#watch him get ready to sprout wings because of the stress

[etrevil]

Dazai you're in FRANCE how tf are you going to tell Ranpo anything 🤨

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E111 (Sept. 29, 2020)

@eponymous-rose‘s internet is out tonight, so I’m here late and without coffee! Let’s see how many typos we can fit into an hour and a half episode.

Tonight’s guests: Ashley Williams JOHNSON, oops!! & Liam O’Brien!

We open with Brian in light-up vented sunglasses and Henry at his side, as always. Dani is very excited to be back and has fun-buns in her hair tonight. So cute! Everyone talks about how much they’re Zooming these days for work, and Liam mentions he and Matt & Marisha did a digital cocktail night. He and Dani arrange on camera to have a distanced, masked meetup in the park so Dani can see Liam’s dog again.

No announcements! Tonight, we’re discussin’ episodes 110 and 111.

Starting with the end, Brian jumps right to it by asking how they feel that Molly is alive. Liam 100% thought we’d be back to him, but still wasn’t ready when it happened. Caleb doubted he was alive. Both Liam & Ashley marvel at the numerology that keeps cropping up throughout the show. Brian hates not being able to see it at the same time the show happens live; Ashley was biting her tongue not telling him spoilers. (He doesn’t want to hear spoilers unless Yasha dies so he can be there for Ashley if needed.) Brian says he has a little reality trauma from the night Pike died in the pre-stream game; it was the first time he’d realized how much it affected the players.

Ashley’s realized how much she misses unpacking the game with Brian when they get home. She just has to sit with it until everyone else gets to see it. Brian: “Instead she comes home and I have to fill her in on the Real Housewives of Amarillo, Texas.”

Reunion dinner with Trent! Liam talks about how the way things unfolded with Trent is not at all how he imagined it in his pre-game creation; he’d expected more of a fracas, more of an unexpected clash. “Caleb might have been a different person if he’d run into these people earlier in the story. The M9 changed him before [Trent & co] came back and got to him.” He’d imagined Astrid & Eodwulf to be complicated encounters, but says what Matt’s designed has been even harder than that. A fight on a mountain is one thing, but walking into a room with “what Trent dropped, is impossible to cope with.” It also means that if what Trent said is true, anything Caleb does now is effectively of Trent’s design, even killing him.

He doesn’t think Caleb would have gone anywhere near Trent & co without the M9. “The Mighty Nein--it took a long time--but they cracked Caleb open like a walnut.”

He thinks what Matt has done is much more murky than the simplicity of murder, such as the Briarwood arc. He can’t just exact his revenge now.

Liam says that the tempation to tinker with time is no longer as all-consuming as it was. He might still be tempted if Matt dangles a bunch of carrots in front of him, but he thinks that now it might be better to make sure that that kind of thing doesn’t happen anymore for anyone else (!!!). “It’s still a nugget in his brain and it’s still possible he could be tempted by the drug, but what he wanted in the beginning was entirely selfish, but now that the M9 are involved he owes it to them, to the people of the country, even on the Dynasty side--is so complex that if Caleb were to get that carrot and chase it, he would be risking everything.”

Ashley agrees that most of their choices are no longer black and white. Many of the situations feel more like real life. Liam agrees and says he’ll sometimes make decisions that he’s both really happy with and regrets at the same time. They both look forward to what Matt will reveal in Act 3.

Brian feels it’s tough to gauge how deep they are into what Matt’s planned for the campaign. Liam says that thanks to Matt’s skill, he really doesn’t know what Caleb wants right now.

Ashley agrees, and talks about how she created Yasha to have more to overcome than Pike. She loves what Matt’s doing in terms of allowing each of them to overcome more emotional hurdles than physical ones in this campaign.

Going back to Molly’s grave was very exciting for Ashley since she wasn’t able to be there when he died in the game & wanted to do what she could to honor him. Yasha, however, was very hesitant but knew what needed to be done. She’s not very open with her emotions, but both she & Ashley were stressed. They all could feel the energy in the studio & knew Matt was about to do something mind-blowing. Liam: “You could feel all the dust in the air coalescing around Taliesin.”

Brian trips over Eodwulf. Liam tries to help him find some pronunciation shortcuts. Ashley: “You say it so beautifully.” Brian: “Thank you.” Ashley: “Not you.”

Caleb knows how wickedly intelligent & ambitious Astrid is, and was heartened by the wavering he saw in her at the dinner. However, he can’t trust her until he knows why she’s where she is.

He really feels that if they’d had this dinner 60 episodes ago, Caleb might have tilted back along the evil axis and he would have had to retire the character. He had a playlist entirely for if Caleb turned evil and left the party.

The vision of Zuala was a huge deal for Yasha, even along every other instance she’s had of being mind-controlled, etc. “That’s guilt I think she will always carry with her, but at least she’s starting to forgive herself.” Losing the chains, sprouting wings again--Ashley reiterates that she didn’t know that was even a possibility, she just picked the skeletal wings because they were dope--were huge moments in the character development. Ashley’s glad Beau was there at the moment of the first flight; Ashley thinks of the quotation “Happiness is only beautiful when it’s shared,” and because Yasha tends to keep things very much to herself, having someone there to share it made it more impactful. “That was a cool moment. There’s been a lot of healing for Yasha these last episodes.”d

Ashley also says sometimes in that moment, when all eyes are on you in a one-on-one with Matt, everything goes muffled like Saving Private Ryan. “Wub wub wub.”

Dani feels that the only way she could even have the conversation with Zuala was to let her go in the first place.

Liam thinks one of the things that Yasha & Cad share is that still waters run deep. He loves how much Yasha hangs back sometimes, only to then reveal some new moment like the fighting pit. Apparently Ashley also has a knife collection, and uses that metal side of herself when she wants to let that new side of Yasha show.

Cosplay of the Week: Crystal Armstead (@riyuski on twitter) in a Reani cosplay. Beautiful!

How does Liam feel about the return to Rexxentrum? Very, very complicated. Caleb loves magic and lights up when he sees it, which is wrapped in the Soltryce Academy; he brought folks to the dance hall for the same reason, which was wanting the M9 to see the things that he loved about the city.

Yasha felt the same way about visiting the Chantry of the Dawn. It was a memory of a very traumatic moment (almost killing Beau), but given everything that’s happened between then and now it was cathartic to see again. There’s been a lot of healing in the past few weeks. It also felt like a physical representation of Yasha’s growth, the last time she was controlled against her will like that (or at least, until she was mind-controlled by Vokodo. Ashley sighs, aggrieved.)

Brian: “The tower really feels like a love letter from Caleb to his friends.” Liam: “It is, and a love letter from Liam to his friends.” When he looked at Caleb’s spell list, he remembered how amazing the mansion was in Campaign One and how many role-playing moments it led to and knew he wanted to incorporate it. However, he knew it could never be the same as Scanlan’s mansion because Caleb doesn’t have the same improvisational genius as Scanlan does. Liam has been “tinkering with this machine” for over a year, waiting for the moment to reveal it. He loves that he got a chance to see Jester’s room in time to have her tower room reflect reality. He’d discussed the tower extensively with Dani & Matt. Brian: “Hey! What am I, chopped--what’s the saying?” Ashley: “Chopped cabbage?”

Ashley marvels at the design of the dome. Liam talks about how Caleb knowing Caleb has been abused has been slowly getting better, but he also loves now being able to juxtapose that healing with his innate love of magic and how beautiful he finds it, how he loves to use magic as his artistry. The Soltryce Academy wasn’t “Welcome to DEATH SCHOOL,” it was the Sorbonne. It was amazing, everything he wanted. It was only one bad apple within that recruited him and turned it all bad.

Liam also points out how much it means in real life to be able to express his love and care for his friends in person too.

Ashley talks about how much she loves Yasha’s armor in a meta sense because it’s so cool and useful, and great for her armor class, but struggles with what it represents in game. She might not be able to let it go due to its sheer utility, and she may have to find an in-game reason to justify keeping it.

Ashley segues a moment into talking about her velvet top which apparently has a matching velvet scrunchie. She’s asked to demonstrate the scrunchie and ties her hair up in a way that I have never in my life seen someone do with a scrunchie before, and my hair’s been waist-length most of my life. I watch it again in slow motion. How did she DO that??

Caleb’s been looking for the right time to tell Jester about his past for a long time. She’s a good person and makes him feel like he might be capable of becoming a good person at the end, because that’s how she saw him. Liam knew from Laura that Jester wouldn’t condemn him, but Caleb put it off as long as possible. He also wanted to take the time to make sure Caduceus & Yasha knew the whole story too before they went to dinner with Trent.

Liam was also relieved to get it out, because he could never remember who knew and who didn’t, and now he doesn’t have to track it anymore. “Now we can move forward. Now we can heal wounds, maybe.”

Ashley feels Cad picks up a lot, more than most people realize. Yasha was really affected by Cad’s line: “Patience can be good, but it can lead to apathy.” She really feels it opened her eyes, and she appreciated the simplicity of him pointing out her hair’s growing back white again. Having a friend notice “hey, you’re changing for the better” really means a lot. She’s interested in seeing how this means things might change with Beau.

Dani points out that it also reinforced for Yasha that she can want things too--she can be patient and just continue to be with the group, as she’s wanted, but it’s okay to want more than that too. Ashley remembers Veth asking her what her purpose is. There’s a part of her that knows Yasha is still figuring that out, and she’s interested to see how Yasha will continue to change. She’s always spent her life serving somebody--the Sky Spear, Obann--and then even after she joined the M9, it was very centered on “what do you need, what does the group need, how can I help with our next job?” She’s going to have to take some time to figure out what she wants.

Fanart of the Week! Lovely Yasha & Beau flight art by @JMNP7888. The wings look amazing!

Brian: “One of the things we want to talk to you about, Liam, is about the Vokodo fight and the FUCKING disintegrate spell.”

Liam: “That was one of the most insane 60-90 seconds of gameplay that ever existed for the table, and definitely for me, in the entire history of the show. A lot of people think I just went, oh man, just bet it all on black. But what if I told you that...I Larkin’d the first 20 seconds of that fight and then at a quarter to midnight, I forgot that the reflection was a thing? I just forgot it was a thing! I spent that whole battle thinking I’m just here to banish things. I might buff my friends a little bit, maybe I’ll counterspell, but I’m just here to banish. And it didn’t work and it didn’t work and then it did! Finally it did and Jester made it work and then he was GONE. And then everyone got greedy and it was done but we brought him BACK. And it was a quarter to midnight and I’m not an animatronic D&D lesson machine, I’m just a guy playing D&D at 11:45 at night, and he came back and everyone started Goodfellas circling him and kicking him, and Beau & Yasha are gonna kill him, and then it’s my turn? Disintegrate! And then the room was quiet, and then time passed, and Matt asked, you really cast Disintegrate? And I said yes, of course, and Matt started rolling dice, and in the back of my head I started wondering why he asked if I was rolling Disintegrate. Oh no. In the back of my brain, I was like, well, just tell him that’s not what you did. Tell him you didn’t remember the reflection thing. But he’s already rolling dice! You can’t take it back now. Hold on a second. I’m going to take you on the journey I went through. I was thinking: you have a spell save of 17. This thing wasn’t that fast. +1, +2, maybe? Anything under 14 is okay. That’s 70%. 70%. That’s okay, right? And still no one said anything to tip me off that I was in ELDRITCH MADNESS at that point, no one said anything about the reflection! And then I realize it can reflect back on us, and I realize this is...disintegrate. And then I started becoming morbidly, macabre-ly fascinated at the puppet dance of death I had created. Well, this is a mess. I have made a mess. Let’s just sit in it. And somehow, nonsensically, spectacularly, it worked out in my favor. I went home that night and I got in bed next to my wife, who was fast asleep, and I stared at the ceiling going, dude. Duuuuuuuude. Duuuuuuuuuude.”

He apparently also told his therapist about this and how terrible it was and how close he “danced myself to the precipice like a crazy person!” Marisha (as told by Liam): “Epic roll, though.”

Matt told Liam that night that if it had been reflected, it would have gone back on him. “If a player throws an M80 in the middle of a room, it would reflect on that player who threw it.”

Ashley talks about how interesting that Yasha is not performative, and yet has been doing these public performances with the harp. It’s a great experiment for Ashley--Yasha doesn’t like the attention, but feels like she is making something beautiful for the world.” She’s trying to change something about how she views herself & her place in the world. She was raised to be a weapon for the Sky Spear, but she’s also extremely gentle and loves flowers & beautiful music, and the further away she’s gotten from the tribe, she’s falling in love with gentle, beautiful things. 

Liam also points out it easy (real, but simplistic) to make an entire character centered around a single personality trait: “I’m angry all the time. I’m sad all the time.” He thinks it’s more realistic to see nuance in personality.

Liam can see some paths for Caleb to find peace & do good. He doesn’t know if Caleb is conscious of those. He thinks it’s a huge step forward to admit he was molded in this direction at all and that it wasn’t all his choice, but doesn’t know if this is the same possibility as redemption.

He also mentions Essek in this answer: there was/is attraction there, both intellectual and physical--the forehead kiss was a big marker of that--and he’s interested in seeing where that goes because he’s invested in Essek’s redemption arc on its own, but Essek is not as high on the list as other things Caleb/the M9 need to work on. He loved the “high spy times” of the Essek arc and the tangled-up-ness of feelings getting involved at the same time as intense commitment to duty.

Liam always felt Matt would bring Molly back in some aspect, even though Caleb always demurred because he doesn’t believe in fate. Dani and Brian agree that this is the start of a new act.

Ashley cried at the Vilya reunion. She thought that was an incredible moment and was so glad to see Keyleth. Liam: “Keyleth as part of our story is everything to me. That story is really important to me, so getting just a glimpse of her again was so important to me.” They could all see how that affected Marisha & how special it was to her. Liam: “It was such a great note in her song or color in her painting. She achieved magnificent things and was powerful and great, but had a very heartbreaking and sad ending, so to have this sliver of joy go back in is so complex and beautiful and masterfully done.”

Aaaaaaand that’s all for tonight! Remember, no Critical Role this week. Talks will be back in two weeks. As always, don’t forget to love each other. <3

[violet-knox]

Hi! Could u write an adult!Snape x reader where the reader is the new nurse of hogwarts and the start to like each other until one day they finally kiss?🙏😣💕 I hope u can write it, if not I understand ❤️

Love’s Chariot

Pairing: Severus Snape x Female Reader

Summary: You’re assigned to help Severus with the Mandarake Restorative Potion and feel nervous about how it will go. 

Word Count: 3668

A chill ran down spine as you entered the dungeons, rather nervous about the task Madam Pomfrey had assigned you. You’d barely spoken two words to the Potion’s Master since you started at Hogwarts a month ago, feeling flushed every time he came within six feet of you. It was hard to say why you felt such intense fear around him. Intimidation, admiration, lust. But it didn’t matter. Knowing the reason didn’t change your reality and it certainly wasn’t going to help you now that you’d been assigned to assist him in the brewing of the Mandrake Restorative Draught. 

You’d spent every hour of the last few days pondering over why you you’d been assigned such a task when you knew Professor Snape didn’t need you. He’d been doing quite fine these past few weeks on his own with the occasional help of Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey. There was no reason for you to be there and you wondered if he felt the same. He didn’t seem to like you much, at least that was the impression you got when you sat next to him at breakfast one morning. He’d stayed silent, his hair covering his face the entire hour before he got up to leave early, claiming he had to prepare for class. You’d never felt so awkward, so minute, so unimportant in your life. He was a golden chariot compared to you: a newcomer, blissfully oblivious to the hefty responsibilities of a Hogwarts staff member. There was no logical reason for your assignment, that was much clear. All you could do was try and get through it without looking like a buffoon.

You stared at the door before you, your legs frozen in place, too scared to enter his classroom, too loyal to walk away. You wanted nothing more than to run off, to simply continue admiring him from a far but you had duties to fulfill, patience to treat and so you stayed. You looked up at the rustic large door, the only boundary between you and the Master of the dungeon just as intimidating as him. Reluctantly, you knocked on the door. The sound you made barely audible to you but you hoped it was enough for him to hear because you couldn’t bear the thought of having to knock again as you weren’t sure you could knock any louder. 

Seconds went by like hours and before long, you found yourself knocking again, slightly louder this time only to restart your delayed timer. Taking a step back, you tried to convince yourself that you’d done your part. You’d shown up, knocked on the door and he didn’t answer but that wasn’t the whole truth. You didn’t want him to hear you and so you tried to cheat your way out of making your presence known. One more try, you told yourself. Knock properly once and get it over with and so you did. Knock, knock, knoc-.

The door swung open and you found yourself caught stiff, like a deer in the headlights, staring into the face of the man you’d been too afraid to be around. You hadn’t been this close to him since you sat next to him during breakfast, every feature on his face more prominent than it was before. He was taller than you thought he was, the distance you’d been putting between you and him blurring your view of him.

“Have you been standing out here long?” His deep stern voice enchanted you, your mind blanking as you stared up at him. He sounded bored, like the task at hand was simple enough for a child to complete and his expression told you he too had not been looking forward to your lending hand.

“N-no,” you stumbled over your own lie as you shrunk in your place, hoping the floor would swallow you whole. You were made alarmingly aware of your flushed face and the fact that you’d been holding your breath when you spoke. This was worse than breakfast, worse than what you imagined. Much much worse.

“You should have knocked,” he said simply. His tone gave nothing away. You couldn’t tell how he felt, if he was annoyed, frustrated, angry or if he felt the same awkward spark that had ignited the day you laid eyes on one another, refusing to be put out no matter how hard you tried. The Potion’s Master turned on his heels and walked back into his classroom, leaving you to grasp at the overwhelming sense of uncertainty created between you both. 

Stepping inside, you turned back and closed the door, the creaking of your slow movement echoing inside his classroom. It’s funny how a classroom changed so minimally yet felt so drastically different with the rotation of all the professors who’ve occupied it in the past. When Slughorn taught you in this class, you’d never felt the cold of the dungeon air. The layout of the room hadn’t changed, yet with Professor Snape it somehow felt more important, like his mere presence demanded those who step foot in the class show respect for the delicate art of potion making.  

“I presume you’re aware of the duties you’re to attend to this evening,” he spoke as he set up his workstation around the giant cauldron bubbling in the middle of one of the tables. He was ready to begin working and apparently assumed you would be too. 

“N-no Professor,” you said, stepping forward, addressing him professionally so as to not offend him further. You’d been here less than ten seconds and already you were disappointing him, you didn’t want to make it worse by speaking out of term. “Madam Pomfrey only informed me I’d be assisting you.”

Severus sighed in frustration. Not only was he force to spend time with you, to socialize with the person he’d felt too flustered to be around this past month, but Madam Pomfrey had also decided it was imperative for him to waste his time directing you when he should be working on the potion that was to save all those petrified victims filling up her infirmary. It had taken so long for those Mandrakes to grow, his focus these past few months split between stressing over whatever was causing the petrifications and modifying the Mandrake Restorative Draught to cure those who’d fallen victim. And then Dumbledore had to go and hire two more nurses to aid Madam Pomfrey during these ‘troubling times’ as he put it, and he suddenly found his focus shifting to you instead of his work. 

You were so kind, so willing to help, always in uniform, ready to work even when you were off duty. He’d taken every excuse he could get just to watch you from afar. Refilling the Potions cupboard in the hospital wing himself twice every week, taking extra long to take inventory of what Potions they were running low on. He listened to you and hung on your every word, your smile in his peripheral instantly brightening up his day. Always from afar, always at a safe distance away from you where he could do you no harm. You were pure, innocent, untouched by the evils of this world and he couldn’t bear threatening to take that bliss away from you. 

This was risky, brewing with you. He thought of requesting the other nurse when he heard you’d be joining him but he knew how hurt you’d feel to be passed over like that and, if he was to be honest with himself, he didn’t want the other nurse. He wanted you. He wanted to get to know you, to converse with you as you both worked together but he was afraid of what might happen if you did. Would you find him repulsive if he got too close? Would you ask to be transferred out if he dare speak a word of the curse that fell upon him? The one that pushed Lily away, ultimately killing her, the one that gifted him the negligent childhood he’d endured, the one that was responsible for his current status as an ex-Death Eater with no friends and a need to repent. 

None of that mattered now. You were here and all he could do was hope this Potion would brew faster than expected so that he could resume keeping himself away from you. The quicker he gave you the instructions you needed, the less time you would be forced to spend with him and the safer you would be. 

“Professor Sprout has left all the Mandrake roots here,” he began, pointing at the endless crates that sat on the table next to the one where he’d set up his cauldron. “And I need you to extract their cores so I can use the xylem for the potion.”

Severus watched as you immediately nodded your head and made your way to the cutting board and knife he’d set on the table for you to use. You picked up the knife and extracted one of the roots from the crates, looking back at him before you began. He pulled his gaze away from you the moment your head turned towards him, but you’d still managed to catch a glimpse of his face before his hair flew in front of it. Heat rose to your cheeks and you wondered if he’d truly been staring at you or if his intimidating presence had just gone to your head. You worried he was staring to make sure you wouldn’t mess up your task, but you hoped he’d glanced your way for another reason. 

Holding the knife away from you, you began to peel the Mandrake root, each root taking longer than the last to peel but you continued on, letting the silence of the room engulf you. The longer you worked in his presence, the more you wished he’d say something but every time you’d look over in his direction, he would seem so concentrated and the last thing you wanted was to distract him from such important work. Still your eyes ventured to him more often than you’d like but you couldn’t help your admiration. His fingers so elegantly measuring out each ingredient like it was second nature and he looked so relaxed, so… perfect. 

“It would be much easier if you simply chopped them.” You were so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t realized he’d walked over to you. You jumped back when you saw how close he was to you, dropping the root you had in your hand, gasping as you pulled back. “I’m sorry.”

The Professor took a step back, a mixture of disappointment and guilt written on his face. You giggled at how silly it was of you to be frightened by him. Afterall, you knew he’d been in the room with you, there was no reason for you to be taken back by him like that. “I didn’t hear you approach, you startled me. If you know of a more efficient way to extract the root, perhaps you could teach me.”

You offered him the knife in your hand, rather hoping he’d help make this entire tedious process a little faster. His hand reached up and you felt his fingers grazing your palm as he took the knife from you. Your heart leaped out of your chest as your eyes locked for what felt like a millennium. You’d heard many of the students speak rather harshly of their Potion’s Professor, many claiming his eyes were dead and cold, but you disagreed. They were sad yes, but they were warm. They held the weight of the world yet were inviting to those who knew where to look. 

Severus broke the silence as he cleared his throat and looked back at the table to pick up the root that had fallen from your hand. He felt rather infatuated by you. He’d never felt like this before, so speechless, unable to think or speak in your presence. His mind was always blank, always vulnerable when he got too close to you, but it felt good, like a weight was lifted, like for once, he was allowed to breath. 

“Just cut down the middle of the root like so,” Severus said as he kept his eyes on the Mandrake root, trying to pretend like you weren’t there, like he was just teaching a class rather than the one person he wanted to know more about, to grow close to. “Then simply peel away the outside.”

You watched as he extracted the core with ease, astounded by the fact it had taken no more than ten seconds when you’d spent ten minutes peeling away at just one root. 

“Wow!” You exclaimed without realizing just how exaggerated your praise sounded. But you couldn’t help it, you were appreciative, happy to learn from someone as talented as he was. “That’s much quicker than what I was doing. Thanks, Professor.”

“Severus,” he quickly corrected you without a second thought. He hated hearing you speak to him as if you were just another coworker, like you saw him as nothing more than the school’s Potion’s Master, simply there to help keep the infirmary stocked with Potions. “Y-you can call me Severus.”

You smiled in content; he was comfortable with you. At least, comfortable enough to let you use his real name, his given name. All that fear you’d felt, the anxious feeling you had about working with him melted away, replaced with the need to know him, to speak with him, to touch him.

“Then you can call me (Y/N),” you reciprocated, holding out your hand for him to hand you back the knife. You held eye contact with him as you felt the handle of the knife slip into your palm, the tips of his fingers grazing against your skin once again. You gripped the knife when he let go but your eyes didn’t leave his until he reached around you to hand you another Mandrake root. He watched you duplicate his method; cutting the root down the middle and then peeling away the outside, popping the core out and placing it in the bowl he’d provided you.

“I’ve heard that you’ve sought to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts,” you spoke as you continued cutting when you felt him step back, wanting this moment to last. You spoke the first thing that came to mind, hoping the rumours you’d heard were true, hoping this topic was one he didn’t mind speaking about. “You’d make a much better Defense Professor than Lockhart.”

“Calling that man a Professor is an insult to the school,” Severus said as he went to grab a second knife to cut with you. “He’s a worse teacher than he was a student.”

“How do you know?” You asked curiously, wondering why he spoke as if he had first-hand experience with his time as a student. Lockhart was a few years younger than both of you, neither of you could possibly remember his Hogwarts days.

“I taught him.” Your jaw dropped and your attention was pulled back to him. You paused a moment before you spoke.

“No, you didn’t!” You dropped the knife in your hand and turned to face him completely, one hand over your mouth suppressing your laughter which instead came out as a giggle.

“I unfortunately did,” he smiled at you, abandoning the task at hand to share this moment with you. He watched as you laughed, and he could have sworn this was the happiest he’d ever seen you. You looked even more majestic with such a wide smile on your face and it made him appreciate you all the more.

“I cannot believe you taught that man,” you said, taking a step forward, placing a hand on his arm. You were too caught up in the moment to realize how close you’d gotten to him, that the musky smell filling the air around you didn’t belong to the potion but to him instead. “Did he learn nothing from you?”

Severus felt a heavy weight on his chest as he let his eyes roam the features of your face. What he’d give to hold you in his arms, hug you, run his fingers through your hair, kiss you. Kiss you. Kiss you. Love you. He was very much infatuated with you, much more than he’d apparently cared to admit. 

“It very much seems to be the case. If he hadn’t taken his O.W.Ls with Slughorn, I never would have accepted him into my N.E.W.T class in the first place. But as it so happened, Dumbledore said I could not raise the grade requirement unless the students had taken their O.W.Ls with me.”

You giggle, your admiration for the man ever growing as he spoke of his standards. “You know, I’ve worked in this industry a little over a decade and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Potions of such high quality like yours.”

Severus lowered his head, his smile static as he blushed from your compliment. He could hardly believe you’d thought of his work in such a way, that you’d worked at St. Mungo’s and still thought his Potions were better, that you’d given him enough attention to notice his work in the first place. He’d always imagined you saw him as the man who provided you with your tools and no more, he never would have thought you admired him. 

You looked up at him and watched his face attentively. You loved how flushed he got from such a simple compliment and wondered what he would look like if he knew how you truly felt about him. It was odd how you tried to pretend like your feelings of admiration were strictly professional yet in this moment, standing in front of him, inches away, you knew it was more than that. Love, connection, happiness. That is what you felt and what you were sure he felt as well.

“I-umm,” Severus croaked over the empty words in his mind. He wanted to say something, to feel more comfortable with you again, but he found himself back in a place of awkwardness, too scared to say a word to you. He did not want to push you away, to ruin the progress he felt he made today and anything he could think of saying he knew would not end well. 

You sensed his hesitation and wondered for a moment if you’d done something wrong, but when you looked back into his eyes, you realized it wasn’t anger or annoyance that kept him from speaking. He was nervous, like a schoolboy confronting his crush. You smiled and let out a sigh of relief, taking a step closer as you placed your hands on his arms, slowly moving them up to rest on his bicep. Your movement had caught his attention as his eyes met yours, need reflected within them. You were inches away, your beating hearts reaching out for one another, begging you to step closer. 

Without a second thought, you surged forward and pressed your lips to his. You felt your heart leap out of your chest as you let out every emotion you felt for him into this kiss. You’d been so focused on yourself, you hadn’t noticed his lips weren’t moving with yours. Feeling rather embarrassed, you jolted back, averting your eyes in panic. What had you just done? Had you really just ruined any sort of professional relationship you could have had with him with a splurge in the moment kiss?

“I-I’m sorry,” you spoke quickly, your hands shaking as you feared for what he might do. Your career over if he were to complain to your superiors, have you transferred to a different department in the medical division of the Wizarding World, or worse, have you fired. No one would hire you again. No one would want you. “I didn’t mean-”

Your panicked thoughts were instantly washed away as his lips met yours once again, passion spilling over from him and back into you. You hummed from the shock in delight, throwing your arms around him as you pressed yourself into him, kissing him back eagerly as you indulge yourself in his touch. 

Severus had taken a leap of faith, a step towards happiness, knowing now what he wanted and what you wished for was one in the same. He hadn’t imagined the emotions flowing between you, the spark growing into a flame this past month because you’d felt it too. By some miracle, you reciprocate his feelings, and he had no idea why but, in this moment, he didn’t care. He enjoyed the feeling of your body against his, his hands sliding down your sides, one making its way into your hair as the other kept you in place. He wanted to freeze time, to stay like this forever in bliss with you. 

“That was…” You’d tried to speak when you parted, your lips still so close to his, but the words were lost on you like they were him. He wouldn’t dare take his eyes off you lest it break the spell. He took this moment instead to memorize your face, taking in every detail he’d never gotten to see before and when he’d found his heart beginning to ache, he pressed his lips back against yours like you were his oxygen. 

You smiled against him, happily kissing back, thinking about your future with him, about the happiness you were going to build with him. You’d only spoken twice before, kissed him three times yet you were planning a whole life together in your imagination. This was right, he was right for you. It felt like everything had suddenly clicked into place. You weren’t meant to work at Hogwarts to help with the petrification, you were here to meet him. You were together now, whole, complete. You found each other in the sea of darkness that surrounded your lives and together you’d swim to shore. Together you would live. Together you’d be happy. 

 @dracos-mudblood @darkthought15 @severuslovebot @mitchiesdungeon @bush-viper-cutie @raven-hopeflyte @wanderingtrails @sleepysnapesnake @fluffymadamina

[yolkyeomie]

Ice Fairies | Hwang Hyunjin

summary — figure skaters are like ice fairies to you, and hyunjin is the prettiest fairy you’ve ever seen

word count — 2.7k words

pairing — hyunjin x gender neutral!reader

genre — figure skater!hyunjin, fluff, mc kinda pines after hyunjin but doesn’t rlly realize it

disclaimer — I actually know nothing about ice skating and ive been writing this since the moment I woke up so if it’s bad + inaccurate I’m so sorry

You had always enjoyed watching figure skaters be in their natural element, it was something about the way they skid across the ice that made you think that there was just something a little… inhuman about them.

If you were to describe what you believe they were, you say they were like fairies. The way figure skaters glittered in the reflection of the ice and the way they glided as if they had wings sprouting it from their back to fly was enough for you to think they were. But that was only from what you had seen on television. You had never seen a figure skater in person because it was wildly out of your own element to do so. And then a few months ago happened.

One day a stranger strolled into your town. It wasn’t an unlikely sight, your town was a frequent resting place for travelers. But the thing about the stranger is that when they strolled into town they didn’t feel like a stranger. In fact, they felt like they belonged. That’s something I’ve been missing in your town and the stranger had suddenly filled up the gaping hole you didn’t know needed to be filled. You thought you were just being delusional, there is no way such a strange person could make you feel this way? A person you’ve never seen in your life?

But then on a very chilly, very quiet winter day you decided to take a walk to your job. You don’t know what inclined you to do so, the weather was close to being unbearable and the ice and snow were thick on the ground from the snow storm before. But you did anyways as if you were challenging mother nature to try and stop you.

When you walk to your unbearable nine to five, there is a big lake that’s usually within your sights then. Because of the conditions beforehand it had turned into this icy winter wonderland, where the water was frozen solid and hard enough for people to walk across. It wasn’t unusual to see parents taking their bundle of children to go skating across it for fun family bonding, or see teenagers push each other towards the slick frozen over waters, so you paid no mind to it at first. But on your walk you saw something... different.

There was the stranger rhythmically moving his feet left and right, his jet black ice skates kicking up little chips and the frozen lake. He wasn’t wearing much to protect himself from the cold: just a throw on jacket and what looked to be sort of loose fitting pants. And don’t forget the low ponytail he wore his blonde hair in, the most recognizable of his lazy attire.

Why you thought he was going to freeze to death out on the lake at first.

Your brain had started functioning on its own, making decisions you weren’t fully comprehending when they happened. Before you know it, instead of being on your path to your boring nine to five, you were sliding down the side of the hill, careful not to let the snow trip you up, and calling out to him to make sure he was okay. When you had finally made it to the edge of the lake, your feet threatening to tip over and slide across its slick surface, he took notice of you. And then he jumped.

Looking back on it now, it was such a simple thing to do. But it left you in complete awe nonetheless.

Your eyes widened in pure disbelief as you watched him go from gliding with careful foot steps backwards to kicking one foot off the ground and forcefully raising the rest of his body into the air. For a moment you thought he was hovering in time, as if that one movement had stopped the flow of gravity just for him to levitate off the ice for a moment. And then in a slow motion-esqe manner you watched as he spun once in the air and then came back down landing perfectly on the same foot he started with.

A single axel, you recognized. One of the first things a figure skater learns when indulging in the sport. It looks so simple when you look at it from an outside eye but somehow it was enough to plunge you down into a world of wonder that you don’t even know you wanted to be in.

From that interaction, that's how you came to know wild and eccentric, Hwang Hyunjin. The new rising star and fan favorite within the figure skating world, and the owner of several gold medals that newbies don’t usually own. You knew that because he wouldn’t stop telling you once he got the chance. As clueless yet endearing his personality and perfectionist tendencies were, you two hit it off almost immediately. You don’t know whether it was because you like the fact that he was a figure skater, something you used to have a huge interest, or you liked him as a person but either way you two had gotten close enough for him to invite you to things outside of your little town.

One of those things, however, you did not expect to be attending one of the biggest figure skating competitions of his life.

Come with me, he said, it’ll be fun! I can show you how professional I get and how easy it is for me to win.

How it convinced you to join him on a cross-country trip is completely out of your mind. However it’s too late to go back on your words as now you were here at his competition standing on the sidelines with full moon like wide eyes looking back-and-forth between everyone who is currently in the room.

There were several other figure skaters here all warming up on the sidelines and getting ready for their performances to impress the judges. Every single one of them within the room were hoping to attend the Grand Prix of figure skating, and this competition was the last thing standing in their way to being able to compete. Despite this important detail though all of the competitors were looking around anxiously, the skin on the back of their neck standing up as they stayed on edge. There was this sense of stress within all of the skaters as the presumed to be new figure skating champion was in the building.

They were scared that no matter how well they went throughout their performance, they would be no match for the long-haired blonde you knew.

“Y/N!” A chirpy voice called out to you, like sunrays wrapped within their tone. You whirled your head around towards them, finally clicking back into the reality that you were here to support and not to gawk.

A boy not that much older than you came skipping up to you, his freckles stretching across his face like strained stars in a telescope’s eye. Lee Felix was a friend of Hyunjin, working and training under the same coach for their competitions. You had only recently met with him just a few days ago when you and Hyunjin had arrived in the city for his competition, but he already proved himself to be such a friendly and honest person that it felt like you had known him for years.

“Felix,” you grin, pushing yourself away from the railing of the ice rink to meet him halfway. Unlike many of the other figure skaters within the room, dressed in sparkly and eye-catching outfits for their performances, he was just as bundled up with warm clothing as you are. It seemed as though he was going to be watching the skaters instead of joining them on the ice for the day. “What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be with your coach and Hyunjin?”

“Usually,” the boy shrugged, moving his hands within the pockets of his puffy jacket. “But I’m not the one competing today, am I? Why would I sit and listen to a lecture about doing my best and aiming for the top when it’s not even aimed at me? Plus it gets boring after awhile.”

You snort at the boy’s excuse, rolling your eyes and turning back towards the ice. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because moral support can take someone a long way?”

“Is it not enough moral support to be standing up and watching from the side lines instead of laying down in my nice, warm, cozy bed? I could be sitting right next to a heated fireplace right now but here I am standing in the cold with no blanket to wrap myself in.” Felix jeered, his eyes looking far off into a world you couldn’t see. But by the expressions on his face you could assume he was fantasizing about the warm bed he had mentioned.

“How can you be an ice skater if the only thing on your mind is a bed and warmth?” You teased.

“Hey! I can’t help the fact that being warm is the best feeling in the universe! Why do you think I like hugs so much? It’s basically just sharing body heat so you won’t be cold,” He argued, wrapping his arms around himself to mimic the gesture. “Let’s not forget the fact that some people also give out the best hugs I’ve ever felt as well.”

You had to conceal the obnoxious laugh that wanted to escape your mouth. Felix was such an endearing person, the way he acts and the way he talks were two completely different things from when he was on the ice. Or at least that’s what Hyunjin told you, but he was known for… overdramatizing things.

“Speak of the devil!” Felix exclaimed untangling his arms from around himself and pointing to the other end of the ice rink. “There’s the star of the day!”

The chitter chatter of the competitors and watchers suddenly began to lower, turning into a low mumble as everyone’s eyes were fixated on the ice skater who had just stepped on the ice to warm up with the feat of the skaters.

Figure skaters are like fairies, you remind yourself. They move across the ice as if they’re flying and they sparkle in the light with a certain ethereal and shimmer to them. You knew this, you’ve always known this about figure skaters. But there was a certain flare about Hyunjin that was simply unmatched by every other competitor in the room.

Maybe it didn’t help with the fact that Hyunjin was already conventionally attractive in your eyes, but seeing him skate across the ice in his costume for his performance was mesmerizing. The way the light bounced across the glittery blue fabric of his ruffled Victorian shirt, or the way the colors of white and blue hues would blend into a beautiful ombré when in combination with his pitch black pants and ice skates. Don’t even get started on how the way the azure blue ribbon tied up in his blond hair gave him just the right amount of purity to make him seem as though he were an angel in the flesh.

Mesmerizing, just mesmerizing.

“Hyunjin!” Felix called, waving his hands to catch the skater’s attention. The boy immediately turned the both of you, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he changed courses and began to glide towards the two of you. The bright lights of the ice rink made him shimmer like stars as he approached and the unorthodox beating of your heart was making it extremely hard to focus on one thing at a time right now. You had never seen him all dolled up and captivating while he was skating before. The best you had ever seen from him was a black skinny jeans and an overpriced on-brand hoodie.

“Felix,” He greeted, his soft smile still unchanging as he dressed his fellow skater. Hyunjin leaned up against the railing for support as his eyes then drifted towards you, adoration swirling within his irises. “Y/N. How do I look? Usually I’m not dressed too flashy but the coach thought this would be a nice change for this particular song.”

“You look nice,” you manage to choke out, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible with the burning hot reds of your ears and your clear flustered face. The figure skater pouted in response to your lackluster compliment, probably expecting a much grander praise from you seeing as this was your first time seeing him dressed in such a way. “What? I told the truth, you look nice.”

“Nothing else? Just nice?” He urged, trying to push another, higher quality compliment out of you. “What about… gorgeous? Ethereal? Bewitching? Exquisite—“

“Nice,” you repeat, absentmindedly running your hands through each strand of blond hair you could reach and gazing at the blue ribbon in his hair. “You look nice.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin nodded, melting into you as you rhythmically brushed your hands through his hair. “Alright, I’ll take that.”

“I did not come here to see you be gross with each other,” Felix chimed in, reminding the two of them that they weren’t alone at the lake in your little town, but in an ice rink filled with people whose eyes were always watching Hyunjin’s every move. The figure skater pushed himself off of the railing, putting a small distance between the two of you as a sheepish laugh escaped his mouth.

You attempted to laugh it off as well, punching Felix in the shoulder with a little too much strength to try and hide the embarrassment. How could you have forgotten that was literally right next to you? What if you slipped up and said something without realizing he was there? What if you acted without realizing everyone’s eyes were constantly on Hyunjin, and because he approached you, you as well?

Stupid Y/N. You’re so stupid, stupid, stupid—

“That’s my que,” Hyunjin gasped as a man spoke over the speakers, his words blasting into everyone’s ears to remind them that the competition would soon begin. You weren’t really paying attention to what was being said, though. Your eyes were too focused on the way the fabric of Hyunjin’s ombré blue and white shirt fit his physique perfectly and the way his hair was fell into perfect shape on his shoulders. “Wish me luck!”

“Get that first place bro,” Felix encouraged him, giving him a hard and strong high five. “Take us to the Grand Prix, I really wanna go to Tokyo this year.”

“That depends,” the figure skater said, turning towards with a shining grin plastered onto his face. “Y/N, do you wanna go to Tokyo?”

“You’re gonna put your whole rookie career on Y/N?” Felix gasped, his eyes widened in disbelief as he looked between the two of you. You don’t blame him for being so caught off guard by Hyunjin’s question, you were just as confused as Felix was.

Your bewildered expression and utter silence wasn’t being taken for an answer as Hyunjin intently looked at you, patiently waiting for you to respond despite the speakers overhead telling all skaters to clear off the ice. After taking a moment to compose yourself, you finally open your mouth to speak. “Hyunjin, you’ve been working towards the Grand Prix final for how long now? You shouldn’t be placing your entire career on—“

“Answer the question,” he interrupted. “Do you want to go to Tokyo with me?”

“Yes,” You finally answer him. “I would like to go to Tokyo with you.”

It was like your answer gave Hyunjin a sudden boost of motivation, his smile going from ear to ear and his eyes turning into little crescent moons as he began to shift to and fro on the ice. “Alright then,” He nodded, kicking himself backwards to go and join the rest of the skaters who were simply waiting for the boy to step off the ice. As he skated backwards, hands behind his back and his ice skates kicking up little chunks of ice, he kept eye contact with you and called out. “I’ll make sure I’ll take you to Tokyo, Y/N! And I’ll win the gold medal just for you!”

“Of course, you will!” You tell after him as he turned around. “You’re obligated to win me the gold medal because you brought me all the way here without telling me! Your gold medal is my gold medal!”

[iceshard1011]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Characters: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Additional Tags: Wings, Tentacles, Self-Worth Issues, Platonic Cuddling, Scars, Miscommunication, kind of, because these dumb dumbs are determined Not To Talk About It, Mild Language, remus being soft??, Family Bonding, i mean what do you expect at this point, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, look this site is has been starved of soft remus and bonding creativitwins, that needs to be fixed, i will not rest until i have a sufficient number of happy creativitwins interactions in my life, No Romance, :). Summary:

Roman reached over and lifted it up, eyeing the ugly scar. “What happened here?”

Remus didn’t reply for a moment before he pulled away, tucking the tentacle out of sight. “Nothing much.”

Oh, and wasn’t that a red flag if Roman had ever seen one?

~~~

The wedding affected everyone.

1k word fic under the cut :)

Roman’s wings were supposed to be red. A fiery red, too, with shades ranging from so pale it bordered on pink to so dark around the edges they were almost black-rimmed. The feathers on the inside were a white so pure it was blinding when catching sunlight. They were stunning and magnificent and beautiful.

Currently, the red was rusted and washed out. They looked like a bad dyeing attempt. The insides were dirtied and grey-brown tinged. Currently, they didn’t look majestic. Currently, they looked exactly how Roman felt: Pathetic.

The pair of extra appendages sprouting from the prince’s back only manifested in the closed confines of his bedroom or the separate world of the Imagination. They were always present, but they became heavy and solid and real at his back the moment his door shut. No one knew about them.

Except Remus, of course, given he was in the same position with those slimy, horrid tentacles of his. The pair had grown up with these features; it was evident that their young years spent play-fighting would leave their connected rooms scattered with slime and feathers. Unfortunately, though a wall now separated their rooms at this day and age, Roman couldn’t seem to get the connecting door to disappear, no matter how many times Remus knocked it down.

However, today wasn’t an ‘ignore Remus’ day. It wasn’t even a ‘put up with Remus through eye rolls and inward groans’ day.

Another loose feather was added to the growing pile beside him on the floor.

“You’re molting an awful lot,” Remus remarked at Roman’s back, his concentration on a particularly stubborn section of Roman’s right wing and a rebellious cluster of feathers that weren’t listening to his effort to straighten them.

“I’m stressed,” Roman admitted, plucking a baby feather from the inside of his left wing.

“This isn’t stress molting,” Remus said. “Stress makes your feathers all flaky and dry. This is different.”

Roman sighed and gave up on his wing, resting his head in his hands. “Can’t we just talk about something normal?”

“This is perfectly normal!” Remus protested. A scratch through the feathers, down the side of his wing made Roman shudder. “I mean, the standards are you having wings, so…”

Roman didn’t reply. Remus continued to work in silence. He didn’t have his tentacles manifested today. They tended to get restless and search for things to do when Remus was absent minded, and the pair had come to find that was both distracting and mess-making, especially with neat piles of feathers taking up residence on the carpet.

“Is it about last week?” Remus asked.

“It’s always about last week,” Roman grumbled. Remus bit the inside of his cheek in thought, which Roman couldn’t see, and continued to sift through his brother’s feathers.

“You’re going to have to do something about it sooner or later,” Remus said with a shrug. “Doesn’t have to be good. You could put spiders in Patton’s bed, or cut the power to the heating elements in Janus’ room. I did that one once. It was pretty funny; took him thirty minutes of shivering and muttering on his rock to realise nothing was happening. I recorded it.”

Roman didn’t reply.

“Of course,” continued Remus, “then he confiscated all my weapons and didn’t let me poison the coffee, so it wasn’t entirely worth it.”

Roman sighed quietly. He ran a hand through the feathers of the inside of his wing, fingering the tufts closest to his body. They should be as soft as a freshly groomed chinchilla’s fur, but they felt stiff and unhealthy.

“They’re dying,” he said as if they were houseplants not getting enough sun, but it made sense to him. He pulled back and gripped his arms while he glared at the floor. “I can’t even take care of these properly.”

He felt Remus’ gaze burning the back of his neck but ignored his brother. Chances were that he would get bored and leave. Roman would probably have a breakdown, then, but at least there wouldn’t be any witnesses.

Remus shuffled behind him, and a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. Except arms were supposedly not wet and slimy with suction cups on the inside. Roman opened his mouth to ask what Remus was doing, but then his brother was leaning over his shoulder and pointing to a bleached scatter of spots staining the tentacle curled around Roman’s ankle.

“That’s from running into a thorn bush in the Imagination,” Remus said, then gestured to another spot on a separate appendage. Roman blinked at the pale scar running upwards along the moist skin. “That’s from when Logan yelled at me when we were teenagers after I burned all his projects for a prank.”

“That was a dumb move,” Roman told him. Remus grinned.

“This one over here is from when I touched a curling iron to see how it would feel, and then got yelled at by Janus for it,” he said, and Roman wasn’t sure whether to sigh or laugh. “That’s why it’s a weird shape.”

“It does look odd,” Roman admitted. Remus bobbed his head against Roman’s shoulder in agreement. Roman eyed his brother’s wiggling tentacles, several of them finding ways to wrap around his legs, one even reaching up to curl over his wrist. He zeroed in on one, though, not itching towards him and instead twitching along the carpet. Its end looked to be chopped off, leaving a blunt stump awkwardly half-heartedly navigating its path.

Roman reached over and lifted it up, eyeing the ugly scar. “What happened here?”

Remus didn’t reply for a moment before he pulled away, tucking the tentacle out of sight. “Nothing much.”

Oh, and wasn’t that a red flag if Roman had ever seen one?

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Roman asked.

Remus shrugged. “Not anymore. It did when it first happened.”

Roman’s reply was a hum. Remus began to fidget with a cluster of feathers at the edge of Roman’s wing. Roman allowed him.

“What was it?” he asked after a long silence. Remus seemed caught off guard, but then he huffed.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

Roman frowned. What did that mean? He tilted his head over his shoulder to watch Remus begin to gnaw on the side of his collar while he scratched at Roman’s wing.

“You can tell me anyway,” Roman offered softly. Remus shrugged again. Roman leaned backwards and patted the tentacles around his waist comfortingly. Remus didn’t return the affection, but he didn’t pull away. Roman decided it was good enough.

“Sorry,” Remus murmured, but Roman wasn’t sure why.

“You know that you can always come to me when your tentacles are hurt,” Roman murmured, tracing a long scar trailing along one of the slimy green arms.

“Why don’t you come to me when you molt?” Remus asked. Roman opened his mouth, about to retort, but Remus cut in,  “Without having to make me chase after you?” Roman closed his mouth. He sheepishly fiddled with the end of one of Remus’ arms as it curled through his fingers.

“My turn to apologise?” he asked. Remus shrugged. The quiet room suddenly felt oppressing and uncomfortable. It was much different compared to the atmosphere a few minutes ago, when Roman’s wings had first begun to be preened. He didn’t like it very much.

“It kind of sucks.” Remus’ voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “Sometimes I don’t even have to be around to get the scars.”

Roman swallowed. He wondered if he already knew what had mangled Remus’ tentacle. “I can try and make them disappear,” he volunteered quietly.

Remus, predictably, looked affronted. “What, the marks? And take away my battle scars? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Roman relented with a chuckle. “Alright.”

The room echoed with a knocking from the bedroom door.

“Dinner’s ready, kiddo,” called Patton’s voice. “If you have time to come down for a little while. Hope to see you there.”

The twins listened to the moral’s sides footsteps shuffle away. The tentacles around Roman’s waist tightened and Remus headbutted his shoulder with his forehead. “Are you going to go down?”

“Are you?” countered Roman.

“He didn’t ask me,” Remus pointed out.

“He might have.” Roman frowned over his shoulder. “You haven’t been in your room.” Remus didn’t seem convinced. Roman didn’t move to stand up.

“You’re not going?” Remus sounded surprised.

Roman shrugged. “My left wing hasn’t been preened yet.”

“You should eat.”

Roman levelled his brother with a skeptical look. “And since when do you care about my health?”

“Since I found you sobbing in the corner of your room with your wings torn to shreds,” Remus snapped. Roman didn’t have an argument. Remus pulled back and stood, brushing off loose feathers. “Come on, you dumb slut.” Roman shot him a glare, but Remus was dutifully, stubbornly, ignoring his gaze. “If I eat, you eat. Deal?”

Roman considered it, then sighed.

“Very well.” He rose to his feet. He flared his wings, shaking himself. He pretended not to see Remus eyeing him cautiously and moved briskly to the door. “But I still need my left wing preened.”

“Don’t be greedy,” Remus snapped, in as much of an agreement as Roman figured he would get. “Maybe I’ll braid all the feathers so tight you have to shave your wings.”

“Stop being foul,” Roman said, holding the door open for his brother. The rude menace didn’t thank him as he darted out.

“You know that’s my whole deal, right?” Remus asked over his shoulder, his tentacles now having vanished. Roman listened to his brother rant as they travelled downstairs and were greeted by the others. The weight of his wings was still at his back as he sat down to eat, even though they were now hidden.

He smiled when Janus made a joke that made Logan fight to hide a smile and Virgil choke on his drink while Patton scolded them, and Remus made everything worse by adding onto the gag.

The food would be fantastic, as Patton’s cooking always was. Even Janus would compliment the meal, and Patton would go giddy with joy as he cleaned up. Janus stopped Remus snorting the crumbs on the table while Logan packed leftovers. Roman helped clean up, and he and Virgil washed the dishes in companionable silence.

He waved goodnight to everyone, the first to retire upstairs, and held the image of his family's smiling faces to his memory. He felt Remus watching him quietly as he left, but he didn’t acknowledge his brother. That was, until he found the gremlin waiting for him in his bedroom, perched on the edge of his bed in the dark with glowing green eyes like the gargoyle he was.

Roman fell asleep that night easily, with newly preened, fiery red wings.

[sun-flower-children]

Hello Little One

Taehyung x male reader ( some jungkook x Taehyung )

supernatural au where y/n is taehyung’s guardian angel and tae is going through a hard time and really needs a friend. During the summer between their sophomore (11) and junior(12) years in high school. angst + fluff

The summer vacation began and the two best friends wanted to spend the first day together. Today's plan was to stay indoors but tomorrow they were going to do a ton of things outside. Nevertheless, they had games, snacks, and entertainment prepared for the day. This was also going to be a sleepover. It was still early in the morning, around nine when Taehyung was dropped off at Jungkook's house for their day. His mother helped him pull id bags out of the back, kissed him on the head, and left for work. To get up to Jungkook's huge house, one needed to first climb a set of stairs that were essentially cement blocks stuck into indents made in the hill. There was a specific one that would always trip Taehyung up. His backpack and duffel bag were considerably heavy, prepared with things for the two of them to do for the next five days, Taehyung was wobbling a bit already. Struggling to get up the stairs, that single block tripped him over. TAehyung felt the rush of wind and the weight of the luggage on his falling figure. He was just beginning to brace for impact when...nothing happened. Taehyung opened his eyes and saw that he was standing on the block that came after the wobbly one.

He sighed and continued, even though he specifically remembers never going up to step that block. This sort of thing wasn't new, but that didn't make Taehyung any less inquisitive. The first time this happened was in the first grade on his way to school. Taehyung was allowed to walk by himself because their home was not very far from the academic grounds. He was walking merrily when crossing the street, he tripped and fell. This normally would have been nothing but no one noticed due to the swarm of children crowding that specific walkway. The teacher on the other end ushered what she thought was all of the kids to the sidewalk when suddenly a huge truck at high speed started honking. She looked back at the road, and saw Taehyung, but didn't move for fear that some other child would run out to try and save time. She started yelling at him to move and run to her as fast as he could, but he was too focused on putting his toy back into his backpack. It happened so fast, the whoosh of the truck, the scream of women and children around the crosswalk, and the clang of metal. The teacher rushed to him to make sure that he was alright, and saw that not only was he alive, but he had gotten away with only one long scratch on his elbow. Taehyung who was laying down started babbling about an angle coming down to save him. No one believed him of course, so he told his grandmother. Naturally, she hugged him, kissed his head, and set him on her lap. She explained that yes, angels are real, and yes, Taehyung has an exceptionally strong guardian angel because of how kind and caring he is. The next day at school Taehyung would tell everyone that a big angel came down and saved him but all the other kids and teachers laughed, they didn't make fun of him, but they didn't believe him either.

Taehyung subconsciously rubbed his scar on his right elbow, a nervous habit of his. Finally making it up the last step, he knocked on the door. Jungkook's mother answered the door, happily welcoming him into the house. Taehyung heard the familiar thumping of feet running down the stairs to be tackled by the younger of the two. Laughing, they walked up to Jungkook's room and dropped all of his stuff into the corner of the room.

" What do you want to do first?"

" How about we roll for it?"

Jungkook rolled a six and Taehyung rolled a four, so Jungkook got to choose. He laid back onto his bed frame and scratched his head.

" Mom said we have to go outside at least, like, once so... let's go out now. Do you have cash on you?"

Taehyung nodded and ruffled through his duffel bag to reveal his wallet.

" You can take pictures of me, this one time. You know, for the gram."

Jungkook smiled and Taehyung followed suit. They changed into more stylish fits, prepped their bags and headed out. These two loved fashion and photography so they would help each other's Instagram's out. They weren't as fashion conscious as their upperclassman friend, Jung Hoseok, but they were good looking when they wanted to be. During the more stressful part of the school year, Jungkook and he would wear sweatpants but grab their fellow student's attention. They hung out downtown, going through stores and taking pictures of themselves or one another. They slowly made their way out of the busy shopping plazas and into the lounging part of town then into the large park. They sat down on a bench and talked about everything that best friends talk about. Identity, existentialism, sexuality, society, etc. They kept on talking until they realized it was six pm. They had easily spent fourteen hours together but the two always needed more. Both of them stood up and walked back to Jungkook's house. Somehow they had stumbled across the topic of sexuality. Taehyung came out to Jungkook freshman year as gay and made him promise to tell no one unless he said so.

" Jungkook do you think if I would go to hell even if everything else I did was good? "

Taehyung stopped walking and looked at Jungkook, awaiting his response. Jungkook had taken five more steps until he realized that his BFF was no longer next to him. Turning around he smiled.

" Taehyung, I am pretty sure you're God's favorite child by now. I don't think you would ever go to hell. Also, you are too pretty to be down there."

" You think I'm pretty?"

" I think you're lots of things Taehyung."

Jungkook couldn't help but blush a bit with his blurted comment, but seeing Taehyung smile again made it worth it. Taehyung jogged up to were Jungkook was and grabbed his hand, giving it a quick squeeze.

" I think you got it backward Kookie. You are the cute and pretty one of us too."

Jungkook's face was red at this point and couldn't make eye contact with Taehyung. They made it back home before it was absolutely dark and changed back into more comfortable clothes so they could seriously play some games. Taehyung brought his gaming laptop and he and Jungkook played Overwatch, Rainbow 6 and a few other games together until they realized that it was dark outside.

They opted for a movie and brought some snacks with them onto the couch. Naturally, they watched some horror movies and tried to scare the crap out of each other time and time again. They took a break from it and watched some epic gamer youtube videos of Pewdiepie playing Minecraft and they were inspired to play too. Literally, five minutes in and Taehyung was running away from zombies the best he could because he forgot to make a crafting table.

" Minecraft is scarier than It. You heard it first here kids."

Jungkook who had been lucky enough to make a bed was laughing at the mess that Taehyung was throwing himself in. They played for another twenty minutes when Jungkook remember that they had an ouija board in the basement. They came up with the brilliant plan of going down to the basement and talk to a spirit through the ouija board. Grabbing flashlights because the lights sometimes didn't work, the put on jackets and made their merry way down the stairs to the " basement". The word basement brings the image of a dark, cold, gray image to mind but because Jungkook's family was rich, their " basement" had hard work floors, proper furniture, a large television, and other things like a bar and billiards. It was another family room when guests came but the lights were too faulty for them to use it like that all the time. They sat down next to the couch and opened it up, placing everything exactly where the instructions said to put them. Placing their hands onto the moving piece, they waited and hoped that something would move it. And at the same time, they wish nothing would happen.

Just as that thought crossed both of their minds, the piece began moving. It began spelling nonsense, no real words or sentences were formed but then they saw that words came into meaning. What was before was probably another language and now it was becoming understandable. At first it was things like " How are you." and " When is it." that quickly changed to threats of " I will kill you when you sleep." and " You can't hide.". This was starting to really freak out the two of them so they let go and the piece still kept moving. Spelling out more and more dangerous threats the lights that were on now was off and their flashlights refused to work.

Panic ensued and as they were trying to find each other in the dark they each felt something new in the room. A new presence. There was something or someone else in there with them. They were not prepared to deal with a problem like this. Sure Jungkook joked about bringing holy water, but now he felt like maybe bringing it would not have been such a bad idea at all. Then they appeared. Those eyes. Like two dangerous orbs floating in the dark, they stared at Jungkook and Taehyung. Then it spoke. It's voice husky and in pain bringing upon fear and even more panic on the two of them. There was no language that they could guess because it was probably one of the monster's own. They felt the steps being taken before them, bring that entity closer and closer. The lights quickly turned on and the monster that it revealed was not what the two of them were picturing. It was the body of an old man but it was so torn apart the only thing left intact was the face. The eye sockets empty but for the two orbs, glowing in the cavern. It was like there was another body growing from inside what was that man. Bones and other things were moving underneath the skin and sprouting out to become a new arm or wing.

Just as it was ready to swing its arm at Taehyung, something bright entered the room. It was a glorious kind of light that radiated warmth and joy. Because of this light both Jungkook and Taehyung had to look away because of how brilliant it was. There was a scream, a most terrible and hair raising scream that had erupted out of the creature. Taehyung had to cover his ears and try to muffle that noise but it didn't help. Then the normal room light turned back on and the gleaming on dimmed. Teahyung rubbed his eyes to see what had happened. To both of their surprise, there was another otherworldly creature standing there. With beautiful (H/C) hair and shining (E/C) eyes that met Taehyung's stare with a smile. There in the middle of Jungkooks basement stood a creature they have never seen before, even in their fantasy games. They numerous wings of gold and strewn around them precious gems and the holy crown with a float around it's head also was adorned with the same stones. The garment it was wearing was a sort of robe with different beautifully woven sheer fabrics around its arms and waist. Its feet were not even touching the floor, levitating above the ground making it look even more ethereal that it already was. The skin of the creature glowed from underneath, a radiant healthy glow of love and happiness. There were bracelets rings on both of the hands adorned in gold and more rare jewels. Their presence was so very there because of their beauty and because of the height of them. Making it from the floor to the ceiling.

"Little one you know better than to play games like these. You never know what could possess these things."

The creature moved towards Taehyung and pet his hair. The creature smiled some more before addressing the other human in the room. Jungkook jumped when he saw the creature looking at him.

" U-um, sir? What are you? Are you going to hurt us?"

Jungkook couldn't help but ask. Taehyung was just standing there jaw dropped staring at this being that had entered his home somehow.

" My name is (Y/N) and I am a guardian angel. I have been assigned Kim Taehyung as a protector for life. And you are Jung Jungguk naturally."

" You're an angel? Like that's all real? oh, my g-"

Jungkook looked up at the angel again and gulped, realising that he needed to sit down. (Y/N) sat them both down and explained what had happened to them. Their game, on of the incredibly rare few, was actually possessed by a medium-tier demon who had contaminated the spirit of an old man that wandered the woods a few miles from that house peacefully. The demon saw the game as a chance to drain them of their life force to gain more strength in the mortal realm. As (Y/N) explained to them the entire ordeal, neither could process what was happening. They were basically being revealed the truth about the universe and there was no way that they could ever believe anything else after today. Taehyung raised his hand.

" Yes, little one?"

" Did you save me from the car accident when I was younger!", Taehyung yelled. He wanted to come across as confident but he was too intimidated by his guardian angel to say anything.

" Yes, I did. Something I had to fight for the right to do, but don't fear, it's past us now."

" Does that mean that you will have to explain this to um.. the Big Guy?"

(Y/N) laughed. It was more like the sound of silver twinkling bells with the dainty clinking of falling gems. The sweet noise was melodic and soothing to their ears. Jungkook, who was drained in every level, flopped down onto his back trying to grasp what is going on.

" Yes, sort of. I do not assume my physical form often and I do not need to see him speak to him. I am from a plane of being where time and scientific laws do not apply to us."

Taehyung gaped at (Y/N). This was the person that had saved his life numerous time and kept him safe.

" Oh, I almost forgot! I need to leave soon. If there is anything you need to ask, ask now."

(Y/N) stood up and glided a few paces in front of the couch. Turning around he knew that Jungkook had a question.

" No, guardian angels do not watch every single second but take note of what you do. Especially...the sort of thing humans your age begin to do. We generally look away. And, Yes Jungkook you have one as well. He is very caring and takes care of you well."

(Y/N) reached a handout and cupped Taehyung's face. Taehyung smiled feeling the somehow familiar warmth of his face. (Y/N) leaned over and kissed Taehyung on the nose. Before letting go there is one more thing you should know little one before I go." he whispered. Taehyung nodded waiting for the answer." Your grandmother wants you to know that she loves you very very much and that she is incredibly proud of everything you have done. She wishes she could be with you and help you grow into the gentlemen you will become. " Taehyung couldn't help but cry. He and his grandmother had shared a special connection and this message meant too much to him to keep inside. He just nodded again.

" Goodbye to the both of you. And may the father, the son and the holy spirit always be with you."

And in a flurry of gold and light, the sound of air wooshing past feathers, and the crack of lightning...(Y/N) was gone. They turned to each other with wide eyes.

" You saw that two right? I wasn't hallucinating."

" Like the angel? and everything? I can't believe this!"

It took a while for it to settle in but they took no time at all getting rid of the game and swearing to never do anything like that again. They ran back up to Jungkook's room and played some games. The pair of friends temporarily forgot about the demon and the angel while playing video games. After eating dinner and sitting at Jungkook's bed, Jungkook noticed something.

" Hey, Taehyung you have something on your nose?"

" Huh? What is it?"

" It's a mole! Did you have a mole on your nose before?"

"No I don't have one but...(Y/N) kissed me on my nose."

" You're joking. You have an angel mark on your nose! Ha!"

" Shut up!"

The two boys went back to playing games and enjoying their vacation, but they never forgot the night in the basement where they met an angel that saved their lives.

MASTERLIST

[honestgrins]

DRAGON!CAROLINE PART FIVE

fic: resonant

Resonant: Hideaway

"So," Caroline drawled out, wincing at the taste of smoke that lingered on her tongue. "You're telling me Sheila and her friends just...have a bunker handy in case someone tries to kidnap them?"

The cabin was small and probably meant to look as shabby as it did, especially since the magic she could feel emanating from the place. In fact, the swamp around them felt magical in an earthy, primal sort of way. Dragon shifters were apparently super sensitive, who knew? It was different than what she sensed from Klaus, though; his power was more like a contained violence, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice.

As Bonnie led her past the wards and invisible barriers, it was a wave washing over her, one of warmth and protection. "Grams said the coven has grown pretty powerful in the last decade or so," her friend explained with a sardonic look. "I'm sure you've noticed how exceptional abilities can attract the wrong attention."

"I'm sorry," Caroline apologized again, like she had every fifteen minutes since she'd managed to shift herself back from her dragon form. "This is just insane, I don't know-"

But Bonnie shook her head, just like she had at every apology. "Care, it's not your fault. People go on dates every day. No one could have guessed that yours would turn out to be a power-hungry wolf-vampire hybrid who just wanted to goad you into sprouting wings." Dropping her bag, she grabbed her hands and squeezed. "We're going to figure this out, and Grams promised me he wouldn't find us here."

Her heart ached a bit, and she hated how torn she felt when she should have been all in for the bunker plan. She was all in for the bunker plan, because it kept her friend safe and gave her time to figure out the new, scaly side of herself.

A little, teeny-tiny part of her, though, wanted to take the fight to Klaus. To put teeth in his neck. To do...a whole hell of a lot more. She was pissed, but her dragon had made a claim the woman really wanted to explore.

It made things a little complicated for her mental state.

Ever ready to stress-clean, she hunted down a dusting rag and helped Bonnie uncover the furniture so they could settle in. They very determinedly gave themselves the day not to talk about it further, and it wasn't until after the dinner they barely ate that she voiced her fear aloud. "Something in me wants him, Bon," she said, quiet and shaky. "What if he finds us and I want to go with him?"

"Then you're going to have to go through me, until I'm convinced he hasn't tricked the dragon into wanting him." The answer was immediate and resolute, and she was both grateful and scared.

That fear was soon proven wise, because a knock at the door woke them both in the middle of the night. Bonnie was ready to call Sheila, but Caroline let the fire push her to greet their visitor - only to find a bottle of champagne and a note on the porch. She knew better than to step outside, she did.

It didn't stop her from needing to read whatever he'd written. "Can you, like, levitate it in here?"

Bonnie frowned. "I'm more concerned he was able to get so close," she admitted. "Do you really want to read whatever he has to say?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I think I should read it anyway."

Summoning some sort of wind that reminded Caroline of floating feathers from their childhood, Bonnie swept the card past the threshold. The champagne stayed put. "He's drugged you once," she pointed out.

"Yep, yep." Bitterness flooded her mouth, and she glared out at the swamp in case the ass was watching. But she held the card, and her breath felt hot in her chest as she opened it to find the scrawl of handwriting inside. The message was short, and she felt his intent like a grip on her heart.

When you're ready, know that I'll be waiting, however long it takes. Yours, Klaus

Damn right, he was hers. Caroline just didn't know what that meant, even if he seemed to have a pretty good idea.

[whirlybirdwhat]

If you still take prompts, I'd like to suggest "platonic kisses"

Okay look. This is late. But I told you all it turned into a monster didn’t I?

Anyway, take 5,000+ words of Straw Hat fluff. 

(You didn’t specify a fandom, so I’m going with One Piece lol.)

Enjoy! See Ao3 Notes for further Warnings. 

—

Sun Over the Horizon on Ao3 Read there for better quality!

“In the hours after a battle, the Straw Hats are unusually silent.

 In the hours after a battle, Luffy helps his crew heal.”—

The Straw Hat pirates, contrary to popular belief, do have their quiet moments, when all seems still and the sea as calm as it can be out on the Grand Line.

These moments can find Brook humming at the center of the deck, Bink’s Sake a lowly joyful tune to soothe the crew, as Usopp tinkers nearby and Nami sketches her maps, the doors open to hear the tune. Sanji’s cooking in the kitchen, a light snack and something sweet for their even sweeter doctor working to organize the (once again, ransacked) infirmary. Robin, with an ear on deck and a nose in a book in the Library, enjoys the tune as Franky drinks his own cola down in the Engine room – making sure their (temporarily) calm voyage stays that way as long as possible. Jimbe is up at the helm, doing the same.

Zoro’s napping, as he normally is, sunning himself on deck. Close to him is their captain, serene for once.

But they are not surprised – when he stares out at the ocean from his special seat (his throne), few can take his attention away.

(Usopp asked once, what Luffy thought about up there. In response, the captain had given a surprisingly poetic answer.

Nothing. ‘N Everything too. The sea likes to tell me things.

Robin called it the Voice of All Things. Luffy simply shrugged, and said that the horizon holds everything.)

(They don’t ask after the two years they spent apart, when ever so often Luffy’s hand will drift to his chest during his watch.)

Luffy stares out to the sea, still but not frozen, before fluidly getting up.

It’s almost night, and the quiet moment isn’t as quiet as it seems.

Usopp’s tinkering with the Climatact, which had been hit by a stray bullet in the battle yesterday. Brooks humming is a forced sort of calm, reminding them that they are all (relatively) alive. Nami’s maps are not entirely new, but freshly done ones that need to be retouched after cannonballs shook the ship. Robin may have her eyes in a book, but her mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away as is Jimbe’s, his face stormy. Franky’s checking up on the engine, on Sunny, worried for the hits she took, and Sanji is cooking a feast to restore their (ever so slightly too thin) captain back to his fullest health, while Chopper reorganizes the supplies he had torn out yesterday – when Zoro had been bleeding from a stab wound to the stomach.

(He hadn’t seen the Devil-fruit user in his blind spot)

Luffy steps over the dark patch on the ground, burnt from cannon fire.

(Five Vice-Admirals, all with Haki and one with devil-fruit powers, all from the New World.

They had won, but it was not a bloodless fight on their end)

Luffy’s captain, it’s his job to make sure these quiet moments are the good kind of quiet moments, where peace and relaxation and decompression (that’s the word that Robin used, right?) are all that are focused in their minds.

And he knows exactly how.

-

The engine room is where he starts, with Franky toiling away at the engine, for once, a content smile not on his face as he works.

Luffy doesn’t like that (even though his crewmates are free to feel however they want) – he prefers his shipwright smiling as he works on his Dream, on Sunny. He prefers his shipwright feeling SUPER!

“Hey Luffy-bro!” Franky calls as Luffy’s feet, bare for once, slap against the wood on the way down. His voice is strained, and it makes Luffy frown inwardly. “What do you need? I won’t have this fixed up for a while, so we can’t go anywhere yet.”

Luffy shakes his head. “Nah. That’s not what I want. It’s okay – I know you’ll fix it eventually. You’re the best shipwright after all!”

(Luffy sees the way the metal’s warped, the way the tanks are so slightly out of place, knows that any other person would have given up immediately.

But Franky’s different. Luffy knows this.)

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay!” And at that cheerful phrases from his captain, Franky’s hands still entirely, tension flowing from his body and to the floor upon which he sits.

A smile finally, finally graces his lips as he speaks. “Yeah, Captain. I’m okay.” Luffy nods, and stretches his hands to the cyborg’s face (still taller than him even as he sits) who leans down to accommodate him.

Luffy holds Franky’s face in his hands, searching his eyes for something Franky won’t ever be able to comprehend, before beaming. He presses his lips to Franky’s nose, loving like only a captain can be to his crew and that final bit of stress is finally gone from Franky at that oh so simple moment.

Its broken by Luffy laughing however, Franky’s hair now wildly distressed, triggered by the kiss upon his nose. Franky only laughs with him, styling his hair into something simple but sure to make Luffy laugh – a giant starfish!

It feels good to relax again.

-

After saying farewell to Franky (after three more hairstyle changes of course) Luffy heads to the aquarium, where Robin has relocated (he hadn’t missed the eyes peeping from behind the machinery.)

“Hey Robin!”

“Hello Captain.” Robin’s voice is normal to outsiders, but Luffy hears the shake in it, just as subtle as the way her hand was a second to slow to sprout to life and stop the first cannonballs to hit the deck.  

“Whatcha reading?” Luffy asks swiftly, ignoring the way Robins breath shudders as she puts the book down

“Nothing special – only a book about the ruins of Alabasta’s desert.”

Luffy’s frown grows even more.

Robin never describes any book as nothing special. They’re all special to her.

She rarely reads about Alabasta, it’s a place she’s already been to and documented – but the book itself is one she always goes back to when she’s feeling down and unsure…

(The past doesn’t matter, not aboard this ship, but Robin will never forget the day she was willing the sacrifice thousands for a chance at her dream)

Luffy plucks the book out of her hands and sets it carefully to the side. Robin doesn’t react, her hands perfectly still and her eyes empty and staring straight into Luffy’s.

“Robin,” He says, in the same voice that commanded her to say she wanted to live, “I’m glad you’re on my ship.”

A word doesn’t pass her lips but that’s okay, Luffy understands. Robin doesn’t like to add to history sometimes, only likes to watch it – and that’s okay too.

(She will, though, be history someday, a living legend – the Pirate King’s beloved archeologist -)

Luffy gently grabs her hands and lays them in her lap before releasing one and grabbing a ink pen set to the side. With careful movements, he traces an X, bold and powerful, on her wrist.

Robin likes history – she understands.

Luffy brings it up to his lips and kisses it gently, careful to avoid the ink, and beams at her.

“I’m glad you’re here Robin,” He says simply, before tugging the infamous straw hat more firmly on his head and dashing out of the room.

He doesn’t need to look back to see the smile gracing Robin’s lips.

(Because Robin – she’s an archeologist. She’s history, and with the Straw Hats, she’s history in the making. She knows what the X means, drawn on seven wrists and one wing, knows that it means belonging like only a Straw Hat can know –

And now, even if she is not ready enough to stop cannonballs in sudden fire, she is enough to be one of the Straw Hats.

And that’s all she needs.)

-

Usopp’s next on his list, buried deep within the Usopp Factory. Luffy steps through, taking care not to step on anything (Usopp gets mad if he does – Luffy doesn’t get it, knows that Usopp’s stuff is amazing no matter what shape its in, but he can respect it), slowly but surely making his way to his sniper.

When he finds him, Usopp’s hands are shaking and he’s cursing when he can’t fit the screw into the climatact.

Usopp’s a liar, but he’s never been able to hide his feelings from his captain.

“Usopp.”  Luffy says, collapsing on Usopps back (and how out of it is Usopp with his observation Haki that he startles when Luffy does so?) like some kind of rubbery, wet rag. “Tell me a story.”

“I can’t Lu- I have to fix Nami’s weapon.”

“Nami’s weapon won’t fix itself if you can’t fix the screwy thing in the hole.”

Usopp’s shoulders slouch, taking Luffy with them, and the captain lets out a soft shishishi at the motion. “I know.”

“So tell me a story!”

“Aye Captain.” And Usopp does, shrugging Luffy off his back so they can sit side by side, imaginary battle scene rippling to life on the wooden walls.

His voice is soft this time around, but Luffy knows that when Usopp’s stories are the truest, they’re the quietest, like Usopp doesn’t want anyone to hear the truth.

(Luffy doesn’t get it – Usopp’s awesome! He’s the best sniper in the world! Who wouldn’t want to know about him?)

“Did I ever tell you about the time I fought three giant ants at once with only one pop green?”

“NO! Tell me!”

“Well – It all goes like this…” Usopp’s voice gets stronger and stronger, and his body relaxed and easier as the tale goes on – embellished a little, but truthful in every way that counts.

Until…

“I aimed for the final ants wing and – and … and…” He stutters and trails off. “I missed. Like I did today.”

(Luffy remembers. Remembers how Usopp shot the star and how for once, it didn’t hit its target (the musket in the Marine’s hand), how for once, Usopp’s aim was off, how for once, there was a devil fruit eater who could combat his attacks near perfectly, how for once, Usopp couldn’t do what Usopp did best and snipe.)

Luffy hums from his place on Usopp’s shoulder, playing with Usopp’s hands as he lets his sniper speak.

(After Water 7, he knows the value of words.)

“I missed and you got hurt Luffy. I failed – I had one job and I failed, I couldn’t even do that right, I’m sorry Luffy, I swear I aimed right, I’m sorry…”

Luffy hums again, this time slipping his hand firmly into Usopp’s. “That’s okay.”

“But it isn’t! You’re hurt! I’m supposed to stop things like that…” Mm. The sea stone bullet in his shoulder had hurt but it had can straight through so that’s okay. But Usopp’s voice continues to waver, unsure and wet. “I couldn’t protect you.”

At this, Luffy stops listening and starts speaking.

“Usopp. I’m the captain.”

“I know Luffy –“

“Usopp. I’m the captain. And I say its okay. It wasn’t your fault – it was Pinky’s fault-“

“I don’t think that was his name-“

“It was Pinky’s fault. You aimed true and you did everything you were supposed too do. And it didn’t work out – and that’s okay!”

“But – “

“And you got back up and did it again! You were so fast! Pinky didn’t even have time to cast another… another uhhh Moody Moody Pull!

“I think it was Muta Muta Luffy…”

“It doesn’t matter! I saw it doesn’t” And now, Luffy looks at his sniper and smiles. “Its okay Usopp. I’m okay, you’re okay. Alright?”

Usopp doesn’t respond for a while, doesn’t look Luffy in the eye, but like Luffy’s been saying, its okay.

Luffy will wait as long as it takes.

Finally, Usopp looks up and just melts. “Yeah,” He says, voice wet with tears, “Its okay.” And suddenly Luffy has an armful of Usopp.

Eventually, after Luffy’s bandaged shoulder is suitable wet with tears, he lets Luffy go, who promptly places a kiss on Usopp’s cheek.

“Shishishi! I have the best sniper!”

“Luffy!”

“Shishishi!”

-

Nami isn’t much different than Usopp when Luffy finds her, hands shaking as she draws her still flawless maps.

The one thing is, she’s already crying and her whole body is shaking.

First thing Luffy does is slide the map out from under her hands. The next thing he does is hug his navigator like he has never done before.

Nami only cries harder, beating her hands  on Luffy’s back as sobbed words break from her throat. “Luffy… Luffy I almost died.”

“I know,” he responds, “I know.”

(The musket guy had been back, aiming at another target after shooting Luffy, who was still tusseling despite the blood pouring from his shoulder, with a Vice admiral. The target had been Nami, who had no one to protect her from the bullet.

It was luck that had Nami pulling the Climatact in front of her chest at the exact moment that the musket fire. It was luck that the bullet ricocheted off it, it was luck that Nami lived.

Luffy didn’t like to think about it)

(Ace…)

“But Nami,” He says carefully, making sure his hands move Nami’s to her tattoo and the scars underneath it. “You’re alive.”

Nami’s eyes don’t stop crying nor her body shaking, but she understands.

(The past doesn’t matter – not aboard Luffy’s ship. Nami asked him to help her, and he didn’t need a reason, didn’t need a story to beat up Arlong.

Nami lived now, and it didn’t matter why or how, only that she was alive. And she would stay that way.)

“But-“

“You’re alive.” Luffy says it like its truth, and if Nami really has to admit it, if it’s from him it must be true.

“I’m alive.” Nami repeats, quiet but secure in it.

“I’m alive.”

I’m here, I’m alive, I’m free.

It takes three minutes for Nami to pull away from his shoulder, and another two for her eyes to stop watering, but by then she’s smiling so Luffy knows it worked (he would stay still forever if it meant his nakama got the chance to be happy.)

“Thanks Luffy.” Nami says in that wonderful happy voice she reserves for her captain only.

Luffy only beams like a thousand suns in response and places a sloppy kiss on her cheek, and dashes out to the embarrassed but fond screeching of his navigator

-

Luffy’s shirt is wet from ink and tears (and blood) when he finally leaves, but his navigator is smiling and the shirt was getting itchy anyway as it rubbed against the wounds littering his body so maybe it’s time to ditch it anyway.

He slowly creeps past the galley, avoiding Sanji’s gaze (his cook is focused on the meat he’s burning in the pan, but for once Luffy isn’t interested.) as he makes his way to the infirmary.

There he finds Chopper, small and lost between the bloody piles of bandages tossed around the infirmary. Luffy doesn’t hesitate to sweep him up in his arms and sit on the bed, Chopper acting like a stuffed animal more than a reindeer.

“Luffy!” Chopper exclaims, surprised but content to let Luffy hold him. “Where have you been! I told you to be in here an hour ago!”

“Sorry Chopper!” Luffy relaxes into the fluffy fur, “I was talking to Franky! And Robin! And Usopp! And Nami! And now you!”

“But what were you doing before that?”

“Thinking!”

“On your special seat?”

“Yeah!” Luffy loosens his arms so Chopper may turn in them and look him dead in the eye.

“I told you, you have to stay inside! That sea stone bullet left residue in your body and I don’t want the sea spray heightening it’s effects!”

Luffy pouts but his doctor only glares back harder.  “In a bit. I need go back outside to see the others and then I’ll rest! But don’t you know what I was thinking about? Its really coooool!”

Chopper has stars in his eyes, personality a complete 180 from the strict doctor he was moments ago?

“Really? Tell me! Tell me!”

“Well it was just that I have the doctor of the future pirate king on my ship who can fix up any of us! Even Zoro! And Brook and he’s a skeleton! You’re the best Chopper!”

The reindeer immediately becomes cursingly bashful, hitting Luffy lightly on the chest (still so conscious to avoid the spots of blood on Luffy’s shoulder. Its starting to hurt.) “You asshole! Being nice isn’t going to make me like you more!”

“But I’m not! I’m just saying what’s true!”

If it’s possible, Chopper becomes even more bashful, but his smile is wholly sincere. The rigidness in his shoulders slowly seems to melt out of him, the tension that had been there even since Zoro came in bleeding out organs, and Luffy came in hazy from Sea Stone, almost gone as he gives Luffy a hug.

In an adorable gesture, Luffy bends and gives a nose kiss to Chopper, making them both laugh with joy, all worries now completely gone in the face of their happiness.

Well… almost all of their worries.

Chopper suddenly transforms into his tallest form, giving him easy reach to all of Luffy’s wounds.

“Now Luffy – let me chance your bandages okay?”

Luffy tenses but nods, allowing his doctor to change the bloody swathes of fabric around his shoulder. The blood is sticky, and it pulls at Luffy’s skin as Chopper peals it away, but Luffy make no noise, only lets Chopper do his job. His hands are always gentle with his patients, no matter what form he’s in.

Chopper prods at the wound, seemingly pleased with the heal process, but then prods at Luffy’s shoulder blades and collar bone, noting how his ribs can be seen against rubber skin. “Luffy.”

Uh oh. Luffy knows that voice. He’s in trouble.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Ummmm…” Luffy doesn’t even try to lie, even if he does stall. “This morning before the Marines attacked.”

Chopper eye’s narrowed. The rest of them had went and gotten sandwiches from the kitchen while Sanji cleaned up, but if Luffy hadn’t gotten any…

Well it was evening now. And breakfast had been interrupted.

“Luffy.” His voice was scolding. “What did we talk about?”

“I know! I know…” Luffy knows (doesn’t know why he sometimes pushes off food when he knows his body needs it, more than most, knows how sometimes he just… can’t, despite his voracious appetite) how his doctor feels about it. “I’m going to Sanji right now! Look!”

“Not without me finishing your checkup you’re not!”

-

It’s another ten minutes before Chopper finally ushers him out and by then Luffy has been thoroughly admonished and ready to meet his cook.

Which he does, by stretching out his arms and launching himself koala style onto Sanji’s back.

“Shitty Captain!” Sanji roars, but the way he shifts to accommodate the weight so effortlessly betrays the fact that he’s used to this act by now (and welcomes it.)

“Hiya Sanji!” Luffy places his head on Sanji’s shoulder, wrapped around him like a rubbery octopus, watching him make dinner. “What’cha making?”

“Meat sandwiches.”

“Yum!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sanji says, and Luffy watches his hands shake.

(The battle had not been hard on Sanji – no mistakes or grievous injuries, but his cook is the kindest person on this crew and Luffy knows how much he hurts when others hurt, knows how much his cook hurts when he can’t help, can’t make all their problems go away with a meal or a friendly hand or a harsh kick. He’s kind and it kills him, but Luffy wouldn’t have his cook any other way.)

Luffy makes a soft noise and reaches out to touch Sanji’s hands, saying nothing (because Sanji has always spoken in actions when it comes to himself.)

“Sorry Captain. Meal will be ready soon.” Sanji’s tone is apologetic, sorry for the fact that he can’t make science and cooking bend to his need.

Sometimes, Luffy’s cook is funny like that.

“It’s okay. I can wait.” He doesn’t add the fact that he’s not that hungry, but his cook doesn’t need to hear that.

And wait he does.

He mumbles stories next to his cook, about the time he grabbed a giant sea king from the sea and Usopp had said it looked like a goldfish but Luffy could swear it was a hippopotamus, about the story Robin read to him two nights ago about a kid and treasure up in the sky (The ships could fly in space Sanji!), about how good Sanji’s meals taste, about how he always feels full afterward, about how he’s lucky to have Sanji on his crew.

And every so often, he places his hands on Sanji’s, stopping the trembling.

And every so often, his cook smiles a bit more, not stiffening about the ribs felt through his captain’s shirt anymore.

Sanji finishes the meal with a grand flip of a tray, giving a show to the captain grinning over his shoulder.

“Eat up Shitty Captain. I don’t want to see a single crumb left you here me? I know you’re hungry.”

“Shishishi! Of course!”

In a whirlwind if movement, Luffy dashes off of Sanji’s back and faces his from the front, hands gentle as they push the hair off Sanji’s face and love in every movement as he kisses his cook right between his swirly brows.

“Thank you!”

Sanji has a dopey smile on his face before he realizes what happened and brandishes his spatula. “LUFFY!” he shouts in faux rage, but he’s smiling, laughing, and that much joy is back in the Straw Hat pirates.

And all Luffy does is (attempt to) smile back with his mouth full of delicious meat sandwiches.

“Thank’s Sanji!”

-

When Luffy is finally full according to Sanji’s standards, he dashes out to meet Brook, humming along to a quiet song that Luffy can’t quite place.

“Brook!” he says happily, staring up at the man. He can feel Jimbe’s eyes on him, and Zoro shifted over in the corner, but the skeleton appears to have not have noticed.

“Brook? Brook!” He tries again, attempting to catch his attention.

But Brook’s attention is far off – the kind he gets on stormy nights, on foggy nights, when the world around the ship is quiet and dark and sunlight is nowhere to be found.

A frown crosses Luffy’s face.

This won’t do.

So he starts to hum his own song, something up beat and happy, something that Brook’s lonesome song had strayed from when Luffy wasn’t looking.

As he does so, he pulls Brook down to the seat behind him, sitting with him as he hums and pulls the violin slowly out of his grasp. The bony hands are limp and unresisting as Luffy does so, and fall into his lap when Luffy places the violin firmly out of reach.

(When Brook’s feeling loud and brave and bold – he uses his guitar, the mark of the soul king.

When Brook’s quiet, or happy, or peaceful, or sad, the violin is his weapon of choice – sometimes its hard to tell when he is the Humming Swordsman or Future Musician of the Pirate King or simply Last member of the Rumbar Pirates.

His music is his tell though.)

While he hums, slowly calling Brook out of the fog, he takes a look at Brook’s hands.

As weird as it may sound, he likes his nakama’s hands, scarred and soft and metal alike. He likes holding them, feeling the heartbeat, observing the marks on each and the stories they tell.

Robins are hard, used to tough environments and fighting with her hands – Sanji’s are soft, a cook’s hands, unweaponized and for his friends. Usopp’s and Zoro’s are calloused from weapon holding and Brook’s…

Well Brook’s are all bone. There’re no scars to tell him what his life is like (do you see the scar on Luffy’s thumb? The pierced hole through his fists?) or what he likes to do, but perhaps the bones are all he needs.

Speaking of loneliness and death, but also long and slender. There are grooves on the end, where strings cut into softened bone, and all are held together by seemingly nothing at all.

Luffy leans into Brook’s side, slotting himself under one arm, humming forcefully.

Gather up all the crew

Its time to ship out Bink’s Brew…

He’s here, with Brook, and if Brook can’t come back to himself right away, too lost in his mind, and the night sky, and nakama almost lost, then that’s okay. As long as he comes back eventually, it’s okay.

Luffy reaches the end of Bink’s Sake and starts again, lifting a bony hand to his lips and pressing a firm kiss to it, humming all the way through.

He’s here, and Brook isn’t alone, if he only would come back to them.

And come back to them Brook does.

“Ah – Luffy?”

“Brook!” Luffy says cheerfully, happy to see his musician back.

“I apologize… I drifted off it seems… I had been meaning to be playing a cheerful song, to lift us up from that dreadful battle, but I suppose thoughts of… well death swamped my mind… even though I have no brain inside this skull, Skull Joke!” Brook says, slowly and then with renewed cheer in his voice.

Luffy smiles. If Brook can make a skull joke, then all is well as it can be.

“That’s okay Brook. Can you sing a song now? A happy one! But not a party one! Like an in-between one!

“Yohoho! I believe I have the song for that, Captain. Have you eaten? Did Chopper redress your wounds?”

Luffy blinks at the out of the blue question and then huffs. “Yep! I’m all good! We’re all here!”

It’s okay if Brook nags him. Luffy knows he only does so because Brook has experienced loss too.

(Yorki, Brook sometimes mumbles out on foggy nights, Yorki, please don’t go.)

“Very well then Captain! A song dedicated to our triumph today!”  And so the melody starts with Brook humming, the picked up violin swaying in. Luffy himself sways in place to the tune, a cheery, peaceful thing.

“I’m glad you’re my musician Brook.”

“I am too, Captain. I am too.”

-

Jimbe knows his turn is next, Luffy knows, feeling his eyes follow him up the steps to the helm.

“Luffy.” He says calmly, but it’s a forced kind of calm, the kind like peaceful waters with a pulling riptide underneath. His helmsman is worried.

“Jimbe!” Luffy replies with enthusiasm, before sobering up, know that while Jimbe needed to let loose sometimes (There were no responsibilities chaining him down on the Sunny-) he appreciated it more when Luffy was serious.

Which Luffy would oblige.

Sometimes.

“Are you okay?” Jimbe did not need hands held and fears assuaged – he did not need gestures of affection (though Luffy will give them freely) but needed words instead. Vows were what bound Jimbe, vows and promises of honor, and brutal honesty was in his every word.

Luffy liked that about Jimbe – he was kinda like Zoro, held promises to the same level, but Zoro could be more ruthless then Jimbe sometimes.

“I am… alright Captain.” And sometimes Jimbe did this, used his words to dance around the question, and Luffy wanted to scream.

“But are you okay?”

Jimbe averts his eyes from Luffy’s at that, gaze towards the storm. “No Luffy. I am not.” Jimbe’s older than Luffy, old enough to remember a time before the Pirate King, and different than Brook in that he’s not gone half insane during his life. He’s worldly, and the way he admits that he’s not in control to Luffy is another level of loyalty entirely.

“I… I failed today. I am supposed to help guide this crew, answer to the navigator in these rough waters, steer the ship to safety, but today… Today I did not. Today I neglected my duty, failed to maneuver us out of a battle where our sturdiest warriors were already hurt…” His view falls to the bandages around Luffy’ shoulder, stark white against sun kissed skin.

“But you didn’t.” Luffy says simply, hopping up to sit on the railing besides Jimbe. “You didn’t fail. In the New World we all have to be ready but today we weren’t. And that’s okay. We’re alive, aren’t we? And you did get us out – you smashed a hole in that Marine Ship didn’t you?”

Jimbe huffs, a smiling quirking from a fanged mouth. “I suppose I did.”

And Luffy knows his helmsman will be okay. But to make sure…

Luffy stands atop of the railing and presses a kiss to the side of Jimbe’s forehead, soft and sweet, and full of the devotion a captain must have for his crew. Jimbe’s smile, small, grows bigger and he lets out a laugh.

“Thank you, Captain. I believe you have one more person to see?”

Jimbe’s so smart, of course he knew what Luffy was doing!

“Yep!”

“Then go – and then rest or I will make you.” Jimbe threatens fondly, and Luffy can only laugh.

He loves his crew.

“I will! Zoro’s sleeping anyway!” Or at least he will be until Luffy bounds over – he always wakes up for Luffy.

“Of course.”

-

Zoro doesn’t wake up for Luffy, but that’s okay. Luffy doesn’t need to reassure Zoro, though he does appreciate the nice pillow that Zoro makes.

Zoro knows already, what Luffy would say – or rather, what he wouldn’t say because Zoro already knows.

(They’re confusing like that.)

Zoro knows that he’s alive, that his mistakes just mean he needs to train more, that every fight is practice until he fights Mihawk, that this wound, wet where Luffy presses against Zoro’s bandaged side, is just encouragement to work better.

Besides – it wasn’t from a sword (did he see the shrapnel flying towards him from Pinky’s devil fruit? Did he even know it was a thing? It doesn’t matter.) so its okay.

But still… Fit in the slot between Zoro’s arm and his body, he can feel the bandages, slightly wet with blood pressing up against his own bandaged side.

Zoro got hurt today.

But he’s still alive.

Luffy sighs, and sinks further into his spot, hat slipping off his head as he feels the pulse of Zoro’s heart beat against his cheek.

The battle’s past, and his crew – all of his crew is okay.

There’s a pressure against his head, Zoro’s lips giving him a short kiss against it.

Luffy only laughs.

Zoro’s just making sure that he’s okay too, just like he did with the rest of the crew.

His first mate is the best.

So Luffy beams, giving Zoro a look that tells him all he needs know.I’m okay too.

Now – his crew is quiet and peaceful, the kind after a storm where you know everything is finally going to be okay, and there’s a sun in the sky. No one is anxious, fighting back tears or holding shaking hands.

The Straw Hat Pirates are at peace. Now all Luffy needs is a nap and everything will be right in the world.

So against his first mate’s side, the captain of the Straw Hats sleeps at last.

[pabitcravesteeth]

Day 6: Flowers

Weeks had passed since half of the Habitat's population escaped before the planned "Big Event". The other half, the people who stayed behind, had all seemingly vanished. Concerned loved ones often poked around the empty Habitat, but found nothing.

To say people were angry was an understatement.

Loved ones that came here seeking help disappeared without a trace and the only person who would know what happened to them had disappeared, himself. Former staff members were arrested and questioned, but nothing came of it and they were released. They were kept in the dark as well and likely would have suffered the same fate if they hadn't left with the others.

One of the people hit the hardest by the disappearance of a loved one was Nat Vancey. Her father followed her to the Habitat, then stayed behind because he wasn't happy. She trued to get him to leave and even tried to drag him out by his cape, but he wouldn't budge. In frustration, she yelled at him and told him she didn't care if he stayed here and died with everyone else.

Her words echoed in her head as well as the face her father made when he heard her say this awful thing to him. He looked heartbroken. He said nothing as she turned around and stomped out of his room and out the front door.

Nat couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her father staring back at her with that face. Every time she wanted silence, the universe threw her own words back at her. Nat didn't want to admit she'd been wrong, but she couldn't distance herself from the truth.

She'd told her dad that she didn't care if he'd died and now he could very well be dead somewhere. Maybe Habit kidnapped him and everyone else and they're all okay and waiting for rescue!

…

Nat knows that's not the truth, but it helps her sleep a little better. She imagines herself finding where Habit is hiding, kicking in his door, beating him up, finding her dad and rescuing him all while telling him how much she loves him and that she's sorry for a long grocery list of bad things she's done. She plays this scenario over and over again in hopes that it will grant her a good dream.

Her throat stings and tears fall freely while her hands tighten around her dad's flower pot that held his prized flower. He took meticulous care of this stupid thing and when she returned to the Habitat to find him, this flower was all that was left of him. This breed of daisy had a natural face and was notoriously hard to care for. One wrong move and it will wilt and die in hours. This flower had lost it's face and looked strange. It looked heavier and seemed to pop out at her a little more. Nothing her dad told her about this plant included this. Still, it was all she had now. She brought the flower to her face and kissed the petals again. It was childish, but she liked to imagine that kissing the flower would somehow deliver the kiss to her dad's cheek. She'd stopped giving hugs, kisses, and "I-Love-You"s to her parent because her friends said that only babies and nerds do that. Nat knew it upset her father when she stopped and when she would push him away if he even attempted to hug her or ruffle her hair. Look at her now, kissing a weird flower because she misses her dad. She doesn't even care anymore. Let them laugh, at least someone would be happy.

Nat places the flower on the floor next to her. She couldn't sleep in her room anymore and opted instead for one of the couches in their Livingroom. Her father's house was very large and the emptiness ate away at her. She had nearly drifted off when her father's antique phone began to ring. Glancing at the ancient grandfather clock showed the time to be nearly three in the morning. Nat wanted to let it ring, but a call at this hour hopefully meant a call about information concerning her father.

Nat's leathery wings flapped furiously as she flew to the Habitat. She rarely ever transformed so her flying was sloppy, but her form was the least of her concerns at the moment. she flits over the garish orange wall into the courtyard of the Habitat and flew into the boiler room and down the long hallway into the elevator. Turning back into her human form and pressing the down button finally brought Nat to the basement. She'd never known there was a basement as the button never worked until now. She paces impatiently as the elevator crawled down into the belly of the facility. She wrings her hands and as soon as the door begins to open, she pushes past the doors into the dark hallway.

"Habit! I'm here! You better show yourself right now or you WILL be sorry! Where's my dad?!" she calls out while marching into the darkness. She hardly noticed the lights flicker on as she approached them. The walls were white and devoid of any graffiti unlike the upper levels. The basement was clearly neglected ad likely used for storage. Nat scoffs. Storage.

Nat stopped in her tracks when she spots Dr. Habit standing at the far end of the hall waiting for her. His solemn expression was the opposite of Nat's burning fury. "You! You creep! Where's my dad? You said you had him, so where is he?!" she howls and starts toward the large man once again. "He is here, Nat. I will take you to him, but he is not how you remember him. He's...changed. Take a minute to collect yourself and-" Habit began "I literally don't care, stupid! Let my dad go or I will bite out your throat! Why'd you lock him in this basement, huh?" Nat cut him off and marches towards him impulsively. She is not afraid to make her threats become real. She saw red.

Habit was not afraid of the much smaller half vampire. If she did attack him, he probably wouldn't fight back. Let her take his blood; he didn't care. Wordlessly, he unlocked the door behind him and held it open for Nat. She did not make eye contact as she shin checked him on her way inside.

Nat stops in her tracks when she sees what hid inside the room.

It was everyone. All of the missing people were alive and some were walking around, but something happened to them. Their heads had changed into things and other parts of their bodies had mutated. Borbra had an owl's head that watched her curiously. She gives a single low hoot in acknowledgement. Trevor sat nearby, scratching his floppy puppy ears with his leg as his front paws scratched the linoleum in front of him. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he panted happily while wagging a newly sprouted curly tail. Millie stood in the corner with a head resembling a hollow baby doll head and flames crackled around her. Her empty eyes watched in vain as embers burned in her sockets. It appeared as though she had gone blind, either that or she was ignoring Nat's presence on purpose.

Nat quietly slinks around everyone while trying to avoid their lazy stares. It was like they didn't even recognize her. She stops in the middle of the room when she does not immediately see Trencil. She did not look up to face Dr. Habit when he approached. "I tried to warn you. Your father is in the next room. He would rather be alone. When you feel you are ready, I will take you to him." Habit said quietly. He wanted to place his hand on Nat's shoulder, but he knew he was the last person she wanted to be helped by. She would bite his fingers off.

Nat breathed deeply and tried to blink back her tears. This was too surreal. She wasn't ready for this, but she did not have the heart to turn around and go home. She had to see her dad. She had to make sure he was okay. She wanted him to hug her and tell her everything was going to be alright and that he was going to be fine.

"I'm...ready. I think. Show me where my dad is, Habit. I want to see him." Nat said quietly. She still refused to look at the doctor. Habit started off towards another door and wordlessly opened it. The room was just a small, dark closet. Nat's eyes didn't want to open. Habit took a few steps back to give Nat her space. He doesn't want to watch the Varnnia reunion, but he knew he should stay nearby just in case Nat had questions.

After a minute of silence, Nat forced her eyes open. She almost shut them again when she caught a glimpse of her father sitting inside. He sat with his back against the wall and his arms resting limply at his sides. The hands that once held hers had turned into three sharp blades that resembled his old gardening shears. Nat couldn't stop staring at them. She felt a little afraid of him now. If he tried to hug her now, he would slice her without meaning to. Glancing up at his face made her turn around and finally break down. Nat fell to her knees and sobbed into her hands.

Trencil did not have a face anymore. He didn't even have an actual head; instead, a green daisy sprouted up from his neck and stared back at her. Habit pulled his own hair from the stress of watching Nat react to her father. He'd braced himself for this, but watching this happen for real stung him.

Nat wiped her eyes flutily and forced herself up. She turned to face her father once again and started towards him. Trencil did not react to her at all. Even as she knelt before him and carefully grabbed the cuff of his sleeve, avoiding his sharpened fingers.

"Dad..? It's me...Nat. Can you hear me?" she asked quietly. Trencil's petals rustled slightly in acknowledgement. He did not seem interested in her, which wounded her. "Dad...I'm...I'm sorry. For everything. I shouldn't have said all those things, or left you here, o-or changed my name..." Nat's voice broke and she fought back more sobs. Trencil tilts his head curiously.

"Well...Nat. I'm glad you came to visit me, but I'm afraid I don't recall any of these things. Do we know each other?" his voice was a raspy whisper. He appeared to speak from the center of his petals, despite Trencil appearing to not have a mouth to speak with. "Dad! I'm your daughter! You raised me! Don't you remember me?!" her voice cracks painfully. Trencil shakes his head simply. "I'm sorry, but you must have mistaken me for someone else. I don't think I've ever seen you before. I do hope you find your real father, though." he whispered. His petals shivered with every word and syllable.

Nat couldn't hold back her despair. Her throat had already gone raw from crying so much. Nat wailed and drove her fists into Trencil's chest, pounding her fists against him again and again while continuing to cry. Trencil froze and took the blows. They did not hurt. "You! Are! My! Real! Dad! You! Are! MY! REAL! DAD!" she cried with every hit she landed on him before wrapping her arms around Trencil's stalk and burying her face into the petals sprouting from the side of his head. Not knowing what else to do, he rests his hands on her back, taking care to not cut her.

This child obviously missed her father. He hoped she would find him soon, but for now he was happy to fill that void.

[yourlocalmusicalprostitute]

Hi! I just had a fun Christmas story idea. If you know the movie, would you write something inspired by "It's a Wonderful Life"? Any person you choose to write about would be great, but John or Gwil is preferable. Thanks! I hope you're having a good holiday season :)

Hii! Im sorry this is a day late. So i watched as many clips as I could & i read like 8 summaries so I hope i did this justice

**Warning! Mentions of death & alcohol**

Gwilym tossed the empty beer bottle to the side of the road. He continued to stumble along the walkway of the bridge, cursing over and over to himself.

"Why me?" Gwilym chanted. "Why does it always have to be me?"

His career was about to be in ruin. Some sleazy directer he worked for had threatened people and stolen money, now it was being revealed that some of that cast and crew knew what was going on. Gwilym had no idea, but it was a matter of time before his name was to be tarnished and he'd never see a movie set again.

Gwilym's business was bankrupt. Leaving his uncle to control the wine distillery proved to be a horrid idea. All of the free wine for friends and catering endless parties for free, again without Gwilym's knowledge, left him in a whole.

To put icing on the cake, Gwilym's long-term girlfriend walked out on him. She apparently couldn't take the stress of his life. She needed someone who could be there more than him, so she left.

Gwilym was alone on Christmas eve, broke, and with a engagement ring in his coat pocket that will never see a woman's finger.

He took the ring out of his pocket and fiddled with the box. Sadness and rage boiled within him. Gwilym gripped the velvet cube, and chucked it over the side of the bridge.

It was satisfying to see it be swept away by mother nature. Gwilym wished he could be that box, floating away into nothing. Every thing would be so easy then. He wouldn't have to deal with any of life's problems. No more feeling of being a disappointment.

Gwilym's hands were wrapped tightly around the railing of the bridge. He felt as if his body was pulling him to do it. To jump. Maybe it was the alcohol causing him to lean forward, but nonetheless Gwilym felt like doing it. And he was going to until there was the blinding light from above.

It sounded as if the sky cracked open. Gwilym jumped back, mortified and ready to flee. Before he could a man appeared.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Gwilym." He spoke in an accent Gwil had never heard before.

"Who are you?" Gwilym didn't know why he was still standing there.

"My name's Freddie dear, and I'm here to help." The man, well he was more of an entity, stepped forward.

"Help me? I don't even know you! You don't know me!" With every step Freddie took foward, Gwilym took one back.

"Listen lovie, I'm an angel. I don't have my wings yet because I need to help change a life. I'm here to show you your worth so that," Freddie paused to gesture toward the water under the bridge, "isn't the last thing you ever see."

Gwilym couldn't believe what he was hearing. An angel? That was impossible.

"Gwilym, I need you to trust me." Freddie reached his hand out for Gwilym to take ahold of. He hesitated, but looking at Freddie he could see this glow above his head. The angel smiled and it was heavenly. Gwilym took his hand and there was another flash.

~

There you were, in your living room, reading waiting for your husband to get home. Gwilym could see you from just outside the window, Freddie was beside him.

"See that woman?" Freddie asked, Gwilym nodded. "That's your wife."

"Wife? She's not-"

"I know. She's the one you'll marry if you choose to live. Keep looking."

Gwilym saw himself walk through the door. You jumped up happily to greet him. It was obvious that you were pregnant as you had waddled to him.

Gwilym kneeled before your bump to kiss it, making you laugh, and the baby within you kick.

The Gwilym accompanied by Freddie was in tears, he was shaking his head, and trembling. "You mean to tell me I'll have a family? That-that beautiful woman will marry me and we'll have a child?"

Freddie simply nodded as he turned to the man. "But only if when I take you back where you were, you don't jump off that bridge. You march home and fight like you always have. Because that woman is your soul mate and that baby will be the best thing to ever happen to you. You have to live Gwilym; you have a purpose in life."

Gwilym thought for a moment. He kept looking at the family he could create. He was admiring you, your beauty, how you seemed so in love with him.

"I'm ready, I want to go back. I want to live." Those were the words Freddie was ready to here. He took him back to the place they had met.

"Well, my job here is done dear. Good luck, I'll be here if you need me. Just shout!" The heavens opened again and Freddie turned his back to Gwilym.

"Wait!" Gwilym called after the angel and he turned halfway. "Thank you." The words were sincere and Freddie smiled again.

As Freddie ascended Gwilym could see his wings beginning to sprout.

Gwilym went home that night. He fought for his life and he started over. He knew he had done everything right when he met you.

[artificialqueens]

intents wicked or charitable (trixya) 3/10 - beanierose

AN: I couldn’t do this without my ladies, and personally I feel like every writer should have a squad of supportive and gentle wlw in their corner. I love you guys, and I can’t thank you enough.

(read on ao3) | (find me at katiehoughton)

[one.] [two.]

a practical magic au for the spooky season. there’s a curse on any man who dares love you? love a woman, instead. | 5,081 words

When Trixie gets home, the house is empty and still in a way it hasn’t felt the entire time she’s lived here. Their dishes are drying beside the sink. Katya insisted on cleaning them, since Trixie cooked. She had sat on the countertop to watch, making sure Katya didn’t break anything and drumming her heels against the cabinet below.

Trixie likes to see them there, two bowls and two sets of flatware and two glasses. She’s grown so used to only seeing one of each thing and a little flurry of tenderness rushes through her to see everything paired up now. She moves to put everything back in the cabinets, and as she does she notices a small black stone on the windowsill over the sink.

It is definitely not something that belongs to her. Katya must have left it here. Trixie picks it up and closes her fingers around it, feels its cool smooth weight in her palm. The previous occupants of this house left hundreds and hundreds of books here, an entire reading room with a window seat that Trixie doesn’t use nearly as much as she should. She pads through with the little stone and kneels down, hunts through the dusty volumes until she finds what she’s looking for.

There’s a whole book on crystals and their healing properties. Trixie sets the stone down so she can look at it properly and skims through the pages. It’s black tourmaline, she figures out eventually. Her neck hurts from craning over the book and she relocates to the window seat, curls up with her legs beneath herself to learn what it means.

According to the book, black tourmaline is the premier talisman of protection available in the modern world. Trixie turns it over and over in her hands, admiring how smooth it is. Trying very hard not to think about its implications. Katya has left this here, someplace she knew Trixie wouldn’t miss it. For protection.

That alarms her.

She carries it around with her for the rest of her evening, sets it on the side of the bathtub while she showers. In bed, she looks at it on the nightstand for a long time. When she can’t stand it any longer, Trixie closes her eyes and hides her face against the pillow. Her breathing is tremulous enough that Dolly grows concerned and moves closer, lays her long head on Trixie’s shoulder.

It’s been only three days. Three days is way too soon to be giving someone a talisman for protection. There’s something between Katya and her, Trixie can’t deny that, but this is too much. She sleeps restlessly, fitfully, has to get up a couple of times in the night and pad down to the kitchen for a glass of water. At three in the morning, Trixie goes out of the back door and stands in the yard in her sock feet. Her moon shadow stretches out before her on the grass. The whole world is silent and still, and Trixie stands for a long time until the earth starts to rotate and makes her dizzy.

Her phone rings in the middle of the afternoon on Tuesday. She’s out in the cow shed, double checking that the hole in the corrugated siding is secure and Cash isn’t going to be able to escape through it again. Trixie gets to the phone just in time and props her shoulder against the wall in the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Trixie. Hi.”

It’s Katya, of course. Now there are three people in the world who have this number. Kim only calls on Friday nights, and Trixie really doubts that Bob is going to call at all, so she should have known before she picked up. It would have been nice to steel herself.

“Hi.” She doesn’t say anything else, not sure what she can say that won’t be immediately accusatory. The stone is heavy in the pocket of her overalls and she tucks her hand down inside, rubs her thumb back and forth across the surface the way she is already in the habit of doing.

There’s a long pause, but she hears Katya breathing right in her ear. Still there. And then a tiny noise like she’s clearing her throat. “How is the menagerie treating you today, you radiant earth mother?”

“You can’t just- just leave things here!” The outburst surprises both of them. She hears Katya suck in a startled breath and she shifts her weight from foot to foot, agitated by her own awkwardness. “Katya. We’ve known each other for three days. You can’t be leaving me things like this. Stop feeding the stereotype.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Trixie sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. She hates phone calls, wishes Katya were here in the kitchen with her so she could look at her soft hair and her red mouth and the nervous way she picks at her cuticles.

“It didn’t upset me.” It definitely did. “It’s just that…you don’t even know me.”

“I’d like to, though, Trixie. And it doesn’t mean anything like that.” Katya pauses, but Trixie is not about to fill the silence for her. She’d like very much to know what it does mean, then. “I don’t get to do this very often. Make a friend. Show somebody kindness. That’s all it was. It wasn’t supposed to freak you out.”

The cord stretches just long enough that Trixie can sink down to sit on the kitchen floor and still keep the phone pressed to her ear. She lets her head thud back against the wall, which Katya definitely hears. In her haste to answer the call she left the back door open, and the chickens are all poking their inquisitive brown heads inside now. Reba is the first to come inside and the others all follow, crowding and jostling together to get through the doorframe.

Trixie chews on the inside of her cheek. Now that she’s down here on the linoleum she feels small and ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out. Or to yell at you.”

“That’s okay,” Katya says easily. “I can um, take it back? If you don’t want it.”

“No!” Trixie blurts out, again. She closes her eyes, because she can see herself reflected in the glass door of the stove, and she doesn’t want to look at this ridiculous, strung-out person anymore. “I want it. I like it.”

Katya’s laughing at her, just a little bit. “Alright then. You keep it.”

“You can’t take back a gift, Katya. Are you trying to invite bad luck or something?”

There’s no laugh on the other end of the line. There’s no sound at all, like Katya is holding the phone away from her ear. When she comes back she sounds too jovial, not at all like herself. She’s laughing it off, agreeing with Trixie, and it’s making gooseflesh rise all along the backs of Trixie’s arms and up her neck. When Katya hangs up — after insisting that Trixie come to dinner at her house later in the week — Trixie stays on the kitchen floor for a long time, just looking at the phone in her hand.

She feels weird for the rest of the day, disoriented, and she trips over Dolly more than once while she’s making dinner. The dog grumbles at her, keeps nudging her solemn head into Trixie’s thigh. Trixie has the tourmaline in her pocket and she likes that she can feel it there, how it tugs the leg of her overalls down a little on the left side.

Being so out of sorts is making her petulant and a little embarrassed. Not for the first time, she is glad to have so much solitude. She takes Dolly for a walk after dinner and breaks sticks beneath her boots in the woods, working off her snit. The leaves are beginning to drop now and the ground is mulchy underfoot. Everything is damp and earthy smelling and Trixie breathes deeply through her nose, tries to let go of her stress with each slow exhale.

It takes her a little while to realise it, but she misses Katya. When it hits her she stumbles and has to catch herself against a tree, scratches her palm on a sharp branch. There is no reason she should be missing somebody she’s only known for four days. Yes, when she first met Katya her heart grew wings and soared around the apothecary, but Trixie is so used to caging it. She is wary, and careful, and it makes her nervous to need people.

If she were braver, she would tell Katya that. Instead she lies on her back on top of her sheets and lets the phone ring out on the nightstand, listens to the answering machine pick up the call downstairs. Katya says she wasn’t calling for any particular reason, just wanted to chat, but there’s a thin quality to her voice that says she knows Trixie is avoiding her. It makes Trixie’s stomach hurt.

It rains all night. On Wednesday morning, when she lets the hens out, they squawk at her in indignation. Faith hates the mud so much that she refuses to come down the ramp at all. The rest of them get over themselves quickly enough, once they realise that the freshly churned earth has worms in abundance for them to pull squirming from the ground.

Something that might be peace has begun to germinate low down in Trixie’s stomach. She is very carefully not looking at it. Tomorrow night she’s going to have dinner at Katya’s house, and she is hoping that by then it will have sprouted into a little green shoot. For now, she is going about her day and determinedly not thinking about Katya, not touching her thumb to the tourmaline she is still carrying in her pocket.

She has successfully avoided thinking about Katya for almost two hours when she sees Peter, the neighbour boy, rounding the back of the house. He stops by every week on his way into town, to collect the list of things that Trixie needs. She’s ready for it, has been practicing all morning what she’s going to say to him. The knock on the back door makes Dolly bark. Usually Trixie shuts her away in the kitchen, because Peter is freaked out by her, but today she opens the door and lets her come barrelling right out.

Peter stumbles down the two steps in surprise and brings both hands up. It reminds Trixie that she’s dealing with a child. She has to be the mature one here, as much as she wants to be spiteful and cruel. Trixie folds her arms and leans her hip against the doorframe, glad at least that there’s a height discrepancy and she can look down her nose at him.

“Peter. Good afternoon. I won’t be needing your services anymore.”

His face scrunches up in irritation. “Why not?”

“I think you know why not.”

Something small and vindictive and unpleasant comes to life in her stomach as Trixie watches his cheeks get warm. He would have seen her in Verbena with Katya, when he and his friends vandalised the store. And even if he hadn’t, Trixie knows towns like this one. Everybody that lives here has certainly heard by now that she and Katya have spent some time together. That she has shown kindness to Katya, and received kindness from her right back more liberally than she knows what to do with.

“That wasn’t my idea.” Indignation makes him seem five years younger than he is. His hands are balled into fists, shoulders up around his ears. For half a second, Trixie feels for him, and then remembers the calm stoicism with which Katya had handled the situation.

“It doesn’t much matter whose idea it was.” Trixie lifts her eyebrows. He does at least have the decency to look ashamed. “The fact is, you were there. And I don’t want to be seen as condoning that behaviour. Does that make sense to you?”

“Miss Mattel, I-”

Trixie holds out a hand to cut him off. She is suddenly so exhausted. Dealing with men has never been her favourite thing, and her patience has grown especially thin since she’s been here. “I don’t want to hear it. Thank you. Goodbye.”

Peter stomps off around the side of the house towards the street, muttering under his breath and kicking the gravel as he goes. She catches a few slurs, but it’s nothing she hasn’t heard a hundred times before. Trixie whistles for the dog and Dolly comes back inside, tilts her head inquisitively when Trixie closes the door and sags against it.

It doesn’t really bode well that she’s only been here a few months and has already started burning bridges. And with children. Even better. Now that she’s severed her only reliable means of getting supplies from the town, she’s going to have to make the trip herself. And if it wasn’t clear enough before, now everyone is going to know exactly where her loyalties lie.

If she leaves right now, she might be able to beat the rumour mill into town. She already has her shoes on, tends to keep them on all day because she potters in and out of the house so much. Trixie grabs her keys from the bowl in the kitchen and her coat and scarf from the hook and hurries out to the truck with only one arm inside the windbreaker.

When she gets to town she’s so full of nervous energy that she ignores all of the stores and heads straight for the wharf. It’s historic, built in 1905 according to the brown sign encouraging her to Explore! It started raining again while she was driving, fat drops that she could hear hitting the bed of the truck. It means the wharf is deserted, which she’s glad for. She feels particularly argumentative today, impatient with herself mostly and with everyone else on earth by extension.

As she walks out she can see the water through the gaps in the boardwalk and she wishes she were underneath, looking up. There’s a gift shop and two cafés and a whale experience and she ignores all of it. The rainwater is getting in her eyes and making her lashes stick together, collecting in the gap between the collar of her windbreaker and her neck. Trixie leans her forearms against the railing and looks out at the churning waters of the cove. Everything feels unpleasantly tumultuous; her stomach is rolling over and making her nauseated. Trixie gives up, gives in, and stuffs her hand down into her pants pocket to feel for the tourmaline inside. She knows that it’s psychosomatic, but worrying at the stone with her thumb makes her feel better immediately.

After ten minutes or so she starts shivering and has to go inside. The produce market is the closest store to the wharf entrance, and also the only place she really needs to go while she’s here. She hasn’t visited it yet because she grows so much of her own food and because Peter has done this for her, up till now.

When Trixie shoulders open the door every head in the place turns to look at her, but she’s getting used to that. Rainwater is making her sweater uncomfortably heavy, making it itch the sensitive skin of her throat. Trixie collects a basket from the stack by the door and tucks it at the crook of her elbow. She can feel them looking at her as she walks up and down the aisles, the two cashiers and a customer over by the registers who seems to be in no hurry to leave.

She doesn’t need a lot of things but she takes her time browsing, ponders her decisions for much longer than is necessary. Everybody has laughed and pointed and talked behind Trixie’s back her whole life. She’s desensitised to it, and she sort of wants to give them a show. She thinks of how furious everybody in this whole town must be that they can’t satisfy any of their curiosities, and she has to duck her chin to hide the bloom of her smile.

When she has everything she needs she heads for the cashiers. The older lady behind the cash register makes no move to start scanning Trixie’s items. She looks her up and down very slowly and Trixie stands with her hands in her back pockets and the wet ends of her hair dripping onto the floor.

“You’re the new girl in town.” It isn’t a question, and there’s no question in the way the woman is looking at her, either. Her arms are folded over her chest and her lips are pressed together, everything about her drawn up tight. She gestures towards herself with one hand. “Betty.”

Trixie is divulging a strange amount of satisfaction from not telling her name to anybody that she meets. She didn’t come here looking for a whole new community, and she sort of likes that Katya is the only one that knows it. Even Peter never knew her first name, and he certainly isn’t going to now.

“Nice to meet you, Betty.” Trixie doesn’t offer a hand to shake. They’re blanched, her knuckles red and swollen with cold, and still wet. Not the first impression she’s looking to make.

The other cashier is younger, more beautiful than anyone living in a town like this has any right to be. But then so is Katya, and if she can allow herself the indulgent thought, so is Trixie. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail that pours over one shoulder in a shiny black torrent. She’s chewing disinterestedly on her bubblegum and leafing through a gossip magazine, apparently already having lost interest in Trixie. Betty hasn’t, though. She’s peering at Trixie over the top of her thick-rimmed glasses. When she seems to realise that she’s not going to get any more information, she finally starts ringing up Trixie’s purchases.

“People have seen what you’ve been doing, and somebody ought to let you know. You shouldn’t associate with her.”

Trixie tilts her head and smiles sweetly. “I’m sorry, who?”

It has the desired effect. The other girl puts her magazine face down to watch them unabashedly, and a scowl rolls across Betty’s face so swiftly that Trixie hears the crack of thunder and straightens her spine. Betty is pushing Trixie’s produce down towards the end of the counter with more vigour than is really necessary. Outside the rain is picking up again, beating against the windows and streaming off the far corner of the guttering. It makes Trixie claustrophobic and she widens her stance to earn herself some more room.

“The witch. We don’t talk to her. And we don’t shop at her store.”

“She’s not that bad,” the other girl pipes up. She’s inspecting one perfectly manicured hand like she’d rather be any place other than here, but her whole body is angled towards the two of them now.

Betty’s face gets rapidly more pink. “Shut up, Violet. She doesn’t belong here.”

Trixie starts bagging her own groceries, since it’s becoming very clear that Betty is not going to do it for her. She’s making a mess of it, putting easily bruised things at the bottom and heavier items up top, but she needs to be out of this store right now. Before she embarrasses herself, or Katya, or both of them.

“I’ve liked some of her products,” Violet offers. “She told me which essential oils to use for my migraines.”

Betty’s face has the pinched discomfort of somebody who has encountered something very sour. Her nails are long and they clack against the keys when she has to manually type in the weight of some of the produce Trixie has picked out.

“I’ve lived in this town my whole life.” She looks away from the cash register and back at Trixie. “I’ve known her for thirty years. I’ve seen what she’s capable of.”

Thunder cracks right outside, for real this time, and Trixie jumps. She feels too small for her skin suddenly, like she’s slip-sliding around underneath. The unpleasantly phosphorescent flicker of the strip lighting over the aisles is making Trixie feel like she’s in a laboratory, sprawled and pinned in place at the ankles and wrists ready for dissection. She thinks of Katya, gentle and lovely, and feels a sudden surge of possessiveness in the pit of her stomach.

“Which is what?”

“Oh honey, you don’t know?” Betty scans through the last of Trixie’s items and braces both of her hands flat against the counter to lean forwards. “She killed her husband.”

Trixie’s entire body goes cold and for a moment she thinks she might get sick. Betty has a smug, calculated smile that only makes her face even more sharp and disagreeable. Violet rolls her eyes and picks up her magazine again, too haughty to entertain the morsels of gossip she has clearly heard many times before.

It is so juvenile. Betty lords each tidbit of information over Trixie, refusing to total her purchases so she can pay and get out of here. The rain is so loud on the corrugated rooftop that it drowns out the muzak and forces Trixie to step in closer to Betty.

“She didn’t kill him,” Violet says. She closes her magazine this time and tucks it beneath her own register. “That curse thing is bullshit.”

Betty whips around to glare at Violet. The veins in the backs of her hands are purple beneath the papery, age-spotted skin. When she scowls, the creases between her eyebrows and at the corners of her mouth get markedly more pronounced. Violet presses her red lips together and stares Betty down. At least there’s one person in this town who doesn’t seem openly hostile towards Katya.

“Fourteen eighty-six,” Betty says when she turns back around. Trixie hands her credit card over, unthinking, and Betty taps it against the counter a couple of times. “All I’m saying Beatrice, is that Michael was perfectly fine until he married her.”

“Oh, my God,” Violet mutters, and gets up from her register to wander off down one of the aisles. Trixie can’t imagine her stocking shelves or mopping the linoleum, can’t imagine her interacting with customers, even. She has looked achingly bored the entire time Trixie has been in the store, but that’s preferable to Betty’s open hostility.

“I suppose it makes sense for someone like you to gravitate towards someone like her. Someone who understands a more…modern lifestyle.”

Trixie wants to laugh, so badly. She has found it to be a uniquely queer experience, decoding the euphemisms that other people offer up to make themselves comfortable with her identity. At family functions she used to loudly announce that she’s a lesbian and her brothers and her sister would blush furiously and stalk away from her, until she just stopped going entirely. It’s exhausting trying to decipher whether someone is just awkward, or deliberately malicious, so she prefers to surround herself with people who can say the word lesbian and not have to rinse out the bitter taste in their mouth afterwards.

She gets her card back and signs the receipt, picks up the brown paper bag with her items. It’s bulging awkwardly because she did such an awful job of packing it and she has to wrap both arms around it so things don’t start spilling out.

In the doorway she hesitates halfway out and turns back over her shoulder. She’s already getting soaked and the bag is going to disintegrate; she’ll have about thirty seconds to make it to her car before that happens. She’s been churlish all day, so why stop now?

“Even if she is a murderer,” Trixie says in her most saccharine voice. It’s the one she would use with the television executives and then have to stare at herself in the bathroom mirror for twenty minutes after each meeting to try to stop dissociating. “Her company is certainly preferable to yours, you hateful bitch.”

She catches Violet’s crow of delight right as she lets the door slam behind her and it makes her grin in spite of the rain already saturating her sweater and making her skin clammy. Trixie doesn’t allow herself to turn back and see Betty’s face, certain that the picture of it she’s conjuring for herself is both accurate and sufficiently wonderful.

At the car Trixie uses her hip to pin the sodden grocery bag against the door so she can free up a hand and fish her keys out of the pocket of her windbreaker. She gets inside and dumps the bag in the floor of the passenger side, hears it split open and refuses to look. Her scalp is itchy with dampness and she cards both hands through her hair. She puts the key in the ignition but doesn’t turn it yet, needs a minute to collect herself before she starts the engine running.

Adrenaline has left a flint taste in the back of her mouth and she rummages around in the glove compartment for some gum. She can’t see out of any of the windows, the rain coming down hard enough to shake the bed of the truck. When her passenger door pops open it makes her let out a tiny yell and she rears back against her own door until she sees that it’s Katya and relaxes in her seat. Katya hops up into the truck with a grunt and slams the door, shakes her head like a dog to get her bangs out of her eyes.

“I saw you walk by with a look on your face that said you’ve just spent some time with Betty, and I thought I’d better come and supervise you so you don’t off yourself.” She’s grinning, and she brings a towel out from inside her coat to offer Trixie. “Also, you’re really wet.”

Trixie huffs a tiny, desperate noise and accepts the towel from Katya. She’s not quite sure what to do with it, settles for wringing the water out of the ends of her hair and swiping it over her face a couple of times. Katya is twisted around in her seat with one elbow propped against the back of it, looking at Trixie. Each time she blinks she leaves a little smudge of mascara underneath her eye. Without stopping to consider, Trixie reaches out and swipes it away with the pad of her thumb.

Their twin breaths are fogging up the windows of the truck and making everything intimate and amniotic. You’re really wet is hanging in the air between them, because Trixie has left it too long to voice any of the retorts that crowded her tongue. They sit in the silence, both dripping onto the seats. Trixie is so relieved to see her, a more-than-kind face, after getting into two separate confrontations today.

She killed her husband.

It’s circling around and around in her head like a crane fly, flinging itself against the window with a thud so that she can’t refuse to look. And the worst of it is, she doesn’t know whether she’s more upset about the implication that Katya could have hurt someone, or the fact that she’s clearly not a lesbian.

“Are we fighting?” Katya says very quietly. She’s drawn one knee up into the seat as well to angle her body more towards Trixie.

It is so ridiculous. Trixie has known Katya for less than a week, sure. But she’s seen her speaking in soft Russian to Dolly, seen her with her hands buried in the earth of Trixie’s vegetable beds. Hasn’t ever heard a single word of ill will towards anybody come out of her mouth. Gentleness spills like warm pink light from her. Right now she’s got her short nail in the groove of her cords and she’s sliding it up and down the length of her thigh.

“No, we’re not fighting. I just got spooked.”

“I’m very spooky,” Katya agrees in that awful, mid-Atlantic smoker’s rasp, and flashes her teeth. “Tell me what you need?”

Trixie captures Katya’s hand in both of hers to stop her fidgeting. She strokes her fingertips over the so-soft skin at the inside of Katya’s wrist and feels her pulse jump there and the flex of her tendons. “This is fine. This is good.”

“Wow. Betty did a number on you, huh?” Katya’s smiling and she wriggles her eyebrows. “It’s okay. She’s not real. She can’t hurt you.”

Trixie snorts a laugh and lets go of Katya’s hand to let her flail around. It’s cold sitting here in her wet clothes and she turns the key in the ignition, feels the comfortable rumble of the engine coming to life beneath them. Trixie turns up the heat as high as it will go and splays her fingers over the vent. She still has the towel Katya gave her around her shoulders and she untangles it from herself to give it back.

“I have to get back to my very important job and handle all of my very important customers,” Katya pouts. Trixie doesn’t need to look to know that the store is empty, and probably has been all day. “Please pray that I don’t drown during my short but arduous voyage.”

“If you can’t handle this much wetness we’re gonna have a problem.”

It makes Katya shriek in delight and slam the flat of her palm against the dashboard. As she gets out of the car she’s muttering something about Trixie being depraved and rotted, but she spends an extra few seconds standing in the downpour just to wave at her. The rain has weighed down her hair so it sticks flat to her head, pieces clinging to her cheeks and neck. Trixie can feel her entire self beginning to frizz with the dry heat in the car.

She starts the wipers going and brings the town into squeaky focus again. Inside Verbena, Katya is bent over at the waist and scrubbing at her head with the same towel Trixie used. When she pops back up and sees Trixie’s car still sitting there she blows her a kiss and Trixie rolls her eyes, puts the car into drive. She likes her so, so much. Enough that she is ready to forgive her a whole lot.

[sammy-writes-stuff]

Traits, Trials and Truth, Ch 26

Chapter Twenty Six: Licking Wounds

Start.  Previous.

TW: Talks about being sad. Slight blood. Threat of violence.

Seven Months.

It had been seven months.

To the sides, it had barely seemed like a week.

"When did you start the medication Thomas?" Logan asked.

They all were nursing hot cups of coffee. Patton and Thomas were on the couch, Roman and Logan in separate armchairs on either side.

Without asking questions, Thomas had kindly grabbed an old beanie of Joans that he had had lying around and had given it to Roman - as well as a dressing gown to cover the garish jesters' outfit.

Patton was buried under at least five blankets. He had been one of the hardest hit, and for the longest time. Even Logan wasn't exactly sure of what he had been through. Thomas had a protective arm around Patton's shoulders, and the father figure leaned into the warmth of the touch.

Thomas looked a little surprised by Logan's question, not having mentioned any medication.

"This course and dose...about two months? They tried me on another brand before that, but it didn't do much for me."

Logan nodded, then set down is cup on the coffee table in front of him, stood up, then stepped over and hugged Thomas on the couch.

"Thank you." He choked, allowing some of his stress and sense of responsibility ebb away with the hug. "I needed back up, and whatever you took seemed to make my head clearer and these two wake up a little...we were able to escape because of that."

Thomas shook his head, not really understanding but grateful that his friends had - after many months of him ignoring them - forced themselves into his house and taken him to see a therapist and a doctor.

Logan sat down again, and blushed a little at his informal action. He covered his shyness by sipping his coffee.

Roman cleared his throat. "Thomas, can I please use your shower facilities?"

"I dunno." Came a muffled reply. "Can you?"

Logan lifted his head slightly, eyes wide. Patton was sheepishly peering over the blankets.

Roman broke into a smile. "He's the one who's supposed to correct grammar." He grunted, getting up and leaving after Thomas gave him a confused nod.

"Can't he just...change himself?" Thomas whispered after the Prince had left the room.

"Roman's not feeling...himself, lately." Logan hesitated, taking another sip.

Patton shifted uncomfortably.

"Logan...I've been patient, but can you please - "

"Explain?" Logan leaned back, feeling utterly exhausted.

After the initial panic of losing Virgil, they had grudgingly agreed to rest up and work on a plan - and of course to keep an eye on Thomas. They were too weak to be of any help to Virgil...wherever he was.

Logan was sure he'd managed to destroy Pitch as a side, so he couldn't appear to them in the real world anymore. But, he was a disease before he had managed to bond with Tristan, and he had done more than enough damage to Virgil and Patton without being a side.

"I only really know the middle and end. Patton...I don't want to force the beginning out of you if you are not ready - "

"No." Patton sat up slightly. "No, I need to share my feelings about what happened. Please." His voice was a little shaky, but resolute. Logan smiled at him.

"Wait for me!" Roman yelled, strolling into the room wearing a pair of Thomas' PJ's (beanie still on his head). When Roman had resumed his seat, Patton began his tale.

~

Virgil gritted his teeth, and balled his fists. He felt as if he was slowly waking up after a long sleep...what had been hazy images now sharpened...

And he found he didn't like what he saw.

Pitch...looking like Pitch again...pacing...raging. He was creating things and destroying them as quickly as they appeared. His raw anger was palpable.

Virgil laughed.

Pitch spun around so fast he was a blur. "What are you laughing at, loser?" He charged and crouched before Virgil, breathing in his face and sending spit flying.

"Just glad to see your ugly mug again." Virgil hissed back. He was feeling more and more like himself - and himself was mad.

"Well at least my family didn't leave me to rot in the back of the mind with my worst enemy!"

Virgil's heart skipped a beat and his smile was replaced by a scowl.

"Don't believe me?" Pitch was starting to sound unhinged. He conjured that wretched mirror again.

It displayed Roman, Logan, Patton, and Thomas, all wrapped up in blankets...drinking coffee and listening calmly to a story.

Virgil couldn't help but deflate a little, though he was insanely glad to see that they were all okay and Thomas seemed well.

If this was the price, he'd pay it.

Virgil curled up a little tighter, wishing he had his hoodie to disappear into, and just watched as Pitch got up and started to pace.

~

"I don't know exactly when I started to notice Pitch. Maybe in my dreams? In the middle of a story? In the background of a TV show maybe? He seemed so...sad. That made me sad. But it wasn't like with the break up and the moving on videos...I was sad then because of a clear cause. I just felt a little silly being sad for no real reason. I didn't see any harm in just trying to work through it alone, ya know?"

Patton took a sip of his coffee, the effort of his exposition obvious. Thomas nodded slowly, having talked about the exact same sensation with his therapist.

"Pitch started...playing around in my dreams. Getting me to live through impossible scenarios, the endings kept getting worse and worse..." Patton shuddered, and Roman leaned over and patted his knee. "I considered telling you guys...was on my way to tell you guys...when Pitch appeared in my room while I was awake. He - he threatened to go after Virgil instead...if I told anyone...I tried to move past him but he already had a powerful hold over me...his darkness drowned me. Made me seem terrible things..." He sniffled, and Thomas grabbed him a tissue and Patton noisily blew his nose.

"Kicker is, the danger he represented and the fear he put in me exhausted Virgil to the point of death! If Tristan hadn't broken off and formed...I don't know if Verge would have made it - " He sobbed the last part.

Thomas looked at Logan quizzically at the name "Tristan", but Logan shook his head sadly. Not now.

"He hurt me." Patton said, a little firmer. "And then...he hurt all of you anyway."

Logan took a long drought of coffee. Patton went to speak again, but paused, horrified.

"Roman, are you bleeding?"

Roman looked down, following Patton's eye-line, a little confused.

Visible between the button's of Thomas' PJ shirt, on his torso, was red.

Roman slowly unbuttoned it...to reveal his Princely garb. The colours looked like they had been bleached out, but they were undeniably there. It was such a slight change, but Roman looked as though he had sprouted wings.

AKA: absolutely ecstatic.

"Whatever you're doing Patton, keep going!" He said eagerly.

Logan shook his head. "This is a pleasing development, but I think this is not going to be fixed in a day."

"Please, carry on." Thomas prompted.

"I think Logan can take it from here." Patton murmured, cuddling into Thomas' side.

~

Virgil laughed bitterly, enjoying how enraged Pitch was getting - it was better than winding up Princey! He was also trying to hide his own fear, Virgil was weak, and completely at the mercy of a madman.

Pitch roared and punched the mirror with all his might. Glass smashed everywhere and was further spread by the dark winds that were whipping around the room. Virgil lifted his hands to shield his face - a shard of mirror slicing open his palm as he did so. It stung a little, but wasn't too bad.

Pitch was breathing heavily, looking at the ground with his fists balled, thinking.

Virgil coughed.

Pitch whipped his head to stare at him. His hair was no longer spiky, but limo and lifeless. His teeth were bared and he had an angry flush in his face.

Virgil's stomach flipped as Pitch's eyes traveled downwards to gaze at his bloody palm.

Pitch picked up a shard of broken mirror, and smirked at Virgil.

"There is more than one way to skin a cat." He hissed. Pitch grabbed Virgil by his hair, and started marching further into the back of the mind, Virgil squirming, flailing, and kicking, in vain.

Next.

Tag List: @callboxkat @potatogirl309 @thegreyacefromspace

[spookysummersmores]

Mind Heist - Chapter 4

Word count: 3,255

Author's note: Hey there! So sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter out; life got in the way, and once I actually did find the time to work on it, it turned out that this one required quite a bit of editing, mainly because there was some entirely new material I had to write in that was not in the original RP this was based on. All in all, it took approximately 3 days to finish editing this beast...lmao.

Not gonna lie...I got a little bit emotional writing one new part of this. Not to the point that I cried, but...my heart went out to the twins. You'll see why when you read, because you may find yourself engaging in a little game of 'Spot That Parallel'! ;w;

I certainly hope you enjoy, and I apologize again for the wait! Chapter 5 is coming soon!

Please don't tag any ships.

(Just a word of warning: there is some scary imagery and a detailed description of the affects of anxiety on Dipper, so if you need me to tag any specific trigger, by all means, please let me know!)

As Mabel approached the left wing of the third floor - mainly containing memories regarding Dipper's elementary school experiences - she noticed that all had suddenly gone silent. It was almost as if all sound, save for her own tiny footsteps, had been sucked out of the room. Her heart began to beat faster, and she quickened her pace briefly.

Then, something caused her to stop in her tracks. She thought she heard something - something minute and distant, something she couldn't quite make out - but she wasn't sure.

"Dipper...?" she called out meekly. "Where are you..?"

She continued tiptoeing up through various floors of the library, being sure to keep on the lookout for Dipper. Still no sign of him.

And then came the noise once again. Soft and indistinguishable as the sound was...call it twin instinct if you will, but Mabel knew it must have been significant.

Anger bubbled up inside her. "Bill! Wherever you are...what did you do with Dipper?!" she yelled out, her voice ringing through the unsettlingly quiet halls.

She certainly didn't want to talk to Bill if she didn't have to. He deeply and truly frightened her, especially after the 'Bipper' incident...and after all, she had just beaten him within an inch of his life just a few short weeks before then, so there was another reason she wasn't exactly comfortable facing him.

But she had no choice, and she didn't care.

Not with Dipper's life on the line.

Not when Bill had made clear to her weeks earlier exactly what he wanted to do to Dipper.

She was soon surrounded by the sound of Bill's maniacal laughter. It echoed all around her, bounced off of every wall and up and down each and every staircase, so that it felt as if twenty Bills were there with her in one room, closing in on her.

No actual answer to her inquiry came, though. He was taunting her.

Mabel became a bit scared then...and though she had certainly punched the lights (and sometimes rainbow barf) out of dozens of anomalies on her own before, Bill included, she admittedly felt a bit more vulnerable than usual without her twin at her side.

She swallowed her fear, however, and spoke up again.

"Bill...where's Dipper?" she asked for a second time.

Bill suddenly popped up in front of her, startling her. "Y'know, for someone who says she loves fun, you're not much for games!" he said as he spun his cane around his finger. Before she had a chance to do or say anything, he wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulders as if to trap her and began monologuing. "Let's think of this as...hide-and-seek, shall we? But don't worry...something tells me you're about to figure out your brother's hiding spot right...about...NOW!"

Suddenly, through Bill's cackling, off to the right of her, but far beyond the walls of the library...she heard a sound that nearly made her heart stop.

Her hunch about the distant noise had been right.

It was Dipper screaming for help.

"Help! Someone...MABEL!"

Mabel gasped. "DIPPER!" As Bill popped back out of view and freed her, she ran outside as fast as her legs could carry her, and she started bolting after the sound of Dipper's cries for help, letting them be her guide. "Dipper! Dipper, I'm coming!"

She wasn't particularly worried about watching her step in the process - that is, until she tripped over something and fell flat on her face.

"OW! What the fridge-"

Mabel paused to look at the object that caused her fall - a long, crooked, jet-black tree root. It seemed to be slinking along the ground as a snake would, and she noticed that, though the end of it was right under her nose, the rest of it was trailing along the ground before her. As she pulled herself to her feet, her eyes trailed upward...and what she saw about 20 feet ahead of her was the deep, foreboding, black-as-pitch forest it had come from. She stared worriedly at the deep dark woods before her, then glanced back down at the stray root at her feet and cocked her head at the sight.

She noticed that it almost seemed to be...trying to reach out and touch the mind library several hundred feet away. And it was something that certainly didn't seem to have a place in the library.

She didn't have much time to think about that, though.

It then started to move.

"AAH!" Quickly, Mabel thought of an ax not unlike Wendy's and attempted to chop off the branches that were trying to snake their way around her ankles. "DIE, you weird little tree fingers! Eat ax blade!"

Every time she lopped off a branch, two more, longer and more contorted, sprouted up in its place. Then, three more roots began to creep into view - much shorter ones, but they were growing longer with each passing minute.

Mabel happened to notice out of the corner of her eye that they seemed to be taking shape at times. In fact, she could have sworn that one took the form of...the clown from Hannah Fitz's second-grade birthday party?

That...sure took Mabel by surprise. 'What on Earth would it be doing in Dipper's dreamscape, though?' she thought. 'He stopped having nightmares about that guy like...a BAJILLION years ago, and-'

The Mystery Twin gears in Mabel's head began to turn. "Nightmares...nightmares! Wait a sec...!" she wondered aloud as she continued to hack away at the monstrosity beneath her. "If the big library's...mostly just got Dipper's NICE dreams in it - HA, nice try, sucker! - then...this must be..." Her eyes grew wider. "His real bad ones...all the stuff he's SCARED of! Aaaah, and Bill's got him STUCK in there!"

Quickly, she used the ax blade to cut the remaining brambles away from her limbs, vaulted over another before it could ensnare her, and conjured up a bunch of sentient scrapbooking scissors. They began to snip away at the roots as fast as they could so they wouldn't reach the library, but even that was only doing so much good.

"Good enough for now!" she cried as she ran toward the forest. "Dipper, here I come!"

Mabel couldn't help but wonder what exactly those rogue roots planned to do if they did manage to reach the library. If Dipper was stuck in the forest, then what the heck did they want to leave the forest for?

The most important thing was grabbing Dipper, though, and getting him the heck OUT of there, so that thought was placed on the back burner as quickly as it popped into her head.

Her surroundings grew darker and darker with each step she took. Soon, she could barely even see her own hand in front of her face, and she had no choice but to slow down for a minute. Luckily, she remembered that she'd kept a flashlight nearby her as she'd ventured into Dipper's head, just in case, so all she had to do was think of the metallic pink torch, and it clicked on as it materialized in her hand.

"Don't worry, broseph. I'll get you out of here...somehow."

She took a deep, slightly shaky breath, and she ran headfirst into the abyss.

Meanwhile, Dipper, trying desperately to get untangled from the last few puppet strings around him, was panicking. The soul-piercing, glowing eyes of the creature stared him down as it slowly and deliberately opened its hideous mouth, ready to swallow him whole. He had to shut his own eyes; he couldn't bear to look at it anymore.

"N-no, nonononono...y-you don't wanna eat me!" he cried out nervously as he struggled. "I-I mean, I'm...TERRIBLE at anything athletic; I can't possibly have much muscle or-"

Suddenly, he went silent. Far, far off in the distance...he heard something. But surprisingly, it wasn't something scary that time. It was a familiar sound, a comforting sound...and it was getting closer.

"M...Mabel?"

When he opened his eyes back up, the creature had...disappeared. Perhaps it had been scared off by the sound of an unexpected visitor, but he knew that it couldn't be far. That, or if it was a speedy little monster, it was long gone, and it had selected Mabel as its new target. Neither thought was a particularly comforting one.

"Okay...okay, now's your chance..." he whispered to himself. "Find Mabel; just go find Mabel..."

He struggled once more and finally managed to snap the strings binding his ankle. Picking his flashlight up in one swift motion, he began to seek out his sister.

"Mabel! Mabel, where are you?!" he called out through the darkness. "Can you hear me?!"

The flashlight didn't cut through much of the darkness at a time, but he could at least make sure that was able to see what his feet were treading on. As he ran, he heard the whispers of every anxious, self-conscious little voice that had ever spoken to him in times of stress, along with the occasional creature growl or sinister chuckle, and he was certain that eyeballs were staring him down wherever he went.

Mabel's voice beckoned him again, only this time, the sound was much closer. He could hear the simultaneous fear and relief in her cries. "Dipper! Dipper...I hear you; I'm right here!"

Dipper, heart nearly pounding out of his chest at this point, pushed himself to run faster. "Mabel! I'm coming!"

He jumped, though, then skidded to a halt and spun around. He could have SWORN that he had felt the unfortunately-familiar sensation of something breathing directly down his neck.

Not wanting to expose his back to the unidentified source, he began tiptoeing backwards as slowly as he could, shaking a little, shining his flashlight all the way.

He had no idea that Mabel, too, had felt a similar sensation, and she was literally right behind him.

So he tiptoed backward...and bumped right into her.

Two screams shattered the silence.

Mabel almost lost her balance from being startled so, but caught herself...and relief washed over her when she saw him. "Dipper! Oh my gosh, it's you! Are you okay?!"

The second he saw her, relief flooded Dipper's veins as well. "Mabel!" There were only a few seconds of calm, though, before panic took over. A whispered voice repeated back the words dashing through his mind: 'Wait, you shouldn't trust this right away. It IS her...right? Make sure; you gotta make SURE.' The woods seemed to grow darker and the atmosphere seemed to grow more and more tense the more frightened he became. "It...i-it really is you, right?" His voice shook as he spoke. "You're not, like...like that time Bill morphed into Soos, o-or-"

Mabel was startled. "Whoa, bro, no! No way! Why would you-" She stopped before finishing that sentence. "Oh...right. Spooky nightmare forest. Doi..." She looked at him with concern. "What-"

She then found herself blinded by a sudden ray of light.

"Ow! What the heck, Dip?"

Dipper, who had been standing there pointing his flashlight in her eyes, lowered it, and his face had a look that was both apologetic and thankful at the same time. "They're...they're normal. No weird tint or anything, and...and definitely not yellow..." The relief came back. "Haha...it IS you!" He then pulled her into a tight hug, and though she felt him tremble as he held her, she felt his tensed-up shoulders relax.

If this had been one of his nightmares, she surely would have turned into bugs, or transformed into the Shapeshifter and tried to eat him...or the ground beneath them would have disappeared, and she would have slipped from his grasp and fallen out of sight...

But she was still there, and she most definitely wasn't there to harm him. It was really HER. He was safe...even if just for a little while.

He was further reassured when he instantly felt her return the hug, and she began to comfort him, like a little mother, just as she did anytime he had a nightmare. "Hey...why're you shaking so bad? I-it's okay, Dipper...don't...don't be scared; I'm not gonna let anything hurt you. You know that..." Her voice was soft and comforting, though it sounded as if she were about to cry.

Once they let each other go, she made him look her straight in the eye. "Seriously, Dipper...are you okay? For reals? Nothing DID hurt you, did it?"

"Y-yeah; don't worry. I'm okay...or at least I THINK I'm okay. Don't know how I'm doing outside of here, though..." Dipper took a second to catch his breath now that his anxiety had begun to subside. "What...what are you...? Are YOU okay? It's super dangerous to come in the mindscape by yourself; there's nobody to look after you in here..."

"I know; I figured...but...I knew something was wrong! I couldn't just wait for help; it's BILL..." Mabel cried. "I made it safely; it's totally fine! You're the one in trouble!" A troubled look crossed her face. "Bill is here somewhere, though. I saw him for just a sec. So I don't know what he wants, or what he's doing with the kooky black tree things that are all over the place outside..."

"Wait a sec, the wha...?" Dipper looked confused for a second. "Y-y'know what? Never mind, we'll get to that when we get to it." He sighed and began to pace about. "I'm not entirely sure what's happening, either...? But...I do know this. Apparently, he's not the one that MADE me sick, but he HAS been giving me nightmares, because he KNEW I'd end up getting sick from not sleeping, and then I'd be weak enough for him to take me over. He wants me to help him with...SOME kind of diabolical plan, but he didn't give me any details...probably because he wants to try and trick me into thinking it's NOT diabolical..." He found himself running out of breath again after rambling like that, and he leaned his head against a tree.

"Whoa! Dial it back a bit, bro..." Mabel patted his shoulder. "This...all of this is cuckoo bonkers. I swear, when I see Bill again, I'm gonna...use him to eat guacamole or somethin'!" After a brief pause, her voice shifted from angry back to reassuring. "Ah...come on. We should definitely get to a better part of the mindscape. This place is giving ME the creeps, too..." She gently took his hand and began to lead him out of the forest.

Dipper nodded a little, trying not to show how scared he was. "Okay...w-we gotta watch our steps, though. Something...something's been following me." There was another moment or two of silence before he spoke up again. "You...you knew how dangerous this was...and you did it anyway. I can't thank you enough for that." He looked down at his feet. "Plus, I'm...really sorry...about earlier. With the...flashlight and all. I-I knew it was you deep down, but with...all this going on, I-"

"Of course, bro! I know you'd do the same for me." Mabel looked back and smiled at him, hoping to bring him some comfort. "And hey...no being mean to yourself! That was totally understandable; I'd FREAK if I ever saw...BIPPER again..." She shuddered at the thought.

The twins began to make their way back the way Mabel came, following the distinctive footprints her pink hightops had made. They quietly tiptoed through the darkness, doing their best to ignore the creatures of the night all around and keeping their eyes out for anything suspicious...or for an exit. They had yet to formulate a plan that would help them deal with Bill once they left.

It wasn't long before the young twins heard growling off in the distance behind them.

Mabel stopped dead in her tracks. "What the heck is that?"

"That must be what's been after me. If we're lucky, y-you won't have to see it for yourself." Dipper said nothing else about the matter, but internally, he began panicking slightly, and he started breathing faster. He hated feeling so vulnerable, but he just couldn't seem to help being anxious.

Mabel did notice how unusually frightened he was, but she made no mention of this. She simply gripped his hand a bit tighter, and the silent gesture seemed to put him a bit more at ease. Suddenly, her face lit up. "Dipper...look!" she whisper-yelled.

They exchanged a look of excitement, and they ran toward the sight.

There was a light at the end of the trail. They'd almost made it.

And yet, as swiftly and quietly as they had walked...they weren't quite fast enough.

In dropped the mysterious, spider-like horror from out of NOWHERE, it seemed, and it released an inhuman screech as the twins clung to each other and screamed in fear.

[radiant-flutterbun]

(Finally get to introduce these kids yay!)

Queen of Time

Previously: Isaac 

(Note: When Sonder was first introduced she mentioned the Underworld had fallen. This follows up on that)

Why, why, why, why was this happening now?

Virtuous was stressed to the bone as it was, she didn’t need this to be happening now too. This was just too much. She needed to sit down. She needed a break. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. She had to take a deep breath and keep her composure.

She was the Queen of the Gods. She couldn’t afford to panic.

“I have to go to the Underworld,” She told her husband, Ludicrous.

“W-what? But it’s been infested with demons!”

“I know. And I know going there is exactly what… he wants, but I can’t just let him claim a God Land as his own. I need to do something.”

“Then let me help you. You don’t have to do this alone. I know you feel like he’s your problem, but you don’t always have to face that awful creature alone.”

“I don’t want him to hurt anyone else. And I especially don’t want him to hurt you. If you ever got hurt I don’t know what i’d do.”

“Vir, I’m the second most powerful god. You don’t have to feel like you have you protect me. If anything, it should be me protecting you. You’re the one who’s constantly being targeted by him. You’re the one always getting hurt. You’re the one who’s always risking everything to stop him. Maybe it’s time for you to take a break for a moment and let me take care of it.”

“I would love to take a break, but you know I can’t.”

Ludicrous sighed “I wish I could do something to relieve all of this stress of yours. It’s not good for your health to stretch yourself this thin.”

“Oh Lu, you’re already helping me plenty. Just by being here for me. I love you Luey.”

“I love you too, but I’m determined to help you directly this time. I’m coming to the Underworld with you.”

Virtuous smiled “I guess there’s nothing I can do to change your mind at this point. Well it’ll be like old times I suppose. Are you ready to face an evil ladybug with me, dear?”

“Always,” Ludicrous took Virtuous’s hand and together the two gods entered a portal to the Underworld.

***

The Underworld had always been a mess, but there was just something about demons that could make any mess look even more like a hellhole.

Mason Vespa, the ghost of a human who had committed suicide over a hundred years ago hid underneath the porch of the Underworld Palace with his friend, Evan Fear the only mortal turned god.

Both Evan and Mason were Cursed by Muerto over a hundred years ago. They had fought with Match so their Curses could be lifted and had watched the Underworld be taken by demons once before.

Muerto had promised them a peaceful life in the Underworld in return for ruining their lives after the whole ordeal was over. Even was given godhood, because his Curse could not be lifted and his body was destined to rot away as his soul eventually turned to nothing. Mason was given (nearly) free range of the Palace and his soul was spared despite him committing what was considered an unforgivable crime. Mason had captured and tortured Muerto in an attempt for his Curse to be lifted. He now realizes it was wrong of him to hurt Muerto, since he was only a kid, but he didn’t realize gods could be children then.

It was a huge misunderstanding and both Mason and Muerto hurt each other. So the compromise for both of their unfair actions was for Mason to spend his Afterlife in the Palace instead of Eternal Punishment.

Now their peace had been shattered.

“Didn’t we already have to fight demons? I’m getting really tired of demons,” Evan whispered to Mason.

“History repeats itself.”

“That’s a very smart thing to say. You’re so smart, Mace. But could history maybe wait a few millennia to repeat because I was just starting to get used to being a real life ghostbuster.” with godhood Evan also received the responsibilities of a god, so he’d been helping out the Gods of Death by rounding up some stray ghosts in the mortal realm.

Mason shrugged “Don’t know what to tell you, man. I don’t like seeing the return of those ugly things either.”

“Should we fight them? We fought them once before… and like you’re a ghost and I’m a god, what can they do to us?”

“Our souls could still be destroyed. That’s basically all I am now, a projection of my soul, that makes me, and all of the other ghosts here vulnerable.”

“Oh… you mean like… if you die again you’ll like… turn to nothing?”

“I think so.”

Evan’s cat like ears flattened “Then I can’t let that happen. I’ll… I’ll face these demons myself!” He summoned his weapon, it was a common scythe like most Gods of Death used “I’ll protect you.”

Evan crawled out from under the porch. His ears were flattened and his tail twitched as he cautiously moved forward. His hands clutched his scythe.

“Oooh looky looky! We got another!” It was a common Ladybug demon. It looked similar to its Master, the Demon King. It had the same long jaws that oozed black, and the same spiked legs and red wings, but it was much smaller and less intimidating.

It watched Evan.

“Ooh you gonna try to hit, me little god?”

“I’m going to kill you! For- for the Underworld!” He charged, but another demon appeared behind him and stepped on his tail. Evan fell flat on his face.

The demons laughed together.

“Oh! I remember you. This one was in the Battle of the Underworld.”

Evan looked up, the other demon was a Wasp type, but judging on its size it was the Wasp. The very same Wasp he fought over a hundred years ago. Wasp was defeated then, but that was because Evan wasn’t alone. Now he was and he was outnumbered as more demons surrounded him.

He tried to put a brave face on, but the truth was, he was terrified. He wasn’t sure what they’d do to him. They could torture him, or hold him hostage. There were so many unpleasant possibilities running through his head.

Until a flash of purple light chased all of the demons away.

“That’s right! Out! Out of here! Get off him you horrible things!”

Evan sighed with relief. He was saved! The lovely Queen Virtuous had come to rescue him! She was a dazzling sight among the chaos. She glowed with a purple aura, and she had her knitting needles held ready, string sprouted from the tips. She hit demons with this string and they yelped and cried as they ran away.

She knelt next to Evan and helped him to his feet.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-yes my Queen. Thank you!”

“Do you know where the others are?”

“I… I don’t know where any other gods are no but… Please you’ve got to help Mason. I can’t let the demons destroy his soul, not after everything we’ve been through. Please, take him somewhere safe.”

“Somewhere safe?” Virtuous pondered that thought “Yes. I know just the place, and you’re coming too. Luey dear?”

Ludicrous was fighting demons nearby “Yes, Vir?”

“We’re going back home. We need to do something before we face the King.”

“Yes, of course, but we’ll be back, won’t we?”

Virtuous swept his eyes around the wreckage “Oh yes we will. Evan get Mason.”

Evan nodded and ran back under the porch. A moment later he emerged with Mason beside him.

Virtuous held their hands and her tail wrapped around Ludicrous’s. An instant later they were back in the Palace of Time and Space.

“What’s the plan Vir?” Ludicrous asked.

“We must get these two plus our children to safety or he’ll try to use them against us.”

“That’s a good point. He does like taking hostages.”

Virtuous nodded “I’ll contact the shapeshifter. I’ll take them to a world where he can never touch them again. I’m taking them to the dragon planet.”

“I’ll find Guerra and Sagacious then. Muerto and Naperone are already on the dragon planet.” Ludicrous disappeared.

“Wait, hold up,” Mason said “What will happen to me if I go to the dragon world? I’m already dead.”

“I… I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“Is there… a possibility that I’ll be alive again?”

“I think so. But there’s also the possibility you may disappear forever.”

“I… I’m willing to take that risk. I… I want to live again.”

“Your life did end too young.”

“Yes. I know. I just want a second chance.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“What about me?” Evan asked “If I go there I’ll be mortal again, right? And… a dragon?”

“Yes. That seems to be how the rules of that world works.”

Evan grinned “It’s going to be weird to be mortal again. But I’m going to be a dragon too. That’s new.”

“I’m back!” Ludicrous reappeared with two gods at his side.

One was a muscular man, and the other a large, round woman. The woman had bright blue eyes and a sparkling short dress. The man wore Roman styled armor that was a rusty orange color that matched his eyes. Draped around his neck was his weasel Guardian, and sitting beside the woman was her blue hippogriff. Both had the same brown skin of their parents and both seemed rather unhappy.

The woman had a sour look on her face. Her tail had the symbol of a book on the end of it and it twitched with annoyance.

“I cannot believe you dragged me away from my library for this!” She huffed.

“I’m sorry Sagacious,” Ludicrous said “But you have to go.”

“I don’t want to go! It’s going to be boring there! And what about my library?”

“It’s up to date with demon wards, and the gateway is closed. It’ll be fine,” Ludicrous tried to reassure her.

“I still don’t like this.”

“I know and i’m sorry, Saga…”

“It’s probably best for me to go anyway…” The man said. His voice was scratchy, like he was ill. He had a walking stick on him and he gripped it with shaky hands.

“Don’t say that Guerra…”

“But it’s true. The demons have already taken over my mind and used me for their own devious plans. I’m weak and i’m sick and they can do it again. It’s best for everyone if I leave to another planet where I’ll be sripped of my power.”

Ludicrous frowned, but he knew Guerra was right.

Virtuous hugged the both of them “He’s not going to hurt any of you ever again. He’s not going to use you as weapons against me. You’re going to be safe now.”

She spoke into the bracelet that she magically linked to Inkdrop, the shapeshifter who was able to create portals into different worlds.

“Shapeshifter, we acquire your assistance please.”

It was a few minutes before she received a response.

“Oh! You scared me! I forgot you could talk to me! Yeah I’ll go get you soon!” a second later a portal appeared in the room and out came a black and green dragon with bat like features “Hello!”

“Thank you shape- I mean Inkdrop, can your portal fit all of us?”

“Yeah! Yeah! It should be fine!”

Virtuous nodded “Then let’s go.”

***

Mason wasn’t sure what to expect when he entered the portal. He didn’t know if he’d even make it to the other side.

When he opened his eyes he was a little disorientated. Everything was way too bright. And warm. He hadn’t felt warmth since he was alive. Was he alive?

He took a deep breath. Ghosts didn’t breath. He put a hand… or was it a paw now? To his chest. He could feel his heart beating. Ghosts didn’t have heart beats. He felt grass in between his toes. He could smell pine trees around him. Ghosts didn’t respond to stimuli in these ways.

He didn’t doubt it now. Going to the dragon planet was everything he had hoped for. He was alive. He was alive and he had a second chance to live. He hoped in this life he’d be happier. He had his share of suffering.

“Holy fucking shit I’m a dragon!” Mason turned to see his friend Evan freaking out, but in a good way. Evan was a feathered dragon with a crest and a snake like head. He was brownish green color accented with yellow.

“Honestly I shouldn't even be surprised by this point,” Evan said as he turned around, trying to get a better look at his wings “I mean first I was just a normal kid, ya know? Then I get sick and fucking die. Next thing I know I’m a damn zombie, then I turn into a vampire and end up a god. I mean you’d think a sixteen year old ascending to godhood could be the weirdest thing to happen, right? But nope now I’m a dragon. Damn, what’s next? Am I gonna end up a sentient pile of dirt?”

“Better not give the universe any ideas,” Mason said with a smile. He felt good. He felt energetic. He hadn’t felt this alive since before he was Cursed.

“And you’re not a ghost! Holy shit yay!”

“Yeah! I’m alive! I’m really alive again… I… I’m so happy. I can’t stop smiling. This is great. This is really great,” He was looking at his new form. He was a black and blue bird like dragon “I’m actually alive.”

“I’m so happy for you Mace!”

Guerra and Sagacious were having their own reactions to becoming dragons.

Sagacious had turned into a blue imperial and she wasn’t happy about it.

“I shouldn’t be here! I should be in my library. This is a waste of my time.”

Guerra was a rust colored Plague mirror and he carefully examined himself.

“I look… dangerous. What if I hurt someone?”

***

Virtuous led the group to Clan Ton Theon. She was in her mirror form and Ludicrous was next to her in his tundra form. She knocked on the tower door and Obsidian, the clan guardian allowed her to enter.

Sagacious’s eyes widened “Are those books? There’s so many… And I don’t recognize any of these titles.”

“I’m so happy you’ve come to visit again Queen Virtuous!” Nike said with a grin on her face. The leader of Clan ton Theon loved her godly visitors.

“Is… Is this entire building a library?” Sagacious asked.

“Yes it is! And you’re welcome to read-” Nike didn’t need to finish the sentence because Sagacious had already grabbed an armful of books off of the shelves and sat on the floor to read them.

“Hey does this clan… have a prison?” Guerra asked.

“Yes it’s in the attic.”

“Good then I’ll lock myself up. It’s for the best…”

Without another word he began to climb the stairs.

Nike twitched her tail. She would have liked for her new guests to have introduced themselves.

[opaloremerald]

Chapter Four

Midnight advanced on me and soon I had my map in my hand and my wand lighting up the dark corridor around me. Luck was next to me doing the same thing and Jake was still pulling on his suit jacket. After he had tugged it over his skinny shoulders I handed him the map and fell back beside Luck. Giving directions stressed me out.

             “You ready to play Intercental with a shark?” Luck asked me, smirking. I punched his shoulder.

             “I have so many stupid memories of you guys I can raise that girl up twenty-thousand,” I told him, remembering the squall at dinner, “what spell had she used on me?”

             “Transanima,” Jake told me from in front of us, “it forcibly changes someone into an anima.”

             I shuddered, then asked, “so if an anima covered up that they are one someone could reveal that with the transanima spell?”

             Jake tilted his head to the side, “Theoretically, yes, but no anima has ever found a powerful enough spell to hide all of what they are. They would still have their heightened senses and their hair color would most likely match. That, or they have found a spell but aren’t telling us.”

             “What about their eye color?” I asked, thinking I could find that anima and check up on her.

             “Well, theoretically speaking, nothing would change with the eyes because the color helps with their night-vision. Why the interest in animas, Marx?” Jake asked, peeking over his shoulder at me.

             “Its just spending a couple of seconds as one was weird for me, think of what spending a whole lifetime would be like,” I mused. Luck laughed.

             “Dude, you’re already a dragon, that must feel really different to us humans,” he reasoned and I was thrown into my own thoughts until the ancient library’s giant doors loomed above us. Jake stepped aside and let me do the honors. I pushed hard on the doors and the opened with a large flourish.

             All eyes were on us as we passed girls of every size and shape and came up to a round table set up with the lined board for Intercental. Five cones were set around the table evenly as to not change the board until it was needed. The challenger, Emilie, and the challenged, Skylar, were standing across from each other. I noticed Skylar’s hair was up to show off the new earrings my mum had forced me to give her. They cost a small fortune and I had to cough up two opals to make them or else Skylar would throw a fit. Almost literally.

             The small whitewash blonde that I had seen with Emilie seemed to disappear as she stood next to the table for the refereeing. “Come up to the table and pick an available cone and put them on the board so it can adapt.”

             I took the yellow cone, which was next to Skylar, while Jake took the blue and Luck the orange. We all lifted our playing pieces—Skylar had pink and Emilie green—and slammed them on the board. The table shook as the board sprouted another corner near Jake and gave off a light through the lines as if a light fæ were trapped underneath. Wands were taken out and feet lifted off the ground.

             “Now, we would like to keep the noise to a minimum so please refrain from yelling in pain and/or anger,” the girl said as we crossed our legs and came level with the table. I glanced over at Emilie and saw her smirking at Skylar. Her friend’s eyes closed and the world went black.

             The operator of a game of Intercental controlled when a game ended and when a game started, so when your vision was cut off, you knew the game was starting.

              A small black cat and a green cone appeared across from me and a yellow purebred hunting dog was next to me and the pink cone. I glanced over to see what Luck and Jake were. I saw a thin gazelle near the blue cone and a dire wolf near the orange cone.

             Why’re you a dragon, Marx?  Skylar asked in a little yipping voice. I looked down to see my scaly, lithe body beneath me. This was the only time I could see myself in my wild form before my Wing Point. I shrugged my scaly shoulders. Cat Emilie was cleaning herself as we talked.

             Are we going to play now? She purred, pacing around her cone and rubbing her cheek across it. The voice of the operator echoed through the space in a mumbled voice that told us to start the game. Cat Emilie purred and her tail curled into a question-mark curl.

             As the challenger I will start, Emilie said, looking straight at Skylar, then me. The Green cone glowed, Those earrings, Skylar…

             In Intercental you have to guess about something special to the person and tell them something about that thing. Most of the times the things are secrets that players have heard from gossips, but others find out things by spying and I felt that was exactly what Emilie had done.

             …Are given to you by Marx. He gave two opals from his own collection and you had them sent in today, just to stump me, the cat’s tail came up in a snarky way, I am right, aren’t I?

             The yellow dog’s maw opened as a light came on inside Emilie’s cone and an image of a board came up above us. Emilie’s cone went up and landed on a line on the board above us three lines from the edge. Her cat face looked smug as Luck’s orange cone lit up and he faced me.

             You desperately don’t want your parents to control your life, The cone went up to the board and was only one line away from the start. The wolf groaned and put his muzzle between his paws. I gave a toothy dragon smile.

             You have to pick something that you can’t just tell from watching me interact with my parents, I tell him as my cone lit up. My turn. Who would I target? I knew absolutely nothing about Emilie, so she was out, Luck was already feeling bad—so no—but, Skylar had so many things about her that I could win a whole game of Intercental.

             Skylar, your ability is sensing other’s species, I said. Skylar looked aghast.

             You promised never to tell anyone that! Skylar exclaimed, making Emilie roll her eyes as my cone moved to level with hers. Skylar’s steely eyed gaze was turned towards me as it became her turn, You have an unhealthy number of jewels in your house.

             One measly move. Jake was after that and he sold Luck out about all the food he nicked from my house whenever he was around. Then it was back to Emilie, and the second round started.

             Round after round went by and secrets were exposed. Emilie headed off the whole game, and eventually won, as we all knew she would, but by the end the cat avatar was leaning on the large green cone, not out of charisma, but because she needed to be held up.

             The operator announced the winner and the library appeared before me. I loosened my grip on my wand and touched my feet to the floor. Waking up from a fully mental game of Intercental was always discombobulating to me, but I witnessed Emilie leaning against the table with the heel of her hand pressed up against her forehead. Her teeth were gritted and her face showed pain, but Emilie took a deep breath in and shuttered out the hurt that had flashed across her delicate features just a second before.

             Emilie stepped over to a table full of younger Cinta girls. The operator, a Year 6, started the game quickly and ended just as so. Emilie went though game after game, winning and collecting her earnings. Soon, dawn was edging through the library windows and everyone was filtering out of the old room. Thankfully, that day was a Saturday and no classes were assigned for any of the girls.

I spotted Skylar pouting with her posse, and twirling a bejeweled broom. As I approached her, Skylar spotted me and immediately turned away, walking briskly out the door. A sharp laugh came from behind me.

I turned to see Emilie leaning heavily on an old chair. She smirked, blinking slowly as if she had a headache, “That’s Skylar Jones for you. If you don’t satisfy her she’ll turn tail and abandon you. Year One she tried to get me to teach her how to trick ride and apparently, I didn’t go fast enough for her in the lessons, because her daddy got her a professional trick riding teacher. We had had a well enough relationship, but after that, things got tense and she eventually started looking down on all of us that were too poor to fund million-gloh exploits.”

Emilie had just described Skylar to a tee. The girl closed her eyes, raising a hand to her head. Emilie’s wand positioned right above her crown and a slight glow came from it. The light was a temperature gauge for fevers, but it was set to a low brightness level. That means she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s sick. The tip of her wand turned a flashing red and she lowered the hand that was at her head to the chair. Emilie’s elbows locked and she dropped her head between her arms. She took a deep breath in and started to walk past me, but her foot stuck on a loose floorboard and she lost her footing.

I shot my arm out and caught her as she fell. Heat radiated from her skin underneath her clothes and soaked through my suit. Emilie tried to push away from my arm, but her knees buckled and she almost fell to the ground.  

“Whoa there,” I said, bringing her up, but her knees wouldn’t start working again. “Are you okay?”

Emilie gave a little groan and her head tilted her head into my chest so that her voice was muffled. “I don’t know.”

I helped Emilie over to a chair and she sagged into it. The girl’s breathing was ragged and her face looked pale instead of tan.

“Emilie, right?” I asked her and she gave the smallest nod, “maybe you should call one of your friends to take you to your Take house. Maybe that would be the best thing.”

Emilie shook her head vehemently, “No, the girls can’t see me like this. I’ll just stay in one of the hidden rooms before…”

She trailed off, touching something right at her heart. A lace of pain seemed to shoot through her features and she struggled to get up from the chair. I settled a hand on her shoulder, keeping Emilie from moving. The heat of her skin radiated into my hand, reminding me of the topaz underneath my tongue. I needed to replace it but Emilie was right in front of me, and I didn’t want to reveal my secret to just anyone.

             “Leave,” Emilie’s raspy voice begged as she weakly pushed me away, “please.”

             “But you’re sick, I can’t just leave you here—” I started, but she poked me with her wand.

             “Don’t make me curse you,” her voice was fading quickly and I doubted she had the strength to do anything bigger than a small hex. I nodded and backed away, leaving the empty room, but I didn’t plan to leave indefinitely. I knew Emilie wasn’t okay and I knew she wasn’t going to accept my help unless she couldn’t move.

[flauntpage]

Sixers Season Preview, Over/Unders, and Pragmatic Predictions

Basketball is back.

We’re kicking off the NBA season with Sixers vs. Celtics on PRIME TIME NATIONAL TELEVISION, and no matter what happens tonight, you know the takes are going to be hot.

Everyone is going to have an opinion on Markelle Fultz and Brett Brown and Ben Simmons. Some of the takes will be good, more will be horrendous, and others will be neutral and pragmatic, which is what I’m going for. I’d even suggest that pragmatism IS a hot take in 2018, but that’s another column for another time.

More importantly, we’re going to have game footage to break down and analyze, and real quotes from real games. As much as I love preseason basketball, it’s time to get on with it and see what the Sixers actually have this year, as they kick it off against the Eastern Conference preseason favorite Boston Celtics, the team that knocked them out of the playoffs about five months ago.

I did the podcast with Russ last night and likened last season to a “gap year” one takes before or after college. You’re hitchhiking across America or backpacking in Kyrgyzstan, trying to find yourself and figure out what you want to do with your life. In that regard, 2017-2018 was a bridge connecting the end of the Process era to the beginning of something new and exciting. 52 wins was not what anybody expected, and at the end of the day I think most Sixers fans were more than happy with a second round playoff appearance, even if they were initially disappointed with the Celtics’ series loss.

It’s different this year. A second-round exit isn’t going to get it done. Anything short of the conference finals is a disappointment. Anything short of a top-three finish is a disappointment. Markelle Fultz coming out and failing to seek his shot would be a disappointment.

I know a portion of fans felt let down by the offseason because LeBron James, Paul George, and Kawhi Leonard all went to other teams. Turns out LeBron and PG were never coming here in the first place and the asking price for Kawhi was too high, so the Sixers stood pat, improved the bench, and decided to run it back with a 52-win team. Even if one of those three players had come to Philly, you STILL needed to see internal growth and development from Joel Embiid, Ben Simmons, and Markelle Fultz. Adding a high-priced free agent was not an automatic solution to the problems that lost you the Boston series, but a complementary move that would theoretically put you over the hump and into the NBA finals.

What the Sixers have right now is good enough, and here’s what I need to see from every player and the head coach if this squad is going to reach the NBA finals:

Joel Embiid:

It’s Joel vs. himself this year. Joel Embiid is the only person in the Eastern Conference who can stop Joel Embiid. If he stays healthy, locked in, and focused, 30 points and 10 rebounds per game is not out of the question. I’m okay with him stretching the floor and shooting a couple of three pointers here and there, but I need to see less pump faking at the top of the arc and more incisive low post and face-up work from the big man, who is coming off his first full and healthy preseason ever.

Ben Simmons:

We all thought the jump shot would be the improvement to his game in 2018, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Instead, the Sixers found ways in the preseason to get him low and high post mismatches, which resulted in him drawing fouls and putting stress on defenses in an off-ball manner. If Simmons continues to evolve his post game while showing he can facilitate from various positions on the floor, then he’s not going to have to shoot three pointers or 18 footers this season. Eventually that part of his game will start to sprout, but if Fultz turns out to be okay this year, Simmons doesn’t necessarily need to become Reggie Miller overnight.

Here’s a clip from May, when the Sixers were down 3-0 to the Celtics and installed T.J. McConnell at point guard. Simmons found a bit of success going into the post instead of running into a wall at the foul line:

Expect to see more of that this season.

Markelle Fultz:

Be assertive. Seek your shot. Don’t hide from the game.

That’s basically it. I think we all know what kind of talent Markelle has, and the ability to drive to the rim and do things off the dribble should add a dynamic element to the Sixers, one that was missing last year. I don’t think this has anything to do with physical tools or his basketball skill set, it’s all mental going into his sophomore season.

Dario Saric:

Keep grinding for rebounds under the basket and keep stretching the floor as the prototypical stretch four in Brett Brown’s offense.

Dario’s three point percentage improved by a whopping 8.2% last season and he was incredibly consistent and steady on most nights. If he ditches the rocker step and keeps the ball off the floor, where his handle is loose, he can be even better offensively this year. Defensively, he’ll be the weakest link on a top three team, but if his footwork improves he’ll hopefully be able to keep up with smaller players off the switch.

Robert Covington:

Needs more consistency shooting the three pointer and finishing at the rim, but his defensive toolbox is critical for the Sixers’ switching game. Cov is not Bruce Bowen out there, which is to say that he’s not a lock down 1v1 defender, but his versatility is the glue that holds the first unit together. If he can continue to disrupt passing lanes and steal the ball and slide up and down guarding twos and fours, he’ll again help this team finish top five in defensive rating.

JJ Redick:

Assume a new bench role playing staggered minutes that will eventually match you up with the first unit as the game progresses. Continue to develop that highly-positive 2/5 brush cut and dribble hand-off game with Joel Embiid and give the Sixers a threat in after timeout and called play situations.

I was a big fan of the Redick and Embiid two-way game last season, and the Sixers found a lot of success using these types of designs, especially in the latter stages of the year and into the playoffs:

Amir Johnson:

Hustle, grind, grab a few rebounds, lay off the hook shot, and provide 10-14 tough minutes off the bench every night backing up Joel Embiid.

Mike Muscala:

Emulate what Ersan Ilyasova was able to do last year, which is provide a backup stretch four option and a small ball complement to Dario Saric if the Sixers go with that look again. It’s critical that he shoots the three at a decent clip if he’s going to play power forward this season.

Wilson Chandler:

Give the Sixers two-way bite off the bench, or in a starting role if necessary. One of the key reasons the Sixers lost the Boston series is because the wing defense and depth was shallow last season, and Chandler is a veteran who should really help out in this area when healthy.

Zhaire Smith:

Watch Chandler and Covington and learn from them. You can never have enough two-way wings on your roster, and his growth will be key to battling the Celtics for the next several years. Trading Mikal Bridges was a gamble in my mind, because I felt like Bridges had a higher floor in year number one, while Smith has a bit more room to grow.

T.J. McConnell:

Keep doing what you always do. Mash underneath the rim, find the open teammate, harry and harass on defense, and continue to hit that short pull-up in the paint. It’s an interesting year for McConnell, who is on the last year of his contract but is probably the most known quantity off the bench this season.

Landry Shamet:

Make the most out of your minutes, continue with that smooth off the ball movement and seek that shot. I was impressed with Shamet in the preseason and hope he gets a chance this year.

Furkan Korkmaz:

Continue to look for that shot. Improve defensively. Furkan had a good summer with the Sixers and also playing for his national team, and he can be a legit shooting threat off the bench with Redick and Shamet this season.

Jerryd Bayless:

Make the most of your minutes if your name is called. We saw some solid moments from Bayless last year, namely the Denver game, and you can do worse than a ten-year veteran providing some stability off the bench if the younger pieces don’t step it up early in the season.

Jonah Bolden:

Absorb everything you can. Learn from Embiid, Saric, Johnson, and Muscala in practice. Settle in as a four or a five and be ready to step in if somebody goes down injured.

Brett Brown:

Stagger the power forward minutes and continue to show that small ball shooting look when necessary. Continue to get Redick involve in DHO and brush cut sets, evolve the successful horns set to show some different wrinkles, and identify high-percentage calls in late game situations. Yeah, the Sixers play a high-tempo transition game with a basic motion offense in the half court, but there are going to be times when you just have to slow it down a bit, especially when the score is close in the fourth quarter. Experiment with Markelle in the pick and roll if needed. Most importantly, look for counters to Boston’s intense perimeter pressure and find a way to crack them open this year.

Over/under and other bets

SugarHouse Sportsbook has the Sixers’ over/under listed at 54.5 wins.

FanDuel Sportsbook set the number at 53.5.

Those are pretty tight lines.

The 76ers finished 52-30 last season and won 16 straight to end the campaign, while only four teams total eclipsed the 54 win mark: the Raptors, Celtics, Rockets, and Warriors.

The schedule is tougher this year, with 7 of 10 on the road to end the season and the absence of myriad tanking cupcakes on the back end. One big positive, however, is the lack of heavy back-to-back dates, which became an issue last year due to the London trip sort of “smushing” the winter and spring schedule together on a smaller time frame.

That said, I don’t see much competition beyond Toronto and Boston in the Eastern Conference. Indiana is a solid team and Milwaukee will be improved with Mike Budenholzer taking over. Miami is just a team, Washington always finds a way to disappoint, and the Cavs are no longer the Cavs without LeBron James in town. I don’t see much at all beyond the top four or five in the east, while the west is the much tougher conference.

People will say that this team didn’t start ripping off wins until Marco Belinelli and Ersan Ilyasova came to town, and that’s true, but it’s less about what Marco and Ersan did and more about the fact that the Sixers had no bench whatsoever before that pair arrived. It’s not to take anything away from what they provided here, it’s just that the Sixers went from nothing to something in the depth department, so the bar was incredibly low to begin with. This year, you’re looking at Redick, Shamet, Korkmaz, Chandler, Muscala, and Smith off the bench in the early part of the year. That is a HEAVY upgrade over Bayless, Justin Anderson, Timothe Luwawu-Cabarrot, and Trevor Booker.

I’ll hammer the over, but not really hammer it, I’ll tap the nail instead. I will go with 54 wins and a second-place finish in the Eastern Conference, which will play out like this:

Celtics

Sixers

Raptors

Pacers

Bucks

Wizards

Heat

Pistons

FanDuel is also offering the following futures that involve Sixers players:

6th man of the year: JJ Redick +1600

assist leader: Ben Simmons + 600

All Star selection: Joel Embiid -550, Ben Simmons -370

MVP: Joel Embiid +2200

Here’s how the Crossing Broad staff sees the season playing out, based on the O/U total of 53.5 from FanDuel:

Chris: I think the Sixers slightly improve from last year. Thanks to a weaker Eastern conference, the Sixers should benefit from it. I’m not too hot on the team reaching the East finals however. Sixers finish 54-28 (slightly over 53.5) and get the 3 seed again.

Tim: Sixers finish 55-27. I would take the over on the wins.

Phil: 48-34. They have lost useful veteran pieces from the back end of last season, Fultz’s introduction to the lineup is going to be bumpy, and the first round pick is hurt. Yeah, the East is terrible, but this is not a 50-win team.

Coggin: 57-25. HAMMER THE OVER.

Russ: The over/under of 53.5 is too high even for a team that finished on a 16 game win streak to close out the season. The Sixers are in my estimation the third best team in the East. Both Boston and Toronto have deeper rosters overall from 1-12, though admittedly the Sixers’ combo of Ben Simmons and Joel Embiid is the only one to boast two of the top 5 players in the conference. The Sixers are going to have to take advantage of five games against a confusing Chicago Bulls team and a joke of a roster in Atlanta in those four matchups. We’ll find out a lot about this team and how valuable Markelle Fultz and his 6’9″ wingspan can be in defending Boston’s wings. I foresee some struggles as Dario, Ben, and Joel explore similar spaces on the floor while Fultz is manning the point. It’ll be a successful season, but this is by no means a 58 game winner. I have them in the 49-51 win range and that’s okay with me.

Kyle: Over. People are all down after a disappointing series against the Celtics, but we forget that heading into the playoffs the Sixers were nearly unbeatable. They were then partially derailed by Joel Embiid’s injury and inconsistent return. Regardless, they won 52 games with two young stars, and even though they had a very disappotining offseason, there’s no reason to think they shouldn’t improve by more than one game. I think we’re discounting how good both Embiid and Simmons could be, throw in a healthy Markelle Fultz, who almost by definition has nowhere to go but up, and it’s the Sixers and Celtics all day. 54 wins is the goal, but 56 wouldn’t surprise me. 60 wouldn’t shock me.

Jeff: I’ll take the under in light of the Fultz “experiment”, but not by much. 53-29.

Mike: Losing Belinelli and Ilyasova is going to hurt. No way Sixers would have won 16 straight games at end of season without them. No way Sixers would have let them walk if they didn’t think they were going to land a “Staaah”. Take the under. 50-32

…..

SugarHouse is also giving the Sixers +300 odds to win the win the conference, second only to Boston at -106.

Let’s play ball.

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