#they never give a solid reason why we should support this creature

[saltygilmores]

Let’s all point and laugh at him!

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are Weird: The Nightmare of the Universe

Below are transcripts from former Eternal Federation president Dokova Mince regarding humanity.

“When I was a child, my father would tell me that unless I did what he and my mother said the Packrils would get me and take me away. They were small scaly creatures with dozens of talon arms that they would grab you with and drag you away into the night.”

“At the time I didn’t understand why my father would do this to me, but in time as I grew older I came to realize his method. He told me this because he knew I would be more afraid of monsters than I would be of him, and that I would do everything I could to make sure they didn’t take me.”

“When I learned the truth I was outraged, and yet I could not deny its effectiveness. I did everything my father and mother asked of me and in return the Packrils never came storming through my windows in the dead of night. Over time I came to find it rather amusing, the notion of imaginary monsters creating such order in my chaotic life. I thought to myself “Why did I ever believe monsters were real?””

“It wasn’t until much later on in life when I became the sitting president of the Eternal Federation that not only were monsters real, they had a name.”

“That name….was human.”

“Upon first discovering humans the other great powers of the universe thought them a joke; the latest in a long line of primitives trying to reach space by strapping themselves to explosives and shooting off into the sky. I must admit that I was among those who laughed at their feeble stumbling into space as they tried to colonize their home system. It wasn’t long though that their stumbles began to turn into sprints.”

“As time passed so too did these savages, these humans come ever closer to reaching the galactic community. It took them nearly 7,000 years before they left the bounds of their world’s gravity. A mocking number for many but it was what came after that which began warning me in the very back of my mind that something was very wrong.”

“Eight of their years after they achieved space flight not only did they land on their moon but they also established their first orbiting space station. Seven years after that their first robotic explorers began traversing the outer worlds of their system, relaying countless images of red barren wastelands that enthralled the small minds of humans all across their tiny world. Within the next twenty years they established a vast and complex network of satellites for sharing information around their planet for every moment of every day. Fifty years later they were landing manned missions to other worlds and spreading out like a deadly plague.”

“These small beings, these humans, though slow to progress went through a rapid paradigm shift and began a rapid expansion of science and technology; pushing the very boundaries of their understanding farther and farther.”

“Still, the powers that were stood by and watched; yet only I saw the danger unfolding before our eyes.”

“Only I could see the monsters waking from their sleep.”  

“These humans…..they were walking paradoxes of themselves.”

“They claimed to want long lives, and yet they bathe in their suns radiation for enjoyment.”

“They claimed to want peace, but their military spending far exceeded every other aspect of their society.”

“They said they were explorers cresting the ever changing tides of the cosmos, yet with every planet they touched a flag was planted and a claim staked like conquerors.”

“It wasn’t long before I was not the only one to see this rising threat, and together we decided to act.”

“Energy barriers and engine disrupters were placed around their system and any attempt to leave was halted immediately. A rotating fleet of ships to patrol the system and ensure any ship disabled would be safely returned to the nearest human world.”

“We thought by closing them off from the rest of the galaxy would  ween their more confrontational traits away, that they would mature more; to give them time to understand their place in this vast and wonderful universe. At the very least it would give me peace of mind that the monsters were still far off from my doorstep.” “Instead we only drove them deeper into the pits of madness. They looked up from their worlds and saw the wonders of the universe all right; but they saw it through the iron bars we put them behind. They saw our protection as an insult, a challenge. “Why should we be denied the grandeur of the cosmos? Why must we be locked away and forgotten?” “

“The years passed and our watch began to wane as the rest of the galaxy required our attention. Our watch became lax and in time even I forgot about the humans. That was until one day I received a priority message from the patrol fleet.”

“The humans had breached the barriers, engaged the patrol fleets, and had stolen their ships. I immediately ordered replacement ships to be sent in but by then it was too late.”

“Human ships poured out of the breach in every direction. Primitive compared to our ships, yet their jump drives were effective enough to spread them in nearly every direction before we could close the breach again.”

“They spread out like rodents fleeing a sinking ship at best and a deadly plague at worst. We tracked as many down as we could, but with them fleeing in seemingly every direction many slipped through our fingers. When we did find them many years later what we found was almost too impossible to believe.”

“Somehow they hacked into our captured ships and stole our star charts. They pulled dozens of uninhabited worlds and set coordinates for them at the fastest speeds they could go. Some of these worlds could support life, and yet many more were near total death worlds floating in space.”

“On planets so cold a single second spent outside was enough to freeze you solid they had carved elaborate cavern cities of dazzling beauty.”

“On planets of nothing but scorched sands they planned massive rail systems that carried entire cities around the planet at just the right spot between the night and day sides to maintain life.”

“On countless asteroids and dead moons massive space stations clung to the rock faces housing hundreds of thousands of living beings that lived in conditions borderline unimaginable.”

“Worse yet was how humans began appearing in other civilizations across the galaxies. For all their barbarism they seemed to have a knack for merging themselves into different cultures; adopting new customs and beliefs as easily as one would breathe air. Some even rose to positions of power within these new cultures and gained followings.”

“I had the government issue demands that any humans found outside of their containment system should be handed over at once. Some of the species gladly handed them over, eager to keep us on their good side. Some bartered and negotiated for the humans, seeing them as a resource to be used. More often the other powers out right refused to hand them over. The reasons varied but the theme was that they did not see the humans as the monsters I knew them to be. It wasn’t until my own government began to question my own sanity and even began softening the rules against humanity that I knew I had lost.”

“For all my efforts, all my struggles, all my sacrifices to stem the tide of monsters at our door I was defeated by the weakness of others.”

“Now as I lay here dying in my bed I find it rather ironic that the only face I now see every day is that of my human caretaker Julie. She smiles at me every time I see her; yet I can see the dark glint behind her clear green eyes. She knows who I am and what I have done to her people, and she smiles not at me personally but at the soon to be moment when my life sheds off this mortal coil once and for all.”    

“I had done everything that was ever asked of me and the monsters were still waiting at my door…..waiting to drag me away.”

[saphirered]

Can I request the Mighty Nein funding out the reader had been hiding a kinda injury

I hope it turned out the way you wanted it! Thanks for requesting 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb is no stranger to physical injury and has embraced his squishy wizard nature. You however have covered up many injuries in the past, letting them heal on their own as you always had before you had handy clerics around to fix you up. Old habits die hard and unlucky for you, when he’s not nose deep in a book Caleb will see right through your brave face act.

Upon finding out you’re injured Caleb would simply sit you down. He’ll take it upon himself to tend to your injury despite your best efforts to convince him you’re fine and it’s just a scratch. He knows better.

Silence. You’ve never managed to get a word out of the wizard when he’s caring for your ailment. He’s completely focussed but will listen to you talk so his silence is not rooted in concentration.

Caleb won’t mention your injury to anyone. It will be your little secret but you’ll be able to catch him staring at you, and when you meet his eye he’ll give you a little half smile; a nonverbal ask to see if you’re alright.

(Beau)

Training accidents happen but hardly ever exceed bruises. A sparring match gone wrong may have ended with you getting a bo-staff to the ribs with a little too much force but you play it cool. It’ll be fine. Just some bruises. You assure Beau you’ll sleep it off and it wasn’t that bad.

Beau’s not entirely convinced and definitely pries until you come clean. Persuasion isn’t Beau’s strong suit but she makes some solid arguments, and threats that leave you forced to reveal your secret.

Upon seeing the injury Beau will curse like a sailor, telling you you should have told her. Best not to mention the trouble breathing… Wether you want to or not she’ll go get the clerics to fix you up despite any and all protests.

Beau will keep grilling you for weeks, bringing your injury up as ammo in any argument she needs won and will keep a close eye out. She’ll refuse to spar with you but we all know Beau likes her training and with you being one of the very few actually able to keep up (sorry Fjord) she’ll give in and beg you to train with her again, this time more mindful of her actions.

(Fjord)

Fjord may play cool but he tends to be a worrywart and when he already has enough on his plate you be mindful not to stress him out by facing him with anything else. That includes you getting a pretty heavy hit from an enemy in combat.

Back on the ship you resign yourself to the lower deck and cargo hold duties as to stay clear of Fjord’s direct line of sight. You’d take the crows nest but an injured leg will do you no good climbing.

Bad weather and a leg injury at sea do not mix well and you, being slammed into the side of the ship unable to get back up sends Fjord in overdrive. He’ll help you below deck to a safe spot and prepare for basic care until one of the clerics can come fix you.

Fjord’s seen enough injuries; others’ and his own and knows well enough what you got didn’t come from your little tumble. He’ll be extra tentative but scold you for not saying anything and telling you you should tell him in the future.

Regardless of the clerics’ opinions he puts you on bedrest for the next few days until he feels like you’ve learned your lesson. Don’t count on being allowed to go up to the crow’s nest for a while though.

(Veth)

Having taken a tumble down the stairs while reading a book and conversing with Caleb (who you had to swear to secrecy) you deliberately stayed clear of Veth unless you had any sort of object to lean on to support yourself.

It’s more out of embarrassment you’re hiding this one even though your ankle hurts like a bitch. Every time you, Caleb and Veth are in the same room you’re sending the wizard death glares when he holds back a comment or laugh at your desperate attempts to keep this a secret.

Veth’s a mom and if there’s one thing moms are good at it’s figuring out when someone’s hurt. The moment your facade falls through, she’ll go into overdrive, pushing you to lay down on a couch or similar soft surface area, rushing to get you extra pillows and the likes.

Be prepared to have Veth hoover over you until you’re in the clear. She’ll do whatever she can to make you comfortable and brings you some trinkets to pass the time. Maybe don’t ask where she got them because they were definitely not in her previous possession.

(Jester)

It was gonna be an epic move! You’d jump down, weapon at the ready to stab down into the creature; death from above! Didn’t go as planned as you got swatted out of the air by the creature before you could strike down.

Luckily no one saw. After the battle you just claimed the plan fell through and you had to improvise. Meaning, you gritted through the pain of being rag-dolled into a cavern wall, got back up through the pain and back to battle.

If only Jester hadn’t asked you to help harvest the monster parts so you could sell them. You could barely carry your weapon, swinging it; different story. But Jester is persistent and you couldn’t just refuse the cute blue tiefling so you obliged gritting through the pain hoping no one would notice you taking a quick breather every so often.

Jester did notice and came to inspect your work, with a tap on your shoulder you feel a radiant warmth spread through you, making breathing and moving in general a lot easier. A thanks is in order and you’re sort of glad Jester keeps this on the down-low.

“Next time just tell me, okay?” Jester makes you pinky promise and you know that’s binding so you better keep your promise.

(Caduceus)

There’s a reason why you leave the cooking to Caduceus. You’ll happily cut some vegetables but try to stay away from anything else throughout the process of preparing food. When Caduceus asked you to watch the stove and add some spices to the food as he rushed to the pantry to get some more ingredients you were worried…

What should you do? Caduceus didn’t tell you how much to add of anything. Maybe you can just sniff the spices? Yeah, that sounds right. Opening the small jars and pouches one by one go through. You add a little of the fragrant ones and a bit more of the neutral spices.

One sniff of a red flaky powder sends you into a coughing fit, your airways burning like a blazing fire. Water doesn’t help. If anything it makes it worse. You get your breathing and cough under control but you do not trust your voice and scalding throat so when the firbolg returns you keep quiet.

No responses from you are a bit odd and what were you thinking you could keep anything from this man. Caduceus calls you out on your behaviour asking questions that need words and not nods, shakes, shrugs or the likes.

Upon you trying to talk he immediately knows what happened. Putting on a quick brew, in a short time you’re presented some tea to remedy your burning throat. It may not be your worst injury ever but it surely is an uncomfortable one. You gain a new appreciation for the dead people tea.

(Yasha)

You felt like you couldn’t do anything but try to hide the bleeding gash on your side, luckily covered by your clothing. Yasha had already gone through enough, last you needed her to deal with is the knowledge she injured you severely when under the control of someone else.

Back to normal you head into the next fight. For some reason you’re faltering and making mistakes you otherwise wouldn’t. Yasha notices and will be at your side in an instance to defend you but a single enemy blow sends you unconscious.

You can confidently say that opening your eyes to a raging barbarian pouring the contents of a healing potion down your throat is one of the most terrifying and admirable moment’s you’ve witnessed in your life.

Yasha asks when you got the cut since your bloodstained clothes don’t 100% add up. Tempted to come up with an excuse Yasha has you figured out. Prepare for endless apologies and a guardian angel watching over your shoulder threatening anyone with even remotely malicious intent into thinking twice about their actions.

(Mollymauk)

Molly will pretend he hasn’t noticed you’re hiding anything when he’s caught on you are being secretive. You’re entitled to your secrets.When he finds out you’re injured that’s no different. Unless it’s something that could be the death of you he’ll play along. You’re stubborn so you get to feel the consequences of your stubbornness.

He’d ask you to help him with this new routine he’s been working on or push you to spar with him. He’d make sure you have to pay extra mind as to not make it hurt as bad as your injury does when resting because that’s when the severity of your injury becomes clear to him.

Molly would deliberately make everyday tasks a little harder. You’re doing dishes? could you carry the heavy tub of water? Setting up camp? Keep pressure on this or hammer that into the ground. Will put your things out of your reach where you’d have to climb or jump to get them.

He’ll keep these shenanigans going until either you come clean about your injury or he really gets worried to the point he’ll have to step in for your own wellbeing. The former usually occurs leaving him smug and willing to carry you claiming to be your daring saviour.

Depending on the severity of the injury he’ll be a pretty decent caretaker spending time with you and assisting you whenever you need it. When it’s not as bad anymore he’ll be teasing you as much as he can. He won’t make you forget your stubbornness and pride gets in your way of admitting defeat and we all know he loves winning the game.

[pub-lius]

Learn the Alphabet with Alexander Hamilton

heyo so uh i just finished all the notes for my George Washington post, so in the meantime, have this <3 (not all these quotes were actually said by him, and i think its obvious which ones those are lol. if you can find something he said that starts with x ill kiss you /j)

A: “A garden, you know, is a very usual refuge of a disappointed politician.” -Letter to Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, December 29, 1802

B: “...Burr has never appeared solicitous for fame, and that great Ambition unchecked by principle, or the love of Glory, is an unruly Tyrant which never can keep long in a course which good men will approve.” -Letter to James Bayard, January 16, 1801

C: “Common interest may always be reckoned upon as the surest bond of sympathy.” -Federalist No. 35, January 5, 1788

D: “...destruction of life and property incident to war,... will compel nations the most attached to liberty to resort for repose and security to institutions which have a tendency to destroy their civil and political rights.” -Federalist No. 8, November 20, 1787

E: “Experience is the oracle of truth; and where its responses are unequivocal, they ought to be conclusive and sacred.” -Federalist No. 20, December 12, 1787

F: “Folly makes me ashamed and beg youll conceal it, yet Neddy we have seen such Schemes successful when the Projector is Constant. I shall Conclude saying I wish there was a War.” -Letter to Edward Stevens, November 11, 1769

G: “Give therefore to the first class [rich and well born] a distinct, permanent share in the government. They will check the unsteadiness of the second, and as they cannot receive any advantage by a change, they therefore will ever maintain good government.” -Farrand’s Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, June 19, 1787

H: “Heresies in either [religion or politics] can rarely be cured by persecution.” -Federalist No.1, October 27, 1787

I: “I lose all taste for the pursuits of ambition, I sigh for nothing but the company of my wife and my baby. The ties of duty alone or imagined duty keep me from renouncing public life altogether.” -Letter to Richard Kidder Meade, March 1782

J: “Justice is the end of government. It is the end of civil society. It ever has been, and ever will be, pursued, until it be obtained, or until liberty be lost in the pursuit.” -Federalist No. 51, February 6, 1788

K: “[Know that] if a meme is dank, a man is not only right to steal it, he is obligated to do so.” -Statement on the impending duel with Aaron Burr, written June 28-July 10, 1804

L: “Lastly, I shall hazard much, and can possibly gain nothing by the issue of the interview. But it was, as I conceive, impossible for me to avoid it. There were intrinsick difficulties in the thing, and artificial embarrassments, from the manner of proceeding on the part of Col Burr.” -Actual statement on the impending duel, June 28-July 10, 1804

M: “Man is very much a creature of habit. A thing that rarely strikes his senses will generally have but little influence upon his mind.” Federalist No. 27, December 25, 1787

N: “Nothing has given me so much chagrin as the Intelligence that the Federal party were thinking seriously of supporting Mr. Burr for president. I should consider the execution of the plan as devoting the country and signing their own death warrant.” -Letter to James McHenry, January 4, 1801

O: “One great error is that we suppose mankind more honest than they are.” -Constitution Convention, June 22, 1787

P: “...power over a man’s subsistence amounts to a power over his will.” -Federalist No. 79, May 28, 1788

Q: “Ququququqquuuquququuqu” -the sound he made when he got shot probably

R: “...Russians would make the best troops in the world, if they were under other officers than their own.” -Letter to John Jay, March 14, 1779

S: “Sometime last fall when I spoke to your Excellency about going to the Southward, I explained to you candidly my feelings with respect to military reputation, and how much it was my object to act a conspicuous part in some enterprise that might perhaps raise my character as a solider above mediocrity...” -Letter to George Washington, November 22, 1780

T: “The weak side of a republican government is the danger of foreign influence.” -Debate at the Constitutional Convention, June 18, 1787

U: “Under every form of government, rulers are only trustees for the happiness and interest of their nation, and cannot, consistently with their trust, follow the suggestions of kindness or humanity towards others, to the prejudice of their constituents.” -Notation in the margin of Gazette of the United States, July 10, 1793

V: “Vigor of government is essential to the security of liberty...” -Federalist No. 1, October 27, 1787

W: “Why has government been instituated at all? Because the passions of men will not conform to the dictates of reason and justice, without constraint.” -Federalist No. 15, December 1, 1787

X: “xoxo gossip girl” -Signature at the end of the Federalist Papers

Y: “You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affection without my consent.” -Letter to John Laurens, April 1779

Z: “Zzzzzzzzz” -him snoring in Maria Reynolds’ bed

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

A Disasterous Loaf-Life

“Bread”

@weweregoddesses​

Pairings: Romantic Dukexiety

TWs: Swearing, Remus being Remus, Sexual Innuendos, Phallic Shaped Bread Creatures, some angst but not too much, Pretty Brief Heated Makeout, mentions of a parasite that affects humans, Implied Sexual Activities Post Fic End (no actual sex tho),

Summary: Two Pining Dumbasses Make Bread.

(This is so long I just got super carried away)

--

“Remus, is there a reason you’ve kneaded your dough into the shape of an ass?”

Virgil watched with a fond sigh as the man next to him proudly stood over the booty bread he’d lovingly crafted over the last ten minutes. 

“Not really,”, Remus cackled, raising his hands, “Except for this!”, and with that, he brought down his hands in a flurry of obscene slaps to the fake rear. Virgil maintained his composure for all of a minute before he had to physically restrain his snickering. 

God dammit, this fucking guy! Thirteen years and Remus was still the one person who could make him laugh like the world wasn’t watching. 

“Well, when you’re finishing pulverising your Glutenous Maximus, are you gonna finally tell me what you’re actually shaping your loaf into this time?”, Virgil snarked affectionately. 

Remus rolled his eyes; his emo dork was spending far too much time with Patton lately. 

“Same as the last time we did this, duuuh.”, he retorted, as if that were common knowledge.

Virgil’s eyes widened, “.... You’re not serious.”

“As serious as Naegleria Fowleri.”

“.. as what?!”

“Y’know, that fucked up brain eating amoeba that they found in that one Disney water park-”

“NEVERMIND!”, Virgil hastily shook the thought away as he tended to his own dough, “Don’t tell me, I’ll have nightmares for weeks...”

The hoodie clad mad looked Remus up and down as he folded his own purple dyed dough, “.... Are you really going to attempt the Cocktopus again? Seriously?”

Remus shrugged, already forming the eight ‘tentacles’ in stunningly graphic detail, “Why not? You’re making purple bread again, why don’t I do the same?”

Well, he had him there. Really, Virgil had gone to make his bread purple without even thinking about it. Perhaps just being next to Remus after all this time had subconsciously brought him back to that same summer day they’d spent in the kitchen side by side making bread together. Virgil could hear his mother’s old junkbox of a radio blaring Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love while he and Remus slung flour at each other and danced about in their socks trying not to slip. 

Being back in the same house - now passed down to him - making bread once again with Remus brought back so many memories and emotions. Most of them good, though as he looked over to the man he still loved absolutely going to town on his bread sculpting, Virgil couldn’t help but remember how much guilt he still harboured; he’d never expected Remus to kiss him out of the blue back then, but Virgil also hadn’t expected to silently run off to his room to calm down, only to find Remus had left. 

Not just his home, but his life. Virgil hadn’t wanted to face Remus, unsure of how to handle his feelings, but seeing the moving sign on the Duke family’s front lawn that next week as he watched the moving van leave just that little bit too quickly for Virgil to say goodbye had plagued his mind more often than he cared to admit. 

A gross, gooey wetness on his cheek hauled him back to the present, only to realise Remus had finished a surprisingly glorious cocktopus and had slathered some of the egg wash on his cheek.

“Earth to Tickle-Me-Emo, you good??”

Virgil would’ve socked him in the arm if Remus’ concerned smile didn’t send his heart racing too hard to consider it. He wiped the mixture off his cheek, only mumbling back at Remus as he formed his purple mix into little loafs, “I’m fine, just stop covering my face in slimy shit.”

“..... Okay, now I know something’s up. You never leave me room for innuendos like that.”

Not even waiting to clean the residual flour off of his hand, Remus softly reached out and Virgil anxiously awaited the touch on his cheek. 

But it never came.

He watched as Remus seemed to course correct and he used his thumb to draw a line down his forehead, whispering, “Simbaaaaa-”

“Okay, fuck ooooff!”, Virgil had snorted, fondly swatting at Remus.

“Come on, Virge! You looked like you were gonna blow a blood vessel, how could I not diffuse the tension a little?”, Remus snickered, though the silence that followed wasn’t so comfortable somehow. Virgil struggled to place it until he noticed Remus’ expression falter. He didn’t get the chance to ask what was wrong before Remus spoke up, 

“This was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

A cold jolt shuddered along Virgil’s spine, rattling each vertebrae as it went.

“What’re you-”

“Why’d you invite me over, Virge?”

Truthfully, Virgil knew exactly why he had invited Remus from the outset; he wanted to see him again, drown in his presence, hopefully find out that he was single and still just as in love with Virgil after all these years as he was with Remus. But once Remus was there, single and right in front of him, he’d panicked - what else was new? - and resorted to turning their meeting into a catching up between old friends. 

But people who are just friends don’t dream about being held by their friend at night, don’t fantasize about a future together, don’t lay awake at night regretting not having just taken the chance to be more when they had it.

They also don’t stare at their friend’s gorgeous toned body every chance they get, but that felt a little too pathetic to admit on top of everything else.

Virgil wasn’t aware of how quiet he’d been until Remus spoke again, “Here I am, thinking maybe you might want me back in your life for good, maybe even like me back if I was lucky....”, Remus paused forlornly, an expression that didn’t suit him in the slightest, “But even now you’re still anxious around me. Which, I mean, I get it. Why would you like me back after I just kissed you out of the blue like that-”

“But why would you want me-?!”

His voice wasn’t meant to come out so high pitched and whiny, but Virgil was more focused on trying to process what Remus had just said. Remus liked him still. After all this time. And yet, Virgil’s brain was still trying to ruin it.

“Remus, you… look at you!”, he gestured to all of him, “You’re still a fucking weirdo but you’re stupidly hot!”

Virgil kicked himself mentally, his hands raking through his hair and nails scraping his scalp, “Ugh, no! I mean! Fuck, Remus, I’ve been in love with you all this time! I haven’t even LOOKED at another guy in these last thirteen years, because whenever I even think about finding someone to settle down with, the only goddamn thing I can think about is how much I only want you-!”

The clattering of a knocked over kitchen table was the only warning Virgil got. Then all he could focus on was Remus’ arms wrapping around him, his breath cool against his neck. 

“Then why’d you never tell me, you asshole?!”, Remus murmured against him. 

Virgil wondered if he imagined the soft noise of relief Remus let out as Virgil hugged him. 

“Because I’m the worst-”

“No.”, Remus cut him off, pulling back a little to give him an unimpressed look.

“No-?”

“No. Try again.”

Ah. It’d been years since Remus took this approach with him. 

“,... Because I’m stupid-”

“Try agaaain.”, Remus droned, prodding one of the little purple loafs Virgil had lovingly been shaping from a circular loaf into a spider before all of this began.

“Dude, don’t poke my spiders-”

“Or what?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes, unable to stop the quirk of a grin, “Don’t you dare-”

Remus narrowed his gaze, grinning as he plunged a finger into another spider loaf. Virgil tried to stop him all the while Remus cackled and kept dotting them with holes. Finally, Virgil conceded, 

“Fine! I was scared, okay-?!”

The silence hung heavier than both men anticipated. Virgil would’ve found Remus stopping dead with his finger shoved into the spider loaf’s ass hilarious if he wasn’t too busy shaking with nerves. 

“I was scared.”, he repeated, quietly dropping onto one of the chairs around the table, “I liked you so much back then too, but emotions are the fucking worst when you’re a kid and I was still trying to work shit out.”

The scooting of a chair let Virgil know Remus had sat down too. 

“My anxiety just got worse the longer I couldn’t see you, but every time I thought about facing you, I just kept thinking “well, he deserves better anyway-!””

Sick of hearing Virgil self deprecating further, Remus all but hauled Virgil into his lap, their faces inches from touching, eye contact unbreaking.

“Virge,”, Remus purred barely above a whisper, “I mean this in the nicest way possible..” 

The way their lips brushed over each other send shockwaves along Virgil’s spine, “But shut the fuck up.”

The scrawnier man didn’t need to be told twice. The second Remus’ lips pressed against his own, Virgil had no intention of breaking the contact until he needed air. Not that he’d mind suffocation if it was Remus’ lips doing the smothering. His left hand threaded itself in Remus’ hair while the right held onto his firm bicep. Fucking hell, Remus had never been this solid when they were kids. Since when did real, unphotoshopped people have muscles like these-!?

All of a sudden, Virgil couldn’t care less as Remus’ hands caressed his hips, earning a gasp Remus was more than willing to use to deepen their kiss. He got no complaints from Virgil who reciprocated the intensity of their kiss with no hesitation. It’d already cost him thirteen years with the man he loved, Virgil wasn’t about to hold himself back anymore. 

…. Okay maybe he should have held back a little.

A surge of panic jolted him free of the makeout headspace when he felt himself tipping back. Right, they were on one of the kitchen chairs. A chair meant to only support one person. Thankfully, Remus noticed and leant back. Instead of Virgil toppling to the floor, he wound up on top of Remus on the floor, hissing as his knees made contact with the tiles. 

“Fucking hell-! Oh shit, Remus, you okay-?!”

Remus groaned and scrunched his eyes at the pain. Virgil immediately feared that Remus had done himself a serious injury, however the man he was using as a seat cracked an eye open and sighed theatrically,

“Well, at least I’m gonna die with a raging boner.”

Virgil sighed. He was fine. 

“Come on, let’s get these dumb loaves in the oven and then you can be horny all you want-“

Remus didn’t waste a second. He barely gave Virgil a second to get off of him before he was up on his feet. A gasp made Virgil take a break from dusting flour off of himself.

“MY COCKTOPUS!!! IT’S DEAD!!!!”

Well, that’s not a phrase you hear everyday. Sure enough, when Virgil followed Remus’ gaze, the poor phallic sea demon he’d constructed had deflated somewhat; it’s many ‘’tentacles’’ had fallen over and flattened while the head of the beast was beginning to sag. Virgil was about to tell Remus to leave it be when he noted how genuinely upset Remus was.

Sighing, Virgil rolled his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows once more, “Alright, you can fix it, and THEN we’re making up for lost time..”

------

... I have no excuses for this one, the idea came and I ran with it.

Special thanks to the ever wonderful and talented @accidental-sanders​ for helping flesh out this whole thing with me <3 Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom @patton-cake @does-this-look-logicality-to-you @justalittlecorrupted @irritating-lady-knight @katlikethesword 

[lorelylantana]

Savageries of the Heart Chapter 1: Courtship

SFW

Next

Zelda always hesitated outside of the King Daphnes’ door. Bracing herself for the twinge of disappointment that always came when she entered the room to find her father’s chair occupied by her uncle, she straightened her spine and stepped into the room with a schooled expression and a head held high.

“You called for me, your Majesty?” she asked, folding her hands in front of her abdomen as she stood in front of his desk. He didn’t acknowledge her for a moment, signing off one last document before looking up at her with a radiant smile that sent a chill down Zelda’s spine.

“Excellent news, my darling Zelda, I’ve found a husband for you.”

She sucked in a breath, “My husband?”

“Yes, my dear, at long last you're getting married! It was a challenge, mind you, but I’ve arranged for you to marry quite the accomplished Zonai warrior.”

She was speechless. As the first born of the royal family, Zelda harbored no false hopes of marrying for love, but she had at least hoped to stay within Hyrule’s borders, where she could at the very least continue her research. 

“The temple will never allow it,” she insisted with a voice that shook in tandem with her beating heart. The smile on his face spread wider, though his eyes grew colder.

“The temple has always put too much stock on a bloodline bedtime story. Your mother was a gifted mage, but if present company is anything to go by,” he stood to walk around his desk and loom over her, “it was hardly a divine inheritance.”

“Zonai authority is established through combat prowess,” Zelda pointed out, “I fail to see why they would be interested in marrying me for my blood.”

“It doesn’t matter why they want you!” he snapped, the pleasant veneer of politeness cracking. He took a breath before placing heavy hands on Zelda’s shoulders, forcing them down into a slouch.

“What you don’t understand, Zelda dearest,” the King pushed through his teeth, “Is that we are vulnerable. Our military has been in shambles for an age, and ever since that wretched coup we have been surrounded by factions that refuse to fall in line. With the Zonai on our side, those other races will think twice before moving against us.”

In the ten thousand years since the continent was fractured there was never one incident that pointed to ambitions of conquest from any of the other five nations, but that didn’t matter to Zelda’s uncle, who had moved to a map of the continent. He stood in front of the east portion of the map, where the Akkala, Faron, and Necluda regions were painted Zonai green. 

“My fool of a brother didn’t see the threats, but I do,” he whispered, frowning. He spun around to face her once again, “All you need to know, sweet Zelda, is that in a month’s time you will cross the Bridge of Hylia and make your home in the quaint woodlands that were once a part of our great nation.”

Zelda opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

“Everyone wins!” he proclaimed, “We get the support of the largest nation on the continent, and at long last you can finally do something to help your country. As princess.”

Zelda sighed at her defeat, “I don’t know their language.”

“A month should give you a decent enough head start,” he insisted, sweeping a hand towards the door, “I suggest you get started.”

Zelda rushed out the door, desperate for a moment to process. Her plan was momentarily foiled by the arrival of Nohansen. The young prince was an unfortunate reflection of his father made all the clearer by his sinister smile.

“Ah! Have you heard the news, dear cousin? You must be ecstatic! The biggest day in any young woman’s life is her wedding day, and yours is a mere thirty days away!” 

“I fail to see how we’re to organize a royal wedding in one month,” Zelda muttered. Nohansen’s smile sank into a smirk. He ruffled her hair, knocking her tiara off in the process. 

“Oh, the wedding won’t be held here” he laughed, twirling the gold in his hands, “Of course not, we can’t have those barbarians running around our castle now, can we?”

Zelda took a breath to speak-

“No,” he said, holding up a finger to stifle whatever she was about to say, “We will be taking you to them. Your glorious wedding shall take place deep in the savage Zonai wilds. They even have a little spring said to be protected by a goddess. Does that not please you, O Daughter of Hylia?” he ended with a sneer.

Zelda snatched her crown back, the gold biting against her grip as she pushed passed him to rush through hallways stained burgundy with banners bearing her uncle’s crest to climb her tower, rushing up stairs and crossing the bridge to her study, the most remote room in the entirety of Hyrule Castle. She slammed the door and locked it before kicking off her shoes and climbing her desk to open the window high above it. She lifted her face to the breeze that rushed in. It was here, away from prying eyes, that she could truly relish in fresh air. She stood there a moment to relish the stillness before lowering herself to the floor and taking a seat in front of her carefully cultivated collection of samples of Hyrule’s most elusive flower, the Silent Princess. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get one to sprout within the confines of her study. 

Her study was cluttered with several clay pots hosting their own samples. Stalks of Saffline and flowering Blue Nightshade gently glowing against the shadows. She also had several vials full of elixirs her uncle refused to consider implementing into the kingdom’s resources, citing a lack of reports backing her claims. Of course, any reports written by Zelda herself were disqualified because of a conflict of interest.

That didn’t mean her work went unnoticed. Zelda had built quite a rapport with servants and soldiers alike when she managed to concoct a working contraceptive elixir with ingredients common enough to distribute. From that point on Zelda became an unofficial medic to the people of Castle Town. Those employed at the castle had full access to the infirmary, but the same could not be said for their families. Since her activity outside the castle was heavily restricted most of her specimens were given to her by grateful family members who consulted her.

She was reviewing her notes on the Silent Princess when a knock at the door brought tension to her shoulders.

“What is it?” she asked, wary of her cousin coming in to gloat once again.

“You’ve been invited to dinner by his Majesty King Daphnes, he requests you come down immediately.”

“I’ll be right there,” she huffed, fixing the golden band on her head and straightened her hair before making her way down to the dining hall. To her aggravation, everyone had already been seated and turned to look at her as she walked in. Another one of her uncle’s tricks.

She sat at the last open seat at the head of the table. Her uncle intended to make a spectacle of her in some way, but she didn’t find out exactly how until dessert was served and the King knocked a spoon against his glass to call for the attention of the other nobles in attendance.

“It is my tremendous pleasure to inform you all as of today that our lovely Crown Princess,” he waved to a servant, who brought over a package “is officially engaged to be married!”

There was a round of polite applause before King Daphnes cleared his throat, continuing after they quieted down. The attendant placed a solid wooden box in front of Zelda after a maid cleared her unfinished cake away.

“In honor of this momentous agreement the groom in question was so kind as to send a gift to his beautiful bride to be and I thought it only right to share this celebration with you all by letting you bear witness to the first gift between our dear Zelda and her fiance!” the King turned to her then, laying another heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be shy now. Open it.”

At first glance Zelda thought the box itself was the gift. It was finely crafted, polished wood with a reddish tinge that she hadn’t seen before, and the various symbols and runes carved into it had her itching to go to the library. Zelda lifted the lid and reached in, pulling out a knife crafted by some creature’s polished jaw bone.

The room burst out in raucous laughter.

“My word!” a woman’s voice yelled, “I knew they were backwards, but to think they would present a young lady with the remains of some animal!”

“Well of course,” cried another, “If they couldn’t fashion a proper metal blade, what hope could they have of crafting jewelry?”

Zelda fingered the spiral carved into the lid’s center as she considered pointing out that the handle was made from silver wrapped in silk, but she doubted it would make a difference.

“Well she can always wear it about her neck if she wants to show off her engagement!” Prince Nohansen laughed.

Zelda did not wear the knife around her neck, but she did take to wearing it on a sash tied at her waist. The morning after the engagement was announced Zelda descended to the lower floors of the castle to reach the laboratory. Diplomatic relations between Hyrule and Zonai were nonexistent, but there was one researcher that spent a fair amount of time in Faron to study some of the plants there, and Zelda had gotten quite acquainted with him upon his return to the castle.

“Owlan!” she called, a smile growing on her face as the old man came into view, working diligently on documenting the fruits of his research.

“Come to glean Zonai secrets, your Highness?” he asked with a raised brow and his ever present gentle smile.

“You’ve heard the news then?” she asked. 

“There’s not a soul in this castle who hasn’t. It’s the talk of the town,” he closed the book he was writing in and turned to face her, “Would you like a tutor in their language?”

“I would, but that’s not the only reason I’m here,” Zelda set the box she’d received the night before on his workspace, “What do you make of this?”

He took the box in his hand, giving the intricately carved lid, “If nothing else, you know that he’s a gifted carpenter.”

“You think he made the box himself?”

“Rather than a ring, Zonai engagements are marked with a dagger. Typically the suitor in question will present said blade with a personal touch. A seamstress would wrap it in a sash for her beloved, a gardener might send flowers along with the blade itself, and your betrothed,” he tapped the box lid, “sent a carved box. Would you mind terribly if I took a look at the knife in question?”

“Go ahead,” she said, taking an empty seat beside him. She turned back to him holding the knife in question with a frown.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s common for particularly capable warriors in the Zonai nation to slay a beast and have a bone fashioned into the blade. It’s a way of showing off, you see,” Owlan said with a mischievous smile, “but I can’t tell what creature it’s from.”

Zelda took the dagger in her own hands, running a ringer across the large fang at the point. Now that she had a closer look, she could see etchings on the bone as well, depicting a long horned serpent curling under the teeth.

“What should I send back?”

“I’m sure a reciprocal blade would be appreciated,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

Zelda left shortly after to visit the blacksmith to have a dagger commissioned before heading to the library. After consulting a librarian she had several books on the Zonai language sent to her room while she perused the shelves until she came across the tome she was looking for.

The Hylian Bestiary was one of the oldest books in the castle’s collection, the original copy was written back when the kingdom encompassed the entire continent. She hefted the book onto one of the empty tables and flipped through the illustrations of beasts both alive and of their remains. She rested her head on her fist, nearing the end of the section and still at a loss. She turned a page, a little discouraged until she scanned it’s contents.

There wasn’t much information on this beast, apart from reports of different colors and different regions it had been spotted in. There wasn’t a live illustration either, but there was a careful sketch of a skull. Zelda opened her box and took out the dagger just to be sure. She held it up to the page.

Her fiance had sent her a Lynel’s jaw.

If his intent was to impress, he’d certainly succeeded. She had never seen one herself, but there had been occasions where her uncle had dispatched knights to slay one that had wandered a bit too close to hylian villages. It was one of the few times the King would approve of Zelda’s assistance of the medical staff, because they always needed extra hands afterwards. Zelda returned the book to its shelf and entered her study. The books she’d asked for were stacked on her desk, but she bypassed them for her cabinet of finished elixirs. She opened the doors and considered, wondering which one she should send to her betrothed. She considered a poison she’d extracted to coat the dagger in, but decided against it. With the language barrier as high as it was, she didn’t want to risk him drinking it. She ended up making a defensive concoction that would give him an extra layer of protection, which he might need if he made a habit of facing Lynels. 

She was called down to the blacksmith’s a few hours later to approve of their handiwork. The blade was serrated, as she’s requested, and a fair bit longer than the knife around her waist, but she gave her approval and had it shipped off with her elixir to her fiance before returning to her study and reading through the basics of the Zonai language.  

A week after she sent her own engagement dagger she had received another gift from her fiance. Unlike the first, this gift was contained within a basket. Zelda had the good fortune to intercept the servant on the way to deliver her gift to her uncle. The maid in question was a regular consumer of one of her contraceptives, so it didn’t take much convincing before she was walking back to her room with the basket tucked under one arm. She sat on her bed, and somewhat excitedly opened the lid of the basket-

And slammed it back down again. She stared at the basket as though it might combust for a moment, heart slamming against her ribcage. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, Zelda gingerly picked up the basket and placed it on her desk, ond once she put a few paper weights over the lid, paid Owlan a visit.

“Good afternoon your Highness! Are your studies going well?” he asked, looking up from the medication he was crafting.

“How do the Zonai feel about snakes?” she asked by way of greeting.

“Well I would say they’re quite fond of the little creatures,” Owlan explained, “Snakes in general are held in high regard due to their resemblance to one of their guardian deities. The Faron Python in particular is a common pet.”

“A snake is a common pet?”

“Contrary to popular belief, they can be quite friendly. The Faron Python is known for being affectionate and gentle, that coupled with their penchant to hunt pests earned them a spot in many a Zonai household.”

Zelda found herself in the library once again looking for answers regarding the nature of an engagement, and returned to her room with an illustrated guide to Faron Pythons and their care. Once she was once again seated on her bed with the basket placed in front of her. She made sure to turn to the page to a diagram of the snake’s physical characteristics to make sure she could verify her suspicion. Not wanting to spook the creature, she took the lid off slowly, giving the snake a moment to adjust to the light of her room before taking a closer look.

The serpent itself was shockingly beautiful, bright white scales with splashes of blue along its body that looked almost translucent reflecting the light filtering through her windows. After a few tense moments, Zelda carefully reached in the basket. The serpent didn’t shy away, so she felt secure enough to tuck her hand underneath a section of its body to gently lift it. First it was only a few inches, giving the sweet creature a chance to escape, but it only curled around her hand in an embrace that felt softer then it looked. The snake slowly turned to look at her. A tongue flicked out of an upturned mouth, and Zelda was lost.

From that day forward, it was common to see the Crown Princess of Hyrule walking through the castle with a serpent coiled around her neck. She liked the reaction her new friend had on those around her, even her uncle and cousin seemed to give her a wide berth whenever they caught sight of the python leisurely draped around her shoulders. She never mentioned the snake’s name because she liked the watchful respect she acquired and refused to undermine it by advertising that the intimidating serpent’s name was Noodle. 

With this new edge to her authority Zelda made doubly sure that any gifts from her mysterious groom came directly to her hands. The benefits to this policy were two fold, the first being insurance that her uncle wouldn’t make a further mockery of her engagement or perhaps keep the gift if he took a liking to it. The second was the prevention of any diplomatic incidents. As much as she loved Noodle, Zelda was well aware that a snake in a basket could be interpreted as an assassination attempt. 

As thanks for her new friend, Zelda sent one of her old journals she thought had a thorough description of how she made some of her earlier, more basic elixirs. She knew there was a chance he might not understand Hylian, but she thought it would be a good way to get to know her. She had tried translating the recipes, but gave up after the first few and sent the incomplete list rather than spend her remaining month translating a single journal. Her Zonai vocabulary was primarily conversational and sadly didn’t include scientific vernacular.

She must have gotten her point across, however, as just a week later she was delighted to find a few vials full of her fiance’s attempts to recreate her recipes. 

Zelda was also surprised, quite a feat after Noodle’s auspicious arrival, to find a Silent Princess pressed into glass. At first she was perplexed, wondering if her fiance had simply ventured a lucky guess, but then she recalled the day she began researching the flower and attempting to foster it on her own was also the day she filled that journal, suggesting her fiance had read to the last page of her journal before preparing his third gift.

Her elation at this discovery was fueled by a torrent of relief. She had heard the stories of arranged marriages gone wrong. She had considered countless times in the past weeks that the gifts sent could be a ploy to gain her affections only to have such generosity evaporate as soon as the final wedding vow was spoken. Yet the Silent Princess in her hands whispered tales of a considerate husband, who took the time to read through all she had written and took the time to learn her interests. Deep in Zelda’s chest, she felt hope flicker, foolish as it might have been.

[doodledrawsthings]

From the Horizon

(spits on hands then grabs the control rod) Someone needs to derail this angst train, and it looks like it’s going to be me!

  It observes the world quietly, serenely, as all in the Horizon do. There are many things to see, after all, for the Horizon is a place everywhere and nowhere, ever-present and utterly unreachable, visible yet never attainable by things not already there. So it watches, distant and close in a way the Solid Things cannot understand (would find upsetting if they tried to understand).

The fragment-thought gives it pause. Where had that come from? ‘Upset,’ a curious word, unnatural, alien, incomprehensible. So why does it know it…?

Ah, yes, from the Solid World. A tear had appeared in the Horizon and it had slipped through, to view the Solid World more closely. The tear is mended now, neat red stitches returning things to as they should be. It had checked when it first returned to the Horizon, so it knows for sure.

…why had it checked? It is where it should be, all is well. Perhaps it has to do with the strange things it had noticed in itself when it returned. Shapes it should not have, sounds that do not belong, phrases that jar the silver and red serenity, and that it leaves alone. Things from its time in the Solid World that have no purpose or place here. Likely they will fade to nothing in time (No no nono-).

It shakes away the edge of the wrong-concept lingering from its time in the Solid World and returns to observing the Solid Creatures. Strange things, a pair of small blobs – brown-and-blue, purple-and-peach – and a long gangle thing as much Shadow as Being. Nonsense beings, all of them, as all Solid Creatures are. It watches vaguely, far and close and many and no places. Wander they do, wander and commune with other Solid Creatures, old things, strange things, candle flames and books and red thread-

…perhaps it should stop watching. Why is it watching these? No reason. The Horizon lulls it (comforts it-) another wrong-concept, it has too many of them now, perhaps these Solid Creatures are causing them, it will find others to fol-

(NO NO NO NO NO- -ATCH- -AT KI- BO- HEL-!)

-it will continue to follow them-

-no it will not, they make the wrong-concepts strong, it will leave-

(-Y FRI- -DS!)

-yes, it will leave, it will look at other-

-it cannot. It tries, but it cannot. But it is not a Solid Creature, it is of the Horizon. There are no bonds, no bounds, it simply is, it is here, it is there, except it is not there, it is here, it is growing more and more Here, except Here is now There, and the Horizon, the Horizon is tearing right before it, the threads are screaming, this is Wrong, it is- (afraid) it is- (not like the others anymore) it is-

-dark, there is dark, there is Shadow where there is only red and silver, a Solid Creature, the Shadow-as-Being one, not here, should not be here, must get away, wrong-

“FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL~!!!!”

Silence splits and wrong-concepts jangle and scream in it and it cannot escape the grasping claws, the yanking grasp, pulled from its place, out of the Horizon, in the Solid World again, rushing, thrusting, a shape the wrong-concepts know-

  OoOoOoOoO

  -Moonjumper comes to with a shriek. The last thing he remembers- he remembers- Her- or, no. No, worse, he remembers the Horizon, he had been back in the Horizon, he doesn’t want to be back in the Horizon-!

“Don’t think this means I’m grateful or anything!”

The familiar voice pulls him from his thoughts, lets him look up to find Snatcher inches away from his face and glaring at him, and that’s definitely a good reason to shriek again.

“Snatcher, be nice! He’s been through a very traumatic experience!”

Another familiar voice- Bow Kid, Bow Kid coming to help him sit up while Hat Kid shakes her fist at Snatcher.

“You were as worried as we were, you big pool noodle, don’t act like you don’t care!”

“I don’t,” the ghost grumps, folding his arms in an over-dramatic sulk that Moonjumper is far too familiar with, “I didn’t tell him to go fight Her, he did it on his own, and he got what he deserved, so there.”

“Uh-huh,” the purple-clad alien’s look is appropriately skeptical as she folds her arms right back at him, “And that’s why as soon as you found out about it you insisted on going all noodly again and on helping us get his body back and looking through all those super-boring books about how to get to the Horizon anyway-”

“You! Stop talking!” the ghost cuts her off, obviously flustered, turning his attention to Moonjumper, “And you start talking – if I grabbed the wrong stupid wispy Horizon thing, I wanna know now so I can go get the right one!”

“See? You do care!”

“Shut up, kiddo!”

“…you’re a ghost again.” Moonjumper blinks and- no, that wasn’t why- “You’re not supposed to be a ghost anymore, I went to fight… Her so you could stay human- why are you- I thought you wanted to-?” he had gotten himself sent back to the Horizon, almost stuck there again forever, for nothing-?

Snatcher huffs and folds in on himself, mumbling something he can’t quite hear.

“I- I’m sorry, what was that?”

“WE COULDN’T GET YOU BACK IF I HAD!” Snatcher bellows, glaring, “There, happy? Being human again made me go all mushy and do stupid things like thinking I’d miss you if you were gone or something, it’s disgusting, and the space brats were worried about you and it affected me, yuck!” he sticks out his tongue, then dives into a shadow with a last call of, “And that’s my old body you’re using, so you better take better care of yourself in the future or else!”

Moonjumper blinks at where the ghost had been, then down at where Bow’s still supporting him and Hat Kid is rocking on her heels, grinning, “He… helped you get me back?”

“He instigated it,” Bow informs him.

“He’s just too big a soon-dey-reh to admit it,” Hat Kid adds, hopping over to give him a hug, “Welcome home, Moonjumper!”

“Welcome home!” Bow Kid joins in the hug as well.

…they’d come for him. He’d done something incredibly stupid, then started- started forgetting them and himself and everything he’d learned and loved since he first found the Prince’s body all those years ago and- and he just-

With a lump in his throat, tears in his eyes, and an almost overwhelming sense of relief, he hugs the kids back. “Thank-you.”

[kintreewebsite]

4 unexpected uses of a family tree

A family tree helps you know about family members you’ve never known or met. It connects you with distant family members and helps one understand different relationships. Helping you know your ancestors and giving younger generations a better sense of who they are and why they look or act in a particular way.

We are sure you all have heard many more reasons why making a family tree is an ideal way to discover your family story and preserve it for future generations. And though all these reasons are good enough to convince you to build their family tree, we present some solid reasons that will help you decide that you should.

These days, family tree creator apps are available online. For example, Kintree is one such platform that helps you create your extended family tree. It is a social network to bond with our loved ones, and this feature makes Kintree unique.

Anyway, coming back to where we were, below are four unexpected uses of a family tree that will motivate you to start building your family tree right now.

They have your back

Our family is one of the first places we turn to during times of hardship. Often many of us have found ourselves sucked into a financial abyss at some point in life. However, we have always gone to our family whenever we need financial aid. It could be a sudden loss of a job or needing a loan to start your business. Thus, it is an apt reason why staying connected to your extended family is beneficial. And what better way to bond with your loved ones than by creating a family tree.

Support during crisis

One of the things that the pandemic has taught us is to take care of our health. Though one never knows what comes next, we can certainly count on our family when things are difficult. E.g., a medical emergency or the untimely death of a beloved.

Support system

There is no denying that we humans are social creatures and often need our loved ones to be by our side. Especially in challenging times, we all lean toward our family for support. This reason makes staying connected to your family all the more pivotal. So, you get that much-needed support when you reach out to your family members.

Home away from home

With the world becoming a smaller place, more and more young people nowadays are interested in studying abroad rather than in their home country. And not just for education, people go overseas for career opportunities and many more. Being away from home can make one homesick. However, knowing that you have a relative in the city and staying in touch with them can be reassuring when trying to settle in. However, this is possible only when you are in touch with your extended family.

Aren’t these good enough reasons to build your extended family tree and connect your family? Below is a quick rundown on how you can make your family tree.

Download the Kintree app or visit www.kintree.com

Sign up and create your profile

Go to the family tree section

Click on the Add member button

Fill in all the details and click on Save

Repeat the above steps and add all your family members

And that’s it. Your family tree is ready.

[tinyinvadr]

Hi, I am asking if you can do SpongeBob as a Tiny 4" Sponge in an AU where he's small and tinier than the rest of Bikini Bottom as well as him able to size-shift (Shapeshift) as a giant at times as well? I am such a SpongeBob and G/T Fan. I like ZIM too.

Sure thing! I don’t see SpongeBob G/t super often, so I’m always happy to contribute something different! (I’m pretty sure I’m the only person with a G/t blog that’s primarily focused on Invader Zim, ‘cause every one of my obsessions turns into G/t at some point and it all gets very specific, so, yeah)

Anyway, I decided to do the episode “F.U.N.” I changed up most of the dialogue, ‘cause I don’t really like rewriting stuff word-for-word. There are a few lines that are the same, and I left the F.U.N. Song intact, ‘cause it’s a classic, but I tried to make it my own take on the episode. I did want to write an original story, but I have a hard time coming up with ideas for SpongeBob because the show’s been on for so long and has done so much already.

F.U.N.

SpongeBob hadn’t planned on going to the Chum Bucket that day. Well, no one did. Ever. But he had a good reason to go.

It was a standard day at the Krusty Krab. Plankton stole a Krabby Patty, and SpongeBob got it back. But for the first time, the sponge noticed something different about him: insecurity.

No matter how hard he tried, he would never amount to anything ever. His restaurant would always be a failure. HE would always be a failure.

SpongeBob felt for him. He always did, though he wouldn’t admit it to Mr. Krabs. The two of them had quite a bit in common, actually. They were both small. Really small. And it’s hard to make a name for yourself when you’re small. Hard to get others to take you seriously.

But they were also quite different, in that SpongeBob was an optimist. No matter the challenges thrown his way, he would always overcome them, and he believed Plankton could too if he had that support. If he only had a friend, if only the entire town hadn’t deemed him irredeemable, he could have a chance.

And SpongeBob was determined to give it to him.

So there he stood, at the massive doors of the Chum Bucket, waiting for Plankton.

Opening the doors, the tiny owner of the Chum Bucket was met with the equally tiny sponge.

“Oh. It’s you.” He sighed. “Haven’t you tormented me enough?”

“No. I mean, I was wondering if you wanted to come out and play with me.” SpongeBob replied.

“What!? No!” Plankton immediately slammed the door, but SpongeBob stayed there. He wouldn’t give up that easily.

After a minute, Plankton opened the door again.

“Alright, SpongeBob. I’ll comply. What exactly are we doing?”

The sponge was overcome with excitement. Instead of giving him a proper answer, he just wrapped Plankton in a tight hug.

“You have three seconds to let go of me.” Plankton stated, unamused.

SpongeBob let go and backed off, but he couldn’t stop smiling. They were finally making progress! He could turn an enemy into a friend!

So the two of them walked all the way to Jellyfish Fields, where the sponge would introduce his newest friend to one of his favorite activities: riding jellyfish.

“I don’t see the point of this. Why would I want to ride around on an electric blob if it’s not being used to destroy my enemies?” Plankton asked.

“Because it’s fun!” SpongeBob exclaimed, already seated on top of a jellyfish and holding on tight as it swam in loop-de-loops.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Plankton asked, rolling his eye.

The jellyfish dropped SpongeBob off on the grass beside Plankton, and he was left at a standstill. Fun? He’s never had to explain that before. It seemed pretty self explanatory. But with how lonely and hated he was, it was only reasonable that Plankton never experienced fun.

“Well... it’s kind of... sort of like... let me spell it for you.”

“F is for friends who do stuff together! U is for you and me! N is for anywhere, anytime at all! Down here in the deep blue sea!”

Though at first unsure how to react to the spontaneous musical number, Plankton quickly chimed in.

“F is for fire that burns down the whole town! U is for uranium! Bombs! N is for no survivors! WHEN YOU-“

“Plankton! Those things aren’t what fun is all about.” SpongeBob interrupted. “Let me help you.” He took Plankton’s stubby little hands and started to dance with him.

“F is for friends who do stuff together! U is for you and me! Try it!”

“N is for anywhere, anytime at all! Down here in the deep blue sea!”

Just from briefly dancing, Plankton looked exhausted, so SpongeBob let go of his hands. “I... I don’t understand this. Why do I feel all tingly inside? Should we stop?”

The sponge chuckled. “No, that’s how you’re supposed to feel!” He caught the slightest trace of a smile on his new friend’s face, and soon, it was a full-fledged grin.

“Well, I like it! Let’s do it again!”

“F is for frolic through all the flowers! U is for ukulele! N is for nose-picking, sharing gum, and sand licking, here with my best buddy! Ha ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

After a day of fun, the two parted ways. The next day, SpongeBob went into work, where his boss, Mr. Krabs, was waiting for him.

“SpongeBob, I need to talk to ya.” The crab lifted the tiny sponge up with his claw and set him down on the nearest table.

“What’s the problem, Mr. K?” SpongeBob asked.

“Look, son. I saw you and Plankton at Jellyfish Fields yesterday. I understand that you want to help, but I know him. He’s sneaky, he’s manipulative, and he’s after me secret recipe.”

“Mr. Krabs, I really think he’s changed. We had so much fun yesterday, I don’t think he could’ve faked that.”

At that moment, Plankton entered the Krusty Krab. Mr. Krabs glared at him from across the room, then went back into the kitchen.

“SpongeBuddy, are we still going to the movies?” Plankton asked.

“Of course!” SpongeBob replied cheerfully, looking down at Plankton from his perch upon the table.

The small green creature made his way towards the pulley-powered elevator that was attached to each table. Certain accommodations had to be made in order for the miniature sponge fry cook to do his job, so elevators were a staple.

Mr. Krabs quickly returned from the kitchen, his claws suspiciously concealed behind his back. “Before you go, I thought I’d offer your good friend something, if he’s interested...”

He revealed that he was holding a plate with a freshly made Krabby Patty on it, and placed it on the table, right beside Plankton.

“No, thanks. We’re getting popcorn.” He replied, shaking his head.

The crab continued to glare at him, waiting for him to make his next move, but Plankton just stood there.

“Well, we’re leaving now! See ya later, Mr. Krabs!” SpongeBob announced as he escorted Plankton back to the elevator. As they left the restaurant, the sponge glanced back at his boss as he let out a disappointed sigh. Though he did feel the slightest bit guilty for befriending Mr. Krabs’ worst enemy, he knew it was the right thing to do.

The two of them arrived at the movie theater, and got the biggest box of popcorn at the concessions stand. Due to their size, they were able to share one seat. Though really, their seat was the edge of the popcorn box, which was seated upon the actual theater chair.

Everything was fine. Well, except for when Bubble Bass sat on them, but he got back up right away to go after the spilled popcorn.

Then, everything changed.

The movie suddenly stopped, and on the screen, the shadow of Mr. Krabs was being projected.

“Listen up! He’s deceiving ya! Reach into his pocket now and take what he’s got!”

SpongeBob and Plankton exchanged glances, neither of them sure what was happening.

“I’m talking to you, SpongeBob!”

Reluctantly, he did as he was told, only to find that somehow, Plankton did steal the Krabby Patty after all.

“What? Plankton, I... I thought you changed! I thought... we were friends...”

The sponge began to cry, which only meant one thing. Normally he was very small, but whenever he cried, SpongeBob absorbed his own tears, causing him to grow to massive proportions.

It was a well known fact that SpongeBob had the tendency to expand, what with how absorbent he was, and no one was particularly threatened by him, due to his kind and friendly nature, but it was still a major inconvenience, especially when this happened indoors.

“Plankton... why would you lie to me?” SpongeBob asked in a soft whimper.

Suddenly, Plankton began to cry as well.

“I’m sorry! I used you to get the Krabby Patty! But now that I have you as a friend...”

SpongeBob wiped his tears. Plankton was really about to give up the Krabby Patty, the sandwich he’d been trying to steal for his restaurant all this time, for the sake of their friendship.

“It changes NOTHING!”

Letting out an evil laugh, the tiny green villain ran off with the Krabby Patty, ripping right through the movie screen.

After calming down, the sponge reverted back to his default form, and Mr. Krabs met him at his seat.

“Mr. Krabs... I’m sorry. It’s my fault he got the Krabby Patty.”

To SpongeBob’s surprise, his boss smiled, and lifted him off the seat. “It’s alright, lad. You had the right intentions. Anyway, Plankton didn’t get away. Don’t you know what’s behind these screens?”

Mr. Krabs walked over to the screen and pulled it aside at the rip, revealing that Plankton and the Krabby Patty slammed right into the wall behind it.

“Solid concrete!”

Plankton stepped away from the wall, stumbling around in a daze. “You’ll pay for this, Krabs.” He mumbled.

“You know, SpongeBob? Maybe you should keep trying to be his friend. It keeps him confused.”

Maybe one day he would change, but SpongeBob learned that day that you can’t expect progress that quickly, no matter how catchy the song is.

[towerofgodscreamblogwink]

reading last chap of s2 after covering several chapters yesterday, also since it's end of the season, for once I put some bigger serious thoughts at the end

who the FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE???

OH MY GOD KARAKA IS TSUNDERE

there are OTHER slayers?? (except fucking ex white)  if they mentioned it earlier i must’ve forgot

that’s not how to talk to your daddy greatest

 -(no i don’t like jahad i’m here to bully karaka because i tend to bully my faves)

*punches table* rabbit boy. get out. i have not sighed so loud in my entire life

oh i see why people were calling them furries.

listen, you either give us catboys or leave.

please don’t say “creatures” if it’s like your furry way of talking

that guy: not to worry he has a permit

gustang: *pulls out paper* “i can get whatever i want”

i’ve read “gremlin” im dONE

you know what maybe i should just go to bed rn

also cat is destroying my door dear lord

ok so it’s the next day now

“ahahaha”

“I can’t read...”

SHIT I HAVEN’T NOTICED RACHEL GOT TELEPORTED

erh i’m dumb on this one, why have they made this parallels?

I don’t want to tell you this but he just reminded me of chara undertale...

wangan: onii-chan!?

wait what

ouch

soooo karaka believes wangan’s story even w/o ring then?

*spits tea* ow goddammit not the feels

anyhoo that’s the end of s2, siu put a note about break but yeah that was years ago, so pretty sure i’ll be starting s3 even now but i won’t be posting it rn

anyhoo well that was suprisingly long season? my usual knowledge of “Seasons” is usually from anime, and these tend to have seasons with usual 2 or 3 arcs but they usually don’t go in so many different directions 

personally it feels like half of season 2 is a season on it’s own tbh, and maybe that’s how anime could adapt it, perhaps? although 12 episodes would work best with just setting on saving bam from fug.. either anime would make the seasons in parts like aot did with s3 or have lots and lots of seasons, since probability of anime getting 24 episodes has gotten awfully small those years

As for the opinions on season 2... I see first half and season on it’s own, so let’s start from this - Bam getting rescued, and first time they enter hell train. First of all, Bam as Viole is absolutely nailing this, and I wouldn’t mind having Viole as protagonist to be honest, although it would be indeed sad as Viole is not the happiest person, but damn is he a cutie. Is he a baby. 

Wangan - oh dear I dunno if others saw the plot twist coming, but I did not - I have absolutely been viewing him as Bam’s counterpart to his Viole side, just a complete shounen protagonist who’s completely ordinary. Boy was I w ro n g. I only remember vaguely being sus about him when Viole has mentioned his ring, but that was about it, as it was never mentioned again, I forgot about it. And then it appeared Karaka has this ring. Boy was I shooketh.

I don’t think I exactly liked the further progression though until Wangan’s story was revealed - until then he kinda fell into background, and then soon again as said story was revealed. However I do know Siu has big plans with him, and at this point I know Siu’s writing enough, so I don’t have much worries about his further progression

Also sadly there was no Karaka-Wangan brother bonding

Next in mind I have Khun, naturally, as he’s my icy hot favourite. I don’t really know why even, when I saw him in anime I was quite indifferent about him. So if you want me to explain why do I like khun, I can’t really explain. Other than when he was becoming my favourite, I remember being dissappointed in myself and making a post to myself “Goddammit don’t fall for him just because he’s your type” and he’s not even really my type in terms of personality, but at that point I was jsut shrugging it off, maybe it was his childish over-dramatic posture contrasting his cold personality because I just hit that protect button

Also yes I may be basic just slap me already

And before I’ll start talking: girl’s scout outfit, really? I support my son and I can understand his edgy and k-pop fashion... But I’d be lying if I said I understood him for shit at that moment

So now that we’re past back... I was actually recently re-reading first chapters, and damn, the difference of Khun before Bam was rescued - was rather intriguing. He was laughing his ass off at silly things (his team being dressed silly) but oh sweetie did it feel weird.

Next, I keep thinking about him on the train obliberating Rachel - despite popular opinion, his cockiness was actually getting on my nerves, and only thing saving it, was his reasons were Bam - so in other words, at least he wasn’t an asshat for his own sake.

I much liked his personality during second half of the season 2 - as much as there wasn’t much khunbam content - seems like Khun has grown as a person,as his cocky aura much disappeared as he became more understanding towards his own weaknesses. Now his “cockiness” became rather entertaining if you catch my drift, because despite his jerk nature, he *is* well aware of his flaws, and I just like that. Not that he *wasn’t* considerate of that already, but the hidden floor really did wonders on him.

And dear my, his relationship with Bam. I’ll be honest, at some point during reading first half of season 2, I felt like I was reading romance story between him and Bam. It was all the little things, like playing with Rachel just to know Bam’s past, Khun noticing Bam was uncomfortable with Viole wig, Khun being near Bam as he spoke he has no reasons to live, Khun standing up for Bam when strangers tried to use him and Isu asked for his help but skipped the asking part, Khun looking back to Bam telling him he’ll be back when going to catch the fish on train, Khun trying to talk to him when Bam locked himself up in his room on train, constantly checking and finally waiting in his room when he notices Bam is gone, Khun noticing lack of Bam’s presence before going to floor of death right *after* he just said he feels like world is ending if Bam isn’t here, and then beeming when Bam does in fact appears. And that’s just all the stuff I can remember right now, and I mean the *little* things. The big things are the ones we know well - “So that I can always chase” and the famous world one I don’t have to quote.

Second half didn’t have much scenes, but there were few that did stuck to me - Bam’s line to Kiseia how he understands why she hates him, but he’ll do everything he can to stop her if she plans to harm Khun *again*. Because it seemed like Bam kind of moved on from Khun getting stabbed by his sis, but that panel did show that not only it *did* stay with him, it also stayed with him that it was *Kiseia* who hurt him.

Another scene was the one I don’t think I need to talk about much, as we all pretty understand - moment of Khun and Eduan awkward father-son bonding. Khun tries to close himself off, but Bam reaches out, and forces him out of comfort zone

But what mostly stuck out to me, was his behaviour after Khun became kinda dead. It was the way he spoke to endorsi and rest, how *he’s* going to take khun and follow the *harder* path, and anyone who *don’t want to come*, can take the easier one. Basically, he was prepared to go the harder route completely alone because it meant taking Khun with him, and he was just, prepared to go without any help, he only optionally added that others can join if they *want* to.

Another interesting scene, was Hwaryun calling him out, when few of his teammates has been captured, due to them taking the different path from Bam - but if they are meant to escape with Khun, they have to leave them, and when Bam gets steamy about it, Hwaryun goes - “I didn’t choose the teams. You’ve chosen them based on who matters more.” It’s so subtle, so cruel, yet intriguing - one of the most worst way to tell someone he cares for someone else more - she’s only saying Khun mattered to him more, but in this context, it sounds accusing, making Bam’s decision selfish. And that’s something that’s absolutely in my mind - his care for Khun, called out in “accusing” matter - as something that stopped him from commiting other decision - as something he’s willing to priotize others over.

So I can’t stop thinking about that, and truthfully? That last “take care of Khun after me.” line.

But the other line from bam’s monolouge that gets me is “Wait a bit more Khun... I’ll wake you up again.” That “again” gets to me, but I can’t really explain it. Maybe it’s the way he looks at Khun longily. 

So this covers their relationship, and I think I’m only gonna mention Bam now real quick and perhaps Eudan and Jahad, because the post’s getting long and I don’t want to make *this* post specifically long.

I don’t have much to say about Bam, as Bam himself doesn’t have much to say about him. He didn’t have much definying features or characteristics besides the time he was Viole, but you have to hand it to him for growing after meeting after she pushed him for the first time - it was still hard to say anything about him though. For several chapters later - as well, except he did manage to develop the traits of self-sacriface, and actual resolve to save everyone - because he talks about *always* and sure fights for his friends, but who doesn’t? Where his personality shines in this regard, is in the moment of Bam saving his enemies with no questions asked, and White by the way definetely helped Bam to develop his personality for sure.

But either way I’m here roasting Bam, while my goal was to say, that it was in the hidden floor where I’ve actually started recognizing him as his own character - it was in the moment of him having final confrontation with Viole, I finally saw what kind of person he was. And I liked it, he became a solid character in that moment, accompanied by proper flashbacks and exploration. And Bam continues to be then written quite consinstely as in one of later flashbacks, he indeed says, what he said to Viole a while ago - he’s afraid of being alone. Not only that, the internal conflict was added - is he a monster? is he not? It’s simple conflict but can do wonders, and it’s not something that Bam even thinks about, it’s more of a really subtle conflict within a character design itself, rather than Bam.

So basically now Bam indeed feels more of an actual character

And before I’ll end it for now, I want to mention the meeting of young Eudan, andyoung Jahad - truth to be told, I don’t have most unique feelings towards them as anyone sees the point - the adventures with pure intentions turned evil, aka how everyone can turn evil. What makes me more interested, is how Siu has used it for storytelling... Main characters having a big meeting with the younger versions of villians? Haven’t seen that one yet, so I’m interested what direction Siu will take with it, since this is my first time seeing it, so I’m really curious how exactly you can utilize such scenes in terms of long planned story, and not only how they affect story as a whole, but how they also affect just aspects of it as well.

So, that’d be it on my commentary and small “opinion” on season 2. It wasn’t like I exactly wanted  to put it here, but I wanted the end of season 2 to have more meaning to myself. But not only to have a meaning to myself *just* for my own reasons, but because I didn’t want to leave the whole season with nothing but small comments there and there. I wanted my experience altogether to be something bigger - but not only experience, but my “legacy” as well. So, that’d be about it x2, if you’re still reading, congratulations, I appreciate that, and you get an apple

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I thought about every episode of The Owl House Season 1 (Part 2/2)

Part two, sukers! Let’s do this. Click here to read part one.

“Senses and Insensitivity”: The B-plot in this episode is outstanding. It shows the audience more about Eda and Lilith's love for each other as sisters, which actually gets a lot more heartbreaking, given what happens in "Agony of a Witch." I loved every minute of it...which is why it makes it weird that it's just the B-plot. Because while the main story is ok, I could do without it. It makes King look like a jerk, and in no way does it feel like he means it when he apologizes. Plus, the fact that Luz and King get saved by Dana's self-insert and don't even do anything to stop Piniet just doesn't sit right with me. Although, I do find the jokes about fandom mentality to be pretty funny. If it wasn't for Eda's storyline with Lilith, "Senses and Insensitivity" might just be a C+ of an episode. As is, I'll be kind enough to give it a B-.

“Adventures in the Elements'': And here it is. The episode that everyone saw months beforehand because some jackhole decided to leak it to the internet. And what an episode it is. We get some great mentor/motherly moments from Eda. Some perfect course correction from Ed and Em going from unlikable antagonists to decent supporting characters. Having Luz learn a second spell, and having the growth between her and Amity's relationship. And a semi-enjoyable B-plot with King and an army of stuffed animals (which is just as funny as it sounds). My problem? Pacing. While King's subplot about an army of stuffed animals is fun, I feel like more time should have been dedicated to Luz getting trained by Eda. That way, it’ll feel natural to see as Luz reaches her breaking point due to going nowhere with Eda's training, which would feel justified rather than making Luz come across as kind of whiney in the episode (at least to me, she does). Another issue I have is with how Luz and Amity's relationship is presented in this episode. It genuinely feels like we skipped an episode because Amity went from "thinking about it" to getting distracted by waving at her bestie. Now keep in mind, I'm the first one to say "who cares" when people bring up the poor pacing in Luz and Amity's relationship due to Disney having little to nothing in terms of LGBTQ+ representation in children's animation. But the thing is, their relationship feels more properly paced in future episodes, but it's not the case here. So it's gonna have to be another B- in that regard.

(And seriously, don't ever leak episodes from a show, even if it's your favorite. Because not only does it ruin the experience for fans who want to support it the right way, but it also hurts the show itself. Because if people stop watching episodes, guess what? They'll stop making them. And nobody wants that.)

“The First Day”: Is it odd that I like an episode that's clearly not great? Because there's so much about "The First Day" that I enjoy. I like the entirety of the detention track and the fact that they're not typical troublemakers. I like the message about how it's unfair to force children to learn something they're not interested in because it's for a "better education." And I would frickin' take a bullet for Puddles. Unfortunately, this episode has some of the worst pacing in the series. Let's look at what this episode has to accomplish: It has to force Luz into a track and explain why it's a poor fit for her. It has to have Luz be interested in another track and get in trouble due to being too curious. It has to establish a connection between Luz and the detention track so they can have a heartbreaking third-act breakup. It has to set up, then introduce, a monster that will try to destroy Hexide. And finally, defeating the creature has to tie into why it's a good idea for students to mix tracks. That is a lot to do in under twenty-two minutes, and it makes the episode feels like it’s on fast foward at times. I'd say the solution would be to cut King's substitute teacher subplot (which only has value with one good joke), but that would only give "The First Day" a couple of extra seconds. So, really, the only way to "fix" the episode is to probably give it a few minutes by making it a forty-five-minute special. I'm sure fans wouldn't mind that. They love Luz and her journey enough that I'm sure they would be more than ok to see a more lengthy experience through the halls of Hexide. But that's not what we got, so it's gonna have to be a D+ episode. I don't hate it, but I don't blame others who do.

“Really Small Problems”: "Ugh, it's the cliche--" WE'VE! BEEN! OVER THIS! Does this episode have a cliche storyline? Yes. Is this pretty much the first filler episode of the series? Of course. But is it still entertaining? Without a doubt. There are great jokes, adorable moments with Luz and King's friendship, and little moments that I love. Like the fact that it was an accident that King shrunk Willow and Gus, and how Luz treated the situation calmly and rationally instead of blowing her stack. "Really Small Problems" may not be high up on my favorites list, but it's at least a fun B episode that was well worth a single viewing.

“Understanding Willow”: You wanna know what impresses me the most about The Owl House? The fact that Dana and her writers knew what the fans exactly want before they even started asking for it. The fans wanted to know what happened between Willow and Amity, and so the staff showed us. Fans wanted to see what Mr. and Mrs. Blight are really like, and the staff showed us. Fans wanted a Luz and Amity centric adventure, and the staff gave it to us. And because they've been working on the first season long before fan input started coming out, that means that we were going to get what we want before even having to ask. Most shows would save content in "Understanding Willow" for a second and even third season, so it amazes me that the writers waste no time in giving us the good stuff. Add that with a great "I'm sorry" speech from Amity, cute moments between her and Luz, Luz being an understanding friend, and Eda's bell dance, and you've got yourself an A+ of an episode.

As I said, I've already reviewed the last four episodes. But if you're interested in what I have to say, here are the condensed versions of my thoughts. Click the episode titles if you want to see the full review: 

“Enchanted Grom Fright”: Speaking of giving the fans what they want, the fans have been obsessed over Lumity damn near since the beginning, myself included. So now you're gonna give us a prom episode filled with flirting in the hallway, a dope dance sequence, and the reveal that Amity has a crush on Luz? All while showing more of Luz's relationship with her mother and the fear Luz has of telling Camila the truth?! Then consider this an A+ episode that might just be a crucial moment in Disney's history!

“Wing it Like Witches”: This is a fantastic episode. And no, it's not because of Amity's gay panic attacks towards Luz...ok, it's partially because of that. But it's also because this episode shows how far characters come developmental wise. Willow became more confident, and Amity is actually part of the group now. It all comes together when the most developed characters team up against one who'll most likely get little development. It's a solid A of an episode that always leaves me smiling when I watch it.

“Agony of a Witch”: Yup. The single image of Luz crying is still enough to tear me up inside. And man, what an episode. The tension, the drama, the REVEAL! Lilith admitting she cursed Eda still shocks me because it could not have been farther from what I expected. Especially given the sisterly bond that we've seen in past episodes. So yeah, this is another A+ for sure.

“Young Blood, Old Souls”: I've heard some people say that the season finale is underwhelming, and I think I know why? You see, this has what I like to call Infinity War to Endgame syndrome. Part one does a great job of setting up the tension and stakes, that part two seems to pale in comparison in an attempt to relieve some of that tension. Because since part one ended, people have been hyping themselves up for part two to be such an epic conclusion that it couldn't have completely lived up to the ridiculously high standards. It's the same reason why I never felt disappointed with either Avengers: Endgame or "Young Blood, Old Souls." I had high expectations, sure, but I also reminded myself that there is a chance that either might be unenjoyable. And guess what? I consider Avengers: Endgame an A+ movie and "Young Blood, Old Souls" an A+ episode. Is either story perfect? No, but here's the thing. I could list all the nitpicks I have, or I could keep my big mouth shut and just enjoy it for the parts that are perfect.

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And that's it! That's what I think about every single episode of The Owl House so far. As for my thoughts on the show itself, I think it's incredible. It has a nice balance of comedy and drama with specific episodes, has an intriguing story, and includes some of the best representation that Disney has had in decades. But that doesn't mean the show is perfect. Pacing can be a bit off at times, some B-plots are just unnecessary to pad out the time, and not every joke can land. But to be fair, this is season one. Dana Terrace and her crew have more than enough time to polish out the rough parts for what is hoped to be a better season two. And I still can’t to see what they have in store for us.

[wistfulcynic]

To Keep It All The Year (1 /4)

Not long ago @katie-dub​ asked me if I was planning to write a Christmas fic. I said sure, I’m doing the CS Secret Santa. And then I thought about it, and I thought actually maybe I’ll write a little something for Katie because she is a delightful human, a kind and supportive friend, and one of the people I feel honoured to have got to know over the past year, and she deserves every nice thing. And then I started to think about what she might like and I had IDEAS which of course soon grew far beyond my original concept. And then @thisonesatellite​ egged me on (with REAL EGGS) and here is the result: an angry and broken Killian, a struggling single mother Emma, a precious wee Henry, and the healing power of Christmas magic. 

Katie, my dear, I can’t begin to tell you how much your support has meant to me these past few months. You are the loveliest and most loving person, and I hope you enjoy this little offering 💕

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is a broken man, betrayed by everyone and everything he thought he could believe in. He’s all but given up on life until a fateful meeting with bartender Emma Swan and her son Henry gives him a reason to live again, and a chance to redeem his past. 

All it takes is a little Christmas magic. 

On AO3

Tagging all the folks from the last tag list, PLEASE do let me know if you want to be added or removed.  @kmomof4​​​​​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​​​​ @snidgetsafan​​​​​​​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​​​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​​​​ @stahlop​​​​​​​ @mariakov81​​​​​​​ @courtorderedcake​​​​​​ @jonirobinson64​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​​​​​​ @shardminds​​​​​ @jennjenn615​​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​​

-

PART ONE: THE PAST

He’s still broken when he meets her. Broken and bitter and angry. So, so very angry, the kind of angry that lodges in a man’s chest just below his heart and and rots there. Rots, but doesn’t rot away. The putrid tendrils of it twine and twist through him like the tentacles of the kraken he heard tales of as a boy. They fuse to his bones and mix with his blood and he welcomes them. His is a fury born of betrayal, by everyone and everything he thought he could believe in, and it’s all he has left of his life. It’s all he remembers how to feel. 

He’s come to this place for escape, for peace, but there’s precious little of either to be found. Not here. Not in this neighbourhood of once-lovely houses built tall and proud and so sturdy their ruin takes decades, a slow attrition of cracked windows and crumbling corners and decay that sinks into the walls and consumes them from within. But it’s the best he can afford on what he has that’s his, and he finds that the atmosphere suits him. A broken place for a broken man. 

He doesn’t have to work so for a while he doesn’t, spending his days walking the streets of the city on feet that carry him eventually, inevitably, to the docks. And there he stands, sometimes for hours, watching the horizon and the boats that move across it, stewing in his bitterness. 

He prefers to do his drinking alone on the ratty sofa that doubles as his bed, his only company the blinking neon and the traffic noise, and the smell of pot smoke that wafts from the apartment below. His thoughts are tumultuous then, memories of writhing seas and wind and waves and Liam, of courtrooms and lawyers and just accept the payout, Commander Jones. They’re the bloody Royal Navy, they have resources you can’t hope to match. 

Sometimes though his solitude becomes oppressive, a heavy darkness that sucks the air from his lungs and drives him back onto the streets where he breathes the filthy smog in heaving gulps and then again he walks, among the crowds but not of them, until he finds a bar where people look like they won’t ask questions. 

It’s on one of those days—of all the good days in the year on Christmas Eve—that as he trudges through the greying slush barely a block from his apartment his eye falls upon a door he feels sure he’s never seen before. It’s not in any way a special door, plain brown wood and a foggy window with writing he can’t quite make out, but a jolly little wreath is hung upon it and though he feels about as far removed from the Christmas spirit as any human creature could be, he finds himself pushing it open and going inside. 

The bar he enters is small and worn in the way of well-loved things, the gouged wood of the tables polished to a soft gleam and the cracks in the leather seats carefully mended. Tall rows of bottle-laden shelves line the brick wall behind a carved oak bar that looks far too ancient for this modern land. It takes him all in a rush and flutter of memories back to the England of his childhood, to his mother still untouched by disease and his father not yet embittered by loss, he and Liam free from care as children should be, sneaking from their beds on Christmas Eve and down the back staircase to hide in a toasty corner of the pub and wait for Father Christmas. 

He always awoke on Christmas morning in his bed, presents piled at the foot of it. A small pile, he knows now, but big to his young eyes, and he would wonder aloud how Santa managed to get him and Liam back to bed and deliver their presents as well. And Liam, six years older, would scoff and tell him don’t be stupid, Santa can do anything.   

“What can I get you?” 

The question snaps him back to the present and he realises he’s taken a seat on a leather topped stool at the bar. The woman behind it is smiling at him, a smile he’s certain she gives every patron but its bright warmth soothes him all the same. 

“Rum,” he replies.  

“Any particular kind?” 

“The cheapest you’ve got.” 

She grabs a bottle of a brand he knows is far from the cheapest and pours out a generous measure, places it on a cocktail napkin and slides it in front of him with a look that dares him to make something of it. He accepts her kindness with the most gracious nod he can manage, saluting her with the glass before taking a sip. It goes down smooth and he closes his eyes on a sigh, savouring the spicy richness and mellow burn, a far cry from the second cousin to paint stripper he’s grown accustomed to.

“Thank you,” he says. 

She smiles again. “Merry Christmas.” 

He sips the rum slowly as he falls back into his memories, the earlier ones of brighter days he hasn’t thought of in years, so long they almost feel like they belong to someone else. To the person he was when he was happy, and it surprises him to recall that he was happy, that despite what came later he was once a part of a loving family. It saddens him, how thoroughly he’s forgotten this. A melancholy sort of sadness that makes him long for a different life. 

And that, he thinks, is why he forgot. 

 The moment his glass is empty a new one appears at his elbow; although he didn’t speak to the lovely bartender it seems she anticipated him. 

He doesn’t want to stare at her and yet she draws his gaze. There’s a light within her, a warmth that illuminates her golden hair and makes her green eyes glow. He watches from the corner of his eye as she goes about her job, pouring shots and pulling pints, always with a smile and a kind word. She brightens everything she touches, leaves it a bit better than she found it. 

She’s magic, he thinks, then shakes off the foolish thought. 

He’s deep into his second glass when she pulls a phone from her back pocket and her smile falters as she reads the screen; her light seems to dim and flicker, and without a word she turns and runs from the bar. 

She returns moments later with a small boy in her arms, a lad who can’t be much more than three or four. He’s sound asleep against her shoulder and she cradles him protectively as she confronts the dark-haired man who’s emerged from the back office wearing a stern frown, arms crossed over his chest.

“Emma, you know you can’t have him in here,” the man says. 

“What do you want me to do, August, I can’t leave him home alone!” she implores. “He can sleep on the sofa in your office, he won’t be any trouble—” 

“We can’t have child unsupervised in the bar—” 

“He’s not unsupervised if you’re in the office—”

“I’m heading home in half an hour.”

“August, please—”

“I can look after the lad.” He’s not sure what prompts the offer, perhaps because he’s been recalling his own childhood and the patrons in his father’s pub who never minded him under their feet, who entertained him with tales of their lives on the sea and who, he’s come to realise, lifted some of the burden of childcare from his parents’ shoulders so they could do their jobs. Regardless of where it came from, he means it. It seems the least he can do for this remarkable woman.  

The woman—Emma—turns to him with a look of surprise. “Would you?” 

“If the only obstacle is not having anyone to sit with him, then yes, it would be my pleasure.” 

Emma fixes him him with a hard, searching look, and he is conscious of being measured and assessed and weighed in the balance as never before. Then she nods. “What’s your name?” 

“Killian Jones.” 

“Well, Killian Jones, you’d be saving my neck.” 

He smiles. It feels strange on his face after so long an absence, but also right. “It’s a neck worth saving, love.” 

She laughs. “I’m Emma Swan, and this is Henry. We just live across the street, if you could—” 

“Of course.” He grabs his coat and follows Emma as she heads for the door. 

“August, I’ll be back in fifteen,” she calls over her shoulder. 

“Make it ten.” 

—

The cold outside is bitter, biting. It comes as a shock after the cosy warmth of the bar, and he’s glad Emma was being truthful when she said she lived just across the street. Across it and a bit to the left in a building much like Killian’s own, with solid brickwork and elegantly wrought cornices obscured by grime and years of neglect, its pointing crumbling away under the weight of creeping moss. She leads him through the outer door—its lock is broken, he observes—and up a chilly staircase several flights to a door where he’s relieved to see that the lock is both sturdy and new. He’s prepared to bet Emma installed it herself. 

She unlocks it, balancing Henry on her hip in a practiced manoeuvre, and leads him into a tiny apartment that from his cursory observations strikes him as far too familiar for his liking. He follows her into the bedroom where she lays the boy on a child-sized bed in one corner of the cramped room. There is an adult single bed in another corner, along with a sturdy bureau that takes up most of the remaining space and a rickety chair draped in clothes. A few toys litter the floor around Henry’s bed, and Killian is impressed by the way Emma navigates around them even in the dark. 

She tucks the blankets around her son then gently shakes his shoulder until he wakes. 

“Mom?” Henry murmurs groggily. “Has Santa come?”

“Not yet, baby, but he will. You just have to go back to sleep first.” 

“You woke me up,” Henry points out. Killian feels a grin tug at his lips. Clever lad. 

Emma’s mouth quirks as well. “I know, but Mrs Lucas had an emergency so Killian here is going to look after you until I finish work,” she says. “Is that okay?” 

Henry blinks at Killian and once again he feels his measure being taken by one who knows how to take it. 

“Okay,” says Henry. 

“Good. Just go back to sleep, baby, and if you wake up again Killian will be here.” 

“’kay Mom.” Henry’s eyelids are already drooping. Emma touches Killian lightly on the arm and indicates with a slight jerk of her head that he should follow her again. They retreat to the living room, closing the bedroom door quietly behind them.

“If you need me just call the bar,” Emma says. “The number’s on the fridge and I can be here immediately.” 

“I’m sure everything will be fine, love.” 

She looks at him for a moment with an unreadable expression. He wonders what she sees, and what she thinks of it.  

“Thank you for doing this, Killian,” she says. “Truly.” 

His first impulse is to shrug away her thanks but something deep within him refuses to allow it. She doesn’t often ask for help, of this he’s certain, and although he has no notion of what might have led her to do so he’s deeply honoured that she’s asked it of him. Her gratitude deserves acknowledgement. 

“You’re welcome, Emma,” he replies with another rusty attempt at a smile, rubbing at a spot just below his right ear. “Um, hadn’t you better get back to work? I imagine that boss of yours is counting the seconds until your return.”  

“Probably.” The corners of her lips dance in amusement. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

“I’ll be here.” 

—

After she leaves he finds himself at a bit of a loss, unaccustomed to being alone in other people’s living spaces. He doesn’t want to turn on the television for fear of waking Henry, and Emma doesn’t have much in the way of books. With no other means of passing the time at hand he wanders around her apartment, not wishing to snoop but intensely curious about this young woman and her son. 

The curiosity is new.

Their place is on the surface much like his own, the run-down building, the un-insulated windows, the mould in the corners and the general overlay of grime that no amount of scrubbing could ever shift. It’s grim, the sort of grimness that creeps its way into the soul and slowly sucks it dry.  

And yet. There’s plastic on Emma’s windows, a thin film of it attached with double-sided tape and fitted with a hairdryer. Do-it-yourself insulation. She’s built shelves that hide the cracks in the wall and decorated them, with candles she actually burns and small framed pictures—some of which are clearly Henry’s work—plus some other little knickknacks and art projects of his. In the corner is a small Christmas tree decorated with coloured lights and a few bright baubles jumbled alongside ornaments made of uncooked pasta, glued in the shape of stars and painted gold, and cut-up paper snowflakes. She’s creative and clever and so is her lad, and the effect is far homier and more festive than Killian would ever have imagined it could be. 

She’s trying, this Emma. There’s not much she can do with a place like this, but still she tries, and there’s valour in that effort. It brings a lump to Killian’s throat. How long it seems since he stopped trying. 

He jumps as a noise comes from the bedroom, a small cry that lengthens into a wail. 

“Mamaaa,” cries Henry. 

Killian rushes into the bedroom and then stops, unsure of what to do. He sits on the edge of Henry’s bed, his hand hovering over the small form huddled beneath the blankets. 

“Henry? Lad, it’s Killian. Do you remember me?” 

Henry’s tearstained face appears and he snuffles, and rubs the back of his hand across his nose. He stares at Killian for a moment then nods. “I remember,” he says.

Slowly Killian lets his hand fall on the boy’s shoulder, rubbing it in a way he hopes is soothing. “Your mum’s still at work, but I’m here. What’s the matter?” 

“I had a dream.” 

“A scary one?” 

“Yeah.” Henry’s lip quivers. He looks so distraught, and Killian surprises himself by sliding further onto the bed and reaching out his arm. Henry dives immediately beneath it and snuggles against Killian’s chest, burying his face in it and sniffling some more. Killian swallows past the lump in his throat, breathes through the squeezing pressure in his chest at the feel of the small body pressed against his, at the unbelievable honour of this show of trust.

“Do you want to tell me about your dream?” he asks. 

“No,” says Henry, the word muffled against Killian's sweater but no less decisive for it.  

“Oh. Erm... shall I tell you a story then?” 

“Do you know any stories?” Henry looks up at him, wide-eyed. 

“Aye. Sailors are renowned storytellers.” 

“Are you a sailor?” 

“I was.” 

“Okay.” Henry snuggles closer, adjusts himself so that he can look at Killian while still resting against his shoulder. “Tell me a sailor story. Please.” 

Killian weaves him a tale of a ship lost upon uncharted oceans, of a sailor with a broken heart who in a fit of despair cursed a true lovers’ knot and flung it overboard, which heedless act awakened an eldritch beast from out the briny deep. He tells of how the brave sailors fought against the beast to save their ship, and of how they succeeded, though at the cost of their souls.

It’s rather a dark tale for a child perhaps, but one he loved himself at Henry’s age. He can remember sitting before the fire in the pub, curled in Liam’s lap listening, as wide-eyed and rapt as Henry is now, to the old and weathered sailors as they wove it skilfully around him. Henry is enthralled but as the story unfolds his eyelids grow heavier and his body more relaxed, and by the time Killian has finished recounting the sailors’ terrible fate the boy is sound asleep.

Killian tries to ease him back into his bed but Henry clings to him, tiny fist tight on his sweater. With a sigh, Killian settles down and makes himself as comfortable as possible on the small bed, cradling Henry securely beneath his arm and tucking the blankets around them both. He closes his eyes, just to rest them, he thinks, and moments later he falls soundly asleep. 

-

[unfortunate-arrow]

The July Ball (pt 3)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [ Featuring Tessa & Gracie Chiva from @danceworshipper , Sydney Phoenix from @hufflepuffs-honor , & Henri & Genevieve Rys from @daniella-gisele-rys.]

Part 3: Dinner & Dancing

“So, I think we should go around and introduce ourselves. Say our name and house,” Sara said, breaking the silence. “I’ll start. I’m Sara O’Donnell and I’m in Hufflepuff. As all of you are sure to know, I’m a quadruplet.” 

“Alright, alright. I’m Cara O’Donnell and I’m in Slytherin. I’m Sara’s older sister.” Cara smirked at her sister. 

“By twenty-one minutes! Plus we’re all older than Conor!” 

“H-h-hey!” Conor exclaimed. 

“Anyways! Who wants to go next?” 

“I’ll go. I’m Sydney Phoenix and I’m in Hufflepuff with Sara,” the dark haired girl waved at the group from her spot next to Ryan. 

“I’m Genevieve Rys and I’m in Ravenclaw with my twin brother,” another girl with dark hair said. 

“I’m Henri, Genevieve's twin brother and I’m also in Ravenclaw,” the dark haired boy said. 

“I’m Ryan O’Donnell and I’m in Gryffindor. I’m the oldest!” Ryan said, placing all his emphasis on the word “oldest.” Conor leaned over and flicked Ryan on the ear. Ryan retaliated and very quickly, the two brothers were flicking one another. 

“My god! Can you two go ten minutes without attacking each other?” Sara demanded glaring at her brothers. 

“Uh, I’m Barnaby Lee and I’m also in Slytherin,” the boy interrupted before the three siblings could start in on full fledged bickering. 

“I’m Tessa Chiva and I’m in Slytherin as well,” a third girl with dark hair said. 

“I’m Gracie Chiva. I’m Tessa’s twin sister and in Slytherin, too,” the white haired girl said. 

“I’m Conor O’Donnell. I’m in R-R-R-Ravenclaw,” Conor said, trying to ignore the heat that was making its way up his cheeks. 

There was a lengthy swell of awkward silence before food started to appear on their plates. There was roast chicken, mashed potatoes, slabs of beef, green beans, mac n’ cheese, and, in the center of the table, a large bowl filled with rolls. The kids filled their plates and let the sounds of forks and knives fill the silence.

“Suck it!” Ryan exclaimed, smacking Conor’s hand away from the rolls on his plate. 

“No way, you suck it!” Conor snapped back, reaching a second time to steal a roll, only to get smacked again. 

“Three, two, one! Suck it!” the two boys exclaimed in unison, glaring at one another before dissolving into a whisper argument, where the phrase “suck it” could be heard every three words. 

The six occupants of the table who were not acquainted with Ryan’s and Conor’s behavior stared at them. “Are they always like this?” Gracie asked. 

“Yeah,” Sara answered. Cara smirked and added, “You’re just lucky they didn’t decide to sing it. I can’t tell you how often we have to deal with those two dumbasses yelling or singing ‘suck it’ at one another.” 

“Wow. I think I’m glad I only have one brother if that’s how brothers act,” Sydney said. 

“I think it’s only because we’re all the same age. I’ve never seen another set of brothers act like those two,” Cara said. 

“Ry, Con, knock it off. Oh, and Conor, just take a roll from the bowl, not Ryan’s plate,” Sara exclaimed, exasperatedly. 

“He’s j-just h-hoarding them!” Conor snapped, glaring at his brother. 

“Am not! There are plenty left!” Ryan snapped back.

“Guys! Uncle Doyle,” Cara hissed, effectively ending any further argument on the issue of rolls and whether Ryan was hoarding them or not. 

They fell into another awkward silence. 

“So, uh, why did your uncle look at my step-mom so weirdly?” Sydney asked, breaking the silence. 

“Oh. Is she muggleborn?” Ryan asked. 

“Yeah.”

“That’s why. Our dad is a ‘filthy mudblood.’” 

“He’s like my parents,” Barnaby said. 

“If by that you mean a jackass, then yes,” Ryan said, earning an elbow to the gut from Conor this time.

“Let me apologize for my brother, Barnaby. He doesn’t think before he speaks,” Sara said, offering the Slytherin boy a shy smile as Ryan faked a hurt gasp. 

“It’s okay. He’s not wrong.” Barnaby returned Sara’s smile, his cheeks turning an unnoticed pink. 

Once dinner had finished, gentle, orchestral music began to fill the ballroom. The adults began to pair off and soon, the ballroom was filled with dancing couples. The kids stood up and moved to the wall, as the tables began to move themselves out of the way. They looked at one another uncomfortably, none quite sure what they should do. 

“Uncle Doyle sh-sh-should have ch-chosen The Who,” Conor muttered under his breath. 

“He wouldn’t touch The Who with a fifty foot pole for two reasons, Con. Firstly, it’s not dancing music,” Cara said. 

“Y-y-you could dance to ‘Bargain’ or ‘Love Ain’t For Keeping.’” 

“Sure you could, Con. Secondly, and most importantly, The Who are a muggle band. Uncle Doyle despises anything muggle-related.” 

“Well, we should probably get on with dancing,” Ryan said interrupting his siblings. 

The kids awkwardly paired off and quietly made their way onto the dance floor. Ryan locked his hands together as his arms wound around Sydney’s neck. The two kids swayed together, with Ryan leading the best he could. 

“So. What are you looking forward to next year?” Sydney asked. 

“Uh. Care of Magical Creatures sounds fun,” Ryan said. 

“Yeah, I think that class will be really fun, too. I love creatures and animals.”

“Yeah, they’re alright. I really like my toad, Lir. Plus, the four of us share a cat, Duchess, and an owl, Archimedes.” 

“Why’d you choose those names?”

“Lir’s a sea god in Irish mythology, but he’s also a king, whose kids were turned into swans. Duchess is from The Aristocats while Archimedes is from The Sword in The Stone. They’re muggle movies.” 

“Ah.”

Meanwhile, Conor was awkwardly dancing with Tessa. Ninety-nine percent of the boy’s concentration was on his feet. He did not want to step on Tessa’s feet. He also had no sense of timing which made it hard to do anything fancier than swaying. 

“Do you like quidditch?” Tessa asked, and Conor looked up from his feet, frowning. 

“Huh?” His cheeks felt warm, but at least this time it wasn’t because of his stammer. 

“Do you like quidditch?” 

“Oh. Y-yeah. I play s-s-s-seeker.” His cheeks burned even more. 

“I play chaser. Are you on your house team?”

“Y-yes. After R-R-R-Ryker got h-hurt and quit. Ryan and Cara both play ch-chaser.” 

“What team do you support?” 

“Oh, we s-support the Kenmare Kestrels and the Ballycastle Bats.” 

“You support two teams? Most people only support one.”

“Well, the Bats and Kestrels are the only Irish teams. The Bats are N-n-northern Ireland, which is the UK. The K-kestrels are the R-r-republic. Mum’s mum was from Northern Ireland, while the m-majority of the f-f-family is from the R-r-r-republic.” 

“Wow. You’ve really thought about it.” 

“Eh. Not r-r-really.” 

Meanwhile, Cara had forgone all traditional ideas and had ended up dancing with Gracie. At least, after she had danced with Henri, where the two had also discussed quidditch and classes for the next year. 

“Why didn’t you stare at me like I had two heads?” Gracie asked after a few moments of silence. 

“Well, we’re used to getting stares all the time. We are quadruplets, and Conor stammers. I figured that you wouldn’t want to be stared at. I know I hate it when we get stared at,” Cara answered. 

“Oh. I’ve seen you around the common room and in classes, but nowhere else.” 

“I’m usually hanging out with Ryan, Sara, Conor, Ash and Rowan Khanna, Ben Copper, Penny Haywood, and the two Weasley boys after classes.”

“Oh. So you don’t spend much time in the common room?”

“Nah. Although, Sara will probably pester me to get to know Barnaby better.” 

“He’s not the brightest, but he does have a kind heart.”

“Yeah, he can’t be too bad if Sara likes him. Then again, I’m not sure how many people Hufflepuffs instantly dislike.”

“They are probably the most likely to give people a chance.”

The two girls grinned and kept dancing. 

Meanwhile, Sara found herself with her arms wrapped around Barnaby’s neck. There was something thrilling about being so close to a cute boy. They swayed gently to the music, neither having danced much before. 

“I’m sorry if I step on your toes,” Barnaby said. 

“I’m sorry if I step on your toes, too,” Sara replied 

“Doyle, I don’t know why you invited mudbloods,” a woman said suddenly, her voice carrying throughout the whole ballroom.  

Barnaby groaned, his eyes sliding shut. “That’s my mother.” 

“Come dear, it’s well known that many pure-bloods must interbreed with the less clean. That includes you, Doyle,” a male voice added. 

“My father,” Barnaby groaned again. 

“Yes, I’m aware of my blood status, Lyra, Cygnus.” Doyle’s voice was very intense and nearly every person in the ballroom had frozen. 

“Yes, well, we do all remember that your father had been disowned and only gained this manor because your grandfather was arrested,” Cygnus Lee said. 

“There was no solid evidence that Tadhg Lynch was murdered by my grandfather,” Doyle replied, his voice infused with venom. 

While the loud conversation had started, the ten kids had all drifted back to the chairs against the wall. As it grew more heated, a couple appeared and beckoned Sydney to come with them. The girl waved at the other kids and said, “It was nice to meet you. Hopefully we’ll see more of each other.” It wasn’t long before the Rys twins joined their parents in leaving. It appeared that the loud conversation about “mudbloods” had cleared out nearly half the guests. 

“Well, not everyone can be a part of the sacred twenty-eight,” Doyle snapped. 

“Well, we don’t have any mudbloods in our recent heritage. Your mother was one as was your brother-in-law,” Cygnus said. 

Cara groaned and sighed. “This is why Slytherin has such a bad reputation.” 

“Yep,” Gracie agreed, as both Tessa and Barnaby nodded. The seven remaining kids sighed and listened to the heated debate about blood status. 

“Is he going to hex someone?” Ryan asked, his leg bouncing. 

“My parents may,” Barnaby muttered.

“I hope not,” Sara said. 

“Wait. Did we know that our great-grandfather was arrested for killing his own brother?” Ryan asked. 

“N-no,” Conor answered. 

“Damn. Mum’s side is messed up.” 

“Not as messed as our mother’s side. She’s a Black,” Gracie offered. 

“Yeah, we’ve got Cain and Abel though.”

“Who?” 

“Cain and Abel are from a muggle religion, Christianity. Basically, one brother murdered the other.” 

“Oh.” 

The kids fell back into silence, only interrupting to have a few odd chats here and there. 

“Girls, we’re leaving now,” the paranoid man from before said to the Chiva twins.

“It was nice to meet you guys. Maybe we’ll see you around Hogwarts,” Gracie said, before she and Tessa waved and followed their parents out of the ballroom. 

It was nearing eleven when Doyle finally allowed the quadruplets to head off to bed. Most of the guests had left by then, and all four siblings were dead on their feet 

Ryan grinned, his arms draped over Conor’s and Sara’s shoulders. “Well, at least Uncle Doyle won’t hex us.” 

“That’s ‘cause he was too busy trying to impress all those rich and powerful dudes to notice our bickering,” Cara said, rolling her eyes. 

“Well, he still won’t hex us.”

[shallowgravesrp]

“These chains will not hold me down, they'll break and fall to the ground.”

Emmeline Vance

Age: Twenty-Three

House: Ravenclaw

Affiliation: Order Member

Career: Dragonologist

aesthetics: there is no such thing as impossible. perfect precision. dragon scales, a glass of wine, the inability to cook, hope and good intentions, compassion is my middle name, fire breather, piles of books, burgundy tones, chap-stick in every room, extract of genius, party avoider, a field of sunflowers, warm bubble baths, pinkie promises, candles everywhere, a photographic memory, wrinkled nose, chronic nail biter.

what we all know: Emmeline Vance was never going to reach her full potential, she had shoes that were too big to full and it was clear she took the easy way out. Her parents passing left her misfiring with no direction to go but down, without Marcel she wouldn’t be anywhere. It’s evident to everyone that she had no solid ground to stand out without her family... so she went out and made a new one. How long before she loses this one too?

As the daughter of two Aurors with hours that were numerous, Emmeline was taught to be self sufficient from a young age. She was loved, she was well taken care of but with a high pressure career posed by each parent it was easy to see why their daughter was often left on the back burner. Books were what looked after her and she wasn’t seen without one very often. The ones she picked were not stories of princesses nor were they the Tales of Beedle The Bard but instead they were the spell books that belonged to her parents. As a child the spells were nothing more than words on a paper that she was unable to put into motion. Most were far too advanced for a child to comprehend but Emmeline was still willing to read, learning correct pronunciations and the usefulness of magic in the world around her. It was her mother who first realized what she was doing, questioning her and learning of the photographic memory that Emmeline possessed.

The promise of what awaited her at Hogwarts was one that she could hardly hold her excitement with as she boarded the train and found herself faced with the next seven years of her life. With help from her uncanny ability to look at something and recall it with ease there was no wonder why the Ravenclaw excelled in her studies. But no amount of photographic memory could help with her inability to put herself out there to make friends. Her intelligence were off the charts but Emmeline seemed to lack the drive to want to make friends. She hid behind her books much like she had at home. Her Head of House was concerned, expressing worry to her parents that she wouldn’t reach her full potential unless she made friends. For that reason her parents elected to leave her at Hogwarts for Christmas break hopeful it would cause the eleven year old to break out of her comfort zone. It was that lucky event that lead to her meeting Dirk Cresswell, a muggleborn who assisted in breaking through the exterior that Emmeline held, foraging a friendship that would last them for the rest of their lives.

After Hogwarts there was speculation that with a memory like hers and the family background she possessed that she’d follow the family mantle and join the Auror career. The pressure was heavy so instead of a direct answer she took the summer after to travel. The States, Egypt, The Maldives and Spain where ever she could go she did, spending however long she wished in each of the places. Every life has what could be called a defining moment and Emmeline’s came in the form of Romania. It was recommended that she stop in the Dragon Sanctuary there and the moment her eyes fell upon the majestic creatures her heart skipped a beat. She’d read about them in her studies, even wrote an essay or two but nothing could have prepared her for the connection that she felt. Returning home she announced that she was going to become a Dragonologist, a waste of potential the eyes of her father but that was irrelevant given that she knew this was what she was meant to be doing. It was the joy that it brought their daughter that elected for them to give her the money that was needed and from there Vance Dragon Sanctuary was born. Her ability to train the creatures was a marvel, thus leading to many approaching her with hopes of acquiring a dragon from her. but Emmeline didn’t trust easily and for that reason alone she hand picked who would match best with the dragon’s she raised.  

While her friend group never expanding much in Hogwarts it would be later after graduation that she would find herself opening to more people. The Order being the first group of people that she considered herself blessed to know, for the first time in her life she succeeded at forging friendships outside of the one she shared with Dirk. She excelled in the structure that the Order gave her and proved to her parents even more with the missions that she took that she should have joined the Auror career. It would be a constant tale of how she never lived up to her potential until the faithful night where everything changed as just a few short months ago on a mission off the record for the Order the Vance Aurors’ walked into a trap set by Death Eaters. The two fought till their last breath but were taken down in the end, the odds not in their favor as it was rumored they were outnumbered heavily. The loss took a toll on Emmeline, devoting herself more to the dragons at her sanctuary, and throwing herself into the Order.

It was clear that Emmeline lacked self-preservation and a question of her mental stability came into question. Had she thrown herself back into missions too quickly? While she succeeded in all she was doing there was the simple fact that the methods she took put not only her life in danger but the lives of those around her. Emmeline was pushed back from missions and instead put on ‘desk duty’ for the Order for her own safety. There was now two holes in her heart, the first empty from the void of no longer having any family and the second caused by the void of purpose. That changed when Marcel came into her focus. It was he that helped her find a reason to live again in spite of the disaster they were currently living through. 

A war is brewing around them, something made evident by the pressure it clear her boyfriend feels from his mother--too quiet for either of them to fully relax. They’re constantly looking over their shoulder for the next bad thing, especially now that their daughter made an entrance in the world a year ago. Granted, finding happiness has become a little easier and the holes in her heart have nearly mended thanks to the family she created.

MARCEL MCKINNON - She didn’t see Marcel coming, but isn’t that how the best love stories start? The other person sneaks up on you and takes you by surprise. He’s the love of her life and the father of her daughter. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for him.

DIRK CRESSWELL - Her best friend in every sense of the word, it was Dirk that convinced her to break out of her shell. He’d been her biggest support system through every step of her life.

KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT - When she is lucky enough to get out on Order missions it’s Kingsley that she’s partnered with. He’s level headed and focused on the task at hand--it seems that he is the exact opposite of her. They work well together because of that.

Emmeline Vance is currently a TAKEN role with the faceclaim of Chloe Bennett. She is played by Admin Ash. 

[hereliesbitches--me]

@visiblekindness asked: “We have ruined each other. Haven’t we?“ Young nakeee maiden and Sphinx lovers

A Moon is a vessel of Death,   keepers of divine life just as much as they are the extension of  Reapers. 

That , Rosie has known since the moment she awakened to this universe. Since she was assigned to her role as the guardian of the lost. When she became bound to this world, she became tied to a singular duty to protect these lands and its inhabitants from ever evolving humanity; The Lady of the Moon swore her life to keeping order and peace for all those under her light -- And yet, that sworn duty had seemingly become more.. Complex, as of late, when the fine line of duty and personal feelings began to blur together.  Because of that girl. The Herald of Death and Destruction finds herself weakened by an attachment far too personal for a celestial to have ever maintained.Yet the Sphinx’s heart strays with doubt and guilt -- not for having the feelings in the first place, but for the curse placed upon that girl for ever loving the Moon guardian who could never give her what she deserved. Thus now, the celestial makes the effort of placing a wedge between herself and the stubborn flower, for the sake of the girl’s mortal heart.

      When night falls, the cool air brings a soothing sense of serenity as the day’s heat evaporates away. The gears transition, from day to night, when the nocturnal life begins to stir from the underoots and walk about the surface fauna and foliage. This scene was Rosie’s favorite part.. Watching how life flourished before her eyes, the dawn for the creatures of her night.. Silhouetted with the soft glow of bio-luminescence the forest provided, she smiled to herself and sighed within her perch. From the cliffside, she could oversee the boundaries of her forest along the edge, ranging from the dark sea coast, to the speck of light in the distance where humanity lay undoubtedly raising hell as they often did. With the cover of darkness she dawns her true skin and stands as the blue spectre guardian, a fallen star among the people -- soon enough, Rosie should be making her rounds.. But she’s avoiding it. With good cause. Even from the height which she stands,  Rosie can see the lights dying down among the Tribe Angels below as the last rowdy members with their younglins finally go down for a rest… With them, she hopes, is her troublesome girl.

 “ Its for her own good…”  Muttered to no one in particular, Rosie lost count of the amount of times she uttered the sentence to herself in solitude when she made the effort to set a divide. She watched from the distance as the final lanterns went out.. And at last, the full nature of night takes overs the forest many called home. She waited some more..      Seconds, minutes.. Had it been an hour? Pacing restlessly like a lioness within her den, after she had the confidence that Lauren slept soundly among the others, she could emerge from her perch. A heavy breath escaped, one she had no memory of holding til she passed her reflection within the trickling pools of the cave, then she paused. Staring back were a set of eyes much darker than her own.. The spider-like Darkmoon glared blue daggers to her light, “ This is ridiculous, Rose. She’s impeding our duty.

   All this for a human..” 

Rosie can’t quite blame her other for her malice upon her.. venom dripped from the voice within herself,  the Light’s colors dim and her figure loses its opacity in her uneasy retreat. Dalia was far more practical than herself.. The better, efficient side as all DarkMoons should be. From the moment the girl blossomed into a woman, the Dark held bitter, pragmatic feelings in the trouble that would brew upon the gentle heart of the Light who was swayed easily by such a thing. Rosie knows well , the truth.. But her flawed heart continues to be their downfall. She draws her arms towards herself and stares back with wavering strength to keep her confidence,  “ Its not her fault. Its Mine. And I was about to leave anyhow! I just wanted to let things unfold..” 

“ You are a terrible liar, when it comes to me. You can’t hold secrets from yourself.” 

The figment scuffed, to which the Light’s colors returned to a bright whitened blush upon her cheeks. Filling into a solid shape, the Moon pursed her lips and jabbed a finger at the water in retaliation,  “ I’ll have you know-! ” “ Be still.”

Abruptly, two become one with a cold fusion of essence -- two minds aligning, defenses raised by the Dark that writhes about her Light. Rosie freezes, exhales a frosty breath, then reestablishes herself towards the stony walkway just by the den’s opening. Dalia coils tighter within herself.. Bringing a tension to the Light’s limbs with a narrowed gaze upon approaching presence. It takes time for her to settle and truly feel recognition.. But It was the Dark who huffed when the answer came to her first.

“ Its that Child Pet of yours..”

“Lauren?”

 Dalia retreated to the shadows of conscience as Rosie lit up in a show monochromatic shades of swirling blues. Indeed, it was that girl.. That young, moss and flower covered girl under a messy head of curls trudging up the cold stone where she shouldn’t have wandered. Excitement quickly fades and her colors dim softly when she realizes, yet again , her vow for distance has been broken. Rosie repeats her name in a low, somber murmur, “ Lauren…” You shouldn’t be here , she wants to say at first. The Sphinx drifts and flows with animate life, flicking in a spark to greet the maiden by the doorway, and stop her with what little will she has. “ You should be sleeping with the others..”       Better.  Rosie has not bitten her tongue in a jumble.  “ I told you, its safer down there.. You belong among them.   Not in this old crow’s den of death.”

      Contact to the warm copper skin , even through the essence of a celestial, tingles through her nerves upon the amiable hand on Lauren’s shoulders. Rosie makes it a point to avoid the maiden’s deep blue gaze, weaponized easily in an unnatural power held over most supernatural beings.. To stare deeply, she could find herself drowning in them. Drowning and falling into an age old cycle, only to be pulled out and reprimanded by the vicious Dark that keeps her light safe. Keeping them still at the entrance, Rosie lightly turns the girl away with a guiding hand on the small of her back, “ I was just about to make my rounds…” “ But I wanted to see you..”  Lauren’s squeaky voice ebbs with lethargy.. Its clear she’s woken from sleep just to come up here. Rosie makes it a point to resist, to gawk elsewhere, and continues to coax her away, “ You see me. Now its time for bed, where good humans and angels should be..” “ Please,” Lauren reached out and tangled her hand within the celestial’s hanging sleeve, her bare feet scuffing upon the cold stone demanding the Moon halt her pushing. And it works, for Rosie is caught off guard, and falls prey to the blue ocean pleadingly staring at her. Lauren, in a move she’d done countless times, wraps herself within the silky blue robes of her guardian and presses close to Rosie’s cool skin. “ Please, I can’t sleep. Can’t I just stay with you? Just for tonight?” Just for the night.. The Sphinx had agreed to that so many times, swearing to be the last time, and there was no doubt that this would repeat again. The Moon’s light shaped figure flickers with Rosie’s hesitation, a visible strain on her face as Dalia fights within the thin layer of light to push the girl away or outright fling her. Fortunately, the Light holds her strength with an exasperated groan,  “ Child, I have rounds to make..  I’ve neglected my duties enough tending to you.”  Rosie cringed at the unintentional harshness of her own words and quickly turned her face away from the sapphire honey trap set by the maiden’s eyes, choosing instead to stare at the mossy covered stone walls beyond Lauren’s messy hair. She makes reparations with her reasoning, her hand raising to stroke through the curly locks with her signature tenderness,  “ What I mean to say is.. Even if I did stay, I’ll be gone by morning.. I’ll be leaving too check on the other safe havens, and you know it may be a while..” 

   Though, Lauren doesn’t know it’s intentional that Rosie keeps away. 

There’s no doubt in her mind that if the Sphinx dared to look, she might crumble at the hurt written across the flower maiden’s face with the reality placed before them. Rosie makes a move and tries to carefully break away from Lauren’s hold as sympathetically as she could.. But Lauren’s insistent grip tightening demands her attention. The maiden’s face is determined as she replies sharply,  “ Which is more of a reason why I want to stay with you tonight..”  Rosie’s will is slowly cracking and it shows with her dimming colors. For a fleeting moment she is silent, mauling over her answer while faced off against a deadly, persistent opponent. Lips pressed into a fine line, Rosie let her head fall back and stared up towards the starry sky. “ If I stay with you til you fall asleep.. Will you be satisfied?” Lauren beamed a brilliant smile and nodded with childish youth and a cartoonish bop of curls following her head,  “ Promise I will.”        “ Just for tonight..” Rosie concedes to her defeat. It was only then that Lauren let her go. Turning on her heels, the bareskinned flower maiden was prepared to waltz up to the den, til swiftly her feet no longer touched the ground and she was left floating in air with a black misty mass wrapped around her waist. Lauren's startled, confused, and looks towards the guardian with furrowed brows and pouting lips, “ What are you doing…?” Rosie drifts lazily towards her.. A dreary, melancholic smile worn as black dissipates into her essence, and her arms now wrap around the maiden's soft body to support the weight, “ I told you, you don’t belong in a crow’s den of death. Little Flowers like you belong among the tribes, in groups where you aren’t alone.” The girl puffed her cheeks, lips parting to whine in protest, only to be silenced by Rosie’s quick kiss upon her button nose..

Then , together , they flew.

       To fly with Rosie was different than flying with the winged Angels. It was not a crude attempt to hold on for dear life while you clung to the back, or dangled within the strong arms of the hunting members that took to the sky -- the wind did not whip by and deafen your senses, or blind you as your eyes dried out and watered painfully. The raw physics seemed to lack entirely, for the world was but an aspect to manipulate to the existence of a celestial… held within the arms of the Moon, there is a calming serenity which overtakes Lauren as she huddles close to the Light. To fly with a Moon was akin to flying within a dream.. Weightless, surreal, and fantastical as all laws of the waking world are disregarded for the pure joy of flight. Above here, Lauren could see the entirety of their domain, of the kingdom she had grown within and loved with every fiber of her being… surrounded by creatures that looked nothing like her, and feared anyone who did. A bird's eye view, a perspective which Lauren would never have seen on her own were it not for the spirits and beings who took her to places no human would ever get a chance to see. In that moment, the flower maiden shifted her gaze and caught a glimpse of her guardian in her most natural state: Fierce, focused.. Tinged by an eternal blue gloom that clung to the light, no matter how brightly she shined as the Beacon of Hope. Rosie may not have looked at her, but a pang struck within Lauren’s beating chest at the sight… when normally she would chat, point towards the earth below them and coo a joke to spur a laugh out of her Sphinx, she is stricken to silence by a twisting feeling. The flower merely smiles in the soft blue light.. Loosening her breaths soundlessly, she closed her eyes and nestled closer. The flight she hoped would have lasted forever far sooner than she hoped. 

    Seamlessly, Rosie floats downward, til her feet connected upon the thick surface root of an ancient tree as they stand at the base. A private little cubby, close but out of the way of wandering habitants that make their living in the night. Carefully then, she slides Lauren from her arms and set her upon the grassy earth, in the center of the circular nest of roots. Rosie smiled,  “ There we are. Didn’t shake the sleep out of you too much, did I?”      “ I wasn’t tired..”  Lauren grinned sleepily, definitely, but her puffy eyes and drooping lids could not deceive. Rosie chuckled lightly and shook her head, “ You are an awful liar, my little flower..” “ Lay with me…” Lauren, unbothered by the dirt and thin grass beneath her, settled down into a comfortable sitting position. She held out her arms expectantly, perceptive of her lover’s subtle flash of hesitance when Rosie gave a wary look around them.. Nonetheless, she gives in and dissolves away into a mass of glowing mist, wavering down to the Maiden's side, then remainfesting around her. Lauren’s body was incredibly soft.. Smooth skinned and cushioned by light layers of added weight Rosie couldn’t help but compare to hugging a toy. Though she dared not voice it.. Feigning pain, Rosie hissed playfully, “ This isn’t very comfortable..” Lauren snuggled closer, her sleepy smile widening while her hand reached back to stroke the ethereal cheek of the celestial,  “ You make a fine bed..” “ I can make one better, so you won’t have aches when you wake up..” At once, the ground crackles with the wet shifting of fresh soil. A sound familiar to the residence under the Moon’s dominion, as lush foliage and flower blooms break through the surface and blossom beneath their bodies as padded cushioning.. Elevating them so slightly, fresh green vines snake their way over the ancient roots of the elder tree and splash colorful life through the flowers that swirl and open upon the dark , aging roots. What was once a worn place of thin grass and moist dirt had now become a lush pit of green life, a perfect nest for a nymph to rest in the safety of the forest and its seedlings. Rosie pressed a gentle kiss to Lauren’s temple, “ Better..? ”  “ You didn’t have to..”  Lauren willed open her eyes, a tenderness within them, as Rosie looked beyond her. Huddled safely in the warmth of the goddess, Lauren relaxed, but did not close her eyes… not yet. “ Now little one, A promise is a promise..” Rosie’s hands skim and trace up the maiden’s arms.. then  rest, politely folded at the center of Lauren's chest, just above her beating heart, “ Sleep..”

But how could she? Lauren laid awake in silence, breathing in and out in the arms of the sacred guardian… waiting for something. Anything from the Moon. Some sort of acknowledgement, or sentiment. And the minutes sicked on painfully.. The pang in her chest grows.. Til Finally, Lauren can’t seem to take it anymore.. She cracks the silence with a remorseful, bittersweet question.

“We have ruined each other. Haven’t we?”

Its abrupt, unsuspected, and it stops everything. Of all things to be heard from the maiden... The world is still, but the air grows colder.. Rosie makes no movements from her position, yet it feels like the slightest ice runs down lauren’s shoulder when the sphinx whispers against her, “ It that what you think, little one?

     That we’ve ruined each other?..” 

Distorted , wavering unnaturally in an agglomeration of voices, Lauren squirmed to turn and face Rosie, only to be caught by the neck and held in place.  “ Please,” The voice strains,       “ Stay still..” Normally warm fingers suddenly felt so cold.. Trembling, they apply the slightest pressure, then release again. They held her firmly, dangerously. Lauren, however, calmly stared at the star above. A small, forlorn smile worn on her lips. “ It's alright...I understand, Rose..”  Her small hands raise and caress the celestial blue that holds her as they darken to near shades of black. Rosie twitched.. Then cowered within the shoulder of her flower maiden, releasing the neck now as both her own palms cradle Lauren’s head,

“ Now, Listen to me..”   She can’t bring herself to meet Lauren’s face, turned away in shame, she speaks lowly in her lament,  “ Understand that you’ve done nothing wrong.. You haven’t ruined me, because I’ve been ruined since the day of my creation..”  

Her pained glare only bleeds through the earth as her figure trembles and loses its opacity, “ Its I who’ve ruined you, my flower.... I made you love something you should have never loved, and it seems I’ve ruined your heart... that just won’t run to when it should be held and nurtured..”

It eats her alive. That very notion she knows is reality, that the unlovable Moon has stolen the heart of a mortal who would now only know tragedy..  It kills her, because she is the ruiner of good things.. The herald of death kills everything it touches, even if she loves it.. There are no exceptions.

The tears well and spill from her glowing eye as she chokes out, “ And this is why.. You have to forget me.”

And Sleep

“ N-NO..!” There was no stopping it. 

The feeling bleeds into the heart first, cold and heavy, pumps with every beating pulse. The transfer of energy can’t be resisted as Lauren’s veins light up with the Moon’s essence, a tingling warmth that begins to fog and dull her senses and shroud the world in creeping blackness. The call from the void that wills heaviness and the need for sleep, the flower maiden’s will battles fruitlessly to fend off the force taking over her subconscious to sink heavily into a blanket of dreams… Lauren gasped as her vision fades, as the last bit of reality she can make out is the mournful, weeping face of the mighty Moon guardian cradling her body, she wheezed with her last ounce of strength, “ Y-You’ve cheated...! You.. s-stay..!...” As light dies away and Lauren sinks deeper into the endless sea of her mind, peace soothes the straining and overcomes at last when the maiden is laid peacefully within the sanctity of the forest’s vines and leafy growth to protect her bareness from the world. Sleeping, while memories alter and dissipate like the falling leaves in the changing seasons. For a while, Rosie simply stood there and studied her while she slept.. Frozen, grieving for what was, even if she knows it was for the best. When at last she turned away, Dalia whispered her approval in the back of her mind.. 

“ You’ve saved her.”

In the shadow of the night, the Moon vanished in the shape of a bird after making her rounds and securing the borders for a long absence.

When the flower maiden should rise with the morning sun, with her absence goes the memories of the Guardian who loved a mortal woman, and a young woman who loved the unreachable. Til she makes her return, Lauren will have a chance to fill the space where a bleeding heart with an unknown wound would be..

[thatgoddamnwizard]

Fic for Amcracchius: Only the Monsters Survive

((First of the fic prompts! This is for @amcracchius​, who asked that Michael give Harry a bear hug. Okay, no bear hug in this part, but it’s going to be a two-parter, and there will be a good, solid bear hug in that. Before the bear hug comes angst. You knew there would be angst. ;)

This is set in the Hell’s Angels, Heaven’s Rejects verse (also to be archived over at @hellsangelsheavensrejects​, though I still need to put up all the threads there), and takes place shortly after The Hidden Things (which yes, still needs to be finished).

Part 2 is coming soon!))

____________________________

The world faded in around me like the opening scene of a movie, and the first thing I saw was the empty street I had been standing in. For a minute, I thought I could hear someone shouting my name.

And then everything was silent, eerily so, a conspicuous absence of the usual Chicago din of rumbling motors, blaring horns, roaring jets flying overhead, the pitch and yaw of human movement. It was an absence of sound that wasn't so much like the beats of silence between a breath held and expelled, as it was like the vast emptiness that seems to fill a room after a last breath is exhaled. It was the silence of death.

It was a silence I would never grow fully accustomed to.

I started to walk, because there wasn't anything else to do in this gutted, burned-out wasteland of ruined buildings and crumbling asphalt and slowly rusting automobiles, the decaying remains of human civilization left to the reclamation of nature, and the monsters.

Only the monsters had survived. I tried not to think about what that might mean about my own survival.

I tried not to think about the fact that everyone I loved was dead.

I tried not to think about the things I had done to the people I loved. The suffering I had caused with my choices.

I tried not to think about the fact that those choices were probably why I was here now, alone with the monsters.

I tried not to think about how damned lonely I was. About how long it had been since I had felt the brush of human fingers against my skin, the softness of lips pressed against mine, the warmth of a caring embrace. About how much I missed... everyone. Murphy. Susan. Wynonna. Michael. Maggie. Weatherly. And... someone I couldn't quite remember, though somehow I knew he was still there somewhere, locked away in a hidden place within my mind.

Gone. All of them. I missed them. I missed them so much it felt like an open wound salted with despair.

I could see the monsters, lurking in the periphery, watching from the shadows of abandoned buildings as I shuffled past, figures twisted and grotesque and hungry. Always hungry. Their prey had been hunted into extinction, and now they had no one left to hunt but each other.

And me.

I didn't make it easy for them. I carried loops strung with their teeth and claws on my belt, a warning that I was not and would never be an easy target. They still came after me, though, on a fairly regular basis. I guess instinct wills out. Instince and hunger and sheer, bloodthirsty violence.

Three hunched, deformed figures ventured from their hiding places and approached me, hissing and snarling and slavering, lifting their heads to scent the air as they drew close. I stopped walking, fingers flexing around the rough-carved wood of my staff.

Again, I heard that echo of a familiar voice, as if carried on the wind. I shook my head, frowning, trying to hear, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

I looked back at the ghouls.“Might want to reconsider, fellas.”

The ghouls didn't reconsider.

The first one hurled itself at me with a leonine roar, and I whipped my staff around with a snarled word, expelling a blast of kinetic energy that sent it slamming into a stalled-out car hard enough to crumple the metal and send the vehicle rolling. While I was occupied with that one, the other two closed in fast on either side.

I dove into a forward roll. The two ghouls smacked together like a couple of speeding locomotives, and fell in a tangle of elongated limbs and flashing claws. Spinning low to the ground with staff still in hand, I came up into a crouch facing the thrashing ghoul-tangle, called on Winter, and, with an explosion of indescribably frigid, frost-sharpened air and a shout of “Infriga!” encased the two of them in ice. I then turned and gave the same treatment to the third ghoul.

A couple of kinetic blasts shattered the ice and the ghouls trapped inside. I didn't need a pair of pliers to retrieve my trophies this time.

I found a few teeth that were reasonably intact among the remains. I couldn't quite tell which teeth were from which ghoul, but I figured it didn't really matter. Walking over to an office building that somehow still had a reflective pane of dark glass set in its frame, I leaned my staff against the glass and pulled loose the leather cord that held a variety of fangs and claws dangling from small holes bored into the bone. I started to fold myself into a squat so I could prepare the teeth, but I caught sight of myself in the glass.

There is a moment of disconnect, even panic, when you look into a mirror and see something looking back at you that isn't you, that should never be you. I found myself grabbing for my staff and calling up my power again, my lips pulled back into a snarl that exactly mirrored that of the creature in the window.

The creature was of a height with me. It had the same basic bone structure, the same build. But its eyes were glacial-blue, its skin deathly white and stretched thin over jutting cheekbones, horned joints, and ropy muscle, its fingers tipped with translucent claws, its mouth filled with jagged, shark-like teeth.

It grabbed a staff at exactly the same time that I grabbed mine. It snarled at me in exactly the same way I snarled at it. Its body coiled with tension and barely-restrained violence in exactly the same way mine did.

The disconnect... connected. That figure was me. I was the monster in the mirror.

I could only stand, gaping. Minutes melted past, and I reached up to touch the glass, finger to reflected finger.

I was the monster in the mirror.

The voice returned, and this time I heard it clearly. A terribly, exquisitely familiar battle cry: Lava quod est sordium! In nomine Dei, sana quod est saucium!

Michael? But that was impossible. Michael had...

How had Michael died? I frowned, trying to remember.

I knew it had happened. I knew it had been my fault. I just couldn't remember how.

Was he coming for me? The monster in the mirror?

“No. This isn't happening,” I murmured. Something inside me snapped to awareness at those words.

And then the glass in front of me, and the reflection it held, shattered-- no, exploded, a spray of razor-sharp mirror fragments that swept over me, leaving a thousand tiny lacerations on my skin. I was thrown, landing on my back on the pavement.

And then I woke up. It felt like being hurled from a speeding train. My body shuddered and convulsed, then curled itself into a fetal position, weak and shivering.

“Harry,” a familiar voice said, strained with worry. I felt strong hands on me. “Harry, it's over. You're safe.”

I couldn't answer. The hands shifted on me, calloused warmth pressing against the clammy skin of my forehead, and I heard Michael's voice murmur a prayer for strength and healing. The words ran together like melting wax in my mind as I heard them, but I could feel their meaning. Could feel the power of his faith, the power vested in response to his faith. Not a surge of energy, not a blast of magic flooding through me, but something all made of a boundless, gentle strength. Warm. Reassuring.

The weakness in my body receded slowly like an ebbing tide. I lifted my head and looked around, memories starting to creep back into place. Alerted by the Paranet, we had gone to a nearby town to investigate a number of disappearances, and had encountered... I'm actually not sure what it was we had encountered. It had resembled a spider, but with a vaguely humanoid torso and head-- and I do mean vaguely. Mottled skin, a multitude of gleaming red eyes, and fangs that dripped with venom weren't exactly what I would call human.

The thing had been fast as hell. It had bitten me. And then I had fallen into that nightmare, which I felt fairly certain was part dream, part psychic attack.

And part truth.

I am the monster in the mirror.

“Harry?” Michael was still crouched beside me. Amoracchius was stained black with what I presumed was the spider-thing's blood. I looked around me for any evidence of its lingering presence, but only saw a disturbingly large but rapidly evaporating puddle of ectoplasm about a dozen feet away.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “I'm good.”

Slowly, I started dragging myself to my feet. Michael kept a hand on me, supporting me. I realized my face was wet with tears, and blinked them away, swiping at them with one hand. Dizziness was still playing a lively game of ring-around-the-rosie inside my head, but whatever venom the spider-thing had injected into my nervous system had apparently dissolved as well. I hoped it would evaporate before I had any interesting complications from it.

“Harry,” Michael said, and I recognized that tone of voice. The tone of voice he used when he was determined to get me to talk about something I had absolutely no desire to talk about. “What happened? What did you see?”

“Doesn't matter.” I walked a few paces, retrieved my staff where it had fallen during the battle, and started towards Michael's truck. “We done here? I need to get back to Chicago.”

Michael looked like he was about to press the issue, but then sighed and fell into step beside me.

to be continued...