#I wish I had a cool witch hat

[shyghosties]

[haikyu-mp4]

Hello! So can i request about kageyama? I want to request what his reaction will be when he accept his first birthday gift from reader in his first year because he didnt receive any of it in his middle school, plus he didnt think his birthday is that important to celebrate since his grandpa often forgot about and his sister is busy with her works. And reader give him the present in front of school gate when they going home. That's it, i'm very sorry for my bad grammar😔😔

Present

word count; 487 – gn!reader

You had not been dating Kageyama for long by the time his birthday rolled around. Since Halloween, when he struggled to ask you out properly while wearing the fake vampire teeth. After you said yes and went in for a little kiss on the cheek, the edge of your witch hat poked him in the eye.

A charming start for sure.

The two of you agreed to not get each other Christmas gifts, seeing as you hadn’t been dating for that long and would rather spend that money on doing something together instead. However, nothing could stop you from finding the best gift for Tobio’s birthday.

On the 22nd of December, you excitedly made your way out the school entrance in your puffer coat, gloved hands clutching onto the blue box containing that sweater Tobio thought Oikawa looked so cool in on his Instagram. It had taken some of your savings and a little help from your parents, but you were so happy you could get it for him.

You yelled out his name, taking a couple of deep, nervous breaths before you were right in front of him. He was waiting by the gate for you, as he would walk you home on the days neither of you had any club activities.

“Hey,” he greeted you, confusion on his face from how you had called out to him.

“Happy birthday, Tobio!” you said cheerfully, holding out the present with both hands. Your boyfriend seemed to freeze, staring down at the box and then back up at you.

“What’s in the box?” he asked, pointing at it awkwardly.

“You have to open it!” you said, trying to keep the energy up.

“It’s for me?”

“A birthday gift!” you confirmed. “For you, yes.”

He took the box and you could swear his chest puffed out in something similar to pride. You took his free hand and smiled widely.

“Is your family celebrating? You can open it with them if you want to.”

“My family,” he seemed to consider it, and you disliked how his eyebrows flocked together and lower lip slowly pointed out in a pout, even though it made him look cute. “No, they wished me happy birthday this morning.”

You blinked at him, not sure what to say to that. “Then…” You licked your lips. “Maybe we can go get some food?”

And he was very happy with that, even slightly swinging your hands between you two as he told you all about how he and Hinata were planning something for practice the day after.

While waiting for the food, he opened his present and you were satisfied with the little stars in his eyes as he thanked you. “This is exactly the one I wanted,” he confirmed, and this experience alone felt like it would fuel your energy for eternity.

It might not be much, not some huge party, but it was everything to him.

masterlist

[prisoner-000]

Every single MILGRAM NPC and what we know about them canonically

I referenced both TL conversations and the interrogations for this. MVs are mostly ignored due to their overall vagueness and heavily relying on interpretation, but I do mention some MV-only characters on this list (ex. Haruka's victim).

(thank you @/adipostsstuff for your contributions to the Kotoko and Fuuta sections!!)

Full list under the cut!

Haruka:

Haruka's mother: The most important person in his life; the person he'd like to see most again in his current situation. His mother would have preferred a girl instead of a son. His childhood was improved due to her being 'nice'.

Haruka's father: Is still present in his family structure. Haruka feels like he 'disappointed him', but Haruka loves him.

Haruka's victim/Pigtails Girl: Haruka was jealous of her.

Yuno:

Yuno's father: Left her family very early into Yuno's life. She doesn't consider even having a father.

Yuno's mother and grandparents: Part of her regular family structure. Considers them family herself, loves them. Would like to see them again in her current situation, would spend money on eating with them.

Yuno's client(s): Brief appearance in Tear Drop. Are her clients, pay a large sum for these dates. Presumably also pay to sleep with her.

Yura: Yuno's little brother. Also part of her family structure.

Haruta: A boy she met in kindergarten and had a crush on.

Fuuta:

Fuuta's mother: Divorced his father, left the family. Fuuta doesn't remember much about her. Wishes to meet her one day.

Fuuta's father: Fuuta thinks of him as a pitiful, fragile old man. His main caretaker. Is a civil worker.

Fuuta's older sister: Part of Fuuta's current family. Is a beautician.

Fuuta's friends: Get passionate about the same things as him, have similar interests (such as gaming, soccer, & browsing the web). Met over the internet.

Fuuta's victim (Kilcheroy): Someone whose username ("Miss Magic" in Japanese) he saw often, a victim of Fuuta's witch hunt friend group. Seems to be a girl wearing a middle school uniform; younger than Fuuta. She was targeted for posing with a hat she did not pay for, leading Futa to assume she stole it, when in reality she asked the shop owner for permission before doing so.

Muu:

Muu's mother: Muu thinks of her as cool and pretty. Glad to have her as her mother. Is french; originates from Nice, FR. Is an ex-model. Muu sees her as a role model. Her and her husband are first on Muu's to-see-again list.

Muu's father: Muu thinks of him as kind. Glad to have him as her father. A landlord by profession, though also works 'importing furniture from other countries' (a higher-up at a furniture company)? Him and his wife are first on Muu's to-see-again list.

Sayu & Co.: Ex-Friends of Muu's. Would receive gifts from Muu and text with her, though later turned on her and started bullying her. (Possibly, Muu would like to see them again, though she doesn't specify who these friends she'd like to see again are.) Believes she should've chosen her friends more carefully.

Rei: Muu's victim. Their relationship is unclear, but Rei does not ever appear pleased being in Muu's presence. Muu stabbed her.

Shidou:

Shidou's wife: Describes her as part of 'a family as happy as you could dream of'. Met her in his neighbourhood, was a family friend. They met during their 2nd year of middle school and have not seperated since. Was "a strong person" Shidou relied on. His 4th partner in total. Is dead.

Shidou's children: There are two of them, both sons. Part of Shidou's happy family. Shidou loved them. Presumably dead.

Shidou's victims: Confirmed there are multiple victims.

Mahiru:

Mahiru's boyfriend: Her first ever relationship. She'd revive him if she could. They met in their university, he said it was fate. His hobby is running. He works at a 7/11 & his favorite movie is 'Your Name'.

Hair salon girl: A confidant of Mahiru's. She can talk about anything with her. Is older than Mahiru.

Mahiru's parents: Were 'a bit strict'. Mahiru describes herself as sheltered because of this. Mahiru is their only child.

Kazui:

Hinako Mukuhara: His former wife & victim. They worked together in the police force. She loved him, but he did not share her feelings. He was hoping their marriage could 'change' him.

Kazui's childhood friend: A friend of Kazui's who he looks up to. Has a boat they've gone trawling on together before. Supposes they must be feeling guilty about what happened, even if he claims this is all his fault.

Kazui's parents: Kazui assumes they must find him embarrassing. Does not consider them part of his current family structure. Kazui was either their only child or their eldest. His father wanted him to be a 'strong man', he was a policeman.

Kazui's elementary school teacher: A teacher he may have had a crush on (he says this uncertainly).

Kazui's family dog: A dog he had at his parents' place. Wow

Amane:

Yuuichi Momose: Amane's father, a 'reverend/lecturer'/high-standing figure in the cult. Has preached against medicine before. Is currently away on a trip, which Amane describes as a great honor for him. Part of her current family structure. Would like to see him again and wants him (or even expects him) to praise her. Amane believes he loved her.

Amane's mother: Part of her current family structure. Amane believes she [her mother] loved her. She lost her faith in the cult at some point.

Amane's victim (might be one of her parents): Amane does not regret killing them, sees it as having been her natural duty. She loved them.

The cat: A cat that appears alongside broken furniture in Purge March. She patched it up, to which it disappeared.

Mikoto:

Mikoto's mother: Is divorced from his father, raised him and his sister. He gets along well with her. Presumably, Mikoto has moved away from home and sometimes calls his mother when he doesn't have to work.

Mikoto's sister: Younger than him, currently going to high school. Mikoto thinks of her as brilliant.

Mikoto's boss: Appears in Double. Seems to have put a lot of pressure on him.

Mikoto's victims: There were multiple victims. Killed near a train station.

Orekoto/John: Mikoto's alter. Aims to protect Mikoto. Has stated he 'emerged due to Mikoto's stress' and will 'disappear if they are voted innocent'. Mikoto does not seem to remember John's times fronting.

Kotoko:

Kotoko's family: Her current family structure consists of her grandmother, her father, her mother, and her older brother. Has not elaborated on her family.

Mikio Oshii: scammed elderly people for money, once pushed an old woman to escape. Is the first person to be seen get beaten up by Kotoko.

Kotoko's victim: A serial killer who targeted young girls and would leave their bodies outside their homes. His father was in a position of power (can't remember which one), making it difficult for his case to be dealt with. Is probably on his 30s.

[genderbinaryisforlosers]

[basic ID in alt, detailed ID below]

i love them more than words can say. already i wish i could listen to the children's adventure for the first time all over again.

[ID: 1. A height chart lineup showing the main characters of The Wizard, the Witch, and the Wild One side-by-side in the main campaign and the Children's Adventure. In order it is Eursulon, Suvi, Ame & Cool Dog, and Grandmother Wren & Taro.

Eursulon is a huge bear-like creature standing bipedal on digitigrade legs. As an adult (left) he stands to a height of 220cm. His fur around his ears and forehead resembles the plumage of a horned owl. He has an ursine nose and large tusks, and big, hazel eyes. He has white freckles on his face. He is wearing a long green cloak and beige and brown traveller's garb, and a golden pauldron is partially hidden by his cloak on his shoulder. It has a small dent in it but is well polished. In his right hand (viewer's left) he holds a round wooden shield, and in his left hand he holds an unsheathed sword, Wavebreaker, with pale blue silk lining wrapped around the hilt. He has a neutral expression.

As a child, he was still large at about 145cm tall, but had a rounder face, smaller fangs, and shorter feet. He is unclothed except for his golden pauldron, undented, and instead of a sword he is clutching a broom handle with both paws. He is smiling.

Suvi is a Black human girl who stands at around 183cm as an adult. She has a turquoise afro which is pulled back neatly into a bun and decorated with fine gold chains as well as a round golden censer hanging from the back. She is dressed in a smart Imperial blue uniform with gold and silver trim, and wields in her right hand a crystal staff decorated with the Imperial sigil and wings made of floating shards. In her left hand she holds a book bound in dark blue leather. Instead of wearing glasses, her brown eyes are magically treated, which causes a teal sheen to be visible over her pupils. She is smiling confidently.

As a child, she was about 120cm tall and her hair was still dark brown and not tied back. She has yellow asteria flowers in her hair as well as a pencil and a cool leaf, and wore huge round glasses. She wears a red button-up dress with pockets, stripey white tights, and smart indigo shoes. She clutches a brown canvas-bound book to her chest and looks wide-eyed.

Ame is an East Asian girl who stands at around 150cm as an adult. She has long, dark straight hair and dark brown eyes. She has her right hand on her hip while her left hand adjusts her giant red witch's hat. The hat has a white underside and there is a gold censer attached to the pointed tip. She is wearing a white wrap top patterned with pink petals, and the long flowy sleeves have been buttoned back. She has two bracelets around her left wrist, one is woven lilac and green, and the other is small pink flowers chained together. She has red skirt that resembles a toadstool, with white spots on the cap and pink ruffles under the rim. She also has a white half-apron with several pockets tied to her waist by dark pink cord, which also holds a light brown pouch. She has one skinned knee showing above her flowery pink-and-white socks, and red stompy boots. She is smiling out of the corner of her mouth. Wrapping around her legs is Cool Dog, her fox familiar, eyeing the viewer suspiciously.

As a child, she was extremely small at 100cm. She has a bowl cut and dimples. She wears an oversized yellow shirt with white stripes, the sleeves pushed up past her elbows, and orange dungarees. She has muddy red welly boots, and is wearing the lilac and green bracelet. She is grinning broadly with her eyes shut and holding her fists up near her chest.

Grandmother Wren is an old witch standing at about 155cm with light brown skin and frizzy grey-and-white-streaked hair and brown eyes. She is wearing a dark purple witch's hat with a golden buckle and a curling tip, a knitted lilac shawl around her shoulders, and a cable-knit yellow sweater. She is wearing a stripy half-apron over a floor-length patchwork skirt, and is leaning on a gnarled wooden cane with both hands. She is smiling ruefully. Taro, her rooster familiar, is standing on the brim of her hat.

2. A cropped version of the same drawing, this time including Eursulon's glamoured forms. His glamoured form is a Black human, resembling Suvi as if he were her brother, although his eyes remain hazel and his hair is ginger instead of dark brown. He has dark brown freckles on his face and a gap in his front teeth, although the gap can only be seen in his childhood glamour as he is smiling. As an adult, the glamour is dressed identically to the unglamoured form although he's shorter by about 25cm, and his hair is braided back neatly into a bun. He also has some facial hair on his sideburns. As a child, his hair is shorter and styled into mini locs, and he is wearing a white shirt and green shorts, though still barefoot. He is about 15cm shorter than his unglamoured form.

3. A cropped version of the remaining lineup, showing Suvi, Ame & Cool Dog, and Grandmother Wren & Taro. /end ID]

[adracat]

G Witch episode 16 thoughts

Or the episode where the real plot thickens. No offense to earth and Guel but these are the sort of stakes and drama I'm weak for. Truly a wonderful present to receive on this blessed of Sundays! Just in time for Walpurgisnacht too

And we start off strong with this heated Prospera and Bel confrontation! Cont. from last time, Bel just learned Eri Samaya is not Suletta Mercury or even alive anymore, but a mysterious 3rd thing-- her biometric code uploaded to the cloud aka Aerial. We learn her immature body couldn't handle it so she perished. Eri is now entirely composed of Permet particles, and without Aerial housing her consciousness she'll dissipate. The Gundam is literally possessed by a child's ghost.

And it seems with a permet score of 8, the datastorm can be extended with Quiet Zero and create a space for Eri to live. Or that's the implication, I gather. How exactly that would happen is a mystery though I suspect it would mean granting Eri a new physical body, perhaps by 'overwriting' Suletta's mind/soul. (Well this is sounding familiar, isn't it 3h fans?)

But amid all this, there's the matter of Benerit's leadership. Without Delling, they need someone to control the various corporate beasts so it's decided they'll hold an election. Awfully democratic of them tbh. Though I wager leadership might boil down to whoever can crush hardest in a Mobile Suit royale.

We know Shaddiq will be throwing his hat in the ring, as will our prodigal failson Guel by the looks of it. Speaking of, I wish he had a bigger moment with his brother but maybe later? Their surprise was pretty good, and I enjoyed Guel's talk with Petra. She's grown up quite a bit from the shallow bully/fangirl of the first season.

Moving on to Mio, I went nuts over this shot. Suletta is fulfilling all her promises!! Even cleaned her disaster area of a room and messaging three times per day. She's unnervingly good at following directions tbh.

Adored this so much too. Lauda is grateful to GUNDARM for their aid and subsequently clears them of suspicion in the terrorist attacks. He goes out of his way to say Mio is free from the dueling games too, but Mio could care less about that petty nonsense. Her heart and mind is set on Suletta.

Quick mention to Secilia for being the most relatable person in the show. She just wants to sit on this god forsaken couch, watch the drama, and see who'll be Miorine's husbando. She's so funny, I swear.

And ofc we get spacian/earthian hostility in the wake of the attacks. You can't blame these kids for being scared and lashing out at the nearest targets but also Earth House was clearly not involved and aiding students during. Even Lauda of all people can understand that. They are grieving for a friend apparently which just complicates the situation further. Sad for all tbh

Martin steps up to defend his housemates, which was nice to see, but it's Mio who is able to shut down their hostility with a clever bit of blackmail. She's so cool and taking no one's guff this season

Nika had a brief interaction with Sabina, but it was insightful. We understand Sabina's loyalty to Shaddiq now as she's an earthian who was taken in by Grassley. Like Nika, she wants to become a bridge for spacians and earthians. Their methods contrast Nika's but they're all coming from the same place. Sabina is anyway. Shaddiq is a bit more inscutable.

Detective Mio is exploring all avenues in her quest and the space assembly league are all too happy to collaborate. They all find Shin Sei and Prospera suspicious, it seems. Valid observation. She does manage to locate Nika, sorta, and brings that information back to the others.

Mio is so adorable when Earth House thanked her for everything. This is probably the first time in years people appreciate who she is on her own merits and formed bonds that aren't conditional or tied to her father. It was just a really wholesome moment. Ah I love her and Earth House! Especially after hearing that first drama cd sketch.

Shout out to Till for shipping these two like the rest of us. Solid wingman right there. Poor Suletta doesn't quite know where they stand after all this time and doesn't want to be a nuisance, but still desperate to show Mio her dedication.

Just look at this pathetic puppy face 🥺

Only a monster could say no to that look, and luckily for her Mio is an understanding and loving bride.

Prospera Jumpcare. Watch out y'all, this one has a mean bite. Her showing up suddenly was unnerving. For the love of all that is holy, never do this again lady. Creeping me out somethin fierce.

HOO BOOOY where to begin? So 5lan was rejected from Aerial immediately, unlike when Eri was humoring El4n and Mio. Is this a sign she's grown in power or just fed up with 5lan's gremlin antics? Could be a combo of both! I take this as confirmation there were multiple failed clones/instances of Eri and Suletta was the lone sucess. The others look Eri's age. 12 of them in total, making Suletta unlucky 13.

I kinda felt sorry for 5lan here, cause he has a right to want to live and not be a tool but also... I don't like him and wish him nothing but misery for being a creep + striking Bel, who I do love. Poor Bel is not having a good week in between Prospera's guilting and now 5lan's.

And we finally arrive at THE SCENES we've been waiting for. It's so wonderfully tense but also tentatively hopeful at the start. Suletta who wants nothing more than to bridge the gap and Mio who wants the same.

Mio starts off with an empathetic apology, stating she understands Suletta's choice in ep12 even if it was traumatic for her. But the reconciliation derailed the moment Suletta declares her mother was right after all. She did the right thing. Run gain one, move forward and gain two.

Mio is galvanized by this logic and hastens to ask Suletta how she can smile at something so terrible. She might understand why Suletta killed for her sake, but she doesn't get how Suletta can just blindly accept everything is ok; that murder was right. Then Mio goes directly in, striving to make Suletta understand. She presses her about her mother, asking if Suletta would do anything. Including giving up her dream for Mercury or killing again.

Her answer, while terrible, is yes. To all of it. Suletta would forfeit the school for Mercury. Would kill again at the behest of her mother. Would do anything so long as her mother said it was right.

Suletta only sees the positives. She got to go to school, have friends, and meet Miorine who she loves. All because she moved forward at her mother's demand. It's horrifying but it makes perfect sense why she would think this way. It's clear from her anxious gestures she's not wholly oblivious to the horror either, but deems her discomfort inconsequential when she gains so much from obeying.

Hearing this speech is the breaking point for Mio who dashes away, leaving a forlorn Suletta to gaze after her. And we're swiftly shown what exactly she has on her mind

This scene was electric from the start. Someone is finally calling out Prospera's manipulation and while she's unflappable as always you have to admire Mio's fire. She wants Suletta to be freed and doesn't care a whit what Prospera thinks.

GOOOOOD this quote. We know Mio loves Suletta genuinely but Prospera only sees her 'daughter' as a tool to be tossed around and used by others. Her phrasing is disgusting in this exchange. 'She's a good little girl, isn't she?' *shivers*

Prospera proceeds to lay her cards on the table and is amazingly forthright, declaring her intent. She reveals her hungry fixation for vengeance and 21 yr long grudge against Delling.

Ngl it's pretty hilarious that Mio doesn't mind the idea of these adults killing themselves fighting each other so long as she and Suletta are left alone. Mio in protective wife mode fr.

It's not that easy however, as Prospera coerces Miorine to help her with QZ. And the first step is to become president of the Benerit group. Miomio for President 2023!! Will she find a loophole from this dire situation? Cast your votes now as we await what becomes of our stellar cast until the next Suletta Sunday~

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Thoughts 01x05 The Case of the Two Dead Dragons

“I feel like they’re setting us up pretty hard in this one” “It’s gonna suck that they killed Rowena if it lasts 10 seasons or some shit” “If these shows didn’t have a little bit of cringe, not enough people would have things to talk about” “at one point, they had a line up outside the door, but now they’re taking whatever case” “There are hearts on her hat, too. Alright that’s a little extra” “Witch lady? No?” “no” “that’s not a dead giveaway but alright sure” “how does she know the secret admirer? The library?” “what the hell is she sniffing?” “idk what I think about the witch lady” “very odd character idk” “I think the thing is that she looks like she could be that unhinged without being a witch. I’m not trying to be too judgmental but damn” “the fuck’ “I don’t quite understand” “oh my god” “his mustache doesn’t look evenly cut” “huh”

“The lens distortion is super obvious in the locker room” “modern lenses don’t do that. I mean, they can, but this has got to be an after effect” “is she going to sign her up?” “whose mind?” “that’s pretty cool” “they should have discovered this earlier” LAUGHTER “that’s a lot of words to tell them to fuck off” “ok thats a little extra” “just tell us now” “she’s got very dark hair” “skittles box” “nope” “hey look more lens distortion effect” “what did she put into the beer?”

“They would have run a drug screen on these kids. They would have known. You can’t brush over that” “Does the forensic department do nothing? This is modern times right?” “the audio is fkn weird again” “Maybe they recorded it really poorly and did this in post” “meow” GAY “dun dun dun” “Niko’s going to freak out a little bit here” “oh yes the sausage curtain” “you’re going to really wish you had cameras” “that was extra” “trying to gaslight them too” “what the fuck is that?” THE trees with eyes?” “Or is this the one with the arms?” “are they in the bag still?” “no you’ve been a ghost too long. They go crazy over time. Everything you hear in supernatural is true” “what’s with the popped collar?” “can we go play laser tag with David? Minus the eyes, these rooms remind me of laser tag” “minus all the shit ya know” “cops can’t even park right. Jeez. Right on the curb. How’s the passenger supposed to get out? If you’re attempting to block the street, you’re doing a poor job” GAY “the cats just want to watch the action”

[short-black-diamond]

HIIII! HOW ARE YOUUU!~

I came across your blog and looking at what you do write for I'm so excited! I don't know if you're at 200 followers yet but please remember that once you do reach your goal, Is it possible for you to do a The Greatest Estate Developer x reader where MC is part of the main cast? Like they follow Lloyd and Javier together on the adventures??(Just save this :3c)

For your 100 followers event, I would like a Nanbaka reverse au if possible?😮😮 I don't see a lot of people who watch nanbaka so it's cool to see someone write about them🤩

I claim 🍰nom

Awwww 🍰nom that's so cute! (Don't worry I only did that event so I could write something again heehehheheheee)

Sure I'll do a The greatest estate developer x reader for you! But about the nanbaka part, you'll have to explain to me what you mean by 'reverse au', ok? Cuz I'm stupid :p

I'll do it in headcannons, and then to a story, alright? And since you didn't tell me your sex, I'll make it with a female reader, okay? :)

Since there hasn't been the talk of a witch in the greatest estate developer, I'll write it with a hot, curvy witch, who is a scaredy cat and feels useless, but make it funny! ...and also angsty!

Word count: 2.6 k words

Also I did not proofread

---

The greatest Estate Developer x Female!Witch!Reader! Chapter One: ...-> Chapter two

To be completely honest with yourself, you didn't know where you were

you had a bad argument/fight with your parents who wanted you to marry a guy you didn't know and told you how useless you were

it made you frustrated how your parents didn't understand that you didn't want to marry a guy who was too old for you

And that they only viewed you as a maid and cook rather than a woman

you lost it when your mother said that this was the reason your beloved cat Seseg (->that's the name of my cat who got given to another family) died

so you left.

you just up and left with packing everything dear to you, which was basically your whole room, into a small bag and left

ah yes, magic

you didn't look back, but you cried

you feared you'd freeze to death when it was night and you were following the moon, which was your compass, with your flying broom

you reached some cities, where you were wearing normal human clothes, your witch-hat and broom tucked safely into your bag, the people there were only giving you uninterested looks

when you had a job, you were underpaid and since you were young, you didn't really get the respect you should be given

you got yelled at, spat at and cursed at

when they found out you were a witch -you were making a fallen baby bird float up to its nest with your magic- they were after you with their sharp or lit up sticks, spears and swords

as you grew older, you got more distant and didn't really ask for anything else except a place to sleep

then, one day, a guy apporached you

you got bad vibes from him

when he was about five feet apart from you, he did something that made you fall unconscious

and when you woke up, you couldn't feel your mana anymore

how could somebody do that to you?

Did you deserve this?

after this, you lost trust in humanity, lost the ability to smile, and you were overall asking yourself why you kept going

what was your reason to leave anyway?

Sure, the guy was older, but he was also wealthy and your parents only wanted the best of you

tears prickled in your eyes and you sniffed

you wished you'd be home- "Hey, you're in the way woman!", a voice called and another, this time more shrill: "Watch out!"

before your mind could figure out what was going on, your body did and like on reflex, you stopped a...lava-shoot? crashing into you

with your magic

your breath hitched as you noticed two men coming towards you

you felt like crying and let the lava fall to the ground

"I-I'm sorry! I'll leave!", was all you said before you turned around ran

stupid, stupid witch.

YOU WORE HIGH HEELS AND YOU TRIPPED WITH A YELP

good thing your face didn't land in some sort of shit but grass

"Uh, you okay there little miss?"

God, how embarassing.

all you did was hold up a thumb which should be pointing up, but since you landed on your stomach, so it pointed back

After your little...uh, tripping accident, you were sitting between the two men on a cut tree, the lava pooping bangul on your lap and you four were in front of a small fire, roasting fish and chicken

how could such a cute little thing become so big? And shit lava???

The one sitting to your left was a man with brown hair, where some of it covered the right half of his face, but he was still handsome to you. He was wearing easy, but highranking-like clothes.

The one to your left was a man with baby-bluish cloudy hair, and you were dying to find out of it was as fluffy as you'd think it'd be

"My name is Lloyd Frontera, and that is my friend Javier. We tried warning you several times, but you were not listening. That will be very expensive for you.", the man with the brown hair said

Wait wha- "Wait, hold on, uh, Mr. Frontera, I don't know what-" "Oh? Are you new here?", Frontera asked in faux concern before he had an ugly grimace to which you shrieked and Javier was ready to hold you, as he was startled too

"Well, that's too bad, because new residents have to pay fees to live here, and since you seem to be some sort of mage -given the fact that you stopped the lava with your hands- I'll add two percent to it!", cue to him laughing maliciously

you turned towards Javier with a mortified expression "A-are you really...friends with him?", and Javier 'tsk'ed before looking to the side with a small nod

"Um, can't I do something that won't have me paying anything?", you asked in a meek voice. You didn't know that guy or what his intentions were. You found him really nice at first, but now, you were scared of him. And you also didn't really have any money on you right now. You were also a total dumbass in math so you didn't know what he meant by two percent.

His crazed face met yours again and you flinched

"I don't know, aren't you a mage or sorceress or something?"

You had to nod, but tears were clouding your vision again. "I-I'm a witch. But I'm, like I-..I'm useless...!", you croaked out before you leaned forward and cried. "I'm sorry for causing you trouble, Mr. Frontera, I didn't mean to bother you, or make whatever you were doing take longer. Please have mercy on me..."

You were so pathetic. Why did you always apologize? Why did you always mess something up? Why are you so stu-

"Listen, I've heard many people talk like that. 'Oh, please have mercy on me! I'll make anything you want, I promise!', but then they just dissappear or kick your butt with a shit eating grin on their face!"

You were shocked by this. How dare Lloyd Frontera compare you to those people? You were a victim of these kinds of humans after all...

"Mr. Frontera, I have no idea what might have made you think that I would jest about it, let alone think about it. I can't be helped but feel outraged. Another thing if I may add, is that we witches are honest creatures, unlike you humans."

The man seemed a little surprised, but then he turned serious again. "what do you have to offer to pay, witch?"

"I have nothing. You humans only care about money, am I right? Well,", you stood up, and gave him your bag, "in thiss magic bag, there is everything I hold dear to me. Take what you want. Take whatever you think might be good enough to be worth money."

He only stared at you with a confused expression. "W-wait. You're just giving me your belongings?" "Would you leave me alone? GIve me the choice to leave? No. You wouldn't. You'd try to take my bag. I know you humans. Your hearts and minds are only filled with lust and money to waste away your days of life on gambling and whatnot other useless stuff."

Your expression was hardened. Lloyd stood up. Then he bowed.

"I'm sorry, witch."

At that, you raised your eyebrows shot up. Is he...apologizing?

.....

.....

.....

....

....

....

...

...

...

..

..

..

.

.

.

No.

Humans don't apologize. They take and take and take-

"Please forgive me for my rude behaviour. You are not even from here and I'm already at your neck with paying fees. Allow me to introduce myself again.

My name is Lloyd Frontera, son of the noble of this small region. I was working on building some more modern houses for the orcs, because they needed ice, and I lied to them that I needed ice, and now I have a dilemma because I don't know-"

"I can make ice, Frontera."

A moment of silence passed before you spoke again.

"When I make ice for you...would that cut away some of the price I have to pay you for bothering you?", you asked hesitantly and averted your eyes. Your cheeks were warm out of embarassment, because you couldn't believe you'd actually ever offer a human of all creatures your help.

You didn't hear a response for a solid three seconds, and when you looked back to the brown haired dude, you screamed. How could a human make such devillish grimaces? He looked hideous.

"Does your wife kiss you with a face like that?!?!?!", you shrieked as he was about to reach out his hand to seal the deal you unofficially were about to do. But he halted.

You thought you heard a small snort from Javier's direction. The young noble fell to his knees. "...I am single."

"That figures."

Damn, you didn't hold back.

---

It was the next day, after you've slept in one of Lloyd's rooms by decorating/rearranging it to your liking, you followed the noble and his knight to the place you guys have met for the first time.

You felt nostagic, to say the least. You had a job again, albeit having to help a human, it wouldn't be too bad-

"Lloyd, oink! How is the process going, oink?", a deep, smooth voice asked behind you, and when you turned around, you thought that you've seen the most handsome man in your entire life.

Beautiful green skin, wonderfull long dark hair that was thrown into a high ponytail, a sweet big, pointy tooth at the left corner of the man's mouth and the most beautiful shade of blue eyes you've ever seen.

And aside from that... he had the body of a greek god!

Gosh he is so hot! Is he single?! How old might he be?! Ah!- he looked at me!!!

"Ah, Arosh, great to see you! I'd like you to meet my newest recruit! Meet: The witch, ____! She's been bugging me yesterday, hence this big hole of now cold lava,", as he pointed to you and then to the big dark area-to which you blushed while apologizing shyly-, "but, she says she can make ice! Isn't that great?!"

Arosh looked at you with surprise, curiousity and happiness. "Arosh is happy that witch lady ____ is here with us! Please help the sand and steel tribe! We can not work out under this heat! The winter is far away and it is still spring! Please help us, witch ____!"

You wanted to hug Lloyd. You wanted to pat your own shoulder for proposing him the idea of helping him make ice.

God, dear lord, my creator, thank you. Thank you so much for giving me this peace of eye candy. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I'd like to thank you with all my heart.

And so, you found yourself with Lloyd again. But you had a confession to make. "Mr. Frontera, there is something I haven't told you."

As he turned around with a 'hm?', you took a deep breath before glaring at him angrily.

"I lied!"

Lloyd smiled. "What?"

"I-I lied..."

"WHY?", he shouted and you yelped. Your eyes were filling with salty water again and you hated it. Why did you always cry when you were angry? It was like the stongest emotions of your mother, sadness, and the anger from your father got heired by you, who yelled at him with venom in your voice, but water-streaming down your cheeks.

"Some human took all my mana!", you reasoned, quieting him for a moment. He just stared at you. "Who did it?"

"I don't know. All I know is that he looked like he couldn't hurt a fly and the next moment I was out cold. And what I remember from his looks it that he had dark hair, a beard, and he had a weird symbol on his clothes."

You inhaled before speaking again. "I am sorry, Mr. Front-"

"It's Lloyd, ____, and I will give you back your mana from that bastard. Meanwhile, can you use mine?"

You were taken aback. Was this human for real? Was Lloyd Frontera really thinking of you that highly that you could use some of his mana? And why was he suggesting giving you some of his mana? Let alone letting you use his?

"I-I...I don't know. I've never done this before.", you started. "But once I have your mana, I'll be able to create ice. I think that I'll also be able to expand the mana you've given me to my own level in no time." you had that hardened expression again.

He sighed through his nose before reaching out his hand. "But don't you dare to run off with it, ____!"

"I'm not a human like you. We witches are honest creatures.", you repeated this sentence you said yesterday. Hoping that Lloyd would understand it.

The moment your fingers brushed against his, a wave of euphoric electricity cruised through your body. It was like your soul was lifted, and you felt way too much adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Reflexively, you pulled your hand back as quick as possible and panted. Sure, it felt good, but you got too much mana from him. "What the hell?! Why did you give me so much?!", you yelled, glaring at him. If he'd have given you a little more, it might have killed you.

Your fingers were shaking and your only thought was to use your magic again. "Huuuuh? Be a little grateful, you witch! I just gave you half of my mana so you could do the ice in peace!"

You only sighed while shaking your head and beckoned him to follow you towards what he built. forms which resembled cubes were filled with water and Lloyd looked at you with some sort of exectation. Maybe he wanted you to say something smart or praise.

"Did you do this?", you asked and Lloyd nodded excitedly.

"Lloyd, I'm going to teach you about how to make ice.", and he nodded again.

You pulled back your sleeve so that your dominant arm would be on full display. then, you put it into one of those water cubes. Lloyd copied your move, one block away.

"Concentrate on the cold and warm amount of mana. Then, try to take only the warm mana out. Like this,", you grabbed your upper arm in the middle and your hand started to glow.

"You might not get it the first try because you're only ever, uh..."pushing out"? The mana? yeah, I ah...You just...you need to figure out how to absorb it. Think about taking back the mana you gave me. Then it should work."

Lloyd only stared at you with a frown on his face as his hand was in the water. "I...need to take back the mana, but only the warm ones...I've actually thought about this, but with your help, we might do it faster now!"

You deadpanned at his enthusiasm. "How about you see if you can actually do it before celebrating too soon?"

At that, Lloyd chuckled before he did as you said. After two seconds, he jumped and waved his hand around like a madman. "ARGH, Shit!"

"Burned yourself?"

"...yeah"

"C'mere."

You took his red hand into your own and used your healing magic form his mana and his hand came back to its original color.

Javier watched you two from afar. He had another unreadable expression on his face.

"You know...I wanted to thank you for having me, Lloyd. By far, this is the most welcome I've felt after all I've been through my whole life. You are a good man."

As you let go of his arm, he examined it before looking back to you. "No need to thank me. Although I'm very interested how your life was. I've never met a witch before, to be honest. You're also very nice to help me. I'm surprised that you didn't run off with the mana I've given you. After we made the ice, we'll eat something and talk, alright?"

You nodded.

---

It was only the next day, but you two made it. You made dozens of ice blocks for the sand and steel tribe and you couldn't help but buzz on your seat on the broom as you were going to the region where Arosh lived.

Javier noticed your weird excitement and Lloyd only smiled.

"Y-you made...Ice, oink?", The father, you guessed, asked, as he was hugging himself and you smiled. When you stepped into that seokbinggo, you noticed Arosh and his father. Arosh waved at you excitedly to which you internally exploded and waved back with a sweet smile.

Lloyd went towards the stapled ice cupes and tapped on them a few times. "All we need to do now is put in the insulation and we're done."

At that, the orcs got loud. "Oooink! A-AMAZING! Now we won't have to throw out any meat, oink!", the father cheered, and his son responded: "And we won't have to hunt every day, oink!"

You giggled at their little antics, but halted when the next words came. "In celebration, today will be triceps day, oink! Call everyone to the square!"

"Triceps day, oooink!"

T-triceps day? God, is this heaven? Am I going to see more chiseled abs and sexy bodies ?! if yes then...

A tear rolled down your cheek as you closed your eye and clasped your hands together.

THANK YOU!

Lloyd and Javier asked why you were crying but you only giggled uncontrollably.

---

How was that? I actually didn't know what you meant by following them to adventures, but I just wanted to do one of my favourite scenes, write about my favourite character and yeah.

Like, this webtoon had so many things happening which was giving me a little whiplash and I just thought fuck it we want to have something to begin with so that their adventures could some together. As in the reader meeting them like this and then accompaning them there and there.

I actually want to keep writing to be honest. It was very fun!

I hope it was okay for you, my precious 🍰nom. Please tell me if I made any mistakes, or if you didn't like anything. I can also write something completely different if you like.

Send in more requests! My soul belongs to the people who want something from me! Ask and I shall deliver!

Read you in the next post!

[tyrantisterror]

Ok so I bought the first volume of Witch Hat Atelier simply because I’ve seen some images from it here on the tumbles and the artwork looked gorgeous.  I had no idea what the story was going to be about, but $10 for a book of pretty art didn’t seem like a bad gamble, and I’m on the record as being a fan of the way manga and anime tends to adapt Medieval European fantasy setting tropes.

I mean, look at the cool take it has on pegasi.

And the first volume gives us a peek at a dragon too!

But now that I’ve read the first volume, I’m happy to say there’s more to it than just pretty art.  It’s got a very solid hook, really endearing characters, and that wonderful mix of whimsy and genuine, sometimes terrifying stakes that I think marks really good fantasy fiction.

I also think this needs to be added to people’s consideration when looking to Herbie Porter alternatives.  It’s about young witches learning how to do witchcraft, although in a more medieval-esque apprenticeship setting (four students to a teacher, a much more reasonable class size), and it manages to have the wish fulfillment of a seemingly normal kid being whisked off to a world of magic to become a spellcaster - only in this case, it’s not because she was secretly born special, but because she discovers that the idea that you have to be born a witch is actually a lie, supposedly perpetuated to keep people from abusing witchcraft (though even in the first volume I feel there are signs it’s more complicated than that).

It also has a really interesting magic system, emphasizing the “craft” in witchcraft, as spells have to be drawn into existence, with the quality of the drawing affecting how they come out. 

And I can’t emphasize enough how endearing the characters are!  And diverse too, for that matter.  Really can’t recommend it enough!  I’m going to try and grab more volumes come my next paycheck.

[barbwritesstuff]

I went to do some grocery shopping at lidl today and they had this section for all their Halloween candy and as soon as I saw this, I knew I had to show you:

They didn't have any werewolves unfortunately, but they did have witches (green skin, purple hair, pointy hat) and who I assume is the headless horseman with the jack o'lantern head. But the vampire was obviously the best one to get 😋😋

He's adorable! I love him so much! 🧛‍♂️💙

I wish there was something that cool for sale here. I did find some cardboard skulls and painted a couple of those, but Halloween is still pretty new in Australia and things are slow to catch on.

[goldenlilium-ocs]

September 1st, 1990.

A boy sits at a long table draped in emerald and silver. The bright colours outshine his brewing darkness. Barely twelve years old and the world weighs heavy on his shoulders. The constant staring hasn’t begun just yet, nobody knows who he is. If only they would never know. If only the blood in his veins wasn’t tainted with a darkness that terrifies him. He arrived days prior to everybody else, unpacking his trunk with the broken clasp and isolating himself within the curtains of his bed. In the few days he’s been here, the ceiling has been too high to make out. Now, the boy is astonished to glimpse various constellations as the starry night looms above him. It was certainly better than the cracked plasterboard above his bed at his aunts.

“Professor Snape and I have agreed it would be best for you to get settled in before your peers arrive. Slytherin will be good to you, Severus will watch over you as your head of house.”

What the old man had really meant was that if he was recognised on the platform, the parents would pull their children from the school immediately. How can Slytherin possibly be good for him? It had been his father’s house; he learned that the other day while reading his textbooks to get a head start in his classes. That wasn’t what worried Mattheo the most. It was the discovery that Slytherin had a tendency to churn out the darkest of wizards that had sent a chill along his spine. It was as though everyone had already decided his story for him.

Though the students have been sat for at least fifteen minutes, with Mattheo on the end of the bench as Snape had ordered, the great doors swing open once again. He watches a long line of other children his age approach the front where a mangled old hat perches on a stool. One by one, the witch or wizard are sorted into their houses, accepted with tumultuous applause. The Ravenclaws are the smart ones, and Mattheo perks up a little at the idea of living amongst like-minded people who share his thirst for knowledge. The Gryffindors seem really cool too, they’re all about bravery and courage. He probably wouldn’t be much use to them then, you can’t be brave when you’ve spent your entire life being sheltered. The Hufflepuffs seem tame in comparison, Mattheo doesn’t think he’d fit in much there. No matter how friendly they were supposed to be, that sort of kindness never extends to someone like him. Still, Mattheo can’t help but wish he could’ve gotten his chance under hat, even if most of his fellow first years look absolutely terrified while sitting in wait.

“Bishop, Juliette.” The woman in green calls. Mattheo likes her a great deal more than Snape. There’s a similar no-nonsense manner about her, but at least she doesn’t sneer at you when she speaks. 

There’s a whole lot of murmuring as the name is called. Listening to the older students, Mattheo gathers there must be some importance to her family name. Indeed, there’s no fear in the short brunette’s eyes at all as she approaches the hat. She smiles almost as though it is an old friend. The murmurs soon turn to grumbles from various tables as the hat bellows out ‘RAVENCLAW!’. 

Mattheo’s own shoulders droop in disappointment, and he watches enviously as the girl lifts the hat from her head and skips down to the table swathed in blue. She seems so proud, as though she has spent a lifetime searching for a place she might belong. Her tie blooms blue stripes as she sits down. It suits her.

There’s another Bishop too, right after her. Twins, Mattheo realises. He’d almost forgotten that not everyone grows up alone. Owen gets sorted into Hufflepuff, but his sister doesn’t look one bit disappointed. Kingston Chance is the next student to be sorted into Ravenclaw, Mattheo eyes him warily as he sits next to the Bishop girl. He exudes confidence, instantly extending a hand to his housemate in greeting. Mattheo forces himself to glance away. He’s been here nearly a week, even the ghosts seem to fear him, and that boy can make friends in a matter of seconds. 

He doesn’t keep track of most of the other sortings. Elinor Barlow, Sebastian Fox and Reggie Jessop make Hufflepuff, Cormac McLaggen in Gryffindor (and Mattheo finds himself green with envy yet again), Theodore Nott and Danielle Price in Slytherin. There’s an uneasy, quieter applause when those latter names are called, which makes Mattheo perk up once again. All the first years housed in Slytherin have sat on the opposite side of the table, but Nott slides onto the bench right beside him.

“Salazar, mum said it would take forever, but I thought she meant with nerves. The food will go cold soon!” 

Mattheo shrugs. He’s spent the past few nights eating with the professors, and the food never took this long to arrive. His stomach rumbled in support.

“I’m Theo by the way. Theodore Nott Jr.” Theo holds his hand out for Mattheo to shake. There looks to be dried chocolate on his fingers, but he takes it anyway.

“Mattheo. Riddle.”

Theo’s eyes widen a little, no doubt recognising the family name. “Blimey. Well I hope you don’t plan on shortening it, Theo’s already taken mate.”

[yacinthemorning]

Froggy Prince

Summary: A mishap involving tea and potions leads to Tango turning into the frog of his dreams. Now they need to figure out how to turn him back, but Tango isn't too fond of Shelby's method...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (romantic), Tango & Shelby (friendship)

Warnings: Temporary Death

Author Notes: This was based on an idea by @pixie-mage!

What exactly went wrong she was unsure. Shelby only turned around just in time to watch Tango down half his tea, before an acid green fog burst around his form. She shrieked, dropping her tray of pastries to run to her apprentice’s side. “Oh, Tango! No!” The fog was blown away by the brim of her hat, but there was no longer a Tango in his chair. “Tango?” She cried.

“Ugh, Master Shrubs?” Tango croaked quietly from… somewhere. 

Part of Shelby relaxed – thank Joel he hadn’t exploded! – before a new panic set in. Her head whipped around as she called out with tears in her eyes. “Tango? Where are you? Oh no, are you a ghost? Are you part of The Fog now? Oh, I’m so sorry Tango, I’m so sorry-”

“I’m… I’m down here…”

Shelby paused, and looked down. The first thing visible was her shattered teacup. It was, of course, one of her favourite cups. Little porcelain black kittens lay broken, viciously severed from their brooms, drowning in a miserable red sea. Her very last bag of rose tea…

And then- splat! A little blue webbed foot splashed into the spilled tea, followed by a tiny yelp. Frogs and toads were no strange sight in Shelby’s home, but she had never seen one so toxically vibrant. navy limbs turned to an electric cyan, speckled white and matched by piercing eyes. “Shubble!” It squeaked in an oddly familiar voice.

They stared at one another. And stared. And stared. Finally, her mind’s dial-up connected. Shelby gasped. “Tango!” Immediately she grabbed for him, and he instinctively leapt up out of the way. The little frog landed on her collar with a surprised croak.

“Wha- what happened? What’s going on?” He asked as she collected him, holding him in front of her face so they could see eye to eye. “You got giant!”

“You got tiny.” She corrected. “And amphibious!”

Tango gasped, “I’m tiny?” He tried to stand, but fell backwards, rolling onto his back. Long froggy legs flailed out, which caused him to gasp once again. “And amp-amphibious!” 

“You are!”

“Oh. Oh!” He fumbled around, taking his new form in. “I am! I’m tiny and amphibious!” Awe seeped into his tone, fear easing away into a wide grin. “I’m adorable!”

“You are!” Shelby agreed, standing up. “But what happened? And what are we going to do?” Arms stretched out so Tango could hop onto the table. He hopped up besides the teapot, watching curiously as Shelby lifted it up and took a sniff. Her brow knit together. “Oh no…” 

“Oh no?”

“When I was making potions and tea I think I put the toadstool in the wrong brew.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Tango folded his little froggy arms. Shelby wished she had a tiny top hat and cane to give him. He tilted his head to the side. “… Does it?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it definitely does.”

“Then I guess I’m a frog now.” He shrugged. The grin returned. With only a brief glance to examine his legs he reared back and jumped. It cleared Shelby with ease, the witch having to crane her neck to watch Tango fly through the air. He landed atop a shelf but only stayed long enough to leap again to a chair. 

Shelby watched him ping-pong around the room until she began to feel dizzy. With a frustrated huff she threw her hands out into his path, “Okay, calm down mister!” She chastised, to which he only snickered. “That’s very cool and all, but this is really bad!”

“What? What’s so bad about this? It’s great!” He cheered, wiggling out of her grip. Something in his eyes went off, like a light bulb. Out of nowhere a long pink tongue shot out towards the table, and suddenly a blueberry from the tarts she spent all morning preparing for her apprentice was in the little frog’s mouth instead. It was as big as his eye. Whatever he tried to say around it was muffled beyond comprehension, but Shelby could tell he was elated.

“First of all, ew, don’t do that.” She grumbled, placing a hand between him and her poor tarts. “Second of all, what if it’s permanent? How are you going to do magic? Or redstone?”

Tango rubbed his little frog chin, interrupted by an involuntary croak. “Hm… You do have a point. As always, of course, wise master. But what do we do?”

Shelby wrung her hands in thought, glancing around her room for some sort of inspiration. There were many books on her shelf, but they were mostly plant indexes, as all her potions were personal concoctions, a little different every time. Maybe there was some information in one of her bestiaries? Or maybe she could craft a spell? She could try that…

Shelby turned to Tango, who had his white-freckled back to her as he also searched the room. Wand raised high she called forth all the magic within her, muttering incantations that were definitely an ancient language probably maybe. 

He turned. “Master Shrubs?”

“Chebubble-shabobble, alakazoo, Tangus-icatorus, de-frogify you!” 

There was sparks, and a squeak, and then a nagging burst of colourful stars. 

Tango was gone. Shelby’s communicator beeped.

Tango went off with a bang. 

“… Oops?” She laughed nervously. Well, at least they knew he had the health of a frog, too…

Tango: Uuuh, Master Shrubs? I don’t think that worked.

Shubble: I’m on my way! Where are you?

Tango: Tumble Town.

Shelby packed up her things, grabbing her broom and food. A shulker was filled with potions, and a second was filled with ingredients and any books that might possibly have helpful information. With a determined nod she set off for Tumble Town.

Five seconds later she landed once again, racing back into her hut and collecting both her and her apprentice’s hats. With a determined nod she set off for Tumble Town.

Five minutes later Shelby dove over a bright cloudy wall down into the dusty western landscape below. At first, she searched for what would have been a very easy-to-spot blue blazeborn running about, before she remembered he would be far too small to see from the skies. It was rare for her to visit, she barely knew which building was what, or which had a bed. To make things worse the town had doubled, maybe even tripled, its infrastructure since she was last there.

Shelby landed atop a very nice train to pull her communicator out.

Shubble: I’m here, where are you?

Tango: I see you! Turn to the left, look for the building with the big ‘R.’

“Why hello there, are you having troubles, ma’am?”

Shelby shrieked, sending a bolt of magic down at the talking train. It burst against the roof, just barely missing a shocked face as it ducked out of the way.

Scar’s head nervously popped back up, a sheepish grin on his face. “Hey, now, that’s dangerous you know!”

“Oh, oh I’m so sorry. You scared the bejeebus out of me.” Shelby gasped for breath.

“No, no, it’s fine, I get that reaction all the time.” He dismissed as he crawled up onto the top of the train with her. “But I couldn’t help notice the conversation in chat. You and Tango seem to be having quite a time.”

“Yes, he’s my apprentice!” She declared proudly, tipping her hat to him. Then, she deflated. “But I kinda messed up some of my brews and now he’s, well, tiny and amphibious.”

Scar leaned forward. “Tiny and amphibious, you say?”

“Yes. And adorable.”

“Well, of course.”

“And dying doesn’t seem to have cured it, so now I’m looking for him.”

“Oh, well, then it’s your lucky day! Scar the Tumble Town tour guide at your service!” Scar backed up so he could bow deeply, holding out his sheriff’s hat, before he stood back up and looked around. “If it’s a Tango of the Tek variety you’re looking for, then he should be at the ranch.”

Shelby nodded, following Scar off the train. “Ranch, right, of course.” She paused. “Um, what ranch, exactly?”

“Why the one Jimmy rebuilt for him, right over there.” He pointed his cane in the direction he was leading. There was, indeed, a tower with a small pen beside it and a large ‘R’ as Tango had described. It was modest, and only a bit confused, placed off in the corner. 

“Rebuilt?” She asked in confusion.

“Well I burnt down the original.”

“Oh…”

“And Grian burnt down the replacement.”

“I see…” 

“So when Jimmy found out Tango was here on a server with no fire tick he rebuilt it for him to stay in! Isn’t that just the sweetest thing?”

“Mhm,” Shelby nodded in agreement, still a bit concerned. Then it clicked. “Oh! You mean in that life game?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” Scar sang. “Tango and Jimmy were soulmates in the last one, you see. Absolutely saccharine, they were.”

“So I’ve heard.” Shelby giggled. It was a shame Tango always changed the subject when he caught himself. It was nice to see him so happy.

Hopping up and down in front of the door to the rebuilt ranch was Tango, still in all his froggy glory. “Master Shrubs! Scar!” He cheered. “My heroes!”

“Be careful, the desert’s no place for a frog.” Shelby warned, ushering them all into the shade of the ranch’s first floor.

Scar crouched down beside Tango, examining his friend’s new form. “Oh my, Miss Shubble was right. You’re so tiny and amphibious.”

“I am, I am!” Tango seemed almost proud. “Man, though, you were right. It’s a real pain to get around and do stuff as a frog.”

“We gotta figure out how to turn you back.” She agreed. Out came her shulkers to create a temporary brewing set-up.

Scar hummed. “You’re looking for a cure? Perhaps I could be of assistance, I know a bit of magic myself.”

“Would you? Oh, that’d be great. I don’t even know what was in the brew he drank!”

“Absolutely, I’ll help in any way I can.”

So, they brainstormed. Books open and ingredients laid out, they at least figured out what was most likely the original concoction. 

The longer Tango was stuck, the more obvious the downsides of being a frog became, until he was whining in frustration at his redstone box. “Why don’t they make frog-sized comparators?” He cried as he slipped down to the floor.

“Oh, I think I have an idea!” Scar suddenly declared.

Tango immediately hopped onto his head, far too eager. “What is it?”

“Well, as it happens, I have an extensive knowledge of fairytales in particular, and there happens to be one tale with quite a similar situation.”

Shelby gasped, clapping her hands with excitement. “Oh, of course! Fairytales works very similar to lore magic. And There’s nothing more powerful than lore magic on this server!”

“Exactly!”

“So then, the cure to this is…?” Tango seemed utterly lost.

Both Shelby and Scar turned to him excitedly, declaring in sync, “True love’s kiss!” 

“Huh?”

Scar threw out his hands in a grand gesture. “True love’s kiss, Tango! It can turn a frog into a prince!”

“But I’m not a prince!” He laughed.

“Not yet, but you could be.”

“And someone would have to kiss me.” 

“Not just any kiss.” Shelby’s finger wagged. “True love’s kiss. It has to be someone who loves you.”

“Yeah, well that just makes it even harder.” Tango leapt between them and plopped down onto his froggy bottom, folding his arms. “Who would want to kiss me, anyways? I'm just a sad little blazefrog.”

Shelby placed her thumb to her chin. Someone who loved Tango, who he could be a prince for… Well, there was exactly one person with her, admittedly limited, knowledge that came to mind. And he even lived quite close by. “What about Jimmy?” She asked.

Tango froze, his froggy face distorting into a Picasso for a brief moment, before he sputtered out. “Wh-what? What?” Shelby didn’t know frogs even could blush.

Scar snapped his fingers. “Jimmy, of course! It’s perfect.” 

“No- no! It’s not perfect! Why Jimmy!” Tango stumbled over both his words and feet in his rush to stand.

Shelby helped him, holding him up by his hands until he could untangle his legs. “You’re soulmates, aren’t you? What’s one more kiss? I’m sure he’ll be fine with the slime.”

“No, we- we aren’t-! I mean, it’s not like-” Tango seemed to crack, and all at once the panic seemed to loop in on itself and die. He spun around, hopping off towards the ladder. “You know what, being a frog doesn’t sound half bad. I’m just gonna, I’m gonna go make things frog-accessibilificated.”

“Tango?”

But he ignored her, hopping up onto the first step like a puppy trying to climb the stairs for the first time. His attempt to reach the second ended with him splatting against the floor. Still, he got up while grumbling to himself and tried again.

Splat.

Scar scooted up beside her, nudging her shoulder until she leaned in. “I'm not sure it was ever like that before they died.” He whispered, with an almost apologetic look on his face.

Shelby stared at him, dumbfounded. Tango either didn’t hear or was ignoring them, continuing his futile ascent.

Splat.

Well, that just did not compute. 

“Then… Then that’s even better, right?” Shelby suggested.

Splat?

Both boys turned to her.

“I mean, the only thing more powerful than true love’s kiss is true love’s first kiss.” She nodded proudly. It was almost guaranteed to work.

Tango slumped against the ladder. “Shubble- that’s not…” He flopped to the floor with a groan, his whole body turning red as he rolled in the dirt. A colour changing frog! Perhaps because of his flames? Shelby took the short spout of blubbering as a chance to jot it down in her notes. Scar gently lifted Tango and brought him back to their setup in the middle of his floor. It took several deep breaths for Tango to pull himself back together. “Me and Jimbo, we’re buddies! Ranchers. He doesn’t- I mean, if I was gonna try kissing Jimmy, then I might as well try it on Scar here, y’know?” 

Scar placed a hand over his heart, “Well I’m very flattered, Tango, but I don’t really feel that way towards you.”

“You see!”

Shelby raised an eyebrow. “That’s a totally different person.”

 “I- I mean, besides. Jimmy and I aren’t even that close.” The little frog threw up his hands as his skin went back to blue, and he began to hop back and forth. “I mean we were soulmates and all that, but that was barely a month! And it was very stressful circumstantials, you know? So it was sorta like, like he had to get along with me then, y’know?" He paused briefly, rubbing the side of his head with his webbed hand. "And it’s not like I was really a great soulmate or anything. And then it's like "poof" and then we're back to our own servers, y'know?” 

“Oh, Tango.” Shelby sighed, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“So, you-? Okay, so maybe, uh…” The pacing slowed, until Tango stumbled to a complete stop beside her knee, slouching down. She picked him up under his arms, holding up the miserable rag of a frog at eye level. He looked anywhere but at her. “Yeah, so yeah. Like, even if, maybe even if… pfft, I mean it’d be pretty weird and lame if it worked at this point even if, right? Kinda pathetic, really.” He let out a poorly faked laugh with a full body shrug. “I mean what sort of loser would still love someone they haven’t even talked to in four months? I mean- hypothetically, if they did to begin with. Which I- they totally didn't. Definitely wouldn’t work. No point in trying.”

His whole body was attempting to liquefy in her grip, little hands sadly plapping against her arm. Scar and Shelby glanced at one another, then Scar winked and got up.

“Then I guess we’ll have to look for some other method.” Shelby said, placing him in her overalls’ front pocket. “Let’s look over the ingredients again, maybe there’s something we missed.”

“Yeah… Yeah.” Tango shook his head and slapped his face. “Okay.”

The two brewed all sorts of concoctions, burning through their supplies. Shelby continued to glance out the entrance while Tango insisted on mixing the ingredients himself, thinking perhaps that might do something. 

A thought occurred.

“You’re a blazeborn, aren’t you?”

“I’m a froggy!” Tango said, then laughed as she booped him over the head with her stirring spoon. “Yeah, why?”

“What if we… If the tea I made before was a transformation tea, and it turned you into a frog because of the toadstool… Then what if we try making it with a blaze rod instead?”

“Oh… Oh, you’re a genius, Master Shrubs!”

“The question is, how do you make tea from a blaze rod?”

They both paused, looking at their brewing stand. Technically, all their brews were made with a blaze rod, and there weren’t many left. Maybe they should powder it? Tango hopped into the shulker, rummaging through until he popped out with a red bulb. “What about this? If we replaced the toadstool with netherwort, and then placed the blaze rod directly into the brew to boil it so it disintegrates into the tea!”

“Both are from the nether, makes sense to me.” She shrugged. If it didn’t work it didn’t work.

And so they had netherwort-blaze rod-rose tea. It smelled utterly putrid, but no one said a witch’s brew would smell good. Hesitantly, Tango took a sip. From the way his face contorted it tasted just as bad, but he bravely drank as much as his tiny frog body could. 

Nothing happened.

She pouted. “Well, that was a bust. What next-”

“Hellooo, I’m back.”

“Uh, howdy?”

Shelby grinned. Tango froze. Before he could reboot and jump away she grabbed him in a tight grip, then spun around to welcome their guests. Jimmy stood beside Scar, full sheriff garb, and a shulker under his arm. Scar stood beside him, a hand on his back and a proud smirk on his face.

“Hello, Jimmy!”

“Scar said you and Tango needed some help? I don’t do much potiony things, but I brought all the ingredients I could find.” He glanced around, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s this about? Where’s my rancher?”

A meep came from her hands. Shelby laughed, holding Tango out. “Funny you should ask.”

“Uh, hi.” Tango waved his webbed hand nervously.

Jimmy blinked. “… Tango?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my gosh…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re tiny!”

“I’m tiny.”

“And amphibious!”

Scar nodded, “Definitely amphibious.”

“And… adorable!”

Tango squeaked, but Shelby only held him up higher. “Very adorable.”

“What… what happened?” He mumbled, eyeing Tango like a kid who hadn’t yet gotten permission to pet a stranger’s dog. Shelby could see his hand twitching at his side before he grabbed them to hold them still.

“There was a bit of a mix up at lunch, unfortunately.” She explained, doing her best to keep Tango from running. Thankfully, he had turned into a creature without teeth or claws. “But you’re just in time to help us fix it!”

Jimmy finally dragged his gaze away from Tango. “Me? I mean of course, but what can I do?”

“Well, you see, we aren’t quite sure how to cure him, but we’ve got a bit of a theory.” Scar drawled, resting a hand on the sheriff’s shoulder. “And you can help us test it out.”

Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. “Anything to help my rancher buddy. What do I do?”

Shelby held Tango up. “Kiss him.”

If sheriffing didn’t pan out for Jimmy, he would make a remarkable living statue. In fact, after ten solid seconds of Shelby being unsure if the man straight up died on his feet, he only broke character to turn tomato red. “Wh-Wot?”

Scar explained. “In fairytales, true love’s kiss can turn a cursed frog into a handsome prince. And with all the lore magic around here we figured maybe that would work!”

“Uh, uh-huh…” Jimmy had gone horse, now unable to quite look at Tango. One of his hands had risen to his chest, fiddling with the edge of his vest, while the other rubbed his elbow comfortingly. “S-so, you think someone needs to kiss. Him.”

“Someone who loves him, yes.” Scar agreed.

Jimmy sputtered again, before he gave up trying to speak entirely. Shelby could see his brain running a million miles an hour, face occasionally growing darker as his eyes darted about. “What… And that will for sure work? If I kiss… Kiss him?”

“Well, there’s no guarantee." She shyly admitted in a whisper of a voice. Tango noticeably tensed. "But you gotta at least try and shoot your shot, right?”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Shelby gasped as Tango finally wiggled his way out of her grip. He plopped to the floor and quickly leapt out of the way before he could be grabbed again. He reoriented himself, his glare only somewhat dampened by the red colour he was now turning. “Look, Jimmy, don’t listen to them. If you’re… You don’t have to do that.”

Jimmy paused, and she could see him chewing the inside of his cheek. “But how will you-”

“They don’t even know if it’ll work! It most likely won't, it's just silly. We’ll find another way, don’t worry about me.”

The room fell silent, if only for a moment. Jimmy’s wings slumped, refusing to look anyone in the eye, then straightened back up. “I’ll do it.”

“You will?” Shelby asked, trying not to sound too elated.

Tango hopped forward. “Jimmy-”

“No harm in trying, right? Might as well before you waste any more potion ingredients.” Jimmy looked away, but held out his hands for the frogified man to hop into. There was a determined, almost curious look in his eye. “Gotta at least try and help my rancher.”

Tango hesitated, looking first to Shelby, who nodded encouragingly, then Scar, who backed away from Jimmy’s side. With a deep sigh he leapt up into his soulmate’s palms. “Alright, then.”

At first Jimmy seemed to freeze once again, now that Tango was actually in his grasp. Tango certainly made no move to encourage the other forward, just as stiff. Several seconds past, both looking like deer in headlights. Well, at least Shelby now knew why nothing ever happened. Then, almost painfully slowly, Jimmy began to raise Tango towards his face. 

Shelby felt her body tense in anticipation, unsure if she should look away for their privacy, or monitor for Tango. 

Tango made a few small stumbling steps to the edge of Jimmy’s palms, leaning out. Jimmy nervously side glanced at them. Then, he closed his eyes, leaned forward, and-

Poof!

The room filled with a magical blue haze, which swiftly imploded back into a humanoid shape, tail first whipping free before the rest was released from its hazy grasp.

Where a frog once was, now stood Tango, eyes too-tightly close and mouth held nervously stiff, Jimmy’s hand laid on his upper arms, Jimmy himself staring stunned maybe only an inch from his face. The blazeborn’s eye blinked open in confusion, then blinked again, squinted at Jimmy, then gasped as he jerked back. The sudden movement seemed to snap Jimmy out of his daze, and he too let go of his rancher to back away.

“I’m… I’m back?” Tango squeaked, face still red. He patted himself down. “I’m back!”

It was Jimmy’s turn to blink dumbly. “But… how? I didn’t…”

They didn't?

Then, it clicked.

“Oh!” Shelby smacked the side of her head. “Oh, the tea must have finally kicked in!”

“What?”

“The netherwort-blaze rod-rose tea! You drank so little of it cause you were so tiny, it must have needed a bit to actually take effect!”

It took several moments for the information to settle into everyone’s brain.

Jimmy slumped over a bit, seemed caught between several emotions, “A-ah. I see. Yeah, that- that probably makes sense.”

“Oh.” Was all Tango could say.

Scar clapped his hands together. “Well, that solves that. Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah… Yeah, and now we have both a brew for frogification and de-frogification, too!” Tango laughed, rubbing the back of his head. He was hunched over slightly, swerving his head around until he spotted his apprentice hat. Swiftly, faster than Shelby could even follow, he snatched up the big floppy hat and slammed it down on his head, pulling the brim low until none of his face was visible. “So, uh, problem solved, I guess! Time to get back to training. Sorry for- for bothering you guys!”

With that he was out the entrance. He paused a few steps off, most likely realizing he was missing an elytra, before he full-speed bolted towards the nether portal instead.

Jimmy still stood a bit stunned in the middle of the room, gaping like a fish, before he too pulled up his hat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” He muttered. “You can, um, you can keep the ingredients I brought. Like I said, I don't really use them.” 

Shelby smiled, and rubbed his shoulder. “Thank you anyways, Jimmy.”

The three finished gathering up her stuff and cleaning up the mess she and Tango had made. Part way through she got a whisper from Tango, who had realized he left everything behind and apologized profusely. Oh, she had taken on an even bigger disaster of an apprentice than she first thought. Shelby told him it was okay and to just clean up the mess they made of lunch instead.

“That’s the last of it, I reckon.” Jimmy said, a little bit more back to earth now as he dusted off his hands proudly.

“Thanks again for the help, you two.” Shelby nodded. “I’ll try to be more careful in the future.”

“Fat chance of that!” He snickered, joined by Scar. Shelby stuck her tongue out at them before pulling out her broom.

“Oh!” She paused, turning back to Jimmy. “By the way, Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

“A prince doesn’t have to be a frog before you can kiss them, you know.”

He squeaked, blush creeping back onto his face as his wings curled around him. Behind him, Scar covered his face before his laugh could escape.

She let out a cackle as she floated up into the air, calling out one last time before she departed for good. “Come visit the swamp for tea any time you like, Sheriff!”

[luckytealover]

This drawing in particular is extremely lovely. The character design is eye pleasing and unique to me and the hat. I want her hat haha. But yes i do wish to know how you you made such a wonderful character design? Any tips?

Wow, thanks for your opinion!

I like her hat too :D (Witch hats are cool!)

In general, this is a long story, but if we talk about it briefly...

Pumpkin is a comical fan character for one fandom. I just had an initial limited set:

- Three main colors orange, red and brown (I also added black for contrast)

- Associations with the Ace of Diamonds and Pumpkins

- A couple of initial traits like eccentricity, playfulness and a passion for drinking

I'm not particularly good at giving advice, but try making a limited pack of associations with the character. It doesn’t have to be complicated, just a couple of things that you think will fit together. Then you just mix it up and carefully develop what you get over time. How did they say? Everything ingenious is simple?

My Pumpkin generally walks around in a robe and pajama pants, so don’t worry, you’ll definitely be fine :D

Oh and of course she'll let you wear her hat

[because-she-goes]

october thirty first

warnings: headcannons, drinking, tooth achingly sweet fluff, lots and lots of domestic matty (my fave). Enjoy!

nora x matty

george and charli throw a costume party for halloween that year

matty goes as frankenstein and nora goes as his wife

nora spends all of October crafting their costumes by running around the various thrift stores in London

Matty begrudgingly agrees to go along with her idea at first, but after some convincing and being told he’d be rewarded he lets her dress the two of them up

she paints his face green and does his makeup, he does the white streak in her hair

the two of them taking the other’s costume very seriously and trying their best to make the other look as good as possible

nora also decides on making graveyard brownies for the party and throws bits of candy bars upright in the pan of delectable chocolate batter

they end up each getting a bit wine drunk at the party and being complimented left and right over how cute their outfits are and how well-suited the are for each other

nora beams and giggles all night while matty makes terribly corny jokes over the blood-red punch bowl

the two end the evening by heading home and splitting a spliff still dressed in their elaborate outfits

quite high later that evening, while wrapped in bed sheets and bare-face matty recites some bits of the novel - they had started it on October 1st in preparation… matty claiming he had to go “method” for his costume

nora falls asleep in mattys arms as his glasses droop down his face and his voice lulls her into her dreams

rooney x matty

it is a quiet, cool, picture perfect halloween in the lakes district

matty is up visiting rooney from London after working on the boy’s 6th album

the two spend the holiday by watching some films in the afternoon (alternating between scary and cozy - “a palette cleanser” Rooney states as she turns on Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride, Matty picks The Blair Witch Project to follow it)

they fall asleep together halfway through Casper and awake to a knock echoing through the house coming through the front door

Luckily, Rooney had gone out and got assorted candies for trick or treating, making sure to grab some of Matty’s favorites - maltesers, sour spiders, mixed bags of haribo gummies and mini toblerones

Matty also decides that they should get dressed up if theyre gonna be handing out candy so he ran out that afternoon and grabbed two skeleton onesies and he watches some youtube videos about how to do skeleton facepaint

the pair quickly throw on their outfits and apply some of the makeup according to Matty’s instruction and greet the adorable boy dressed as a sheet ghost and girl dressed as a kitten at their front door

Rooney hands their parents over some cups of mulled wine and pop candy in the bags and wish them a happy halloween

the next group is two older girls dressed as “hot vampires”, Matty compliments their fangs and gives them wine and candy… Rooney spots the two girls kissing, holding hands and laughing as they make their way from the house and down the street and practically melts at how cute they are

Rooney and Matty finish passing out their treats to each group that knocks on their door and they tiredly collapse back onto their couch after wiping the makeup off… Rooney falls asleep quickly, but not before she can hear her favorite voice whisper a “Happy Halloween, Ro… I love you”

thea x matty

as for these two, matty has to work that night at the bar and his boss tells all the employees to dress in a costume

Matty dresses up as Woody from Toy Story since he had most of the supplies for it in his own closet and didn't want to spend much time or money finding materials

Unbeknownst to him, Thea leaves work early with Mona in tow and the two girls go around looking for supplies so she can be Jesse from Toy Story

She finds the cow-hide chaps and the red cowboy hat at the local Ralph Lauren store and she already owned a crisp white button down and some denim cut-offs

Throwing the outfit on and having Mona braid her hair into pig-tails, she prepares for surprising Matty at the bar

Mona drops her fellow texan off at the bar and wishes her a happy halloween as her mercedes peels away

Leaving her in a cloud of dramatic dust, Thea opens the old-timey saloon style door to the bar and saunters in like a pseudo-female John Wayne

Matty’s jaw hits the floor when he sees her roll in, he takes his hat off in shock and places it over his chest out of breath

“Cornflower… you look positively drool worthy, I love the chaps on you!” He quickly compliments and she makes her way over to him. She goes on to order a couple ranch waters and a plate of appetizers as she enjoys the live band and the atmosphere of the busy bar

She watches Matty move gracefully around the bar, quickly serving each customer happily and dancing to the music a bit, she practically becomes liquid as he winks at her at one point while making a sex-on-the-beach

They drive home that night in his Bronco and fall into their comfortable bed… it truly is domestic bliss

[expectodragons]

Bitter Water || Chapter 2

✦ Summary: Guided only by a thin paper trail and a promising job offer, Catherine Hart returns to the school of her youth. Taking on the mantle of Beasts professor, the young witch must find a balance between her lessons and her continued search of the Highlands. Especially when under the watchful eye of the Potion Master. ✦ Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Female MC ✦ Word Count: 13,500 ✦ Rating: Mature, 18+ only - minors do not interact. ✦ Tags / Warnings: Age difference, alcohol consumption, colleagues-to friends-to-lovers, dual POV, mentions of past character death, slow burn. ✦ Story Playlist: Listen here ✦ Read on: AO3 || Tumblr (continue below)

Her contorted reflection in the large ornate hourglass does nothing to bolster her confidence.

Over an hour had been spent sorting through her limited wardrobe in search of the right outfit for that evening. If she recalled correctly, Professor Howin had chosen to wear her usual teaching ensemble at the Welcoming Feast each year. Nearly every professor did.

But she had spotted Matilda in Hogsmeade the other day – trying on beautifully-made hats. And Mirabel had opted to get her hair done at Madam Snelling’s that morning. And she was fairly confident that Roland had received his order of new robes from Gladrag’s yesterday, as he had been raving about the fit of them during her lunch in the staff room.

And all of it culminated in her standing helplessly before the mirror in her chambers, hanging dresses and different outfits over her person until she felt like forgoing the Feast entirely. The dress code for the evening had never been mentioned in Sharp’s words of wisdom and she regretfully wished she had thought to ask.

With the tolling of the chimes in the distant Bell Tower, Catherine finally pushes her nerves deep down into the bottom of her stomach – digging for the infamous Gryffindor bravery she was supposed to have at her disposal at all times.

She’s so engrossed in the moment, that she fails to hear the small footfalls approaching from the Grand Staircase behind her.

“I trust you have no intention of pulling a Sterling your first month in.”

Catherine whips her head around and comes face-to-face with the ever-elusive Alchemy professor, Miss Ranira Whitherford.

Her icy eyes stare up at the new hire with an air of time-earned mischievousness. The white waves of her hair are as unkempt as always, nearly swallowing up her lithe form like the shag of a Demiguise. She was one of the oldest members of staff though she certainly was a lively sort. Catherine found similarities between her and the classical muggle interpretation of a cackling witch.

She glances at the House hourglasses and realizes her meaning with a jolt of amusement.

“No, no,” she eases, pressing her palms down her olive-colored trousers. “Just trying to prepare myself, I suppose. I’ve never been on this end of the Feast before.”

“Hmm,” the older witch hums, her gaze absolutely unnerving. “It’s going to be the longest hour of your life followed by several glasses of sherry that will hopefully make you forget it all.”

She loops her bony arm through Catherine’s – their height difference requires the younger witch to stoop slightly to the side to accommodate her.

“At least that fool of a Headmaster isn’t around to drag us through one of his gloating speeches this year.”

The doors to the Hall are wide open when they approach and they’re met with the most glorious of sights.

Thousands of floating wax candles hover above the long wooden tables, like glowing fairies lazily looping through the air, shrouding the hall in a welcoming golden glow. The place settings are all laid out and prepared for the dinner yet to come. At the end of the room, under the cool glimmer of the towering stained-glass windows, their colleagues speak amongst themselves.

Ronen’s laugh stretches across the hall like an enveloping hug and Catherine feels all her previous anxieties begin to melt away.

Their pace is slow, but they eventually make it to the staff table. Ranira clutches her arm with her long fingers as she eases herself up the small step to the raised platform. Catherine can’t help but wonder how this poor woman manages to make it all the way around the castle on a daily basis.

She spots the gold-encrusted crystal goblets already laid out in front of particular seats. There’s a large congregation on the right-hand side of the table and she feels the pull of the older witch’s hand as she’s led in the opposite direction.

“We Gryffindors need to stick together, you know.”

Ah, yes. The three lion-hearted members of staff were truly outnumbered this year.

And while she had never taken Alchemy during her time at the school, the tales of Whitherford’s bravery were well-known throughout the common room. One of the largest rumors had been the tale of Ranira taking down a colony of trolls when she was a third year with only a pair of Chinese Chomping Cabbages on hand.

With a longing glance across the room towards Mirabel and Chiyo, she finds herself settling into the second to last chair on the far side of the hall, directly in front of the Slytherin table. Was that an intentional move on Ranira’s part, she wonders. Her gaze shifts to the older professor whose head is just barely able to look out over the table’s edge due to her stature.

The last of her colleagues finally make their appearance. Matilda, who’s wearing a black pointed hat with crimson plumes and gold embellishments, walks arm-in-arm with the Headmaster who looks the role this evening in his long dark robes and slicked-back hair. More of a figurehead than Black had ever been anyway.

She watches as the pair makes the rounds, with the Deputy Headmistress sending her a quick wink and a warm smile.

When Mr. Moon positions himself near the open doorway, she knows the time is almost upon them. Her stomach tumbles like it did on her first Hippogriff flight – both with climbing nerves and creeping excitement. She rubs her palms together in her lap, desperate to control the feeling before the students arrive.

“Hmm.”

Catherine’s eyes fall on the imposing man towering over her left shoulder.

“That was Bai’s usual spot, you know,” Sharp states smoothly as he eases into the neighboring seat with only a slight grimace. “Rather fitting, I believe.”

“An interesting coincidence to be sure,” she smiles politely.

Again, her attention had rarely been on the professors when she was seated with her friends in the Great Hall. But she supposes she can recall the image of Howin chatting with both Sharp and Shah near this side of the room. She’d only ever glanced this way to keep an eye on things between Ominis and Sebastian, to be fair.

With the distant chatter of students making their way towards them, Sharp sighs and leans his head towards her, conspiratorially.

“To one of the longest nights of the year,” he raises his goblet and she quickly does the same as he clinks them together.

The wine eases her nerves and warms her belly as she takes a long drink. Sharp takes the liberty to down his own glass before adding a pungent-smelling liquor from a silver flask only a moment later. His eyes are playful in a way she has never seen before as she’s privy to the secretive act before he stuffs the flask back into his emerald-colored coat.

It seemed that the sentiment of how dragging the ceremony could be was held by those who had to suffer through several sortings throughout the years. But Catherine is absolutely enthralled by the experience. To look out at the sea of faces and see that familiar expression as they approach the hat stool.

From Avery, Caelum to Young, Nancy, she watches with rapt attention.

Had she looked so nervous? She could barely recall the event after the dragon attack. But she had to assume that dumbstruck appearance was a mutually shared occurrence amongst new students.

Aragon keeps the welcoming speech short and to the point, but with this magical air of wonder woven throughout. He even gives Catherine a rather lengthy introduction – one that makes her beam with pride. She bows her head towards the students as her fellow colleagues clap their praises.

The whole affair was certainly a day-and-night difference between him and his predecessor. And it’s all that more apparent in the older students who clap and cheer with record enthusiasm before the feast even begins.

With a wave of his hand, platters topped with delicious food appear on the tables. Glistening lamb chops, heaping bowls of garlic potatoes and honey-glazed carrots, boats of gravy, and platters of steak and steaming roast chicken entice the senses. Her goblet, which had been nearly drained dry, was now full once more with rich wine.

She’s captured by Professor Whitherford as soon as she passes along the bowl of peas. The older witch begins to animatedly explain the many properties of alchemic studies, which were – admittedly – sort of fascinating. And she almost regretted never taking on the course when she was a student. Her tales of traveling are able to fit in here and there and the atmosphere is surprisingly comfortable.

“It’s a science in every way you’d expect, but also a very subtle art. Many have tried to capture the essences that would prolong life or make them immune to all disease. Fools, if you ask me.”

“You know, I rescued a Phoenix a few years back from a man who was determined to believe that consuming the heart of the creature was the secret to a long life.”

“Hmph, what a ridiculous notion. You’d be no better off rubbing dittany into your skin than you would stealing from a sacred bird.”

“Exactly!”

Every now and then, as they pass along heaping dishes and glass pitchers, she catches bits and pieces of Sharp’s conversation with Eunice Moore, who sat on his left side. Apparently, Potions and Arithmancy went along hand-in-hand in many regards.

But when her seatmate seems to be content to mash her vegetables into an unsavory-looking mush and Professor Moore takes up conversing with Satyavati on her left, Catherine finally feels a momentary peace fall upon her. Lost in the pleasant chatter of the students.

The Great Hall is filled with the joyous sounds of friends reuniting and new students taking in the magical wonder that was their new school. Her eyes scan the crowd and she finds herself wondering which of the students would be attending her classes. She knows the names, of course, as Matilda had sent her the list some two weeks back. But she can almost sense who those interested parties might be.

It’s certainly not the stern-looking blonde-haired prefect at the table in front of her. Nor the two burly boys at the end of the table who seem eager to push one another’s face into the bowl of mashed potatoes.

She’s looking for that wide-eyed expression, that gentle smile. She’s looking for the next Poppy Sweeting, is what she quickly realizes with a tittering laugh.

“More wine, Hart?” Comes the rumbling drawl of the Potion Master beside her.

“No, thank you. I was just thinking of what my first class will entail. I’m hoping to find Poppy’s prodigy, I believe.”

He hums in response, gazing out across the sea of smiling young faces.

“And how is Miss Sweeting these days?” He catches her eye for a moment, “I assume the two of you remained in correspondence.”

“We did. We do,” Catherine nods, placing her knife and fork on her nearly-cleared plate. “She’s planning to open up the third Sweeting Sanctuary in Wales. Apparently, she’s hoping to keep more of the, uhm, unsavory creatures there.”

Sharp raises a singular brow as he takes a drink from his goblet. Firewhiskey lingers on his breath like a salve.

“Would it be wrong to assume that the location had something to do with a particular dragon breed found in that very area?”

She glances at him out of her peripheral, a secretive smile on her face as she answers brusquely, “I simply have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm. Remind me to steer clear of Wales for the perceivable future then.”

Catherine can’t help but laugh, hiding behind her hand as she takes in the now-growing smirk upon the Potion Master’s lips.

Once the dessert plates have been nearly cleared of their delicious contents, and her own trousers feel tighter than when she had sat down, the prefects and Head Boy and Girl usher the students out of the hall. Tonight, there would be no patrol as it was commonly understood that the excitement and pure exhaustion of the train ride and following Feast tended to render the students incapable of finding the energy to sneak out of their dormitories.

Saturday evening she would find herself roaming the halls of the Bell Tower. But, for tonight, she could retire to her chambers and prepare for the first day of classes. That was if she could find it in herself to stand up and make the long trek to the other side of the castle. It did seem like a rather arduous journey now that her appetite had been sated and her belly warmed by wine.

Headmaster Aragon, surprisingly enough, comes around to offer his arm to Ranira – assisting her in returning to her rooms.

“Rest well, Hart,” he bows his head congenially as they make their way across the hall.

A few others bid goodnight before making their way out as well.

“Surely someone of your age and disposition is capable of removing oneself from their chair.”

She lulls her head back, blinking tiredly at Sharp who is standing above her – a hand grasping the back of her seat.

“I don’t know, that last eclair may have doomed me, I’m afraid.”

A teasing chuckle passes his lips. He glances over at the others near the head of the podium, before his charcoal-toned eyes land on her once again.

And then an open hand is presented to her.

Her brows fly up in surprise, but she gratefully accepts the hand and manages to lift herself from her chair at last. Sharp’s palm is warm in her grasp, his fingers calloused. He waits until she is clear of her seat before he drops his hand back to his side.

While an unspoken arrangement, they walk side-by-side past the Slytherin table to the open doorway of the Entrance Hall. They were some of the few members of staff who did not have their quarters on this side of the castle. Though it seemed that Kogawa had already made her way along for the evening and Mr. Moon would certainly be remaining about to keep watch for the next hour or so.

His limp makes the pace slower, though Catherine certainly doesn’t mind. The sensation of the night air is a cooling balm after experiencing the sweltering heat of the Great Hall. The evening clouds have parted, giving way to the gorgeous blanket of stars looming high above them – twinkling celestial orbs settled in a sea of midnight blue.

Sharp clears his throat, glancing up at the sky for a brief moment as they make their way across the stone courtyard, “And what are your thoughts now that you’ve experienced a full ceremony?”

The memory makes her lips curve into a gentle smile.

“Less egregious than my sorting, certainly.”

That makes her companion chortle.

Perhaps it’s the wine in her system, or the sight of the approaching steps down to the Viaduct, or that good old Gryffindor courage urging her onward that has Catherine loop her arm through Sharp’s – resting her right hand upon his upper arm, her fingers tightening against the fabric of his overcoat.

He seems to stiffen at the touch but ultimately doesn’t pull away, merely glances down at her over the bridge of his nose.

“Though it was rather lengthy,” she continues. “I suppose I could see why the rest of you lot find it so tiring after all these years.”

The flaming pillars crackle and pop as they pass, bending to the light breeze rolling across the valley. She almost wishes she had the foresight to bring her cloak along with her for the night.

“There’s a certain… charm to the whole affair. Even I refuse to deny that. It was far more tolerable with Aragon at the podium.”

She nods in quick agreement, “I’ve never seen a speech so well received before.”

As they approach the entryway of Central Hall, they drop their hands from their comfortable walking position to press the heavy door open.

Sharp immediately extends his elbow once they’re inside and she happily takes hold of it as they face the impending stone staircases. One look at him and she can see the dread written clear upon his typically-schooled features.

“If you desire to continue on alone, I would understand. You have no reason to be impeded by my pace.”

Catherine raises a single fair-colored brow.

“And pass on the opportunity to hear more words of wisdom? Surely you know me better than that, Professor.”

He graces her with a thin smile that makes her heart clench.

They move to the right-hand side of the stairs, which allows Sharp to hold onto the banister as they begin the long journey down to the tapestry corridor. She keeps her grip loose, refusing to add any weight to his body.

She finds her attention drawn to his face, to the jagged scar that had captivated the interest of many gossiping tales during her time as a student. The familiar aroma of dittany clings to his clothes, though the overlaying scent of Firewhiskey only seems to be the result of this evening’s festivities.

Sharp sniffs lightly as they make it to the first landing.

“What particular jewels of wisdom were you hoping to pull from me, Hart?”

“Oh,” she drones playfully as her fingers dance upon his elbow. “Let’s hear how the great Professor Sharp successfully manages to capture the attention of his students.”

His dark eyes dart down to meet her open gaze.

“Surely that’s an area in which you will not be lacking. From the sounds of your creature rotation, even the most reluctant learner would be attentive for one of your lectures.”

Her cheeks flush and she ducks her head down, holding back her smile.

“Maybe I’d like to hear it from you anyway,” she rebounds.

He gives a curt nod, “Right. Well, if you must know – your presence can be the instant difference between a captive class and an unruly brood. Be firm, direct, and command the room – or enclosure, in your case.”

“What I’m hearing is be a hard-ass.”

Sharp pauses on the step, eyes narrowed and posture rigid as he takes in her glinting blue eyes.

“If that’s what you choose to hear, Hart.”

“Oh, come now, Sharp. You know I only meant to tease!”

She leans her crown against his arm for a brief moment as they pass the portrait of the strumming lutist. He bows his head toward them as they continue down the stairs, their pace slowed even further.

Feeling sheepish, Catherine adds, “In truth, your advice has quelled many nerves I’ve had over the past week.”

He gives a short nod, his teeth gritting together with suppressed pain, “You would be wise to seek candor with our colleagues. Their years of experience hold sage wisdom.”

They come to an abrupt stop, Catherine pulls her hand from his hold. Her eyes drop to his leg then to the white-knuckled grip Sharp has on the banister.

Before she can stop herself, the question comes tumbling out, “Does it hurt terribly?”

Sharp bows his head, his left hand coming to rest on his knee as he futility attempts to massage it.

“The pain –“ he grits out, “Is nearly equal to the day it occurred, if you must know.”

Catherine nods, unsure of what to say. He would not have her pitying him, that she knows all too well. Sharp was a prideful man and any mention of his injury or the endless attempts at a cure were not typically a welcomed topic of conversation – even amongst his closest friends.

Then, a thought crosses her mind, as they stand in the middle of the stone staircase, shrouded in the dim candlelit lights of Central Hall. It was a risk, but he looked reluctant to move even a step further.

“Accio Aesop Sharp’s cane,” she murmurs over her shoulder, refusing to meet his eye.

It takes a moment, but the ringing swoosh of something traveling through the air fills the silence of the stairwell. The cane lands in her outstretched hand and her fingers wrap around the dark wood.

He huffs when she silently offers it to him, his gaze remaining on the opposite wall as he snatches it from her, his hand clutching the silver top. He rests against it, his weight shifting until he gives a grunt and beings to move once again.

She gives him a bit of a berth as they continue down the stairs, their candid conversation lost by the aforementioned action. The Potion Master leans heavily upon it, the pitched clicks echo through the hall. It almost makes her regret the decision, even as it brings him a crumb of comfort.

The journey down through the Potions corridor and the spiral staircase is a silent affair. Once they reach the ajar door to Sharp’s chambers, however, they both come to a slow stop.

He sighs, whether from the exhaustion of the journey or from the discomfort of the past two minutes, she’s unsure. With what seems like gathered courage, he lifts his head and meets her eyes with an even stare.

“I wish you luck with your lessons tomorrow, Hart.”

She bows her head – only for a moment – before she manages to conjure up a small smile.

“Thank you. I hope you’re relieved of any true tomfoolery in your own classes.”

She almost tells him that she enjoyed his company this evening, but holds her tongue. Perhaps his politeness was a necessity, even if he was annoyed by the situation. They were expected to work alongside each other after all.

“Good night, Sharp,” she settles on instead.

He inclines his head toward her, “Have a pleasant evening, Hart.”

The sound of his door closing doesn’t occur until she’s unlocking her own chamber’s entryway. Catherine glances back down the hall, but Sharp has already disappeared for the night.

Rightfully so, she thinks. He couldn’t have been comfortable having her see him in such a state. If their roles had been reversed, she’s not sure if her own pride could handle the thought of someone else seeing her in that way.

Her mind brews with those very thoughts as she undresses down to her shift and settles upon the stool of her plain boudoir vanity. Every action plays out in her mind as she plucks the hairpins from her chignon, loosening the strands of her braid.

The evening had started out so pleasant, the conversation natural and welcoming. But now she felt as though she had already made a grave error with her handling of the situation with Sharp.

She tugs her comb through her hair, watching the frown on her face grow deeper and deeper in the mirror.

Maybe she should apologize and put an end to it before it had a chance to fester. The man had a right to be annoyed. At any point, he could have made the decision to use his cane but she had taken that choice from him – as if she knew better.

But he hadn’t seemed entirely cross with her either. He had wished her luck with her classes and did so while looking upon her face after all. Maybe what she perceived as a wrongdoing was only a minor nuisance in his eyes.

“This is doing me no favors,” she groans at her own reflection, rubbing her palms across her cheeks.

Worrying herself into a tizzy would only lead to poor sleep and a worse disposition for her morning class.

Forcing the thoughts into the recesses of her mind, for the evening at least, she wandlessly dims the lights as she pads across the room to her bed. Slipping under the warm covers, she stares, unseeing, up at the ceiling for several long minutes before sleep reluctantly overtakes her.

Breakfast was a solitary affair. A warm crumpet was snatched from the serving tray in her room with a hastily applied gob of jam smacked between the pieces as she hurried for the paddocks.

She had decided before the school year even began, that she would rarely take her morning meal in the Great Hall with the rest of the populace. A house elf would bring her a varied selection each day instead.

There was simply far too much to do regarding her creatures, not to mention preparing the daily lesson plans.

For the first week, she would be solely responsible for the beasts as they discussed proper protocols, safety measures, and correct handling per year level. Next week, her students could expect to handle the rather menial tasks that were necessary for the care of beasts. The following week would find them properly interacting with the creatures.

Licking up the last of the buttery crumbs from her fingers, Catherine makes her way across the grounds. The cool morning air whips against her cheeks and she has half the mind to cast a warming charm as her boots trek through the dew-covered grass and clover.

When she comes to the outdoor classroom, she taps her wand against the edge of the wards, allowing the more elaborate containment spells to dissipate with airy blue wisps of shimmering light. There was no question regarding the safety of these creatures, it would take an ancient magic user to even attempt to dismantle her work.

But that was more for her to know and less for anyone else to find out.

“Morning, lovelies!” She calls out as several bags of feed float out from the storage shed, working like clockwork as they portion out the correct amounts for her more docile beasts.

She personally feeds the Hippogriffs and Griffin – they would have to wait for their flying time after the last period of the day, unfortunately.

The Dugbogs receive extra attention this morning with some water-based enrichment in the form of bobbing deer carcasses. She lays out a series of glass-blown flowers for the Fairies to further admire themselves in. And, at last, after surveying the other creatures’ habitats and general disposition, she pulls up a stool near the covered pavilion of the classroom and unsheathes her pocket knife from her side harness.

Three cabbages float over to the tabletop where she sets to work, slicing off chucks and pieces for the Flobberworms.

She had no doubt the third years were going to absolutely loathe her during the first month. The likely conversations were already playing out in her mind. They would have more exciting creatures to look forward to, but the worms would be their stepping stone – whether they found them enthralling or not.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, the tower bells begin to toll the hour. The students would be arriving for their first classes soon. She doesn’t look up from her cuttings.

“Oh!”

“Hey, what are you – what?”

“Professor!”

Catherine hides a snort, speaking over her shoulder as three students stand just out of reach of the pavilion.

“Class starts promptly at 8:15, ladies.”

“But, professor, we can’t – “

She begins whistling, a jaunty sailing tune that her old traveling friends had taught her.

Nigel was an explorer she had encountered in South Australia at the beginning of 1899. His father, a muggle man, had been a naval officer and apparently, the song was a common tune around the docks. She could barely recall the words now, after four years, but the melody was still seared into her mind.

With the last of the cabbages sliced, she re-sheathes the knife, checks the time on her gold-chained pocket watch, and pushes the stool back to its proper place. Dusting her hands off on her apron, she finally eyes the large gathering of students who all seem to be rather concerned with the arrangement. One Gryffindor lad presses hard against the invisible ward and is immediately sent bounding backward on his bum.

Catherine stands in front of them, holding her hands up to gain their attention and silence.

“My name is Professor Hart, welcome to Beasts class. As you’ve all discerned, this classroom is warded. This is both for your safety and the creatures held within. These wards will remain in place before, during, and after lessons. If you thought you’d be sneaking out here to mess about with the Puffeskeins or perhaps take a joy ride on a Hippogriff, you will be sadly mistaken.”

There are at least three boys who immediately look disappointed, as though she had decidedly ruined their plans before they could even come to fruition. She makes a mental note to keep a rather close eye on them during the following weeks.

She points her wand at the invisible shielding and wordlessly drops the repulsion ward that had kept the students at bay. As they file into the outdoor classroom, wide-eyed and even a little disgruntled, she continues on.

“In contrast to your previous lessons, you may find my style is slightly different than Professor Howin’s. Though I was a student of hers if you must know. I have been in this field for well over a decade now,” she comes to a stop in front of the blank blackboard.

“I worked for the Ministry for a time in the Magical Creatures division. I have traveled to five of the seven continents to aid in the search, capture, and – at times – rehabilitation of creatures. If you worried over my scope of experience, hopefully, this will sate your curiosity for the time being.”

She fixes the class with a look, already spotting the truly interested students from the rest who were merely there for a credit towards graduation.

“So… if you’ll kindly find a spot – two to a table, please – we can review the expectations of this class.”

The first lesson is particularly uneventful, though she spends a disturbing amount of time delegating the back-and-forth of four students near the back of the pavilion – two Gryffindor girls and two Slytherin boys.

Where have I seen this before, she wonders with a sense of irony.

Many seem entirely unenthused about the given assignment – a scroll of parchment outlaying the proper protocols of the class. But quite a few of them perk up when she lays out the planned creatures for their year.

“You can expect to encounter Fairies, Fire crabs, and Nifflers as the months carry on. We will go into further detail as we approach each new unit of study. We’ll have a rhythm of studying them prior to any interactions, caring for their environment, and eventually caring for the creature itself. Expect to find yourself rotating positions involving feeding, cleaning, and grooming.”

Catherine drums her fingers along the tabletop for a moment, before adding.

“If you have any interest in continuing your studies in this field past the boundaries of your fourth year, you will eventually encounter higher levels of classified beasts. Your sixth and seventh-year contemporaries will have the pleasure of studying several Level Four beasts this year.”

That seems to spark a few students’ attention, eyes curiously wandering over to the paddocks with keen interest.

Her second class comes along just twenty minutes later. She parts the warding for the third years and watches their amazed expressions with delight. The Ravenclaw / Slytherin combo is a far calmer grouping than her first class.

With a similar homework assignment handed out, she waits until the last student heads down the hill to the castle before she places the wards once again. The Hippogriffs are already feening for their lunch and the Diricawls are in desperate need of some attention.

She spends her free period attending to the flightless birds. The youngest chicks downy feathers were finally shed and they were looking a little less awkward in their movements now. Though they had a nasty habit of apparating and reappearing in the most unusual of locations – namely her right pocket.

When she’s sure that everyone is settled for the time being, she heads back to the castle. Lunch would be served soon and she was hoping to avoid the crowd of students that would likely be vying for a meal.

The courtyard is lush with summer growth and the sun is mercifully bestowing them all with her warmth. Ahead of her, just down the small rocky hill, a cluster of short-statured students make their way back toward the castle. Kogawa is shaking her head near the broom rack. Ah, flying lessons.

“Anything interesting happen?” she asks as she approaches. “Judging by the look on your face…”

Chiyo gives a tired smile, “I find the younger generations are more fool-hardy than even you and Mr. Clopton were some ten years ago.”

Catherine tilts her head, eyes blinking owlishly, “Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

The older witch shrugs, giving a wicked grin, “I’ll leave that for your interpretation. But, there were no injuries to report today, so I consider it a decent lesson.”

Once the brooms are sent off to the shed and are properly locked away, together the two of them begin the trek back to the castle. Chiyo is eager to see who the Ravenclaw team deems fit to fill the role of Captain this year, as apparently, they had a rather successful winning streak under the leadership of Alexandria Pierce over the last three years.

“I received her owl last week – two tickets to her next match against the Appleby Arrows!”

Catherine raises her brows in surprise, “Straight out of school and she has a permanent spot with the Harpies? That must be some impressive flying.”

The flying instructor nods, almost remorseful.

“I fear her House will suffer for it. But I think her absence might allow Spinnet to take home the trophy this year – Gryffindor’s Captain.”

It’s all too easy to slip into the familiar topic of conversation as they make their way through Central Hall.

Headmaster Black had been pushed to bring back Quidditch in her seventh year. Apparently, a rather respected member of the Wizengamot, someone who had quite the connections, had a son who was determined to become the next big name in the sport. If Black didn’t allow him to play, well, that would have been a rather unfortunate thing for his standing, wouldn’t it?

So, with the constant insistence and pestering of both Natty and Imelda, Catherine had tried out for her house team. With her flying skills, she was nearly forced to take on the position of seeker. Though she had never seen, let alone played the game prior to tryouts, she took to it like a Kelpie to water. And while they hadn’t won the Cup that year, her time on the team held some of her fondest memories.

When they enter the Great Hall, she’s pleasantly surprised to see a few professors already sitting around the staff table. None of the core class instructors, she notes, as she takes a seat beside Mudiwa Onai. Kogawa forgoes her usual spot and falls into a chair beside Cecil Waterford instead.

“You’ll want to separate Mister Vance and Miss Clark,” the seer announces in lieu of a normal greeting.

Catherine eyes her colleague with a knowing smile, “Young love?”

“The stars do not lie,” Onai replies loftily. She pauses for a moment, plucking a grape from her plate, before adding, “But they were also found entangled in the Charms stairwell this morning.”

She lets out a startled laugh, “Well, that will certainly do it!”

Mudiwa seems to agree, a bright smile on her face as she stirs her amber-colored tea. Catherine takes her time, picking and choosing from the spread of bread, cheeses, and fruit in front of her.

“Speaking of love, how are the two lovebirds?”

The older witch smiles fondly at the mention of her daughter and her fiancé.

“That girl is trying to drive me mad. She’ll have her wedding in late February, whether she believes me or not.”

Catherine smirks knowingly, “Not even the thought of her own wedding can pull her away from the office, can it?”

“There are too many cases to leave for my colleagues, Mother,” Mudiwa imitates in a high-pitched voice. “Henri would wait for the stars to flip position and fall from the sky if it meant he could make her happy. There is no convincing her, yet.”

“Well, I’ll be awaiting the invitation. You said February, yes?”

Slowly, the silence of the hall gives way to the chatter of students and staff.

Catherine watches, with feigned disinterest, as Sharp makes his way into the Hall. He sits down in his usual spot some ways down from her and Mudiwa. She’s curious about where her standing is with him after the events of last night. Refusing to let her mind wander into her anxieties, she takes a bite of her apple and carries her attention back to Mudiwa.

She doesn’t care for the look that she finds in the older woman’s eyes.

“Hmmm,” she merely hums as she studies the younger witch.

“Save it for your students,” she grumbles in warning. The fruit suddenly tastes bitter in her mouth.

“Ah, How interesting. So it shall be.”

Catherine sighs, snatching up the rest of her apple, “And that’s my cue. Charming as always, Mudiwa.”

“A delight to be sure, Cathy.”

There was no ill will between the two women, and she was fairly certain that the Divination professor would agree with her on that.

It was a not-so-well-known fact that Catherine did not take kindly to anyone trying to look into her future, her supposed fate, or her personal thoughts. Mudiwa couldn’t help it, it was like a sixth sense for her and it just came naturally to announce such things.

But for the girl who had been set on a purportedly fated path at the age of fifteen, Catherine preferred not to know what the universe apparently held for her. It worked better that way.

She feels the eyes of several individuals on her back as she makes a hasty retreat from the hall, but she was all too accustomed to stares. Ever since her fifth year.

Luckily the distraction of her fourth-period class keeps the lunch encounter far from her mind. Her third-years are more timid than any other group that morning, though the routine is fairly similar. And with each class, it seemed that her confidence grew.

Catherine knew creatures. She was well-versed in the subject, you might say. But this was a step away from her typical profession and she was surprised to find herself fitting into the role so quickly. She had some buried concerns when she agreed to take over the role for Howin. But there were no nerves to be found by the end of the last lesson.

In fact, her group of third-year Hufflepuffs had managed to get her talking about a handful of her expeditions on the continent as they packed up their things for the day. Mister Kettleburn was particularly interested in the stories of her time in the Scandinavian countries – so interested in fact, that he found himself running late for his Transfiguration class.

Wednesday was one of her lighter days in regard to teaching periods. So, much like Kogawa, she found herself wrapping up for the day just after two in the afternoon. With the enclosures secured, Catherine drops the wards for her Hippogriffs – who take off, stampeding down the hill in record time. The Griffin takes his time, again, and she waits for him to pass the boundary before she reseals the warding with her hands.

Taking to the skies alongside them, she gives an enthusiastic wave to Kogawa who crows at her in delight.

With the sun beating down upon her back, she circles the pitch – rounding up Napoleon once again – before the young buck takes off after the herd. Together, the seven of them surpass the castle gates, soaring low across the valley.

Ahead, the dark forest looms. To her right, the magnificence of the castle beckons her back. With a determined grip on the handle and a breathless shout of pure euphoria, she leans forward – kicking up speed. The wind nips at her neck, as she grips tight and rolls the broom, following after her creatures across the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.

The winged beasts seem to be aware of her routine now, as the rounding-up process is a far quicker affair this afternoon. By the time they approach the courtyard, many students are already out and about. Several amazed gasps follow the herd as she ushers them back to the paddocks.

Six eager fifth years are there at the classroom, awaiting their return and she ends up spending the next half hour discussing several interesting facts about the herd nature of Hippogriffs and their differences to the noble Griffin.

After sealing the wards around the area once again – with the promise that she would return for their nightly dinner in just a few short hours – she heads down the hill to the courtyard with a small entourage trailing after her. She carries her broom along her shoulders, her arms lazily hanging over the handle as she answers question after question.

“It’s a custom Night Dancer from Spintwitches, Mr. Abbott. I’m not certain that they’re still in production.”

“No, I can not let you take a ride on the Griffin, Miss Bones. I would be removed from the school faster than you can say ‘Streeler.’”

“Yes, I was Gryffindor’s seeker from 1892 to 1893. No, I did not play professionally after graduation, though I’m happy to hear your Aunt is enjoying her experience with Puddlemere United, Mr. Haas.”

“Yes, that means I’m twenty-eight, Miss Mason. Though the nature of my private relations is no concern of yours.”

“If you attend your Friday lessons, I’m sure we can answer some of your questions as a group, Mr. Dole. But for you now, you’ll have to excuse me.”

With the patience of a saint, she’s finally able to disentangle herself from the small hoard of interested students. Disappearing down the steps of the Bell Tower to the tapestry hall. She unlocks her chambers with a contented sigh, placing her broom upon the stand by the door as she strips off her teaching clothes piece by piece.

The house elves would certainly have their work cut out for them with her nightly laundry. No amount of Scourgify could rectify those particular smells.

After washing her face and hands in the basin of water near the vanity, she pulls on a comfortable pair of tan trousers and a button-up blouse. She’s just tying her hair back when she hears the familiar peck-peck-peck on the window near the bed.

As the window is quite high up, she has to unlock it with her wand. The owl in question hops to the ledge before it flares its wings and soars down into the room. It lands on the iron perch near the fireplace, a plain white envelope in its beak.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she coos, curling her fingers to run alongside its plumage. “What’d we have here?”

The owl releases the letter, leaning down to the small water dish on the perch to quench its apparent thirst.

Catherine takes the envelope with her to the armchair in front of the fire. Neat green penmanship lists her name on the front, followed by a simple blue feather wax emblem on the back seal. Tucking her knees up onto the cushion of the seat, she leans back and tears the letter from its packaging.

Tiny glistening orange, purple and green fireworks erupt from the envelope, shooting sparks into the air before dissipating into glittery dust in her palm. A startled laugh falls from her lips as she rubs the remnants between her fingertips. At last, her eyes fall to the accompanying letter.

Dearest Catherine,

I apologize for missing yet another birthday of yours. Though I can already envision you dismissing my worries, please know I feel the guilt regardless of your wishes. I long to tell you where I found myself these past four months; the things I’ve seen. But alas, you know how this goes.

Instead, I find myself thinking of days of old more and more as of late – sentimentalist that I am and all.

I’m confident it’s a fruitless venture to wonder when you will return to my side of the globe. Where is it you find yourself now? The sun-lit valleys of Arizona? The vast tundra of Greenland? The dense jungles of Burma? Would it be easier to list the places you haven’t traveled to as opposed to the ones you have? Wherever you find yourself, I hope this letter finds you well.

As for myself, I can’t complain. You know the restrictions of the job structure keep my lips rather sealed in the matter. Though, you might be interested to know that Ominis will be traveling to France this winter. I believe there are tentative plans in the making to meet in Paris around Christmas.

You’ll probably be hearing from him soon enough with it. I know you correspond with him more often than not. Perhaps, if you ever find yourself in London, you would consider sending an owl. As this old friend would delight in seeing you once again.

Warmest regards, Sebastian

She folds the letter in thirds and holds it scrunched between her fingers as she stares into the depths of the flickering flames of her fireplace.

Saturday afternoon, Catherine finds herself sitting at her desk, grading papers from the first week of classes. Altogether, her older students – who were clearly taking the classes due to an actual interest in beasts – were rewarded with top marks almost across the board. Her younger students were going to need some extra assistance if they had any ambition of interacting with the creatures at all this year.

The essays she had assigned were finding themselves to be rather interesting read-throughs. She had posed the question to her fifth, sixth, and seventh years: why are you pursuing further instruction in regard to this class?

The fifth-year Powell twins had given nearly identical answers with the fact that their grandfather raised and bred Mooncalves, a catalyst for their interest in creatures. Mr. Bell had always been fascinated by dragons as a young lad and he hoped to study their connected ancestry in the future. Lysandra Yaxley was fascinated by the more exotic creatures who lived on the continent and was excited to learn more about the lesser-known beasts.

With the last paper marked, and her right hand feeling the cramping effects of clutching a quill for nearly three hours straight, Catherine decides to enjoy the rest of her day before patrol duty.

First, she heads up to the Owlery to mail three very late letters to Poppy, Natty, and Sebastian. It seemed, that in her busy period of settling into the classroom and preparing for classes, she had neglected to tell three of her closest friends that she was back in Scotland and had taken up a position at their previous school.

Ominis already knew, of course, because of the whole trade-off with the Griffin. But it had completely slipped her mind to inform anyone else in their group. She felt like a right prat for the lack of planning on her part. It wouldn’t surprise her to find a Howler being delivered within the next two days.

Trudging down the hill, with the idea of doing some early route planning in mind, she heads back to collect her broom. But before she can even reach the Bell Tower’s entrance, she hears her name being called out across the courtyard.

“Hart! Professor Hart!”

Catherine turns at the sound of Abraham’s voice.

Ahead of her, milling about near the fountain, she spots the majority of the faculty. She quickly jogs over to see what the trouble is.

“Good, good. Sterling was worried we had already missed you.”

Her brows raise in confusion.

“Missed me? For what?”

Mirabel loops her arm through Catherine’s, already setting off down the path towards the North Gate, “Our annual first week of term celebration!”

She tries to pull away, feeling put on the spot, “Oh, well, I uhm – I was actually going to –“

“Oh, you look just fine,” Roslin playfully bumps her arm with her elbow. “It’s just a round of drinks or two –“

“Or three, or four, or –“ Crestwell continues with a laugh.

Seeing no true exit for herself, Catherine gives a shake of her head and finally holds onto Mirabel’s arm as they head up the path to the village.

A drink or two couldn’t hurt, surely.

Abraham leads the troops forward. Only a few faces were missing from the party: Aragon and Matilda, of course. Ranira, Mudiwa, and Eunice Moore. Catherine takes a look over her shoulder and spots a smiling Sterling and Crestwell, but it seemed that Sharp had forgone his invitation to the celebration.

“– and if you would believe me, that boy managed to pass out before I even mentioned the word mandrake.”

“Aww, poor sod,” Chiyo laughs with no sense of empathy. “Now, was that the same Mr. Collins that I had to send up to Blainey yesterday? I don’t know what he did to make the broom knock him in the face repeatedly, but even I couldn’t get it off him.”

“Remedial lessons,” she adds with a smirk over her shoulder to Catherine.

“What about you, Hart?”

At this, she turns to look at Roland. The Defense professor is dressed in fine green robes this afternoon – bringing out the bright emerald of his eyes.

“What mishaps and hazards have your classes caused?”

Cecil Waterford pipes in beside him, “Any nasty burns or bites?”

She smiles, pulling away from Mirabel so she can fall back in line with the three men. Idly kicking a small stone from the path as she replies, “None to report yet, I’m afraid.”

The Defense professor tuts, “Just you wait, Hart. You’ll have your dues soon enough.”

Catherine gives a laugh, “I’d be surprised if I didn’t!”

The group heads down the road – trading stories of their first week of classes. It’s a welcomed feeling, to be surrounded by friendly faces and bright laughter. The moment reminds her of traveling along with Natty and Poppy on Hogsmeade weekends. The feeling today is just as strong, if not stronger.

When they make it to the Three Broomsticks at last, Abraham joyously calls out for a round of drinks toward Sirona before they all ascend the stairs up to the second floor. The balcony would give them the much-needed space they required. The tavern is already rather lively for the afternoon as patrons mill about and a small band strums a jaunty jig in the corner of the room.

The proper party begins once Sirona arrives with their order just minutes later.

“First week of term over then?” she asks with a grin.

“A time-honored tradition,” Satyavati says as she grabs a mug from the tray.

The others quickly clammer around to get a drink for themselves. But as Catherine moves to claim a mug of Butterbeer, however, a hand quickly pushes her away from the tray.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Cecil tuts with a playful gleam on his face.

Her eyes go wide as Chiyo wraps a rough arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards her.

“Another part of the time-honored tradition for all of our newest members of staff…”

Catherine’s eyes fall to the neatly placed shot glasses in the center of the tray. She looks up at Sirona who offers her a shrug and a knowing smirk. She picks up the crimson-colored drink.

“Is that so?”

Her fellow professors begin to softly chant a melody of shots, shots, shots and Hart, Hart, Hart – egging her on like a bunch of teenagers with their first bottle of Ogden’s Old.

“All part of the tradition,” Roland beams, lazily stretched out as he watches her from the chair by the balcony.

She brings the glass toward her lips – “Who am I to knock tradition?” – she asks before she takes it down in one quick gulp.

“Blah!” she immediately splutters as they cheer her on.

The second golden-colored drink goes down faster than the first. Followed by the bright blue shot. She raises the final glass filled with shimmering green liquid to her colleagues. She downs the bitter drink as fast as she can, holding up the emptied shot glass in triumph as Chiyo excitedly shakes her shoulders and Mirabel ruffles her hair.

She nearly trips over her own feet as the room takes a moment to purposefully spin to annoy her. The contents of her stomach slosh as she grips the table in front of her.

Sirona gives a delighted laugh as she takes the trays from them and heads down the stairs. Cecil quickly shouts out for her to keep the drinks coming.

“What a tradition,” she sighs, glancing over at the Herbology professor who’s currently patting her back. “You know I have patrol tonight.”

“We’ll get you fixed up before then. Anyway, you should try to enjoy yourself – we only get a few chances to do this every year and I imagine you’ll have quite the year ahead of you.”

She raises her brow, “Did Mudiwa tell you that?”

The redhead glances down at her with curious eyes, “No… Did she say something to you?”

Catherine quickly grabs hold of the last Butterbeer and takes a careful and deliberate sip.

“No, no. Just joking is all.”

Slowly, they pair off into comfortable groups. Mirabel pulls her into a conversation with Chiyo and Shah in the corner of the balcony. As the hour passes, more and more patrons fill the tavern and she all but has to shout to be heard by her colleagues.

With more bodies in the pub, the air seems to warm to an almost sweltering heat as she quickly rolls the sleeves of her blouse up to her elbows – fanning her face with her hand. By now, the sharp headache that had formed after the shots has seemed to dissipate to a dull ache. Though she feels less and less of it as she finishes off the mug of Butterbeer.

Only due to the rather insistent tapping at her left shoulder does she turn away from the conversation with the three women. Roland is beaming down at her, his cheeks flush and his smile wide.

“It seems our esteemed colleagues are running low on drink and you’re up to gather the next round with me.”

“Oh, am I?” she teases as she moves out of the chair.

He gives a nod as they move toward the stairs, “I’m afraid with us being the newcomers we get saddled with the rather arduous jobs for them.”

“Like fetching their drinks?”

“Precisely!” he smiles back at her.

When they reach the bottom step, the noise of the crowd swallows them up. The band is performing a very lively number and the push of bodies makes it all the more difficult to maneuver past as Roland leads the way to the bar.

Sirona is completely swamped with orders, even with a second barmaid there to assist her. She catches them and promises that their drinks will be only a minute longer.

“No rush!” Catherine smiles, sensing that their round of drinks would be a bit longer than she predicted for them.

They move out of the way of the other patrons, resting alongside the column near the bar top as the band strikes up another tune. A number of pipe players, a fiddler, and a seated man playing the bodhrán make the crowd swell with a joyous sound as dancers fill the limited space between the other pub-goers.

She watches with awe as they weave through each other, twirling and spinning with synchronicity. Stretching up onto the tips of her toes, she peers over the shoulder of an older wizard in front of her, just as the song comes to a finish. She joins in on clapping with the rest of the tavern as the band takes a pleased bow.

“Fancy yourself a dancer, Hart?”

Catherine looks over at Sterling and gives him a timid smile, “With music like that, it’s certainly hard not to be invested.”

As the band begins to play a second song, she glances over at her companion, then back out at the sea of happy dancers. With a split-second decision, she grasps his forearm and begins dragging him through the crowd.

“Let’s see how well your moves hold up then.”

Roland gives a rumbling laugh as he moves with little resistance, “Try not to step on my toes, will you?”

She moves to stand opposite him on the floor, “Keep off of mine and we’ll be golden.”

The tune starts off on the slower side. They extend their palms toward each other as they sway back and forth. They move their right foot outward then back in, followed by the left. An abrupt turn, and then they’re back facing one another. She glances at her fellow dancers, trying to follow along with the apparently well-known steps.

The tempo begins to pick up, their movements quickening. And then they’re weaving through the other dancers – she ends up opposite another woman and the two of them laugh with glee as they follow the same pattern as before.

With an abrupt change in the melody once again, they link arms and form a large circle – moving clockwise around the dance floor. Their fellow patrons begin clapping and hooting as the drummer bashes upon his drum.

The smile on her face only grows wider as they begin to weave through each other once again. She passes from partner to partner. Twirling in circles until the faces begin to blaze past her, her skirt billowing out like a bell as she moves. She laughs brightly when she ends up in Roland’s grasp for a brief moment. The wizard is smiling as he spins her around as her heart beats in her chest.

She feels free. Freer than she ever felt riding a broom.

Her ears pound with the music and the blood rushing through her as she breathlessly smiles, her steps only quickening further as she spins along with her new partner. The euphoria surges through her body as the room blurs into one big image as she’s spun around and around again, before the song comes to a sudden end – the crowd erupting into applause.

Catherine gives a polite, but breathless bow to the wizard she had finished the dance with before she pushes her way through the crowd – seeking out the familiar dusty blonde head amongst the other patrons.

She’s flushed from head-to-toe and her chest is heaving as her lungs ache to take in a proper breath. Roland looks slightly better off when she reaches him at the bar, though his own cheeks are a dusty rose – he smiles down at her. He says something to her then, but she can’t even make out the words as the pipes begin to play once again.

Running a quick hand through her hair, she realizes that it was a lost cause at this point as most of the strands had fallen from her usual braid. Pulling the ribbon free, Catherine lets her loose curls fall upon her shoulders.

She offers Sterling a bright smile as he tosses more coins down for Sirona, taking hold of the tray of refilled drinks. Their colleagues give a loud cheer of thanks when they reach the balcony, swarming to grab another mug for themselves.

“That was quite some dancing, Catherine. I find myself enviable of your partners,” Abraham jokes as he grabs a glass of Firewhiskey.

Mirabel meets her with a smile and an offered glass of water, which she gratefully accepts as her lungs are nearly bursting with invisible flames.

“You were truly something out there,” she smiles. “You blossomed like a day lily.”

Catherine snorts, “I’m not sure about that.”

She gazes across the balcony, taking in her fellow professors before her eyes land on a newcomer to the group. Just across from her stands Sharp, with a glass tucked between his fingers. His eyes are on the main floor below as the band swings through another song. She can’t help but wonder when he came in, how long he had been standing there for. Did he see her out there making a proper fool of herself?

Quickly pulling her gaze away, she sips at the cool drink and begs her heartbeat to return to normal.

As the evening drags on, a few professors take their leave. Starting with Crestwell and Shah, who would be patrolling the eastern side of the castle this evening. Roslin Kearney and Waterford head out not long after, hoping to catch dinner in the Great Hall. Her own stomach rumbles in longing as she recalls the meager lunch she had managed to take before she was pulled away.

“I trust you’ll be well-suited for this evening.”

She turns at the sensation of a looming presence upon her back. Her eyes glance up to see the Potion Master standing before her. Matilda had sorted her with Sharp for Saturday patrols this month – it was no wonder he was concerned about her current state.

“Nothing a bit of air won’t fix,” she says, a little lamely as she fans her flushed cheeks with her hand.

Sharp smirks, downing the contents of his drink before placing the empty glass on the table next to him.

“And perhaps a spot of food,” Catherine adds.

He raises a lone brow.

She flushes further, “I’m hoping to catch dinner before it gets any later.”

At that, he reaches into his waistcoat to retrieve a pocket watch. He frowns at the clock face and she feels her stomach drop in disappointment.

“Is it quite late?”

“Half past nine,” he says.

She shakes her head, perhaps she could call for a house elf before her shift began then.

“Shame. Well, shall I meet you in Central Hall then, or…?”

He pockets the watch and takes a cursory glance at the conversing patrons spread out across the balcony.

“I was intending to head back to the castle myself just now, actually.”

“Oh.”

They stand there for a breath of time before they both finally look away. Sharp heads over to bid his farewells to Abraham and Mirabel as Catherine goes to do the same with the others.

Together, they descend the stairs and make it out onto the street. The evening air is chilled, but it’s a welcome sensation after the sweltering stuffiness inside the tavern. Catherine takes a large stretch and a deep breath before they make their way down the street. Flickering lanterns line the way as they pass fellow late-night patrons and villagers.

There are no words spoken between them as they walk across the covered bridge, heading down the hilly road – the trickle of the river and the cawing of a distant bird filling the comfortable silence.

And then at last…

“So, how did your first week of classes fare?”

She glances over at the taller man, a small smile coming to the corner of her lips.

“Rather uneventful actually. But Sterling warned me that was likely to change in the coming weeks, so don’t worry.”

Sharp gives a rumbling chuckle.

“But what about you?” She asks, turning her head to properly look at the potions professor, “Surely you have a tale or two to tell from just yesterday alone.”

He gives a short nod, his gaze focused on the road before them. Catherine rolls down her sleeves as the breeze picks up.

“I suppose, after all these years, I shouldn’t be surprised anymore,” he begins.

As they pass another lantern, the orange flames briefly illuminate the right side of his face – the light dances in the pupil of his dark eyes.

“But yet every year, I find myself amazed at the level of incompetence students seem to have.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

He offers her a smirk, chewing the bottom of his lip for just a moment as he prepares the story.

“If I told you to add four horned slugs to a potion, would you add four or perhaps a handful more?

Catherine pauses for a moment, “Well, I suppose if the recipe called for four, I would add four.”

Sharp shakes his head, a chuckle falling from his lips.

“It sounds terribly simple when you say it. My first years are another story entirely. Miss Collins believed that four cups was sufficient. And Mr. Orson was under the impression that Bulbadox powder was what his potion required – “

“He didn’t!” she says in a pitched tone, eyes wide as she stares up at him.

He grimaces, glancing down, his tone low, “He did.”

She’s rightfully horrified. Even Garreth Weasley had never been so unbelievably reckless in his experiments.

“Luckily,” Sharp continues. “He seemed to have learned a lesson as he lost both eyebrows in the incident.”

The young witch snorts, “He deserved it.”

Sharp raises his brow at her, almost in agreement. Catherine looks away, rubbing her hand up her arm, her head shaking in disbelief.

“What was it you used to say?” she asks a beat later, “Shortcuts lead to shortcomings?”

He nods.

“Well, in this case… stupidity leads to injury.”

Sharp stops walking altogether. She glances back in time to see a proper laugh grace his face.

With a wry smile and a brightness in his eyes, he says, “I might just have to consider adding that to my rotation of imparted words of wisdom.”

She can’t help but chuckle along with him.

It felt like, at this moment, that perhaps whatever imagined ill-will that may or may not have transpired between them on the evening of the Welcoming Feast was truly water under the bridge at this point. Relief flows through her as she looks up at her colleague.

As they begin moving again, down the hilly road, the wind rustles across the valley. It sends an icy chill down her spine. She catches the pointed look Sharp sends her as she digs her chilled fingers into balled fists.

“What? That lot certainly didn’t give me the chance to change into something warmer when they dragged me off.”

She pulls her wand from its holster and casts a quick warming charm over herself. The sensation is immediate as heat travels from the top of her head then down to her toes – extending out to each fingertip as her body flushes.

“Ah, the time-honored tradition, was it?”

Catherine nods. At least her headache was nearly cleared away.

“The very same.”

The moon is just beginning to crest the sky as they pass through the north gate. Her gaze travels across the courtyard – past the gurgling fountain, toward the paddocks, and an immediate jolt of guilt hits her in realization.

“Perhaps that meal will have to wait until after our patrol,” she says with soft disappointment.

Sharp’s eyes follow the path and he straightens with understanding.

“Will that take you quite long?” He tilts his head towards her distant classroom.

She turns back to him, “I’ll be done by the time we’re set to meet. I’ll find you in Central Hall?”

He gives a quick nod of affirmation as she waves him off, hurrying across the grounds.

It was foolish on her part, she knows that, to not have this planned out when she was dragged off to Hogsmeade. But it had been such fun and her mind hadn’t been thinking about the true nature of her job. She lowers the wards for a moment, summoning the feed bags out as she offers desperate apologies to the creatures.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, my lovelies.”

With a flick of her wand, the lanterns illuminate the enclosures. She goes to every beast and offers them proper attention, keeping an eye on their food levels. Luann presses her beak into Catherine’s hand as she gulps down another ferret.

“I promise you’ll have an even longer flying time tomorrow.”

Only once she ensures that everyone is settled for the evening, and another round of apologies is given, she finally heads back to the castle. Hopefully, she would have enough time to change into proper attire and take a walk over to the kitchens before she had to meet Sharp.

Inside, the tower is like a tomb. Even the portraits have settled into a deep slumber by the time she heads down the stone stairs. She unlocks her chamber door as quietly as she can, sending a quick Lumos to the lamp in the corner as she enters the room.

“Godric’s heart!” She shrieks at the sight before her.

The house elf gives a sheepish little bow, “Deek is most happy to see you again.”

With the momentary panic dissipating, she strides across the room, a smile blooming across her face.

“Hello, Deek! It’s been too long. What’re you doing here? Did Matilda send you?”

He gives a wide grin, ducking his head slightly as he steps to the side. Behind him, on her dining table, sits a large silver cloche.

“How did you…?”

Deek snaps his fingers, the cover lifting off, and the warm aroma of beef stew and fresh bread fills her senses. Her stomach grumbles with want.

“A good friend said you hadn’t gone to dinner. And Deek knew that you would be staying up late tonight, and well, Deek thought you might want something before then.”

“Oh, Deek,” she sighs, stooping down to give the old house elf a quick hug of thanks. “You’re too kind.”

Deek blushes and struggles to contain himself as she pulls away. “Oh, my. You are still the kindest witch Deek has ever had the fortune to know.”

She sits down at the table, unable to prolong her hunger any longer, “Don’t let Professor Weasley hear you say that.”

“No, no,” Deek smiles bashfully.

With a goodbye, the house elf leaves her to scarf down her meal without interruption. She has a sneaking suspicion about who that friend of Deek’s might have been, but she barely has the time to spare it a thought as she hurries to finish up.

Catherine fastens a warm blue cloak over her shoulders before she heads up to meet Sharp for the evening patrol with only minutes to spare. She finds the Potion Master sitting on the edge of the fountain in the main hall. He gives her a warm smile as she approaches.

They divide up their side of the castle – with him easily agreeing to take on the Astronomy wing, due to his leg giving him a spot of trouble (though she couldn’t recall it being much of a bother on their walk back to the castle earlier). While she takes on the slightly larger task of covering both Central Hall and the Bell Towers.

It would only be three hours of their time, and they luckily had a day free of classes to look forward to tomorrow. Though Catherine wishes she had the foresight to take a Wide-Eye potion before it began.

She watches Sharp stalk off down the stairs towards the Transfiguration courtyard before she lights her wand and begins the slow journey up the stairs to the main hall, prepared for a long night of silence ahead of her.

Aesop situates himself on the third floor of the Defense Tower. Years of evening patrols had given him the knowledge of this particular position. From here, he could spot anyone who entered through the four known entrances to the tower. It would require little moving on his part unless some unfortunate student decided to wander in.

The soft-crackling torches give off enough light to keep him from using his wand, as he eases himself down onto the cushioned bench next to the balcony – stretching out his leg. Content to spend the next three hours buried in his thoughts.

In all honesty, Aesop had every intention of joining Abraham and their colleagues that afternoon. However, he found himself tied up with a fourth-year Gryffindor who had managed to down three variations of an invisibility potion. The boy had been in a state of phasing between barely corporeal and completely solid for hours when he finally approached Aesop. Blainey had been stumped and he had been forced to forgo his entire Saturday as he brewed two different possible antidotes.

Even in all his years of teaching, he had never encountered this particular level of stupidity. He had been so thoroughly frustrated by the end of it – docking ten House points from the boy – that he had never even gotten around to inquiring as to why he had consumed three potions at once in the first place.

He had taken the Floo to Hogsmeade, finding his personal headache a rather worrisome nuisance as he headed for the Three Broomsticks. Nothing a solid drink couldn’t fix.

The distant thrumming of music and cheers grew to a blistering symphony when he managed to push his way inside. Abraham immediately greeted him with his usual booming laughter and warm smile – which was only welcomed when he offered a glass of Ogden’s to Aesop, rather knowingly. He managed to offer a few greetings to his fellow colleagues before he found a comfortable spot to rest against the balcony’s railing.

From there, he could survey the entire room – particularly the rowdy crowd down on the main floor. Amongst the usual patrons, he spotted Sterling in his bright green robes. Off getting another round of drinks no doubt. He took a sip of the bitter drink – a pleasant burning coated his throat for but a moment – before his attention turned to another face down below.

Pulling the Defense professor away from the bar, he spotted Hart dragging him out onto the temporary dance floor.

Aesop couldn’t look away as the two paired off, slowly circling each other as the song began. Sterling’s gaze rarely strayed from the other professor’s. While Hart weaved between the other dancers with a youthful gleam about her features. Her face was flushed like an apple by the end of the number, her smile brighter than he could ever recall seeing.

He watched the way she pushed through the crowd as she returned to the bar, his eyes narrowed.

Something that many of his colleagues seemed reluctant to remember was the fact that Catherine Hart was more than a creature-loving witch. The girl, some thirteen years ago, had been through trials that none of them could have ever predicted. For being toted as a carefully observant ex-Auror, Aesop had been nearly oblivious to the weight she had carried throughout her fifth year.

They all had been.

And while the Prophet hailed her a hero, and her fellow students clamored to her for assistance with every little thing, he had watched as she began to sag under that weight in her sixth year. The bright gleam in her eyes waned and for a time he had voiced his concerns to Matilda.

“I see I’m not the only one watching, then,” she had said one evening, after dinner. They had watched as the girl had merely pushed around the contents of her food, her gaze distant and sullen. A state that even Miss Onai could not shatter.

Up until Hart graduated, the majority of the staff had been carefully watching her. Yes, that meant patrolling the corridors after hours, and containing Hogsmeade trips to only weekends for the students. But it came from a place of proper concern.

Not only had she been instructed to keep her powerful magic a secret, she had been sent on numerous dangerous trials by a well-respected Professor. Fig, as much of a genius as he was – as kind of a man as he was – had been a complete fool. When the safety of a student had been at risk, he had remained silent. Only when the castle itself was under threat, were they allowed the pleasure of being informed.

And though he hadn’t voiced it aloud, sometimes when Aesop looked at her – even now – he still saw that shattered girl from the underground cavern. Battered and bruised as she stared down at the body of the man who had been her mentor and friend, above all.

He knew, logically, that the woman standing across from him was far different than her fifteen-year-old counterpart. For starters, she seemed happier. Wiser, more experienced, and sure of her abilities.

But, Aesop found himself wondering why she ever came back to the place that had caused her so much possible turmoil.

She had friends then, of course. Miss Onai and Sweeting certainly pulled her out of the castle as often as possible. Even Mr. Sallow and Gaunt could be found circling the Gryffindor common room entrance awaiting her return – or so Matilda told him on more than one occasion.

If anyone understood the concept of running away from past hurt, it was Aesop. Howin told him of Hart’s brief stint at the Ministry before she took off traveling across the globe. There had been no reason for her to ever wish to return to the school. Not one that he could see anyway.

He was only pulled from his brooding thoughts when Satyavati came over to bid him goodnight. Aesop was only reminded of his own schedule for the evening when he eyed the young woman across the balcony.

Whatever concerns he had for her past self needed to be sorted away, as the Beasts professor was perfectly capable of handling the rigors of her position. Even if she seemed slightly tipsy thanks to the newcomer tradition.

Aesop grabbed hold of his drink and made his way over to her at last.

The Potion Master was well-known for his demeanor. Especially amongst the students. But even his own colleagues were aware of certain behaviors – though he tried his best to contain them. He was notoriously solitary, brusque, and – at times – completely standoffish.

But for whatever reason, Aesop finds the company of the young professor rather welcoming.

He forgoes the nearby Floo to the castle gates in favor of walking back on foot. That alone would raise some eyebrows from the other staff members as he rarely took the long way to the village. Honest complaints of his leg were answer enough for them. But this evening, he barely even noticed the twinges the curse sent coursing through his tired muscles.

Instead, he finds himself laughing at her choice words.

Hart is neither boisterous nor prideful, nor is she overbearing with a need and desire to help – like Garlick and Ronen sometimes found themselves to be whenever in his presence. He enjoys her wit, and her ability to tease. As some found him a difficult man to converse with, let alone joke around with. But Hart is entirely different in that regard.

By one in the morning, not so much as a passing ghost has disrupted his patrol.

Aesop stands at last, cracking his back with a tired grunt as he makes his way down the flight of stairs. When he finally makes it to Central Hall, he spots the other professor coming up from the Greenhouses, a deep yawn falling from her lips.

She gives him a lazy smile as she walks down the last set of steps to meet him.

“Are these patrols usually so enthralling?”

He offers a playful smirk, “Incredibly so.”

Hart gives a singular nod.

“Lovely.”

She moves to walk alongside him as they head toward the tapestry corridor. Another yawn escapes before she can hide it with her hand. Aesop can’t help but gaze down at her as they enter the dimly lit hall.

Just before they reach his door, he asks, “I trust you can manage to find your way without falling asleep?”

Hart cracks a small smile as she looks up at him.

“As comfortable as these floors look, I think I can make it to my bed in time. Though I’ll be surprised if anything can wake me before seven.”

He feels his own lips curving up into the makings of a smile.

With another yawn, this time suppressed by her hand, she gives him a tired smile – her blue eyes forcing back heavy blinks of exhaustion.

“Good night, then, Sharp.”

Aesop inclines his head and offers his own parting words. He watches as she slowly makes her way down the hall – his eyes follow the gentle swishing of her blonde curls that sway back and forth as she moves.

He blinks, pulling his attention away from the young woman to the rather pressing exhaustion building up behind his own eyes. He hears the quiet creak of a door further down the corridor before he finally unlocks his own and prepares to settle in for the night.

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May '24 reading diary

This month, I finished 16 books, mostly quick cookbooks and graphic novels!

I started May by listening to a very unseasonal full-cast audiobook of E.T.A. Hoffmann's original The Nutcracker and the Mouse King. When I was a child, I read a lot of different text adaptations of the Tchaikovsky ballet adapted from this story, but only realized I'd never read the original when a friend got me to read Hoffmann's squarely horror story "The Sandman" a few years ago. This was creepier than the ballet story, though clearly written for children, and I'm very glad to have gotten around to it.

K.J. Charles, author of a large number of romances I'm a fan of, put out her first mystery A-plot novel, Death in the Spires. I think it's a good introduction to her style if you're not a big romance person, and I think it was the right call for this plot to prioritize the genre elements in this way, but I also have found her B-plot mysteries more exciting. No problem, I liked it a lot, and it has a lot of juicy thoughts about justice as distinct from the law and how trust is earned or lost. Gay disabled detective.

Two sports romances: You Should Be So Lucky, a sensational 1960s baseball player/magazine journalist relationship, meditating beautifully on the fear of failure and on grief. One of the mains was in a long-term relationship with someone who has died, and I think this is the best widowed romance character I've ever read. Sebastian is also just fabulous at taking a tour of a made-up person, full of small details and slice-of-life stakes. I've read all her books and will continue to; I like her particular approach to historicals and her ability to make queer happy endings distinct and individual. M/M.

The other sports romance I read this month is The Boxing Baroness by Minerva Spencer, which I only mildly enjoyed. Unfortunately I don't even have any real criticisms, I just very simply didn't click with Spencer's style on a sentences level, particularly in sex scenes. Your mileage will vary! There is a lot of really enjoyable bits about the hot honorable love interest thirsting over how strong and cool he thinks the heroine is, and he's right. This is definitely worth trying if the basic premise of woman boxer Regency is your thing. Wait, I do have one plot criticism--this would have been stronger without the epilogue. We didn't actually need to meet [historical figure redacted]. M/F.

Graphic novels--I used to read Chelsey Furedi's Rock and Riot when it was coming out as a webcomic, and I was excited when her follow-up, Project Nought, was suspended soon after launch because of a book deal. Unfortunately I somehow missed it when the book actually came out in 2017, and only when Heartstopper sent me on a nostalgia trip last month did I realize I could read it. I wish I had read Project Nought when it was new! A lot of the sci-fi plot no longer feels futuristic even 7 years on, although the core twist is just fabulous. There isn't enough of the interpersonal depth that shines in Rock and Riot, the villain plot resolution is a bit too easy for the YA market, and overall I just wouldn't pitch this as more than pleasant.

The rest of the graphic novels, far more than pleasant, I read volumes 8, 9, 10, and 11 of Witch Hat Atelier by Shirahama Kamome. This was a good batch to read close together, as they all deal with the events of the same festival. Unfortunately I have to wait for my library to buy the next to see the resolution, but that's how manga goes! I loved a lot of what's happening at this point, with some fabulous milestones in the Coco-Agott friendship, lots of good moments from my favorite of the adults (Olruggio), and continuing to push down on the question of forbidden magic. Shirahama brings in both strong cases of things that deserve to be banned (glasses that let you see through people's clothes, not treated as remotely funny) and things that...maybe don't. I really cannot tell what ethics resolution might be end-game, which is very exciting.

Cookbooks! My lovely mother surprised me with a copy of an 80s book I'd been looking for, Vineyard Seasons by Susan Branch. I wouldn't exactly call her style pastoral, but I've seen her rediscovered a bit by cottagecore, Ghibli-esque, and related aesthetic bloggers. If that kind of romantic daily life artwork appeals to you, you might like her books as much as I do; every page is full of Branch's watercolor paintings, sometimes ornamental borders and sometimes illustrations of the sights of her home in Martha's Vineyard. I read and re-read her books just to linger over the pictures, but almost every recipe I've tried has been a winner.

I also borrowed a whole bunch of cookbooks of literary-inspired recipes. I went through two by Alison Walsh (A Literary Tea Party and A Literary Holiday Cookbook), which were disappointing; they draw from a pretty small range of books, and rely a lot on food coloring to fit the themes. Meanwhile, The Mystery Writers of America Cookbook (ed. Kate White) has a really wide range of difficulty level and approach, only some of them inspired by fiction. Each recipe was contributed by a different author, making it fun in the same way that church and community cookbooks can be, but I don't have any wish to own this, either. I have two others still to look at. (And I already own some I do recommend, Kate Young's Little Library cookbooks and Tim Federle's literary cocktail books.)

More nonfiction: DK Publishing's really insubstantial small coffee table book Banned Books, which didn't have quite enough text (I shouldn't have finished any entries unsure on what grounds they were banned/challenged, and did), but some pretty vintage covers (and not enough of those either).

Really great, with loads of pictures and thorough text: The Big Reveal: An Illustrated Manifesto of Drag by Sasha Velour. I was first aware of gender-fluid queen Sasha Velour as an illustrator and zinester, and in many ways they're the reason I was first interested in drag performers. This book doubles as a history of drag and a personal memoir of Velour's experience with it, and I enjoyed both equally. The history is well-researched and thoughtful, and the memoir is generous and self-aware. And it has some of their comics!

And I'm still reading Dorothy Dunnett's Lymond Chronicles at about one per month. I finished Pawn in Frankincense in May--lush and devastating and funny and infuriating and completely absorbing. Still not a series I would recommend to everyone, and still one I'm so glad I'm reading at this exact moment, when my emotions can go through the juicer and not feel scarred afterwards.

[witchhatproductions]

Witch Hat News #1: Weird Stories from Space

This is an archived version of our microfiction newsletter! You can read along on our tumblr, or subscribe here.

Hi there! Do you remember signing up to some newsletter from someone you kinda know on twitter? That's me. I'm the newsletter, and I'm here to letter you some news.

For real, though, I have a lot to say about this newsletter. If you know me (I'm Samantha Calthrop, by the way, not a sentient email, hi) then you probably know that I make comics and TTRPGs, which are met with critical acclaim by my extensive audience of almost nobody. I spent my teens in fandom spaces and my early twenties making standalone games. 

In other words, I make things, and I put them online, and not a lot of people see them. C'est la vie.

In recent years, I've been drifting increasingly away from social media, and towards real-world creative spaces. I'm fortunate enough to have several social outlets for my art. Between my local comics group, my university, and my small group of mutuals in Irish journo twitter, I feel accomplished enough to be proud regardless of how many Instagram followers I have. (It's 151, much like the original Pokédex.) 

That's the problem with the Internet. Even in the coolest and most supportive rings of Twitter and Tumblr there is nothing to achieve but online fame, which has been famously awful for everyone who has ever obtained it. (I imagine social media to be divided into rings, much like the rings of hell in Dante's Inferno.) There are very few spaces online that feel personal and contained, because by nature the internet is large and completely impersonal. 

The consequence is that being an up-and-coming creator is like shouting into the void, except the void has a handful of your confused friends and relations in it, some of whom are giving you the thumbs up.

I was thinking about the lack of digital spaces for exploring any kind of fiction that isn't short stories or published novels, and how many cool things have been made by people I know, which nobody ever sees. I thought, man, I wish somebody would start a newsletter about it or something. Then I realised that I was somebody, and I already had a creative label which I'd been using to publish things already. Then I turned to Luke Sophia and said, "Hey, we're starting a newsletter", and wrote this before I could be stopped.  

So I guess this newsletter seeks to fill that missing niche; a small, personal space that celebrates obscure creative projects. We're starting out primarily with creators that we know already - friends, past collaborators, and things we're already fans of. That means right now, it's mainly webcomics, podcasts, TTRPGS, and other types of online storytelling.

To that end, here's your bimonthly dose of local talent. By coincidence, all these stories are set in space, and all of them have a wonderfully weird take on the sci-fi genre. Check it out:

Neokosmos is about the horror of being raised by people you don't understand. This series of illustrated sci-fi stories follow the last living humans, who are being raised in captivity many years after the destruction of the Earth. Neokosmos is a deeply beautiful, deeply weird, and deeply visceral story about love, cruelty, and family between completely different alien species. The first book made me realise I like speculative sci-fi. The second book made me sit on my bed, put my head in my hands, and think about how I spent my early twenties. I can't recommend it enough. Neokosmos is in open beta right now, and is available to read for free online.

Chain of Being is a delightfully strange eldritch-horror-ish audio drama by Cai Gwilym Pritchard. It's set in a mystic sci-fi universe with deep folkloric roots, and it's both written and performed unlike any other podcast I've come across. I recommend listening with headphones just for the editing. Chain of Being is also casting voice actors for Season 2 right now - more info here. They're paid roles, and actors with non-standard podcast accents are encouraged to apply.

Fetch Quest by @toonlynnk is a silly fantasy adventure in a spaceship universe. Unambitious Hugh the human is happy to settle for an NPC career and a lifetime of mediocrity, but is instead dragged into the life of an adventurer-for-hire. A webcomic set in a video game universe, and is promising to be the kind of PG comedy adventure that ends up wrenching your guts out, in the style of Owl House and Amphibia. 

Your project here. Do you make art of any kind - visual, written, performed? Are you starting a project or recruiting co-creators? We want to hear from you! Email us at contact@witchhatproductions.com. A proper submission procedure will be created if needed, but for now, it's open season - show us anything. Fire away.

That's it for now. All going well, I'll see you in a few weeks!