey was very curious). He rarely commented all that much on the group chat, whether that was the one with just the frogs or the team in general. He didn't have twitter, and told him that everyone else talked about it so much he didn't need it. He had snapchat but refused to ever take selfies.

Nursey wondered if he had a tumblr. If he did, it was his personal mission to find it. It would be hilarious, he would have thought.

So summer was spent in a quiet haze of heat and loneliness. Nursey had a lot of time to himself. He visited Chowder over in Cali just for something to do, and tried to visit Dex, but he'd just gotten a vague reply reminding Nursey that he was working most of the time, and couldn't really afford the time off.

Dex had seemed a bit resigned about it when they'd skyped, so Nursey took his victories where he could, and chose to believe that was because Dex wanted to see him, not that he just didn't want to have to work.

And then started their time as roommates.

Dex seemed weirdly on edge, but not overly so. Nervous about starting back, Nursey presumed, thinking nothing of it.

Over the first few weeks, Nursey didn't notice anything wrong. If anything, Dex was better than his last roommate, being fairly tidy but not quite so anal about it, quieter, tending to wear headphones when he was working - when he didn't stay in the library for hours. And he never woke Nursey up when he walked in, whenever he did walk in.

They had their disagreements, but they were minor, mostly. Dex wanted him to be tidier with his study stuff, so Dex could get to his without hassle. Dex wasn't overly happy about him smoking pot in the room, so they compromised by saying he could either smoke out the window or in the reading room. It seemed to suit. For his part, Nursey felt like Dex was avoiding him at times, and tended to leave his shoes right where Nursey - his head known for being magnetically attracted to the floor and getting there the fastest way possible, at times - would easily trip over them. And had done. Several times.

But they worked them out. Dex made an effort to put his shoes away, and not be so distant. Nursey had a designated zone for dumping his stuff in a messy pile.

So things worked well.

Until Nursey started noticing the oddities regarding Dex's sleep patterns.

Namely, the lack of any pattern at all.

Or just. The lack of any sleep.

The only regular thing seemed to be that Dex would not be asleep before Nursey, and would be awake before him. He was totally perplexed as to how he did it, and just to see, started going to bed even later, sometimes managing until two in the morning before he gave up, Dex quietly typing on the laptop, the sounds of it gradually fading away.

During the week, it was easy to explain away. Dex had eight o'clock classes, although who knew why he'd ever wanted to sign up to those. Nursey never started earlier than ten, which suited him just fine.

But at the weekends, particularly when they didn't have practice?

Dex would be sat downstairs, dressed and working, reading, or just chilling. It was like he was phobic of staying in bed, or relaxing, or just having a lie in.

Slowly, it occurred to Nursey that he wasn't actually sure he'd ever seen Dex asleep in a bed.

After that, it turned into an obsession. He tried setting alarms at weird times of night, times no one should be awake. Sometimes he caught Dex asleep, but sometimes, he wasn't even in bed. Nursey never quite had the inclination to find out where he'd gone, too much of a heavy sleeper to ever actually get out of bed to solve the mystery.

So it went unsolved for a month or so. He started watching Dex closely though, in that time, and noticed that since the start of term, he'd gotten worse. He had dark circles under his eyes, drank more coffee, stronger and darker, as if he was forcing himself to stay awake during the day. His reactions weren't as good, even on the ice, and he seemed more listless than he had done.

Noticing that, Nursey decided he had to address the issue. It had to be something to do with the sleeping arrangements, because he'd not been quite so bad last year, and it was virtually the only thing that had changed.

Dex was surprisingly evasive on the subject. Whenever Nursey brought it up, he changed the subject or swiped it to one side, or just ignored it completely, as though he hadn't heard.

Now, Nursey was getting upset. He genuinely thought he and Dex were friends. And now Dex was letting whatever issues he had with sharing a room with Nursey affect him in all areas of his life, but refused to talk about it to Nursey himself.

Was it that he felt like Nursey would prank him? Was he one of those people that hated the idea of people watching him sleep? But he could have sworn he'd seen him sleeping on the tour bus. In fact, he recalled being sort of scared because Dex had been really difficult to awaken at the other end, but Lardo had just told Nursey to leave him to it. Dex got well and truly chirped, but didn't really defend himself as usual. As though he'd been expecting it.

Disheartened by the apparent lack of trust, the uneasy truce continued on for a while. Nursey did his best to ignore the hurt about not being able to be confided in, and the anger that Dex was hiding something vital from him, and Dex continued on like he always had, with next to no sleep, and if Nursey stayed up later just to spite him, well, nobody was perfect.

It all changed a little before winter break.

Nursey wasn't totally sure what had woken him up, but he heard a shuffling, and footsteps going out the room and down the stairs, then silence. He assumed Dex was going to the bathroom. Waited.

And waited.

Nursey found himself eerily awake, perplexed. Was Dex working? It wasn't exactly unusual, but now Nursey was angry. He wanted to know what the problem was. Why Dex didn't trust him, didn't trust enough in their friendship to be able to survive it, for doing such a shit job of covering it up.

He stormed downstairs, determined to get answers.

From the living room, Chowder shushed him urgently before he could even open his mouth. Nursey soon saw why.

Dex was laid out on the couch, his head on Chowder's lap, and dead to the world. He looked peaceful, unlike all the other times Nursey had seen him asleep, apart from the time on the roadie, but then he'd just looked unconsciousness. He genuinely looked peaceful, and Chowder rested a hand in his hair, looking worriedly at him.

Many things went through Nursey's head. What came out was:

"Are you cheating on Farmer?"

In his defence, it was four in the morning, nobody should be awake, and it looked awfully romantic to him, his heart flinching painfully at the thought of losing Dex to Chowder, of all people, and having to reconcile that.

Chowder chuckled quietly, grinning. Thankfully, he didn't seem offended.

"Hey, no, I'm straight, thanks. Dex is very nice, but I love Caitlin." He said, clicking his phone off, his face melting back into worry as he stared down at Dex, almost silent. "He couldn't sleep." Chowder murmured.

"Why? Why won't he tell me? What's wrong with him? This isn't the first time, is it?" Nursey questioned, getting more hurt and irritated. He wanted to be the one Dex could come to with a problem. He just wanted to be the one Dex could turn to, problem or not. Chowder sighed deeply.

"I think it embarrasses him? You'd have to ask him. He doesn't really ask for help..." Chowder replied, reticent. Nursey had the urge to shake Dex awake, to demand answers.

He almost did. The sight of his finally peaceful face stopped him.

"Then why did he come to you?" Nursey asked, frowning, and crossing his arms. It didn't make any sense to him, because before the whole room sharing debacle, he'd been closer to Dex than Chowder had.

"He didn't?" Chowder said. "What?" Nursey uttered, perplexed. How on earth had it happened if Dex hadn't been the one to ask? Nursey sure couldn't see many ways of accidentally ending up asleep on someone early in the morning. Chowder tilted his head, thinking for a moment.

"Well, the first time, I was doing an all-nighter to finish an essay, and he came downstairs and just started helping me with it, and he fell asleep on me. Today was a similar thing."

Nursey took a moment to process it, the image of Dex being that tired. What was he doing to himself?

"And you let him because...?" Chowder gave him a look. "Because he passed out? Because you're not the only one to notice how tired he always is?"

"How many times has this even happened?" Nursey asked, his brow furrowing. He couldn't even pretend to be chilled about this; too early in the morning, and he'd been too annoyed by this to let it go now.

"Uh... A few? Sometimes he's already down here. Bitty says he's seen him down here a few times too."

Nursey blinked, looked back at Dex.

Did he have to sit down here for an entire night to get to the bottom of this? Did he want to?"

"Okay. Okay, I'll- I'll talk to him." Nursey said, backing away. When did Dex even sleep?

Chowder nodded, looking glad.

Dex blinked owlishly, looking excruciatingly tired, watching Nursey, who was sitting on the sofa, half asleep himself.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, puzzled. Nursey scowled at him.

"I could ask you the same. From what I've heard you're always down here at night." He said, and watched Dex sluggishly process it.

"No I'm not, Nurse. Just couldn't sleep." He yawned.

"Really, Poindexter?" Nursey said, standing up, feeling the irritation rise. "Are you saying Chowder and Bitty are lying? That I can't see with my own eyes?" He accused. Dex frowned at him.

"No! I'm not down here that often. I'm fine, Nurse, just leave it." Dex replied. "I'm going upstairs again soon."

But he made no move to actually go. Nursey stubbornly stayed where he was.

Dex seemed to realise he was waiting for more, and sighed resignedly.

"I'm fine, Nursey. I just can't sleep right now." He murmured, and Nursey just felt himself get more angry. Dex was pushing him away again.

"Oh right. And how long has this been going on? Maybe every night since you moved in with me? What's your problem, Dex? Can't sleep in the same room as me? Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you? Are you scared I'm going to try something, just because I'm bi? I should've known you'd be weird like that, Poindexter, should have-"

"Don't make accusations, Nurse! As much as your inflated ego would like to believe, it has nothing to do with you! It never did, and it never will! Go fuck yourself, and leave me alone!" Dex yelled, eyes aflame with anger.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong! Prove it to me! Prove it that you're not a bigoted asshole!" Nursey shouted, annoyed at Dex, and himself. This wasn't how it was meant to go. He was fed up of Dex hiding from him. He hadn't thought it'd been a problem when he'd told the team, but maybe it had, and he just hadn't known. Dex had seemed puzzled, but hadn't seemed to change his behaviour. But maybe sleeping so close to a bisexual person crossed a republican line for him.

"Don't call me that!" Dex shrieked, and looked set to continue when they heard heavy footsteps down the stairs, and Bitty appeared, in shorts and a Falconer's jersey. Dex went pale, and Nursey just felt bad, even before Bitty spoke.

"Y'all may not have class tomorrow, but can we not have a screaming match at whatever time this is?" He said in a dead-pan tone, wearing his most unimpressed look.

"Sorry, Bitty, I'll just- go." Dex muttered, and strolled out the door. The two of them just watched him do it, unable to comprehend it.

"Doesn't he sleep here?" Bitty said, confused.

Nursey snorted. "Apparently not."

So Dex wasn't going to answer him. Well, Nursey needed answers, and he wasn't above being sneaky to get them.

Via copious amount of caffeine lined up, and his phone at full charge and lowest brightness, Nursey set about finding his answers.

At about midnight, Dex finally went to bed, muttering quietly under his breath, no doubt having learnt that Nursey, as a heavy sleeper, would not awaken to such quiet noise.

If he hadn't already been awake, that was.

Dex seemed to fall asleep before his head hit the pillow, his breathing evening out swiftly to a gentle rhythm, which almost surprised Nursey. Waiting a moment, he took a chance to peer over the side of the bed, but Dex was facing away from him.

Spurred on by the caffeine in his system and a recklessness borne of irritation, Nursey managed, somehow, to slide down the ladder, bringing his comforter with him, and settled on the floor. He might have done otherwise, had he not seen Dex's face; it was troubled, set into a slight frown, and Nursey felt like something was wrong. If Dex woke up and asked, he was writing. He could pass many oddities off by saying they were for creative purposes, he'd found.

It turned out to be not so much of a lie. About twenty minutes later, he got a flash of inspiration, fired by the confusion and hurt about the situation with Dex, and the not inconsiderable swig of bourbon he'd taken, it seeming like a good idea in his sleep-deprived state, to mix alcohol and caffeine.

Around two am, he was just beyond tipsy, pleased with the poem he'd created, and very tired. He didn't want to wake Dex up by climbing the ladder, at which he'd surely fail, and with drunken logic, decided that if Ransom and Holster could sleep in the same bed, so could he and Dex. Plus, maybe Dex would sleep better. He'd started tossing and turning, generally looking unhappy, and Nursey was reminded of how peaceful he'd looked when sleeping on Chowder, and wanted to be the one to inspire that.

Or maybe he just wanted to sleep next to Dex.

Surprisingly, Dex didn't actually wake up when Nursey slipped under the covers with him, dimly aware that it was firstly a bad idea, secondly would make things very weird when they did wake up, and thirdly, a bad idea. He didn't much care, especially not when Dex groaned unhappily, a noise which stopped when Nursey wove his arms around him, and pulled him closer. They were essentially spooning, and Nursey was pretty happy with that, and Dex's breathing had evened out again to something much more relaxed, subconsciously curling up, loosely holding Nursey's arms closer to him.

Nursey, at that moment, fell just a little bit more. He felt like he'd happily do this every night, if Dex was even going to look at him tomorrow. He closed his eyes, smiling, and fell to sleep.

Having returned from the bathroom, he at first thought Dex was having a seizure, albeit a quiet one. He was thrashing about, arms flailing, whimpering; the comforter fell from the bed, although this did nothing to halt Dex's motions. It just make them more frantic, unrestricted, as his face twisted into pained expressions that pulled at Nursey, as though he was the one experiencing pain, not Dex.

Darting forwards, he grabbed Dex by the shoulders, and shook him. "Dex, wake up! Whatever this is!" He cried, and it worked miraculously well, Dex sitting bolt upright and nearly taking Nursey out. He fell onto his ass hard, looking up at Dex, who was staring at him in horror.

"Derek, you died, you're not safe here, go, leave before they-"

Dex stopped himself, coming to fully, and Nursey suddenly just got it.

Nightmares. Dex must suffer with nightmares, and maybe that was why he didn't want to share a room, because he was embarrassed about it, and he'd rather not sleep than let anyone know.

How could he be so stupid?

"Nurse. What are you- what am I-" he started falteringly, eyes flitting away, ashamed.

"You get nightmares?" Nursey asked.

"No, I just- not often..." Dex mumbled, embarrassed. Nursey just wanted to hug him.

"It's chill-" "It's really not, stop saying that-" "It is! I don't care, Dex, man, you were freaking me out with the evasion and the exhaustion, I couldn't work it out!" He said, and Dex actually laughed. Somewhat self-deprecatingly, but a laugh nonetheless.

"Sorry. It's stupid. You don't have to- I deal with them." Dex said, running a hand through his hair. "Did I wake you up? Sorry. I can give my dibs to someone else if it bothers you, I'll go sleep in the basement, that'd probably be easier, actually. Maybe Whiskey would want it. Would that be alright?" Dex rambled, holding the comforter tightly.

Nursey felt like he had no control over his mouth. "William Poindexter, if you don't shut up, I will kiss you to stop the stupidity."

Dex blinked, blushed, and looked at Nursey carefully as he continued speaking. "I mean, Whiskey would want to be closer to the lacrosse frat, right? I heard he's friends with them, not that he's subtle. You get on with him, right? You might get Tango visiting a lot though. I think I met his roommate, he seems fine-"

Nursey decided that yes, Dex was doing that on purpose, and that he was going to miss his chance if he waited any longer.

Dex met him halfway, sighing into his mouth.

Nursey felt like he could be dreaming.

It didn't last long, Dex pulling away to yawn, groaning tiredly. "Sorry, I'm just..."

"I know." Nursey commented, barely able to believe what had happened. "We'll talk in the morning." He affirmed, and Dex nodded, looking as though he wanted to say something more.

But he stayed silent, and Nursey recalled his embarrassment, his peaceful face when sleeping on Chowder, the fact that nightmares were usually awful.

"Do you want me to stay here?" He asked. Dex, if possible, went even more red.

"No! No, that's- I-" He stuttered, and Nursey laughed. "I'm not going to try anything, you idiot. To help you sleep. If that's what works." He murmured, and Dex hesitated. "Um, if- don't get mad, but I was kind of sleeping here before you, uh, woke up."

Dex looked at him. "What?" He said, utterly perplexed.

"It was bugging me! You said nothing, and fall asleep on Chowder, but refuse to admit there's even a problem- was this the problem the whole time? Not me?"

"Well, it wasn't not you. Who wants to admit to this?" He made a sweeping gesture, presumably to indicate himself in his entirety. "I didn't want anyone to find out." He then seemed to realise something, making a quiet 'oh' sound. At Nursey's puzzled look, he huffed bemusedly, looking away. "It was alright. And then it wasn't." He said vaguely.

"It helps if someone's there, doesn't it?" Nursey asked. Dex nodded reluctantly.

"It's not foolproof. But I deal with them fine, it's no big deal-"

Nursey just responded with shuffling so they were both under the sheets, in a much similar situation as before. Dex looked as red as a lobster, but there was a small smile on his lips, so Nursey wasn't complaining.

"Thanks." Dex murmured quietly, sounding sleepy already. Nursey was still under the effects of the caffeine, so he was wide awake; it just meant he got the bonus of feeling Dex fall back to sleep, quiet and peaceful and so, so much better. Nursey felt totally relaxed, relieved that it wasn't necessarily him that was the problem, more sharing a room, and he really would not be upset to do this again.

"Goodnight, Will." He murmured, practically into Dex's neck. Dex did not even flinch, and Nursey found himself fading slowly into sleep, smiling.

Nursey woke up briefly to an alarm, and turned it off without thinking. Too early. He was comfortable, snuggled against Dex, and Dex was asleep - testament to his exhaustion that he did not wake up to the alarm - and he didn't need to move.

Several hours later had him being jostled awake by a panicked Dex, mumbling frantically about how he was going to miss his class.

Clearly still sleep deprived. Nursey snorted. Dex swivelled on him, trying to put some socks.

"Don't snort! This is all your fault, you turned the alarm off I swear!" He cried, over-balancing and nearly careening into the desk chair. Nursey smiled lazily.

"You already missed your classes. It's twelve." He pointed out, at with Dex turned to look at the clock, horrified. He seemed unable to comprehend it. "Come back to bed." Nursey said, Dex instead perching on it rather than cuddling up to Nursey, like he wanted Dex to.

"I missed them. I can't believe I- what am I going to do?"

Nursey knew enough that it was a big deal for him.

"Chowder's in two of them. Isn't one of the other juniors in the other? I swear you were talking to him about it. You can catch up. You needed the sleep, believe me." He said, and Dex looked at him, nodding slowly while he seemed to process the whole situation, rather than just the time. Nursey watched the comprehension dawning on his face, and wished it didn't look so frightened.

"What did I do?" He breathed, staring at him in horror. Nursey frowned.

"As far as I can tell, I decided to sleep in your bed. You didn't do anything." He said, unsure how to bring up the fact that they'd kissed, and what this meant. For a poet, Nursey often found himself lost for words.

Dex hissed, and looked away. "Shit." Nursey heard him say under his breath, and then, louder. "Good. I'm going to go catch up. See you." He said, and it was only after he'd left that Nursey considered that Dex might have construed the whole thing incorrectly.

He didn't care so much when he stayed in Dex's bed, and consequently missed all his classes. He was staying here until Dex had no choice but to talk to him.

Faintly, he noticed that Dex looked like a deer in the headlights, as if awaiting some kind of doom, when he returned to the room, finding Nursey doodling in the margins of his writing book, having transcribed the one he'd written on his phone and adapted a few bits that didn't flow very well.

He jumped up, strolled over to Dex. "Tell me what you think happened last night. I'm sure you're wrong, but tell me anyway."

Dex frowned at him. "Does it matter? You got drunk and decided to sleep in my bed with me, and for once in my life I don't wake up, and you turned the alarm off." He stated, eyes not quite meeting Nursey's.

"Anything else?" He asked, curious to see what he'd do. He thought Nursey had been a far greater level of drunk than he had been. Dex looked shifty, but shook his head. "I remember it all, Dex. I had some alcohol, but not much." He affirmed, and it took Dex a moment to think it over.

"Everything?" He asked, his face going red again. Nursey smirked slightly.

"From you and your nightmares - or terrors - to sleeping next to you to ward them off, to this." He said, leaning closer. He was perfectly sober when he kissed William Poindexter the second time, and it was much better for it.

Dex relaxed immensely. "I thought I'd- you, I just..." He stuttered. "Willing participant." He said smugly.

"Shut up, Nurse. Wait, does this mean- what does this mean?" Dex questioned, unsure and uncertain. Nursey sighed in an overly dramatic, long suffering way.

"It means I get a free pass to sleep next to you if we both want, or vice versa. It means I can kiss you when I'd like to. It means, hopefully, that we are now dating." Nursey announced, feeling a wash of uncertainty come over him, fear that he'd read the situation wrong.

Dex smiled shyly. "Dating. I think… I can deal with that. I mean, I don't want to tell anyone else yet, but I think I'd like that." He murmured, and Nursey just took advantage of that to kiss him for the third time, and definitely not the last.

He could deal with that indeed. He would gladly deal with Dex, night terrors and all.

[anchoredtether]

Title: From Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

Author: AnchoredTether

Rating: T [graphic depictions of violence, major character death]

Pairings: Stydia, Scallison, Malisaac, Scira

Series: Teen Marauders

Chapter: 1/?

Summary:  Scott and Stiles receive their acceptance letters into Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, two loners who instantly connect on the train and keep their friendship strong despite their division among houses. When Scott is bit by a werewolf in his fifth year, his best friends Stiles, Allison, and Lydia come up with a plan to make his transformations less painful.

Author’s Note:  In this story I’ve incorporated canon from both Pottermore and the Harry Potter books, and a few things from Teen Wolf canon have been incorporated as well for werewolf lore. As far as storyline goes, it plays out relatively similar to the Teen Wolf story with the same established relationships except for the alterations that Lydia and Allison are already friends with Scott before he becomes a werewolf, and characters such as Isaac, Kira, and Malia have been there the whole time and everyone knows each other. As far as house sorting, I know a number of you will disagree with me. And I agree some characters share traits from two or even three houses, so it was hard to decide. But in the end, I chose houses that I felt best reflected the characters’ strongest traits. I don’t delve too much in years 1-4, but there is the occasional flashback. I mostly focus on years 5, 6, and 7, which will reflect Teen Wolf’s timeline of sophomore, junior, and senior respectively. There will be some storylines from both Teen Wolf and Harry Potter incorporated into this AU as well.

1st Year August 31st

“Hey, can I sit in here with you?”

“Sure...there’s plenty of room.” When Stiles Stilinski entered the booth and sat across from him, Scott had no idea he would quickly become his best friend. Scott shyly offered him a small smile, then avoided eye contact by staring out the window. But the other kid would not shut up. “Ooooh man I’m so nervous! But I’m so excited!! This is insane. This is all craaaazy! But it’s all so real, you know? I can’t exactly deny anything. But at the same time I have no idea if I’m dreaming all of this and I’m just doing some crazy sleepwalking episode again and my dad is going to wonder why I’m making a sandwich in the kitchen at three in the morning.” Scott chuckled softly as he brought his attention to the kid who decided to sit with him. “You sleepwalk?” He scoffed. “Yeah. Quite a lot. In fact, that’s partially the reason how I found out I’m a wizard. Apparently I would sometimes make objects move on their own when I sleepwalked. Sleptwalk? Sleepedwalked. Stelptwalked. I don’t know the proper term.” “You didn’t know you were a wizard?” The kid across from him stilled like a cat hiding under the bed. “I....I’m...neither of my parents are…magical.” “Oh...” Scott frowned, lowering his eyes a moment before returning them to the boy. He smiled to ease the conversation. “That must be hard. How’d your parents take it?” He still looked uneasy, but right before the kid was about to answer him, Scott spoke up with concern in his voice. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to- I mean I didn’t want you- you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” “No, it’s okay. I just...” The boy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes curiously. “Hold on, I don’t even know your name! Sorry I suck at manners. I’m Stiles.” He held out his hand to shake. “Stiles?” Scott smiled as if to hold back laughter. “Is that short for something?” Stiles deadpanned so hard Scott was afraid he might be plotting to kill him. “It’s a nickname. How about that? My last name’s Stilinski. That’s where it comes from.” “Oh okay. That makes sense.” Scott nodded as if that validated Stiles’ name as normal, but deep down he still thought it was strange. “I’m Scott. Scott McCall.” He shook his hand and waited for some kind of response from Stiles at the mention of his last name, but then he remembered he was muggle-born. Stiles smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you, Scott.”

“Sooo....how much do you know about everything?” Scott asked idly as he broke into a chocolate frog. “How do you mean?” “About magic. Hogwarts. The wizarding world.” “Oh, right. That.” Stiles swallowed hard. “Next to nothing? I mean I tried to research as much as I could but there was nothing to research unless I went to Diagon Alley, and I was only able to go there yesterday. I bought a bunch of books to study, but I figured I would be too anxious on the train to focus so I didn’t bring any on my person.” “Do you know about the houses?” “Houses? No not really. I just know what was in the acceptance letter. And...what I observed in Diagon Alley.” “Well there’s four.” Scott explained. “When we get to the school we’ll be sorted into a house, by the Sorting Hat. It determines what house you are based on your personality and stuff. Supposedly the Hat can see your potential, so its sorting is always accurate.” “What are the different houses?” “There’s Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. My mom’s a Gryffindor, and my dad...he’s a Ravenclaw.” “What does it mean? Are there certain traits to each house?” “Yeah, there’s also animals and colors for each house, and that kind of represents the house too. Gryffindor is a lion, Hufflepuff a badger, Ravenclaw an eagle, and Slytherin a snake.” Stiles pondered quietly a moment. “What house do you think you fit into?” Scott shrugged. “I really don’t know. Some wizarding families have everyone in the same house, but with my parents being different houses, I’m not so sure.” “Can different houses interact with each other?” “Oh yeah. classes are just by year, so they’ll have students from all houses. But your dormitory will be in your house, and most people usually spend time with those of their own house. But my mom said it’s easy to interact with anyone.” “Ah. That’s good, I guess.” Stiles wondered if he and Scott would be in the same house or not. Either way it was reassuring to know he could still see the only person he met so far. “Do they...is there a mailbox at Hogwarts?” Scott snickered. “Wizards don’t use the post system. We have owls. It’s much faster. But yeah, there’s lots of owls at Hogwarts just for students to use.” “Right. I wasn’t too fond of getting myself an owl, but I need to write my dad so he doesn’t worry about me.” “Do you have any pets?” “I have a cat. Her name’s Roscoe.” “Isn’t that a guy name?” “Yeah, but it also means handgun. And she’s black.” Stiles shrugged. “I had her before I got my acceptance letter, and it said we could bring a cat. Do you have any pets?” “No...I thought about getting an owl too, but I have no idea how to care for owls.” The train lurched, and when Scott glanced outside the window, he beamed at Stiles. “It looks like we’re almost there!” “Finally.” Stiles said as he tapped his fingers nervously on his knee.

“Scott McCall.” When deputy headmistress Braeden called Scott’s name, Stiles had to nudge him to pull him out of his trance. He looked over at his friend and gave a sad smile before heading up to the stool that would decide his fate. It didn’t take the Hat very long to announce, “HUFFLEPUFF!” From what Stiles had gathered, Hufflepuff was the kindest house, and he felt it was fitting for his new friend Scott. The table of golds and blacks welcomed him warmly with applause and cheers. Stiles wondered if he would be welcomed the same. Several more names were called, and Stiles could feel the dread intensify as he cursed his dad for having a name that was so far down the alphabet. He stole a couple of glances at Scott, and he occasionally found his gaze and offered an encouraging nod. It felt like such a defining moment. What if he was sorted into a house he didn’t belong? What if he was sorted and everyone there hated him? What if he didn’t fit the characteristics of that house? Stiles had to remind himself it was magic. The hat was magic, it would magically know what house he belonged. Everything would have to work out perfectly, because magic was involved. “Stiles Stilinski.” Exhaling deeply, Stiles went up to the stool and had the hat placed on his head. He closed his eyes tight as he prepared for the worst and hoped for the best. “SLYTHERIN!” Stiles opened his eyes to see the thunderous applause and whooping that came from the table of green and silver. The Slytherins were spirited, that much was certain. He recalled rumors of Slytherin being the house of dark witches and wizards, but the negative doubt in his mind was cleared instantly when he found himself sitting next to the most beautiful strawberry blonde.

[mikqueen12]

Week 13 Draft (Read Me!)

Sheridan Clark is a friend of mine I’ve taken a few classes with. When you look at her, you might get the overwhelming feeling that you just have to be their friend. Her quiet and bubbly personality meshes well with her perfectionist tendencies. Considering I am also quite shy, it took me forever to get up the nerve to talk to her! We went through almost an entire semester before I was giving more than a friendly nod. I learned that we were both taking our same professor the next semester, and this moment is when we both blossomed and really started chatting! 

On the day of the interview, I picked her up at campus. I had already heard that she doesn’t like driving places she doesn’t usually go, and I can relate entirely. I had to grab gas at the nearby gas station, and it was right at 5:00. After struggling with my gas cap and pumping gas, we prepared for take-off. I went to turn left on a busy road and instead turned right, defeated.

“Oh, well I should have known that wouldn’t work during rush hour. I’ll just make a u-turn up here. That is if I can…” I drawled off. Sheridan pointed out the sign and said “There it is! Canada has some weird laws dealing with u-turns.” “Oh, really? I thought you said you were like 3 when you moved down here, how do you remember?” 

“That’s a good question,” she says as she laughs with me. “I guess sometimes you just remember random details for life.” 

I must have made a grimace, because Sheridan and I broke out into a little laughter. “How long have you lived in the U.S.?” 

“Uh, for about as long as I can remember. I think for about 17 years?” She ended her sentence, as if questioning if she was fact checking herself. When I asked her about her memories of Canada, most of them involved her family. 

Sheridan was not a U.S. citizen, and had never had been. One time in class we all showed younger pictures of us (old drivers license photos and such) and we all saw child Sheridan on her green card. She’s a passionate Canadian, usually representing her country with a little button on her hat. The rest of our conversation was rambles about classes and any little thing we felt like talking about. 

The apartment isn’t the cleanest one you will ever see, but it is far from dirty either.  The bar separating the kitchen and the living room tries to fool you that people use the common space. The wax warmer was turned on, illuminating the side of the wall with good lights and a slight cherry smell. The key rack is varying shades of blue, it looks as if it was painted with care at home and was hung up with an off colored green string. It was at an angle and the wall behind it had a few scuff marks, showing continuous use. However, the unopened mail and the red money gun that gets used only when guests are over begs to differ. It seems things are tidy simply because the common space isn’t usually used. Two wood panels hang above the TV in completely different styles. The first looks rustic with blues and beiges. It states “The more people I meet, the more I like my cat.” The second one would be an important item in a mystery video game, if the game was about this apartment; it is brightly colored with orange, turquoise, pinks, and purples and says “Stay Salty.” 

We sat on opposite couches, which faced each other perfectly for this type of activity. The lamp behind us helped fill the room, both with light and space. The furniture in this apartment doesn’t match, but it doesn’t look completely out of place either. The dark brown coffee table housed a few figurines: a snowman left behind from Christmas storage, handed-down coasters holding our halloween cups, and a very round green frog wearing sunglasses playing a saxophone. The TV stand was located in front of us, and held some of my artwork from classes we shared. A pumpkin was painted with a panoramic view of the night sky, with a cat walking on its fence. A metal bust of a cat with his tongue sticking out hides beneath my favorite 3D art. Made of only foamcore, masking tape, and a little glue after it was turned in, these triangles scream activated space. Activated Space was a meme from our 3-D design class, threatened to become a T-shirt design several times.

Sheridan would have a lot to say about this scene. When asked “What do all of your buttons on your bag and hat say about you?” She responded with the idea that it’s a way to learn alot about someone right from the beginning. If you look at her beanie, you’ll see LGBT+ pins, Twenty One Pilot pins, Canada pins, and many more. This shouldn’t be the only way you learn about someone, but you can find out if you will get along if you see some of these little signs. I can relate to this, as I watched back the interview footage I noticed I was wearing a flannel I have dubbed the “Bi Shirt” due to its color scheme. Nods to things like these can go unnoticed, but can become a conversation starter if one wishes.

Expressing yourself is one of her favorite qualities. This can be done through everyday life, but it can also be expressed through art. I once in the interview asked her, as a fellow artist, how she is able to express her emotions so well in her art. As children become teenagers, they obtain more vocabulary to express how they feel. One study done by Nancy Johnson took school age kids and asked them how to answer the question “What is art?” or “What do you think art is?” (61). The younger the child, the more their response would have been like this: something fun to do, making something, using clay, etc. As the grade levels rose, so did their responses. Once you ask the third graders, they began to use emotions along with actions. One student said “it’s just something you have fun with!” and others art as beautiful or playful (Johnson 63). High schoolers who were asked these questions responded with things that please you, an opinion, something that is relative, and other answers (Johnson 64). As we get older, we can describe our feelings better, and Sheridan is very in tune with her feelings.

Back in Professor Peterson’s class, our classmates were shy. However, by the end of the semester, we were all cracking up. The class was Concepts, Creativity, and Studio Practices. This class had little rules; the first project was simply to “make a time machine” and no further explanation was given. The last project was a research art project. It followed the usual frame of do whatever you want, no restrictions. This allowed everyone to create what they wanted, and the class had varying projects. Mine was a poster I created to advocate for the cats on the Marietta campus, and call for them to be TNR’d (trap, neuter, return). 

Even sunshine will eventually meet rain. Sheridan briefly mentions that she meets with her therapist to manage her anxiety and depression. One of the things that I can resonate with her the most on is these topics. Just by looking at her, I can tell she was called “mature for her age” as a child. When I was smaller, I took it as a compliment, thinking I was one step closer to being an adult. However, as I got older, I started realizing it was a soft way of saying “you’ve been through some stuff, and it’s made you into a peacemaker.” Despite the origins, Sheridan appears to be one of the most peaceful people I have ever met.   

However, Sheridan’s project was a real show stopper. She chose to research some of the most common mental illnesses and recreate them in her own way. The below piece she named “Anxiety.” The eyes everywhere to her represented the feeling of anxiety, and other ways of expressing that feeling. She also created 3 more types, with her interpretations of depression, schizophrenia, and bipolar disorder. Her determination for a perfect project-- or 4 for that matter, is prevalent here. This piece represents the feeling of being anxious in its entirety; sometimes when we feel anxious, we might wonder if we have general anxiety too. That’s what the research done by Takeshi Hamamura and Christian Chan focused on. The mere concept of being anxious correlated with increased googling “symptoms of anxiety” and reports of self diagnosed anxiety rise as well (Hamamura and Chan 2). The good thing about Google is how soon we can pull up information, and in this case someone might be able to schedule an appointment if they need to. (Hamamura and Chan 1). If not, researching the symptoms can give you some piece of mind!

Something I envy about my interviewee is her determination to have a perfect, well, anything. This expresses itself most often in the form of art projects. For example, in our 3D Design class we had a project called “Paper and Metal.” The goal was to make a casting of pewter and have it suspended in air only by paper and glue. The class met 6 hours a week, and she never had a moment of downtime; she was always creating the paper trees, grass, or leaves for her project. Whereas I only spent about 7 hours on my project (pictured below so you can get the idea) outside of class, I’m fairly certain she spent twice that on hers. Hard work pays off, and I hope she got a well deserved break after the completion of this pristine project. 

Sheridan doesn’t stop at expressing herself through art, or style. She also has a new hobby: Furbys! In the interview, she described them as the toy she always wanted until right before Christmas, when she forgot it existed. Now that she’s out on her own, she has more freedom and goes to  buy them, clean their fur, and revamp them! The tech that hides within these furbies is quite impressive. The article “There’s a lot of smart electronics inside a furby” describes this perfectly. For example, furbies are programmed to begin speaking “Furbish” and progressively learn English. (Edgar 28) To a child (or even me until I read this article), it would look like the Furby is learning directly from you! The realism packed into the fury creature is shocking, as many of its responses don’t seem to have a rhyme or reason. If you hold a furby upside down at first it will giggle, but if you keep holding it upside down it may say “I’m scared.” (Edgar 29)

Out of all the furbies I’ve seen, Cabbage is the one I’ve seen the most. But she has a variety, ranging from Big Mama, Shifty, and Maw. Since most of the ones she owns are ~15-20 years old, few of them work. She enjoys taking them apart, “deskinning” them and attempting to fix them. A project she’s had in the making is to make a rainbow pride furby by dying their fur. This furby is beginning to come together as of me writing this, and has been named June. Although Cabbage doesn’t work yet, I still have hope for him! 

Being LGBT+ is an important part of both of our lives, and we both identify as Bisexual. A paper that Sheridan is writing this semester focuses on more education for LGBT+ students as well as just acceptance in schools. When I went to look up this topic, I found this research that came from Canada and thought it was fitting. Catherine Nash and Kath Browne talked about the importance of these topics being taught in school. With LGBT+ issues being more accepted and acknowledged, we have to remember that our society is centered around a hetronormalitive lifestyle. It has to be remembered that “The drive for LGBT integration often works in concert with broader efforts to teach multiculturalism, diversity and inclusiveness.” (Nash and Browne) School is the place where you can learn things you wouldn’t have at home, and these schools need to be a safe environment where a student won’t feel judged. Not only in Canada do LGBT+ students in school feel they are not accepted or wanted. If the environment you learn in isn’t a good one, there is a likelihood this student may not want to do work. 

In the end, I feel I got to know Sheridan on a more personal level than I did from small talk from class. It’s important to listen and understand in friendships and relationships, and if you do it might help you grow. It reminded me that expressing yourself is important, and perhaps you should consider more ways than one. Picking up a hobby that others might think is quirky might just be the thing you need to ease your mind at the end of the day. If asked “Who is Sheridan?” I feel that I can confidently answer this question. Sheridan is the single beam of sunshine that sneaks through your window to wake you up gently. She is wise beyond her years, and typically acts as a “Mom Friend” in her friend group. She won’t let herself get walked all over, and she will find a better way to live! Sheridan is the definition of expressing. Whether it is through art, furbies, buttons, music, or plants, you can find a bit of Sheridan everywhere. 

[speciesofleastconcern]

Questions from young person and my answers

A friend’s son interviewed me for an assignment. Here are the Qs and As if you want em. 1) Are the animals at your zoo happy that they are being held captive? 2) How well do you know the animals at your zoo? 3) How well do you treat the animals at your zoo? 4) Are there more animals at your zoo that are there to be saved , and not just for entertainment? If so, how many more animals are there to be saved? 5) Does your zoo take care of Panamanian Golden Frogs? Dear C------, Thanks for your thoughtful questions! I answered them in between tasks while I was working, so I hope the answers make sense. You chose a couple subjects that I am passionate about, so I was very excited to talk about them. If there are things in my answers that need clarification, please let me know, or feel free to ask follow up questions. Best of luck with the assignment! Sincerely 1) It’s not clear that animals can understand the idea of “captivity.” Humans feel very strongly about the concepts of freedom and captivity, to the point that we punish lawbreakers by putting them in captivity. But animals don’t seem to have much ability to think about the future, or to imagine things other than what they are experiencing. What we do at a zoo is to give the animals as many choices as possible—places to go and experiences to have—within the space that we can safely give them. We also have a hard time telling if animals are “happy” or not, since that is also human concept. We try to provide an environment that has everything the animal physically needs in order to be comfortable and healthy, with enough choices so they can demonstrate whether they are suffering stress or not. 2) Some animals I know very well, some not as much. As a quarantine keeper, I take care of almost every animal in the zoo eventually, but only for a limited time, usually 30 days. Other keepers work with a limited group of animals and may work with those animals for many years. Almost every animal at the zoo has a training program, with a keeper whose job it is to work with that animal, understand its behavior, and use positive reinforcement training techniques to get the animal to do certain things willingly. Most of the animals, for example, are trained to go to a specific place and wait there—when an animal can do this willingly, we can weigh it on a regular basis, visually examine its body for injuries or other changes that might indicate a change in its health, and so on. We even have several gorillas who are trained to offer their shoulder so that we can give them a flu vaccine. The zookeepers who train their animals know them very well. 3) We like to think that we treat the animals very well, and that as we learn more about animal husbandry and veterinary medicine, that we are treating them better now than we were just a few years ago. We have access to the latest science about animal nutrition so that the animals can get the best possible types of food available for their health. We have three veterinarians on staff and four veterinary technicians so that if any of the animals gets sick or hurt they can be taken care of right away. The animals all get regular vaccinations and physical examinations. The keepers are very protective of the animals—if they think there is something a little “off” about an animal they will let the vet staff know immediately. We provide “enrichment” for all the animals, which is our way of saying we give them toys and games, but also expose them to interesting smells (the big cats love the smell of sheep’s wool, for example) and sounds. We have an enrichment committee whose job it is to make sure that all of the animals are receiving enrichment which is safe, species-appropriate, and effective. (Enrichment is considered effective if the animal interacts with it in a way that displays normal behavior—playing outside is good enrichment for human children because it causes the children to climb and play and throw and dig and all the other normal human child behaviors). 4) When I think of animals at the zoo being there for “entertainment,” it makes me wonder if people think that the exhibits in a science museum are entertaining, or if visitors to an arboretum think the trees are entertaining. Zoos are science museums that exhibit animals and animal behavior—and it’s true, animals and animal behavior can be entertaining. Everyone finds monkeys and tigers entertaining, but what about the frogs, or songbirds, or insects? We want all of the exhibits to be interesting, we want people to want to experience the zoo in a positive way. Back in the bad old days zoos would allow guests to throw things at the animals, or feed them unhealthy things. We do not allow any kind of “entertainment” that is detrimental to the animals. We allow guests to interact with some animals, like petting the goats or feeding the parakeets or walking among the butterflies—each of these activities is carefully monitored so that the guests can have a good time without doing anything that could harm the animals. Many of the animals at the zoo belong to species that are endangered, some very endangered. Gorillas, pygmy hippos, and mandrills are all animals from parts of Africa where habitat is disappearing and it wouldn’t be safe to release more animals into the habitat. All of the zoos in North America work carefully with one another to exchange animals when necessary to make sure that the zoo population is stable and that no more endangered animals will be taken from the wild to replace them. You probably know that zoos are responsible for rescuing certain species of animals from extinction, like the black-footed ferret, the California condor, the golden lion tamarin, and recently the Lord Howe stick insect. The zoo I work for has brought Siberian crane eggs (laid by our birds) to be raised in Russia, preserved vital DNA and gametes (reproductive cells) from Mexican gray wolves, we helped save Bali mynahs (a kind of bird) from disappearing completely into the pet trade, and we help out with Blanding’s turtle recovery efforts here in Massachusetts. None of the animals we keep are there just so they can be released to the wild, but it’s something that could happen in the future. Because zoos hire and train people who are experts at caring for, training, breeding, and providing health care for animals, zoos are the logical places for these recovery efforts to be located. There are thousands of species of animals that are in need of protection and recovery. Zoos are one piece of it, along with protecting habitat, conserving resources (recycling!), and changing the way that we treat animals and their environments around the world. 5) At the moment we don’t have any Panamanian golden frogs, but we have cared for them here. I’m super glad you brought them up because they are part of one of the most amazing projects I’ve been involved with at the zoo. My boss, the head veterinarian here, was on a team of researchers who joined scientists in Panama to study the impact of the fungal disease that is killing so many species of frogs. They determined that the problem was severe, even worse than they expected, and if no one did anything the Panamanian golden frog and dozens of other frog species would be wiped out. They created a project called the Amphibian ARK, like Noah’s Ark, to rescue the frogs. They are keeping the frogs in disease-free quarantine spaces, in Panama but also in zoos all around the world. If they hadn’t acted fast these frogs would just be gone. The frogs are being bred and protected, at the same time that the disease is being studied. It’s pretty complicated stuff that I don’t fully understand, but I think some of the effort will be to breed and release many thousands of tadpoles—there will likely be some that are more resistant to the disease, and they will pass their genes on to the next generation. A few years ago I was privileged to take care of 15 Panamanian golden frogs in the zoo hospital where I worked. It was amazing to think that I was working with an animal species that had completely disappeared from the wild, and that I was one of a handful of people who had ever seen one. Of course, once they were put on exhibit, then hundreds of people could see them, and learn the story. Someone will be inspired by the experience to figure out what we need to do to keep the frogs from going extinct, and then they will be wild, and we will have prevented extinction.

[denyansu]

Halloween Carnival

Chapter 1

Pierre’s excited for Halloween! But of course there’s work to do so he can’t get too carried away with festivities. Minori baked cookies and they want to hand them out. Minori jokingly tells Kyoji to not steal a bite.

Michio tells Rui and Jiro that they should get going too. Rui and Michio are both in their costumes, while Jiro is still in his normal attire.. He says he’s house-sitting for the day and Rui’s like, ‘that’s boring! Let’s enjoy Halloween together~!’, while Michio’s all ‘plz don’t hesitate Yamashita-kun, let’s get Producer to work something out’

Chapter 2

There’s no spare costumes for Jiro! He carved plenty of jack o’lanterns and apparently has a knack for them. There’s bonus pay for cast today and suddenly Jiro is interested in helping..

Chapter 3

Well... S.E.M managed to find a costume after all! But Michio’s a bit hesitant to tell Jiro about it... It’s a costume for sure... a frog kigurumi. Rui's excited to see Jiro in it. Jiro suggests maybe he could just go as a mad scientist since he already has the labcoat.

Chapter 4

Rui suggests splattering the labcoat with blood for more impact. Jiro is hesitant and doesn’t think Michio will approve but he lets Rui gets his way, however, he ends up looking more like a bloodied corpse than mad scientist....

Chapter 5

It’s about time for the parade. Jiro gets ruled out of the parade because he’s just a mess. He offers to sit out but Michio says Jiro’s presence is essential for the event’s success. Michio hands him a bag full on candy that he wants him to hand out to kids.

Chapter 6

Pierre’s undecided on what costume would be good for the event; his orange Froggly suit or his pumpkin outfit:

Minori: “I think it’s nicer if you don’t wear the kigurumi... We can see Pierre’s face that way.” Kyoji: “I agree, I prefer you out of the kigurumi.” Pierre: “Got it! Then I will wear this costume today! Wait a min, I go change!!” Minori: “Pierre’s honesty is nice, isn’t it.” Kyoji: “He’s a bit too upfront, I can’t help but be a bit embarrassed when I see” Minori: “Fufu...... Kyoji also has a cute side.”

Chapter 7

Pierre has finished changing and finds Minori by himself, Kyoji went to get a drink. Minori comments that Pierre looks good in anything. Kyoji returns and asks about Pierre’s kigurumi - there was someone who wants to use it. Pierre says it’s fine but he wonders if it’s too small. Kyoji says to leave it up to Producer.

Chapter 8

Pierre: “Who was using my Froggly costume?” Kyoji: “It seems like it wasn’t used after all.” Minori: “Come to think of it, I didn’t see your Froggly kigurumi at the venue.” Pierre: “A pity. I always can’t take photo. Being side-by-side next to Froggly.” Minori: “I see, since you’re always inside of it yourself.” Pierre: “Yeah! When I wear Froggly costume, everyone smiles so I love. But, I can’t see myself…..” Kyoji: “Even if you say that… It’s not like just anyone can pull it off like you.” Pierre: “It’s okay! Kyoji is kind, thanks for worrying.”

Chapter 9

Producer came around and gave Pierre a jack o’lantern. There’s a bunch of them all over the place and they comment how it takes time to carve each one. Kyoji seems amazed that they’re all hand carved. They decide to use the lantern in the parade.

Chapter 10

Kyoji: “The position of this bolt is worrying..... Maybe I should speak with the makeup staff a bit.” Pierre: “Minori...... Kyoji is, getting more and more scary......” Minori: “Looks like it..... It’s good that he’ll scare the guests, but.....” Pierre: “Before, met Kyoji in hallway. Was surprised, wanted to run.” Minori: “Let’s keep it between us....” (Kyoji turns to them in full costume) Kyoji: “Hm.... What are you two talking about?” Pierre & Minori: “Uwah, nothing at all!!”

Chapter 11

Kyoji: “Happy Hallowe--......en...... Ah...... Ahh...... The kids ran away.......” Pierre: “Kyoji...... Sorry, I also scary......” Kyoji: “.......Maybe we need to cool it?” Pierre: “That’s it, smile, smile! It probably okay if we smile!” Kyoji: “Y-you think so? Let’s give it a test then......” Pierre: “UWWAAAAAaaHhh!? You became more scary!!” (Pierre runs away) Kyoji: “Pierre ran away too!? ........Am I that scary.......?”

Chapter 12

Kyoji still has a lot of candy to hand out. He’s thinking, wow, he sucks, and that it’s just like the first part-time job he had.

Pierre ran to Minori and they talk about Kyoji. It seems that even though the children are scared of Kyoji they seem to be having a lot of fun; Pierre thinks it was also like that for when he was in Froggly’s kigurumi. They then spot some children hiding in the corner.

Chapter 13

Kids keep running away from Kyoji and he’s not getting anywhere with his candy giving. Kyoji trips and Minori suddenly pops up to catch him. Kyoji was pushed on his back and asks if it was Minori, but it turns out it was some children nearby waving at them. The kids were all making fun of Kyoji but he was completely unaware; they weren’t running away from him because he was too scary but because he’s a loser they were having fun. Now that Kyoji knows he’s more determined than ever to give them candy. Minori says it’s wonderful that Kyoji acts like such a kind older brother.

Chapter 14

Baaaaack to S.E.M!

Rui’s giving instructions to Jiro on where to place the jack o’lanterns. Jiro is struggling and asks Rui to help since he’s older than his 50 year old self, but Rui says it’s Jiro’s job so he can’t interfere. After he’s done with the current area Michio has another job for him - cue Jiro crying inside.

Chapter 15

Michio asks Rui to explain his outfit.

Rui: “I’m a red devil! So cool, right? All the girls in the venue can’t take their eyes off me!” Michio: “I see, then, what’s your reasoning for choosing that outfit?” Rui: “There’s no reason! Just an inspiration!”

Michio thought he could’ve used Rui as a reference for why one choses to wear a certain outfit but since Rui had no reason.. Rui asks why Michio chose the vampire outfit and his reason was that because he was poor in expressing himself facially he thought it was the best solution. Rui tells him that he thinks his vampire is the coolest! and Michio’s like, thanks, this is the fruits of my research on Halloween.

Chapter 16

Later on Rui goes to the waiting room and finds Michio there. Apparently people haven’t been approaching him so he went back to read his research notes. Rui seems amazed that there’s something Michio isn’t good at. He spots a bottle of fake blood in the room, wondering where it could’ve came from (sure Rui), and suggests Michio put some around his mouth. Michio quickly refuses and Rui’s disappointed, saying that Michio would surely be popular with girls if he did.

Chapter 17

Rui’s is almost ‘sold out‘ of candy and is refilling his stock. He asks Jiro, who’s hanging around in the waiting room, if he’s playing truant but Jiro says he was just doing as Producer asked and carved pumpkins. Rui complements him and says they’re carved like a true pro.

Chapter 18

Michio is directing Jiro with placements of a jack o’lanterns, giving precise instructions of 3cms to the right, a 5 degree angle etc. Jiro complains that going right down to the cm won’t make a difference in the overall mood, but Michio is all, ‘what are you saying Yamashita-kun!! Have you never heard of the golden ratio!!’ Jiro says that does know of it... sorta.. not really.. and Michio takes this as the perfect opportunity to lecture Jiro about the golden ratio.

Chapter 19

Michio gets ready to practice for what he’s been studying for; the act of scaring people for entertainment (or something to that effect). Jiro says that Michio is really a hard to understand guy with strange tastes. Rui says he got a headache from looking at Michio’s scribblings on the whiteboard. They tell Michio to don’t go overboard but he tells them not to worry. He suggests that they all gaining new knowledge of everyday together but they flat-out refuse his offer.

Chapter 20

Michio: “Theoretically, this conduct should emit great joy from children...... nevertheless....... Why are the children not approaching around me.......” 

Seems like Michio is having problems, but by Rui’s observations Michio is actually unknowingly popular with girls. Rui asks Michio if he’ll take his lesson and Michio agrees.

Chapter 21

Michio: “Miss, if it’s alright with you, would you allow me to suck a little bit of blood?”

...aand that was what Michio learnt from Rui lol.. Michio ponders how his own research was insignificant but Rui says it’s fine because the girls (totally red-faced) enjoyed themselves.. Michio promises next year he’ll complete his theory.

Chapter 22

Minori: “Here, this is Pierre’s share of the cookies to hand out.” Pierre: “Wooow, there’s lots. I want all the guests to eat!” (Pierre runs off) Kyoji: “Minori-san, is this my portion? Hmm, these look different from the rest.” Minori: “Aahhh, those are the wrong ones. Kyoji’s share is over here. Here you go.” Kyoji: “These look like delicious cookies. I’ll work hard to hand these out.” Minori: Phew, that was a bit too close. My present to Pierre and Kyoji almost got exposed. Hm, if I leave them lying around someone might eat them. I’ll have to hide them.”

Chapter 23

Kyoji goes to consult Minori because he’s having trouble with kids running away from him again, but he actually just frightens the hell out of Minori who was looking for a place to hide the cookies. Minori says he’ll cast magic on Kyoji ~☆ Suddenly the place smells of flowers and Minori explains it’s rose oil he extracted himself. Minori asks if his magic worked and Kyoji’s just all, “er.... yeah I think something happened....”

Chapter 24

Parade’s almost over but they're still people just coming in. Pierre hands out candy to them, Minori prepares flowers for them all. Pierre asks for a flower too but Minori laughs and says he has a special present for him later. 

Chapter 25

Kyoji: “Phew.... Are we all done? ....... It was fun but exhausting...... I’m starving.....” Minori: “Good work today. It was fun, wasn’t it? By the way, I have some cookies for you, how about it?” Kyoji: “Seriously? I should’ve known. You’re always so thoughtful.” Minori: “You’re not getting more by flattering me. You can eat them back in the waiting room.” Kyoji: “Thank you. Its been a while since I’ve had cookies....” (Kyoji goes off with the cookies Minori made him and Pierre) Minori: “Now then, it’s probably time Pierre wants a snack. Where did he go...... I wonder if he left any hints.” (Minori goes off to find Pierre)

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Well.... we know how this cookie situation ends, right...

[melissa-7-bodtke]

Living a Spiritual life in a Carnal World

It isn’t easy to live a spiritual life in this carnal world. But that’s exactly what Christians are to do. Most of us know what’s right in God’s eyes, but we make poor choices. Well, we’re in good company: “For we know that the law is spiritual: but I am carnal, sold under sin. For that which I do I allow not: for what I would, that do I not: but what I hate, that do I.” (Romans 7:14-15) That’s Paul’s way of saying that he didn’t want to sin but he did. We’re so used to sin that it seems normal. For that reason many of us fail to be horrified by the evil which happens all around us. Even worse, we participate in sin because everybody else does. Have you heard the story of the frog in hot water? It’s said that if you take a frog and throw that poor creature into boiling water he will hop out as fast as he can. If you take that same frog and put him in a nice, comfortable pot of cool water he’ll sit there as happy as can be. Then if you start turning up the heat the frog isn’t bothered. As the temperature slowly rises, the frog won’t notice how bad things are getting and will sit right there and boil to death. Is that true? I’ve never actually tried it so I don’t really know, but it’s certainly a good example of what’s happening today. The ugliness of sin is heating up, and we’re so used to it that we just sit there unaware of how bad things are getting. Sin matters to God. It separates us from Him. It mattered so much that He chose to enter His creation and die on the cross in order to provide the only way for our salvation. That should let us know how much God loves us. After we accept Christ’s sacrifice for salvation we should turn away from carnal living. Christians are called to be separate from the world. We have to live here until we’re called Home, but we aren’t to be a part of the sin around us. Is that possible? It is, but we have to make a choice: Live for Christ or live for the world. Take a moment here and reflect upon your life. Is there anything, anything at all, that is opposed to the example Jesus gave us? Are you quick to get angry? Anger is a carnal way of acting: “Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry: for anger resteth in the bosom of fools.” ( Ecclesiastes 7:9) We often see news articles about the results of anger when a person is out of control with wrath and harms other people. Anger is something Christians need to control. “Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath: neither give place to the devil.” (Ephesians 4:26-27) It isn’t easy to break a bad habit, and anger is a bad habit. Don’t give Satan a chance to cause you to sin. Anger is just one problem that can cause a Christian to act like the world. What about stealing? Most of us have never robbed a bank or assaulted someone in a dark alley, but we can steal from our employer by not giving our all on the job. Do you chat by the water cooler when you should be working at your desk? Do you make personal phone calls on company time and on the company phone? Do you misrepresent your income in order to qualify for government aid? There are lots of ways to steal. “Let him that stole steal no more: but rather let him labour, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him that needeth.” (Ephesians 4:28) A Christian should have a generous, giving spirit. As you work and earn wages, what do you do with the extra money you have left after paying your bills. Do you soup up your car? Buy the latest violent video game? Party with friends? There are many ways to spend money that’s carnal rather than honoring God. What if you took that extra money and gave to a homeless shelter or to a ministry that blesses you? You could even use the money to help a neighbor who’s in need. The carnal world we live in dictates a “Me me me” way of living, but a Christ-centered life is one that gives rather than takes. Do you gossip? That’s your flesh getting in the way of treating others the way you would like to be treated. “Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers.” (Ephesians 4:29) It’s easy to see flaws in other people and then degrade them to our friends. It would be better to compliment what’s right rather than gossip about what’s wrong. The other person is a human being with feelings. Do you want people to gossip about you? It hurts and isn’t what God wants. What about your choice of words? Carnal and vulgar words shouldn’t come from the mouth of a Christian. God’s name is to be used for praise, not for cursing. How many times do you tell a dirty joke? These things are carnal, not spiritual. Would you use those words in front of Jesus or tell him the jokes you find funny? He hears you. “A good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth that which is good; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth forth that which is evil: for of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaketh.” (Luke 6:45) Jesus said that so we need to pay attention. The carnal people in this world have no concept of what is and isn’t vulgar, and Christians should never use a worldly person as an example. Look to Christ’s example in order to live to please Him. The carnal attitude of Christians isn’t new to our time in history, but that doesn’t make it right. The rules God has given us are to keep us safe. Sin is hurtful to ourselves, to others, and causes disease. God loves us and will protect us but we need to stay within His rules. Lust of the flesh is from Satan and when we follow the carnal ways of the flesh we invite trouble into our life. “Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man: but every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed.” (James 1:13-14) We live in a fallen world and there are many temptations, but we don’t have to act upon those temptations. When we wander from the straight and narrow path that God has paved for us, that’s when Satan will encourage our lust. Satan can make sin look like fun, but he hides the consequence. When a Christian compromises a little in living a spirit filled life it becomes easier to take the next step down the carnal path that leads to destruction. “But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished bringeth forth death.” (James 1:14-15) Like the frog in the water we can become so numb to sin that we bring on our own destruction. When we choose to participate in sin rather than following God we forfeit joy and we bring punishment upon ourselves. Think of the alcoholic who gets cirrhoses of the liver which causes much pain. Eventually it takes his life. Oh, this person may have professed to be a Christian, and if he had truly accepted Christ his salvation is secure, but carnal living takes away his good witness for Christ and only causes misery. When alcoholism takes its toll on him he may blame God. Was it God who forced him into alcoholism? No, he chose to live a carnal life and his own choices caused his troubles. The same is true of any sin you participate in, such as drug use or sexual sin. “For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Romans 6:23) If you choose to live a carnal life you choose to live in misery. When we accept Christ for salvation then our citizenship is already in Heaven. We should no longer succumb to the carnal pull of this world. How do we live a spiritual life in a carnal world? We make a choice. The influence of the god of this world is strong but we don’t have to follow his lies. First of all, realize that the battle is a spiritual one. Fight with spiritual weapons, such as prayer and Scripture. Through prayer we talk directly with God. When we are weak, He will be our strength. When we fail, He will forgive us. As a Christian you can go directly to God in prayer and ask Him for help and forgiveness. “For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:15-16) Study God’s Word and write it on your heart. That way when carnal lust threatens to cause you to sin, you will have Scripture ready to fight off the lust. God doesn’t want you to fail and every word of Scripture is for our benefit. Study the life of Christ and use Him as the example to follow. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (Matthew 5:8) It’s hard to see God when we live our life according to the flesh. How we view life  will determine how we behave. If we draw near to God and live a spiritually set apart life we will see God. We will see Him in our daily life and our interactions with others. Choosing a carnal life that opposes God will only lead to bitterness and unhappiness. You may pretend you’re happy and put on a bright smiling face for the world to see, but it’s a false front. When you live a spiritual life that’s pleasing to God, you don’t have to pretend to be happy. “This I say then, Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh. For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.” (Galatians 5:16-17) True joy comes from a life that honors God. Brothers and sisters, instead of watching sin-filled television and movies or listening to music designed to encourage carnal lust, think on the things of God. “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.” (Philippians 4:8) You’ll be surprised how much easier it is to live a spiritual life in a carnal world when you fill your heart and mind with the things of God.