#(you bring one good thing to them before getting rid of the biggest blight on their life (wrong))

[lyricalchrysanthemum]

Never mind I’m not done making stuff about Sinnoh trio. Thinking about Barry nonstop

[flipomatic]

Closed Book Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 4

Author Note: It’s Grom time. I had this all finished and then I had to change large parts of it because I saw the tweet from Dana that says the twins were stood up for Grom. Based on the episode I thought the twins went together, but no. Whoever stood them up is awful. Also, the season 1 finale airs tomorrow and I am not ready.

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Every year Hexside held a huge Grom dance to celebrate Grometheus being defeated and banished back under the school. It was one of the biggest events of the school year; all students 14 and older went to watch the fight and party. Emira wondered why they didn’t permanently seal the monster and throw the party to celebrate being rid of it, but when she asked Principal Bump he dodged the question.

A few posters had been up since the start of the school year, but about week before the event the number greatly multiplied. Some decorations were also put up in order to start preparing, and gossip of who would be chosen as Grom queen began floating around. A lost of the whispers claimed it would be Amity, but Emira didn’t buy into that. Usually an upperclassman was chosen, since they had to fight the creature. It would be decided a few days before the event, so she could only wait and see.

It was a nice coincidence that the day before Grom was the final day of Emira and Ed’s punishment. They would be able to attend Grom as free witches.

Unfortunately, there was still a week until that day. This meant Emira was again, or as usual, trapped inside the Blight house.

She was sitting at the table in the kitchen, debating if she wanted a snack while doing homework. That’s right, homework. There was literally nothing else to do. The assignment was to write about the foundation of duplication spells, including information about the witch inventor behind the spell and the theories she created. It was, in two words, mind numbing.

When Mittens arrived home and came into the kitchen in a hurry, that was a great excuse for Emira to abandon the tedious task.

“How was school?” Emira put down her pencil as she asked.

Mittens dropped her bag on the table, a sharp frown already present on her face. “It was fine.” She said in a tone that did not match her words, moving to scrounge the cabinets for a snack.

“You sure about that?” Emira prodded for more information, not believing her at all.

“Yes.” Was the only response she got.

“Alright.” Emira shifted in her chair so she could see Mittens easier. Her sister was behaving quite oddly today. The other girl had taken a fairly large box of cookies out of the cabinet. “Don’t eat too much, Mom will get mad at you.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Mittens snapped at her, putting the box on the counter roughly.

Emira was honestly taken aback. She thought her relationship with Mittens had improved, at least slightly. Her sister had been in a decent mood for the last few days too, which seemed to have all but vanished now. “Wow, already getting into those teenage rebellion years? You’ve grown so fast.” She teased to try and lighten the mood.

Mittens didn’t reply, instead she started taking cookies out of the box and putting them on a napkin.

“Seriously though, what’s up?” Emira refocused on the topic, her eyes locked on the back of Mittens’ head.

Mittens stopped at 5 cookies in total, putting the box back in the cabinet. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She muttered, not turning to look at Emira.

“Just sit with me then.” Emira pat the chair next to her and pulled it out slightly in invitation. “You can eat your cookies while I work on my assignment.”

“You’re actually doing homework?” This piqued Mittens’ interest, drawing her eyes and a slightly softer frown back to Emira.

“Not by choice.” Emira put on an exaggerated grimace and shook her head. “If you join me, I won’t tell Mom about the cookies.” That would get her for sure.

“Fine you win.” Mittens rolled her eyes and then picked up her cookies to bring them over to the table. “Just for a few minutes.” She sat down in the chair, sighing as she settled.

Emira cracked a smile, watching as Mittens picked up the first treat to take a bite. While she was chewing, that was Emira’s chance to strike. She had thought about getting a snack and now was her chance.

She didn’t even need illusion magic; her hands were fast enough to steal the next cookie from the pile. It only took a moment.

“Hey!” Mittens swatted the offending arm ineffectually. It wasn’t enough to stop Emira from claiming her prize. “Get your own!” She protested, pulling the remaining cookies farther away from Emira’s reach.

“This one is so good though.” Emira took a big bite out of the cookie for emphasis. It was chocolate chip, a great flavor. “Delicious.”

Mittens wasn’t quite smiling, but she wasn’t frowning so deeply anymore either. “Whatever, just do your homework.”

“Aye aye.” Emira said before taking another bite out of her stolen reward. She turned back to her homework, which astonishingly had not completed itself while she talked to Mittens. One more bite and the cookie was gone, so she picked up her pencil to resume the assignment.

Emira started writing the next line on her work, keeping an eye on Mittens in her peripheral vision. Her sister was staring straight ahead, that troubled frown back in full force. She had finished the first cookie, but wasn’t eating the next one.

She looked worried, like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

A few minutes later, after Emira had written a few more painful sentences, Mittens broke the silence.

“I um,” She started to speak, then stopped and cleared her throat. She was still looking straight ahead. “Are you going to Grom with anyone?” Ah, Emira thought, that’s what this whole bad mood was about. Mittens was finally old enough to attend Grom this year.

“I might.” Emira admitted, dropping her pencil to focus on the conversation. “Not sure yet though.” There was still a week to figure it out.

Mittens’ expression didn’t change. “I see.” She said quietly. “Are you planning to ask someone?” With these words she turned her body slightly towards Emira, eyes coming up to meet hers.

That was quite a personal question. Emira did have someone in mind to ask, another witch in the illusion track, but she wasn’t that close to them so she was still debating it. She also thought about asking that detention track girl, Viney, to go with her. Unfortunately, she was 1000 percent off limits due to her time in the detention track and habit of mixing magic. Emira had never spoken to her and still liked to admire her from afar, but the other witch she was considering was a far safer option.

“I’ve thought about it.” Was what Emira settled on saying, “But I haven’t made any plans yet.” She could feel her cheeks were warmer than usual at this line of conversation.

Now Mittens looked more thoughtful, her brow scrunched up in that little thinking face she often made. “How would you plan to do it, if you were?”

Interesting question. It almost sounded like Mittens wanted to ask someone to Grom. That was the only conclusion Emira could come to. Was it Luz? It had to be Luz.

“Hmm, let me think about it.” Emira tried to keep her voice level, she didn’t want to spook Mittens. It took a lot of effort to get her to even sit and talk, she would probably leave if Emira seemed too excited or crazy. “I would probably just take the plunge and ask if they wanted to go with me.” Despite being a trickster, Emira could also be straight forward sometimes. If she ever got around to inviting the person she wanted to go with, that would be how she did it.

“That takes a lot of courage.” Mittens mused, fidgeting with the edges of the napkin her cookies were on. That was probably too forward for her, Emira thought. Mittens was brave in danger, but could actually be quite withdrawn socially. Especially if she had a crush on Luz, Emira was still pretty sure it was Luz.

“Well, a note is another option.” Was her next idea. “I could leave it in their locker or hand it to them.” She had to say it as if it was from her perspective still to keep up the image that this was about her, even though she was just giving advice to Mittens.

Mittens perked up at that one. “A note, huh.” There was a spark in her eyes. “That’s a good idea.”

“Why thank you.” Emira replied with a smile. “It wouldn’t have to be long, just the invitation is enough I think.”

“Yeah,” Mittens nodded, probably running the idea through her mind. “That could work.” She muttered, before clearing her throat. “What would you do if they say no?”

That was another hard hitting question, one Emira wasn’t sure how to respond to. Mittens had distinctly ventured from just asking about Emira’s plans to worrying about her own potential Gromposal. Interesting that she wanted to know how to react if it went poorly, rather than if it went well.

“I’m not sure.” Emira was confident that Luz, or whoever Mittens planned to ask, would say yes, but she still wanted to answer the question properly. “Cry and move on I suppose. Keep looking until I find someone who returns my feelings.” That was the goal wasn’t it, to find someone who liked her in return.

“Okay.” Mittens looked somber as she turned her gaze back towards her snack. “Thanks, Em.”

“Anytime.” Emira couldn’t keep from grinning as she replied.

A few seconds passed and Emira waited as her sister thought things through. It was silent, with nothing but their thoughts between the two. Mittens gave one last sigh before seeming to gather her composure.

“I guess I should leave you to your homework.” Mittens face snapped back up to Emira’s, the previous stress in her expression replaced with a small playful smirk. “You’re never going to get it done while I’m here.”

“You’re probably right.” Emira admitted with a frown. She didn’t want to get it done in the first place.

Mittens nodded in agreement. “I’ll leave you to it then.” She rose from the chair, slinging her bag back over her shoulder. She took one cookie off the top of the stack, then pushed the last two towards Emira. “You should have them.” She said, not looking back before vacating the kitchen.

Emira pulled the cookies closer to her, picking up the top one as she mentally wished Mittens and herself luck in asking someone to Grom. She was certain that her sister would not be rejected. A moment later Emira resumed work on the awful homework assignment.

She had just bitten into the cookie when heeled footsteps sounded behind her. Her mother’s voice came next.

“You shouldn’t be eating this close to dinner.”

Sometimes, Emira thought, she needed to take her own advice.

Chapter 6

[realactualfancontent]

Wilbur Whateley Goes Shopping Part 2.

While he’s still in London Wilbur goes Solstice shopping.

Wilbur Whateley did not belong here. Slinking through an overcrowded department store where even his unusual stature and the stench that clung to him weren't enough to keep him safe from being jostled by over zealous holiday shoppers. He jumped every time, fussing to see that none of his wardrobe had been disrupted. Looking around over the crowds heads to see if there was any quiet spot he could try to observe from. Figure out where he was going. What exactly he was here for. It was as if the whole city had been funnelled in here. How was no one else overwhelmed? How was no one else overwhelmed by the sheer quantity. Someone jostled him especially hard and Wilbur hurled a few choice words in their direction loud enough that the immediate crowd paused a moment to stare before getting back on with their errands. The offending party scurried away without so much as an apology. Though the look of terror on their face served as one. Even if he felt a little embarrassed now. He just, didn't do well around people. Not that it mattered, they'd all be gone soon. He could only hope that there were less old ones, or that they had a better grasp on personal space. But he was determined to make this trip worth something. After that disaster at the book store he wanted to come back with something. And Dunwich's single general store was beyond limited when it came to luxury goods. So here he was, scraggly, unkempt and absolutely freezing in place when anyone so much as brushed against him. Eventually, after what seemed like eons he made it to a counter and stared down a perfectly quaffed and dressed shop attendant. Who looked up at him with wide frightened eyes. “Can I help you?” She asked timidly. He gulped, fighting down a sudden wave of embaressment at the garbled excuse for English that was about to come out of his mouth.

“Yeah-yes.”

She looked like she'd rather do anything but, she looked like she wanted to call security. Wilbur soldiered on trying to downplay his accent. “I'm shoppin' fer my ma.”

That made her relax a little. As if anyone buying Christmas gifts for their mother couldn't be entirely terrible. She was wrong of course.

“An' my younger brother.” He added hastily, seeing as laying on the sentiments seemed like a good plan.

Humans and their sentiment.

Not that he was much better. He just acknowledged it was stupid.

“Oh, well then, what sort of gifts are you looking for?” She asked brightly, giving him an appraising once over, now that the initial fear seemed to have worn off he could tell she was trying to size up how much he could spend.

“'Spensive ones.” Wilbur answered, there was something distinctly unpleasant in the smile that accompanied that. 

He couldn't help it. There was something distinctly unpleasant in most of his expressions. But he did love the rare chance to wave his money in people's faces. The look of scepticism and shock on her face was priceless. The absolute disbelief when he pulled out a wallet from the tenebrous pockets of his shapeless coat and discreetly opened it to flash the woman it's contents was almost worth the trip. “I see,” she said looking between the over stuffed wallet and Wilbur's ungroomed face, managing to set aside any misgivings he gave her and settle back into her blandly polite default mode. “I'm afraid you'll have to be slightly more specific, as we do carry a wide range of luxury items, any of which would make lovely gifts.” Wilbur rolled his eyes in response, and let out a deep sigh, so irritable you'd think someone had asked him to set his foot on fire. “Dunno, what dew women like?” It was a genuine question. What the fuck did he get for Lavinia? Clothes? Jewellery? Not shoes that was for damn sure. “Oh, well, if you'd like I can show you around the accessories section and point out some of our more popular items?” “Yeah, that'd be good.” “Alright, follow me then.” She slipped out from behind the counter and led Wilbur around the shop. He was grateful for the assistance, even if he didn't fancy following someone around like a lost dog it was better than milling around poking things aimlessly. He ended up with an armful of things. Perfume (which didn't smell all that good to him, but he was assured it was lovely, and much subtler once it settled on to the skin.), A hat with a bunch of flowers (Lavinia liked flowers, he wasn't to sure about hats.) And an armful of assorted fripperies and frills all floaty and lacy. Grossly impractical, he hadn't the faintest idea when she'd every get the chance to wear things like this. But he'd seen her ogling similar things in a magazine once or twice, and she was very fond of some of the gauzier curtains in the house. Even if they all had moth holes. “Do you think that's enough?” His shop attendant asked looking up, craning her neck to see over the stack of gifts. “Uh, think so, one 'er two more things. I we-was thinkin' I might get her sum 've those tinted glasses...An' a sewin' machine. One 've the treadle 'uns.” In truth the sewing machine was for Wilbur, who's continued growth spurts meant he was spending an enormous time trying to stitch together his own clothes. Hopefully this would speed things along. “Oh I know where both of those are, just follow me.” Wilbur did, staggering after her, carrying his precarious load. “Would you like us to gift wrap those for you?” Wilbur had to peer down and around to see her. “Yeah, that'd be...good.” “Okay, I think, just put them down here.” Wilbur did, dropping the whole stack on the table. Trying to pick up the sewing machine had been a mistake. People always assumed that his size came with strength to match, but after only a few moments his arms felt like jelly. “And you said you're also shopping for your brother?” His assistant was currently wrapping a hat box in a garishly bright paper covered in pictures of stockings and cats. Tying ribbon into bows it seemed almost a crime to tear it apart later. Wilbur had an overwhelming feeling He'd be seeing the same piece of wrapping paper for the rest of his natural life, trundled out at every birthday and solstice until it disintegrated or his pa's friends destroyed the world. "Ah, yeah...he's lookin fe-for a..." Wilbur trialled off here knowing exactly what he needed to say but not quite able to get the word out. "Dog." He finally spat. His volume dropping to barely above a whisper, as if mentioning the word might summon ten. She looked up at him puzzled. "Sir, we're not a pet sho-"

"I know that." He snapped back. "He can't have a real 'un." There was a note of actual panic in that last sentence, his assistant flinched at the sudden snapping. Pausing mid ribbon bow, she was about to apologize for speaking out of turn but Wilbur continued. "I'm allergic, is the thing. So I thought I'd get 'im one of those toy one's, yew know, with the leash an' the wheels. Just, needs t' be a real big one." She nodded at the explanation.

"Well I'm certain we have something close in the toy department. It's just upstairs. You can pick up your packages when you're done."

As much as he hadn't been particularly offensive as a customer she really was glad to be rid of him. She couldn’t place what about those goatish features made her so uncomfortable, but something definitely did.  She very quickly turned her attention back to the shawl she was packing to avoid studying them further.

"Uh, yeah, thanks." Wilbur said. Excusing himself to trundle upstairs. He got lost on the way of course. Anyone who's spent signifiant time in a department store can understand exactly how easy that is, although in retrospect Wilbur could have followed the cacodaemoniacal shrieks of small children and found it quickly enough.

Something small and fast blundered into his legs he jumped, it let out a high-pitched shriek of terror when it looked up to see who it had collided with. Wilbur was sneering down at the kid. Some other parents pulled their children closer to them.

Typical.

Some other brat blew a raspberry at him. In Dunwich at least people knew to give him a wide berth. That trying that sort of thing was a good way to get your crops blighted. He ignored them to instead move as quick as he could to the desk. Calling the clerk's attention with startling ease despite the crowd. Being over a foot taller than the masses had some advantages. At least here he had some clear goal. It made everything so much easier. Knowing what you were here for. "...Just bring me the biggest 'un yew've got." He finished explaining to the desk clerk, before she scurried off. Leaving Wilbur to mill about and wait, unable to help himself from pulling a face or two at the small children who tried the same with him. Or chuckling when one of them started crying. A thoroughly inhuman noise which drew even more strange looks. That brief good mood vanished when he saw the plush Great Dane. "Is this big enough?" Wilbur nodded suddenly sheepish. "It'll dew." He picked it up under one arm, glad it was lighter than the sewing machine, still awkward though. He ended up buying a wagon too. Something to haul the rest around in. And then he was done.

Well, technically there was one thing left on the gift list. But that wasn't found in any department store. He toyed with buying a wedding gift for Pickman as he loaded up the rest of his stuff. But decided against it. They weren't friends. And if he had to spend another minute in this crowded hell scape he might scream. So, with a gigantic plush dog under one arm, and a wagon loaded with prettily wrapped parcels, Wilbur Whateley headed out, to the graveyard, and after that, finally, back to Dunwich.