#Basil is just a tiny boy

[null-doesnothing]

my favorite holmes and Watson adaptations are always like-

the best and most accurate versions of themselves to the book renditions and frequently regarded as the best Sherlock Holmes adaptations ever

and

these two fucks I found off the street. they are like street rats to me. endearing street rats.

[saishu-harachi-thegatorlord]

in your intro post it said that you liked omori who are favorite characters???

yeah!! i started playing omori a while ago but got distracted with hollow knight instead so i didn’t get past the first day yet,,, so no spoilers !!

i like basil a lot he’s a silly little guy :D

[prythiansprincess]

if u have time could u do theo taking care of a drunk reader?? thank u sm ❤️

here (in your arms).

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: here (in your arms) by hellogoodbye.

author's note: in a soft fluffy theo mood. don't text.

The boisterous sounds coming from the common room party filtered through the empty corridor of the boy's dormitories, making you sway to the beat of the music as you lifted your fist to the door. You rapped against the wood three times—your signature knock to let your best friend know that it was you on the other side.

You stepped back as the door swung open, revealing a disoriented Theo. His ruffled hair flopped over his eyes, the brown waves slightly flat on the right side, which you knew was his preferred side to sleep on. A twinge of guilt tugged at your heart as you watched the sleepy boy before you, his Chudley Cannons sweatshirt and light grey lounge pants indicating that you had probably interrupted his slumber. A rarity, given that your best friend suffered from insomnia more often than not.

Rubbing his eyes, Theo adjusted to the darkness of the hallway and glanced down at you. In your tiny little dress, you shivered in the cool air of the dungeons, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to chase away the goosebumps.

"Hi Teddy," you whispered. "Did I wake you?"

"You did, but I don't mind." Theo said softly, rubbing up and down your arms to provide some much needed warmth. "What are you doing still up?"

"Pans convinced me to play another round of beer pong," you confessed. "You should have seen us. We obliterated the boys. Malfoy threw a fit."

The silly giggle that you covered behind your hand made Theo smile. If your constant swaying wasn't enough of an indication that you were currently inebriated, the deep red flush on your cheeks, neck, and arms told Theo all that he needed to know. You were absolutely sloshed.

"I'm sorry I missed it, dolcezza." When your body temperature refused to thaw, Theo shrugged off his jumper. For a brief moment, you caught a glimpse of his toned stomach, his olive skin glimmering in the dim lighting. You bit your lip, averting Theo's gaze. Luckily, he was too preoccupied with pulling the jumper over your head to notice. "Come in, let's get you warm, yeah?"

"Mmkay," you murmured in agreement. You trailed behind Theo, almost knocking into the doorway until he laced his fingers through yours, guiding you inside his dorm.

"There's a door there, amorina."

"Don't make fun, Teddy." You huffed, pouting as you followed closely behind. "Your room's too dark. How can you even see anything in here?"

Theo chuckled. "Sure, let's blame the lack of light instead of the fact that you're smashed."

"Am not," you countered, plopping onto Theo's large, plush bed. "I'm perfectly sober, thank you very much."

"Fine. Then who was the Minister of Magic during the Goblin Rebellion in 1752?"

"There were two ministers at the time. Boot was in office first, then he resigned due to mismanagement. Basil Flack replaced him." You smirked at your best friend, feeling rather smug. "Just because I'm bevvied doesn't mean that you'll catch me lacking, Theodore."

Theo raised a brow. "So you admit you're drunk?"

"You tricked me!"

"Guilty as charged." Theo admitted, plopping down right next to you. "So, did you bail on the party just to hog my bed?"

"It's not my fault that yours is much more comfier than mine," you mumbled, cocooning yourself underneath his comforters. "Plus, the party wasn't as fun without you there. I needed my partner in crime."

"I thought you'd be glad that I studied for the History of Magic exam instead of getting shitfaced. You're the one always telling me off about partying too much."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually listen."

"It's you," Theo said with a smile. "Of course I listened."

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when Theodore Nott is more responsible than me."

A smile tugged at your best friend's lips. "Well, one of us has to be. You're a mess, Y/N," he teased. "But you're my mess."

"As if that's not the pot calling the kettle black."

Theo chuckled as you buried yourself in his blankets, hiding from him entirely. He snuck underneath the covers and scooted closer until you were face to face.

"Hello," Theo whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and hugged you liked he hadn't seen you all week. "I've missed you quite terribly."

"It's only been a few hours, Teddy." You replied, giggling as you brushed his hair back. It was getting so long, but you loved how soft and fluffy his locks felt as you ran your fingers through it.

"Says the girl who snuck into the boy's dorms to see me."

"Okay, so maybe I missed you too."

"That's what I thought."

You stayed intertwined for a moment, your hearts beating in sync as you clung onto one another. When you yawned, Theo patted your leg. "Come on, love. Let's get you ready for bed."

"But I'm already comfy," you whined, burying your face in his chest.

"I know, amorina. But you'll feel so much better after you've washed your face." You pouted in response. "I promise I'll make it quick. Then we can cuddle, okay?"

You nodded. "Okay, Teddy."

Theo smiled before giving you a piggyback ride to his private bathroom. Setting you down on the counter, he pulled out the makeup wipes that he kept in the drawer for this exact reason. You swung your legs in the air as he wiped the foundation off your face. With his brows furrowed and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, you'd never seen Theo so concentrated.

You grinned and pinched his cheek. "You're so cute when you're focused."

He quirked a brow as he helped you wash off the remnants. "Only when I'm focused?"

"No, you're cute all the time. It's infuriating." You lamented as Theo patted your face with a face cloth. He hummed, spreading serums and moisturizers on your skin like he'd seen you do a thousand times over.

"Oh? Care to share?"

"Hmm," you hummed, leaning into his touch. "I think it's cute when you hook our pinkies together in the hallway so I don't get overwhelmed by the crowd. Or when you get crumbs all over your face and grin like a little kid when I catch you raiding my cookie stash. Or how your eyes light up when we're watching the stars at night."

"You noticed all of that?" Theo asked softly.

"It's you," you answered, mirroring his words from earlier. "Of course I noticed."

The shy smile on his face made your heart flutter. "For the record, I think you're cute too. I think you're the cutest girl I've ever seen in my entire life."

"Sounds like you have a crush on me, Teddy."

"I have for the past six years. Thanks for finally noticing," he said with a chuckle.

You groaned, burying your face into his neck. "Don't say that to me when I'm drunk. What if I don't remember it tomorrow?"

Theo kissed the top of your head and carried you off to bed. "Then I guess I'll just have to remind you in the morning, love."

With a grin, you kissed the tip of his nose. "Thanks for taking care of me, Teddy."

Theo smiled. It was so beautiful that your heart ached to bear witness to it. As he tucked you into bed and wrapped his arms around you, the boy that you loved pressed a kiss to your temple and spoke a promise into the night.

"I'll always take care of you, Y/N."

Taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar

[bobur-the-berry-guy]

Tenjiku boys and winter activities!

•ft. Izana, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Shion, Mochi

•part 1 - toman boys

part 3 - koko, inui, taiju, sanzu, hanma & kisaki, in the making!

•requests are open!

• Lowk forgot to post ut yesterday my bad

Inside

Staying cozy at home during winter was something Izana has always preferred, especially now that he has you to stay cozy with. His home is now bright with christmas warm lights and shiny decorations, the smell of homecooked meal coming from the kitchen. A home is still somewhat foreign to him, but not unwelcome at all. He's started a new little homely tradition too - cooking together once a week. It's really just him trying to do a new recipe for dinner and you keeping him company in the kitchen, but he likes it that way. He likes having you around, making the apartment more of a home. Would it really be a home without you? To him, not really. You've made your way into his heart, keeping him warm and cozy when it's freezing. Anyway, the dinner's ready. Have you tried red sause spaghetti? Hopefully you like them because Izana's getting experimental with it. Tiny baby tomatoes and basil leaves mixed in with the sauce. If you don't like the tomato slices he'd eat them for you, only if you feed them to him though. He's the big boss of the tenjiku gang, but that doesn't mean he won't want to be babied every now and them. He's not good at showing his love, but he's learning. Just fot you.

Rindou has never liked being outside in the cold, freezing his ass off. Why would he be growing icicles from his nose when he can be warm, toasty and lazing around at home? Sure, he's a party animal but he still wants to have a slow day every now and then, especially so during winter. He had all he needed inside - food, drinks and company. Even if it gets a bit boring being inside all day, he still has that little tradition with you - making homemade alchocol. Now don't get it wrong, he loves his expensive luxury stuff, but it's just different when he's done the work himself with you right by him. So every week he knows what to look foward to, and it gives him energy to pass the time by. Waiting for the said day, deciding what to try making, experimenting with new recipes, trying what you've already made.. His favourite, though, is the chocolate liquor. The first one you made together. He keeps it hidden, taking it out for just the special occasions - the holidays, achievements, and sometimes just because you're together. He's still a little flustered at the affection - his glasses are fogging up with just you leaning on him when you're thinking on what you could add, tiny little kisses make him unable to talk for a few minutes. To him, that's also a part of the tradition. Not that he's complaining tho

Just like his little brother, Ran has always preferred being at home when the weather drops. He's always being at l home anyway, you beung there just makes it better. And if it's cold it just gives him the excuse to cuddle you all day. "Its soo cold" or "come hug me, im freezing" are things you hear on the regular in winter. He's not above whining and begging if that's what would make you go back to the big, messy bed. Out of any time he could do that, his favourite is when there's no other soul awake other than him. He hates being awake at anything later than 11:30pm, much more at these ungodly hours, but the ambience makes it good. The room is dark and quiet. The muted light from the street lamps illuminates the falling snow, his patterned curtains leaving ornamented shadows across the walls. The world is quiet. Only sounds he can hear are the cars apasing by every now and then, the wind murmuring gently and your quiet, peaceful breathing. He can feel the countless soft blankets around him, brushing his cheek, and you warming him inside out. Feeling your skin agaist his, hand agaist back, leg over leg - it makes him feel like he's melting. Brushing your hair out of your face just to see how peacuful you look, next to him. Sure, he hates waking up at night, but having you there makes him almost want to wake up every now and then, just for a few minutes.

Outside

If its snowing outside expect to be dragged out by Shion the second he sees it. There's not a force on this earth to stop him from plopping face first on the snow, no matter how little it really is. He feels like he sees it rarely enough to give him a reason to run out to bask in it when it falls. He has an annual tradition - every year when first snow falls he must catch a snowflake with his mouth. It's silly, he knows, but he doesn't intend to break it. It's for luck! Even if the first snow has already fallen while he was asleep that won't stop him - he's just going to take a bite out of the snow. It's totally normal wdym Which puts you in the situation you're dealing with currently - a sick Shion. He's as healthy as a bull and his immune system is unbeatable, but that doesn't save him for catching the flu once a year. He's whiny and he doesn't shut up even if his throat hurts. He's constantly too warm, too cold, the blanket is too heavy and the air is too dry. With other words, he's insufferable. That won't stop him playing the sickness card to have you around longer, though. "Stay here please" and such will be all you're hearing for the next few days, even if afterwards he pretends it never happened. He's still grateful, even if he's bad at showing it. He's just waiting for his turn to take care of you when you're sick.

Even in the dead if winter Mochi still needs to walk around the city, even if its just for a little bit. Movement clears his head. Strolling around, earphones playing something for background, the cold air nipping his face. To him, that's his routine and that's his want. He's lazy every now and then and doesn't want to, but he knows that then he'd be restless. That's why he's so grateful to have you going outside with him. No matter the weather, no matter where or for how long - you being there makes it so much better. He's even started planning out a route to take you through every now and then. Stopping by this cafe or that bakery, looking trough this shop, going around that place. He wants to spoil you back in his own way. He can't help it - he feels like he's melting! Not that he's actually going to say it tho Seeing you dressing up just to go out with him, reminding him to take a hat, holding his arm while strolling around.. He'd never really say it, but to him that means the world. And he'll always return the gesture.

If there's one thing Kakucho likes about winter, it's all the holidays. Cristmas, New years, all the festivities - they give the freezing cold life. He's never been openly just waiting for them to come but he's never been good at hiding this either. Out of everything, he likes New Years the best. Who doesn't like the new start, yeah? As solitary as he is, he's never missed a new years gathering. The parties aren't his strong suit but they still bring him joy. The atmosphere of it is something he always forward to. The loud giggles and the low voices, people having conversations bumbling around the room. The muted light coming from a few different sources scattered across the rooms. The music playing loud enough to drown out your thoughts. He loves these but he prefers to just watch. And he's glad he has you to keep him company watching the party unfold. Even if he has to keep an eye in you drinking or go back more than usual he'd never complain. He's just waiting for the fireworks. Flaming shooting stars and sparlking blazing flowers exploding around the sky with a loud bang and dazzling, untouchable colors. Colorful comets howling across the sky. Brocades and crackles popping like popcorn. Fish of fire swimming beside them. Strobes flashing. And finally the biggest ones come, everyone waiting for them. Boquet of luminous hot chrysanthemums, peonies and dahlias paiting the sky in stars and the wind swishing around them. In all of that Kakucho was entranced not by the firework show, but by you. On your toes to see it all better, the gentle wind ruffling a strand or two of your hair, mouth agape and eyes wide open. He can see the reflection of the stars in your eyes and its better than watching it himself, he thinks. He's got you right there, next to him, looking up at the fireworks, hand in hand with him. He's never been superstitious, but for once he understands why some of them are created. You won't refuse the new years kiss, yeah?

[moonlaceletters]

hey hi! Can you do yandere France x reader? Thanks, ((also, btw your blog is super pretty!!))

yandere! france x reader / intro

୨୧ ˖˚ nota bene - before you read ˚˖ ୨୧ ʚ frilly lace veil pages, bloodied by mortar ash.

⊱ bombed out crater in the middle of the cobblestone streets, carriage of broken metal & pair of terrified eyes, glimmering with tears ❤︎

ʚɞ ꒰ thank you so much, darling! within loss of humanity, hearts shatter the most ♡₊˚ ꒱

୨୧ reader discretion is strongly advised. proceed gently — this piece is undiluted potrayal of war realities & related issues.

⊱ album of literary vignettes in the 'estranged flowers of time' style ❤︎꒰ alternate version⊱ luna is essence, meant to be you ❤︎

themes include:

⊱ disability / chronic illness / scarcity & make-mend-do survival tactics ⊱ historically accurate characterisation ⊱ set in summer of 1940, during fall of france ʚ graphic depictions of armed conflict, gestapo & such ⊱ a once-refined man with the remnants of powdered elegance, now soaked in grime and grief

The air always — always— smelled like damp rust and basil. Because there was a single potted plant on the pantry shelf �� tiny, roundest thing, kept alive with drops of water and sunlit wishes. Francis named it — ‘Liberté / Freedom’

Luna conversed often, pouring heartfelt worries to him.

It wilted, but it never died — from the sheer will to live under the most terrible circumstances.

Just couple of bruised, tender souls underground — twistedly sacred— where beauty does not just survive war — but defies it.

There were only three spoons in the house — if it could be even called that — two bowls. One teacup — another one shattered against the concrete, days prior. Rotated like a sacrament.

Francis cooked with stubborn care — bouillon cubes, bread crusts soaked soft in milk, a fried egg when he could barter a favor from the boy who ran pigeons through the quarter. Everything came on a tray — insisted. Tray service, even in a cellar. She had to eat like a lady.

Simplest of manners refused to rot, even if entire cultures were erased, massacred and rewritten under the regime's fingertips.

The wheelchair came next — wobbly contraption, but created with much love as possible to muster.

Made it in pieces — over the course of days, between bombing runs.

There was no blueprint — memory. He had seen one — only once, in Reims, years ago.

So, in all make-shift planning — redrew it in chalk on the stone wall of the cellar, full scale; took measurements with a spool of thread.

Smoothed out, sanded down jagged pipe ends by hand — wrapped the hand-rims in stitched leather cut from his old boots — make, mend, do.

When the front caster wheel did not turn well — creaking horribly; the swivel mount was built out of wine corks, wire, and melted-down tin by the fireplace.

The seat? A cushion from an abandoned brothel lounge chair, still red velvet beneath the dust; fabric scrubbed until the color came back.

When it was done — finally, Francis brought it to her as a knight — no semblance to smile, only tragic reverence.

‘It’s haunted’ — rasped out words; girl blinking at the mess of welded parts.

Oh, the poor soul looked utterly, profoundly offended, in that very peculiar French way — hand to chest, brow furrowed.

‘Beautiful’ — kneeling down besides.

‘It’s the first ever throne I made with my hands’

She blinked again, unsettled by confusion.

‘A… throne?’ — unsure whether to laugh or cry.

‘I made you a way to move’

Too long-stretching pause followed by the awkward shuffle of shoulders with a sigh of purest disappointment.

‘Same thing, really’

And this is how things went.

Once per week — exactly, when everything fell quiet outside; with kindest devotion, Francis travelled together through the ruins of their block. Always at night, through alleyways. Luna draped in scavenged, faded shawls and scarves — him in an old overcoat, kept from the Great War, collar turned up.

Pointing to ruined buildings, signs wallowing in dust.

‘Here was a bakery, lived a kind man…’ ‘So sad… the children used to play here, at this playground, it was one of the best’ ‘Oh, neighbourhood cat is gone… tragic’

Voice cracked sharply, as a screeching violin — tears washed to the pavement.

Other days, they read—

Books smuggled from the Sorbonne underground — classics; Francis would sit on the floor, close — to provide the slightest note of warmth — reading aloud, in French first— translating softly to English moments later.

‘You must learn both’ — warned, once. ‘If you’re going to carry the world on your shoulders’

And the lines between softest worship and war-induced-tragedy-madness, shattering of the soul — kept blurring.

In the still evenings, if any remained — would brush porcelain locks — scrubbed gently, cleansing them raw in the rusty bathtub — too long or kiss her wrist too softly.

Whisper promises in French she did not always understand.

‘Je t’enfermerai dans la beauté pour te sauver du monde / I will lock you in beauty to save you from the world’

And each night, without a break — curled besides the wheelchair akin to guarding an altar; fingers always touching, ghosting some part of the old blanket. So the fractured vessel of the heart would know if she disappeared.

It started wrong — not with the muffled sound of footsteps beneath concrete or jolting bang. But with the flicker of dust in the trapdoor’s frame, like it had shifted — just a hair — tad too fast; shivers crawling down the skin.

Luna felt it, the way air changed — silence full with poison; already reaching for the drawer; revolver laid in—

Francis had just stepped out — five minutes. Merely to gather rations or exchange intel. Or to breathe air that did not smell like rot beneath the lungs, resembling a flicker of falsified peace.

Creaking wood — a boot.

Two boots.

German — too clean, practiced — routine. One word repeated as a threat.

‘Durchsuchen / Search’

2 seconds until hell erupted; fingers frantically rummaging across empty drawer— Checking over and over and over—

Shit, shit, shit—

The trapdoor flung open with sickening — thud; flashlight beam, breath freezing in the throat.

Could not run or scream — or even reach the pan by the stove. The sharp light hit horrified face; hearing stomach-dropping, defiling smirk—

A chuckle, tap of the lips.

‘Was ist das— / What is that—’

Oh, and then— then—

The moment, split second, spent sigh — where past poetry breaks down into violence, and the beautiful ruins are no longer enough to cage the ancient empire France always has been.

Bang — one shot. Another, reverberating straight across. Sick, grotesque — deserved sound of a man collapsing down wooden steps, body tumbling, hitting like meat, a scream cut off mid-shattering spine.

Twitching body slammed the pantry shelf — Liberté, the smallest darling — crashed to the floor, soil spilled, mourning.

France.

Hair windblown, sticking to dampness of the neck — mouth smeared with crimson from clenching the barrel of the pistol, as if metal was held between the teeth.

Face contorted — wrath of ancient, divine and cursed all-at-once, roaring behind his eyes — the same nation, which clawed through Roman blood, bathed in endless lovers, crowned emperors, and burned a thousand peasants for the sin of forgetting his name.

And twisted beneath— a revolver.

Came the other one within spit second — younger, eager, less calculated — too quick on the draw.

Luna screeched lungs out, tried to crawl — useless, useless, spine dragging like dead weight—

‘FRANCIS!’

The man garbled incoherently, raised the rifle—

And the poor girl — trembling, bleeding, desperate, threw something nearby. Metal caught light mid-air. A fireplace poker.

The other man — barely drew breath before it caved in his jaw.

Again. Again. Again.

Screaming in French, not just curses of mortals — Bourbons might have used them, soaked in royalist poison.

‘Enfoiré d’assassin! Fils de putain Nazi! T’approches pas d’elle, j’te détruis, j’te déchire—! / You murderer! You Nazi bastard! Don't you dare go near her, or I'll destroy you, I'll tear you apart—’

Blood cascaded, splattering — teeth bounced across the floor; man struggling to writhe away.

Not the gentleman Luna knew, or flirt — or, jokingly — the bon vivant society was aware of.

This was not the France who served wine with breakfast and offered sincere smiles; on the piles of bones, this was the France who had bled half of Europe into the Seine.

The Empire, spoken in hushed whispers, laced in fear.

Did not poison French. Used Latin — expression, older than gods, instead.

‘Per sanguinem regnabo / Through blood, I shall reign’

Struck once, calculated— the soldier had no time to beg for forgiveness; neck snapped too fast. One twist, one thrust.

‘Quod possideo, protegam / What I possess, I protect’

Words burned into the stone as a sinful sacrament of God’s will. And... silence.

Watched him kneel; legs buckling underneath; soaked in the blood of two men.

And he smiled, panting — the ecstasy of murder had released something long hidden, tucked away since Interwar — as murder was merely a blissful cleansing ritual for the sanctity of the state.

Gazed upon — eyes glistening, made of dying stars.

‘You see now, don’t you?’

Stood slowly, dragging the poker across the floor to hang it — metal scraped, singing in agony.

‘You thought I was charming. French. Libertine' ‘No, chérie; that’s not how reality works. I’m the reason monarchs feared mirrors’

Luna trembled — eyes darting between the man in front of her and two bodies sprawled across. Frozen, horrified; heart drumming away, ears sickeningly ringing.

‘They’ll come again’ A creak.

‘They’ll keep coming’ Jarring scrape.

‘Because they can smell what you are. And I cannot let them take you’

Clink — of the rod showed into the place a little too fast, cooling on the flagstone. The stuffy air still reeked of gunpowder and sickeningly cracked marrow.

He stepped close; running smeared, trembling hands through disheveled curls.

‘So I’ll keep killing the rats, doing favour to the republic— one by one, until none’s left. Until you understand something very simple—’

Francis lowered, kneeling — tenderly, face to hers; hands twitching with too much energy, still ecstatic from the kill.

‘I’m doing this to protect you’

She should have been horrified — screaming, sobbing eyes out— but these were difficult times and morals trampled underfoot routinely— But Luna — slumped against the wall, lips pale, breath ragged — voice finally found.

‘…it was never going to end, was it?’ — hoarse whisper.

Eyelashes fluttered, brows knitting in confusion.

‘France always bleeds. That's how he remembers who he is, destined to be’

It was not right — neither laid corpses meters away; or people hunted for sport in the streets; neither forbidden prophecy in works, spoken by a girl with twisted form; or a broken man — holding into rough remnants of eroded pride.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy — body still folded wrong, broken spine. Half, in shock; mumbled — reciting a truth from an abandoned scripture, not knowing such truths were fatal.

‘You’re not… a man. You’re a memory. The blood is your language. You're not supposed to be soft’

‘They don’t make men like you. Not anymore’

Voice cracked by the end, but it was too late.

And for the first time in six hundred years — he did not know if he was supposed to kneel, or let tears dictate the judgement, or drive the blade across her heart. Nations did not die — made to suffer as eternal punishment and consequence, in such.

Her face… it was wrong for this century. Soft, too innocent.

Divine in that way that terrified monarchs. The kind of expression ancient kings saw just before giving up crowns; wrapped in a blanket, hazy, largest eyes, tucked into the corner — forced to look away.

The bodies were gone, hastily dragged. Somewhere beneath the boards, where the sewers could carry out the rot in anonymity.

The poker was back on the hook — blood on the stone had been meticulously scrubbed with a worn linen, tossed out the window as if it were nothing more than spilled wine.

Outside, a scream echoed, far off. A boy, perhaps. Or an order being barked.

Behind him, Luna sat — or laid, splayed out. It was difficult to tell.

White hair — last frost on ash-covered ground, matted slightly where the head had hit the stone. Merely observing.

‘They tore my name from my spine; told me I was nothing’ — absent confession.

‘And then I started remembering’

There it was — not a nation, or an empire.

But the ghost of a consequence; born not from borders, but from the ashes of too many wrong wars; a curse — stands still in the aftermath, not mortal either, not anymore.

Forgotten, or perhaps deliberately misplaced by history.

[tinyundercover]

pepper & felix

part fifteen

teehee

MASTERPOST word count: 3.2k

Panic coursed through Basil’s body, overwhelmingly cold. She gasped for breath, inching back into the redhead’s curled fingers, heart pounding against her chest. 

“What on earth….” The female human leaned closer, drawing a startled noise from Basil. The human’s dark eyes shifted from curiosity to concern. “What is this? What are you?”

“Bree, holy shit,” the redhead whispered suddenly, hand twitching. “Tiny people. Alice and Felix were talking about tiny people.”

“Oh.” The girl gasped. “Oh.”

At those words, Basil straightened up, gaze dancing. Her hook was clutched within her hands, useless. In a desperate attempt for survival, could she toss herself off of this human’s hand and land on the couch?

She yelped in surprise when the redhead moved to sit down on the couch, hitting her with a wave of vertigo. Next to him, the female human sat down as well, tilting her head as she observed Basil’s demeanor.

“She looks scared,” she said thoughtfully, eyebrows pinching together. Addressing Basil directly, she asked gently, “Can you talk? Do you speak English?”

Under the gaze of two humans, one of which had her in a palm, Basil wasn’t sure that she’d be able to get a word out at all. Trembling, her gaze flickered, and she nodded.

Felix had been kind. Maybe these two humans would be kind as well.

At Basil’s confirmation, the two humans straightened up, murmuring in surprise. The boy didn’t miss a beat to ask, “What are you?”

The room was beginning to sway from Basil’s onslaught of terror, and feeling quite numb, she forced herself to speak. “Can you… can you put— me down?”

Both humans had to lean in to hear her, sending panic spiraling through Basil���s core, but to her immense relief, they didn’t seem angry at her request. Appearing confused, and a bit sheepish, the redhead leaned forward and lowered his hand to the coffee table.

Basil had never been more relieved. Heart thudding, she all but lunged off of his hand, stumbling over the surface of the table for much longer than necessary. Hugging herself, she kept her gaze low. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at the humans just yet, terrified to even imagine what they might look like from this lower vantage point. 

“There, that’s better.” The feminine voice above was gentle, so unlike Alice’s. Basil’s fear slowly began to shift to confusion, struggling to make sense of the situation. “Are you okay?”

Basil’s heart continued to pound. She slowly lifted her gaze, wincing at the uncomfortable sight of two humans peering down at her, elbows on their knees. Fixing her gaze on the female human, she forced out, “I’m— okay.”

She was okay. She was on the brink of tears, terrified out of her mind, but she supposed that she really was unharmed in the presence of two enormous humans.

The humans shared a glance, hesitating, urgency flickering behind their eyes. After struggling with her words for a moment, the female human addressed Basil again, voice unimaginably soft. “We’re not gonna hurt you,” she assured. “My name is Breanna. This is Owen. If you don’t mind me asking, ah— what are you?”

“Are you some kind of fairy or something?” The redhead added, squinting. 

Basil took a deep breath. She had known these questions would be coming, but that hadn’t prepared her to answer. Her stomach hurt, her heart was threatening to pound out of her chest, and all she wanted to do was get into the walls and hide forever.

She had a feeling that she wouldn’t be able to leave that easy, however. Alice sure didn’t want the borrowers leaving before they answered her questions properly, and even then she had chosen to trap them in a jar.

“I– I’m not trying to bother anyone,” Basil stammered, mind racing as she tried to assemble a good enough answer without revealing too much about her species. “I’m not a human, and– and I’m not a fairy, either, I– I– I just keep to myself. That’s it.”

Owen’s eyebrows raised, while Breanna tilted her head thoughtfully, brown gaze searching. Basil shuffled her feet.

“A tiny person,” Breanna murmured, mainly to herself and Owen. Her face sharpened, curious. “Do you, ah– do you know a Felix or Alice, by any chance?”

“I…” Basil’s voice wobbled. “I do.”

How much should she tell them? How much did they already know about her?

Breanna and Owen both sucked in a breath, startled. They turned to each other, seeming to communicate without speaking, breaths stuttering as they tried to find words. Basil couldn’t suppress the wave of guilt that washed over her, as if it was her fault that their friends had kept a secret from them.

They don’t just deserve to know about borrowers, just because Felix is their friend, Basil reminded herself. Alice sure didn’t.

“What’s your name?” Owen asked, brow furrowed.

She hesitated, wobbling on her feet, then finally found it within herself to respond, “Basil.”

“Basil,” Owen echoed. The sound of her own name in a human’s mouth made her twitch uneasily. “How do you know Alice and Felix?”

Basil’s increased stress at the continued interrogation must have shown on her face, because before she could answer, Breanna placed a large hand on the coffee table. It was far too close to Basil, and Basil jerked away with a gasp before she processed that it was supposed to be a comforting gesture. Features softening, Breanna spoke. “It’s okay. I know this must be a lot for you. Just take a deep breath.”

A strange feeling settled into Basil’s chest as she glanced between them. She did as she was told, drawing in a breath, the pounding of her heart beginning to subside.

“I’m gonna text Felix and Alice, alright?” Breanna continued, pulling out her phone. “Just–”

“No!”

Basil’s heartbeat skyrocketed all over again, watching as the humans jerked in surprise. Breanna’s hand froze, halfway drawing her phone from her pocket. “What?”

“Don’t tell Alice about me,” Basil said in a rush, eyes wide, “just Felix. Tell Felix.”

The humans both paused, contemplative. A nervous expression flitted over Breanna’s face, glancing at Owen, whose features had sharpened. They both seemed afraid to respond, their own imaginations for what could have occurred with Alice running wild.

“You know that Felix lives here, right?” Owen suggested finally. “Would it make you feel better if we all go visit him?”

Truthfully, Basil would feel better if she went to visit Pepper, but she wasn’t going to tell these humans that her brother lived in Felix’s apartment, too. She wanted to beg to be left alone so that she could make her way to Pepper and Felix’s apartment herself, but it would take hours for her, while it would only take less than a minute for these humans to walk down the hall there.

Oh, god. I can’t believe I’m really doing this.

“Yeah.” Basil nodded weakly. Even if she couldn’t get to Pepper right away, Felix would be sure to help her, somehow, right? 

Of course, going to Felix’s meant that she would have to put herself in one of these humans’ hands.

At Basil’s confirmation, Owen nodded, reaching towards her. “Alright, then–”

The enormous hand reaching towards her made Basil’s instincts go haywire, and with a panicked noise she stumbled back. “Wait. Wait.”

Shockingly enough, Owen actually paused, his long fingers hovering above the surface of the table. Basil was frozen, staring at the hand.

When she glanced up at Owen and Breanna, they were frowning, concern etched into their features. 

“I’m just picking you up so we can go to Felix’s,” Owen explained, uncertain. His hand twitched.

The breath finally reentered Basil’s body, and she shuddered, bringing a hand to her chest. “Just— just be careful,” she pleaded, a flush crossing her face. “This is a lot for me.” She gestured widely to emphasize her point, feeling slightly self-conscious.

Immediately, the two enormous gazes flickered over her small, shaky form, taking in just how delicate she was. Realization dawned on Owen’s face, and before Basil knew it, his hand had moved next to her, palm facing up, waiting patiently.

“Is this better?” His voice softened. Basil could have cried.

It wasn’t the first time she had willingly stepped into a human’s hand, and although this hand was a bit more intimidating than Felix’s, Basil was proud of herself for not faltering. Her boots wobbled on the thick skin of Owen’s palm.

“Okay,” she confirmed, heart racing. “Let’s go.”

–

Felix had not been prepared to open his front door to the sight of Basil perched in Owen’s palm.

His hand nearly slipped on the doorknob, jerking back in surprise. He couldn’t stop the wave of panic that coursed through him, suddenly terrified that more of his friends had decided to start kidnapping borrowers against their will, and he instinctively reached a hand forward. “Woah, woah– what’s happening?”

Owen’s brow was furrowed, his gaze focused down on Basil, as if he was trying incredibly hard to keep his hand steady. Breanna hovered nearby, nervous gaze fluttering between the borrower and Felix. 

“Hey,” Breanna said awkwardly. “Can we come in?”

Felix’s terror for Basil gradually faded over the next few minutes, as his friends explained what had happened. By some miracle, they seemed to have stumbled upon Basil by accident, and had brought her to Felix’s with the inkling that he might be able to help. Felix didn’t fully relax until Basil was on the kitchen counter, reluctantly expressing her agreement.

Despite her anxious fidgeting and choppy breaths, Basil seemed relatively unhurt. Felix was immensely thankful that Owen and Breanna had been aware of their strength compared to the borrower, something Felix had come to understand weeks ago. Once the strange introductions between them were complete, Breanna and Owen immediately began to interrogate Felix, but he ignored them, focusing back on Basil.

The female borrower was lingering on the counter, watching them, shifting on her feet. The shaky, high-strung movements reminded Felix a bit too much of how Pepper had acted this morning. It seemed that both of them needed a break from humans.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Felix told her gently, causing her to snap her gaze up. “Maybe you should rest.”

His own words brought an uncomfortable feeling into his chest. He prayed Basil understood that he wasn’t trying to be demeaning or patronizing, or that he felt he needed to give her permission to do things; he truly just wanted her to feel better.

Gratefully, Basil only sent him a small smile, shoulders slumping in relief. She bid an awkward farewell to the humans before vanishing behind the toaster with a little too much gusto, no doubt rushing to Pepper’s place to fill him in. 

“Okay– what the hell,” Owen finally demanded, dragging a hand through his red hair. Now that the humans were alone, he and Breanna seemed much more comfortable to straighten up and raise their voices. Felix appreciated their subtle efforts to appear non-threatening to Basil. “What the actual hell?”

“She lives here? She lives in the walls?” Breanna asked, aghast.

“Are there more tiny people?”

“This is what you and Alice were fighting about last night, isn’t it?”

Felix threw his hands up, quietly cutting their questions off. Both of his friends had moved closer, shock stricken over their features, needy for answers. He couldn’t really blame them.

“Okay, okay.” He was exhausted, hungover, and thoroughly overwhelmed. With a heavy breath he lowered his hands, steering his friends towards his couch. “It’s a lot to explain.”

–

Pepper wouldn’t exactly say that he had a good day.

He had started off his day in what he thought to be the worst way possible: out in the open, trapped under a human’s hand. It had taken a few seconds for him to register that it was only Felix, and that he wasn’t in danger, but the initial terror had been difficult to shake. 

His morning had been spent helping Felix treat his hangover. There wasn’t much the borrower could actually do for him on his own, but he hoped that his moral support had been enough to lift Felix’s spirits. All the while he had been wracked with memories of being grabbed into a clumsy, drunk hand; the same hand he had been finding comfort and safety in recently.

Throughout the course of the afternoon he had been given bad news and good news; the bad news was that Breanna and Owen now knew about them… the good news, on the other hand, was that Breanna and Owen were surprisingly accepting of the strange little people that lived in Felix’s walls. They had even promised wholeheartedly to keep them a secret, even if they seemed to be a little perplexed by the whole situation. 

Now, late in the evening, Pepper sunk into his hammock, Basil curled up beside him, both of them exhausted by the events of the day. The room was dimly lit and incredibly quiet. 

“I almost forgot,” Pepper suddenly mumbled into the silence. “I told Felix I’d talk to him.”

Basil’s eyes were closed, hugging a pillow, but she hummed to indicate that she was awake and listening. “Use your soulmate link, then,” she yawned.

Pepper stared at the ceiling. A few months ago, he had planted a glow-in-the-dark star above his hammock, but it was starting to peel off. Chewing his lip, he responded, “No, I need to talk to him in person, I think.”

“Hm… why?”

Heart twisting, Pepper sat up. “I… I slept with him last night.”

Immediately, Basil shot up, blinking rapidly at him. As she sputtered in shock, Pepper flushed scarlet.

“No, no– not like that,” he explained haphazardly, blushing harder as Basil burst into laughter. He shoved her impatiently. “I just fell asleep on his bed. That’s it.”

He neglected some of the major details, such as the fact that Felix had been incredibly drunk. The specifics of the story could wait.

Basil raised her eyebrows, amusement still dancing behind her eyes. “So, what, you took a nap with your boyfriend and now you’re embarrassed?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Pepper said hotly, turning away. “I don’t– I don’t really know what we are.”

A soft expression crossed Basil’s face at that, while Pepper had been expecting more teasing. His sister gently bumped his shoulder with her knuckles, earning a surprised noise from Pepper. “Go talk to him,” Basil murmured, sinking back into the hammock.

Thirty minutes later, Pepper found himself standing on Felix’s nightstand, wracked with uncertainty. Felix had gone to bed earlier than Pepper had expected, clearly exhausted from his terrible hangover and the day’s stressful events.

Felix slept on his side, facing Pepper. The hill of his shoulder was visible in the dim lighting, trailing down to his enormous hand resting directly in front of his chest, drawing in long, heavy breaths. His face, half obscured by his pillow, finally had no traces of stress or tension. It brought a warm feeling into Pepper’s heart to see Felix so relaxed.

Pepper suddenly felt weird, standing on Felix’s nightstand and staring at him while he slept. He wrung his hands, gaze dancing, briefly wondering if he should just go home and try again tomorrow.

But… he really didn’t want to trek all the way home just yet. At least, not until he did what he came here for.

Feeling silly, Pepper cleared his throat. “F–Felix?”

The massive form stirred, but didn’t respond. Pepper tried again, taking a step closer, heart racing. “Er– Felix?”

The bed creaked as Felix shifted. A blue eye flickered open, adjusting for a moment before focusing on Pepper, half-lidded. On instinct, the borrower stepped back, heart fluttering.

Felix released a sleepy exhale, turning his head slightly. “Pepper?”

“Hey.” Pepper released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, suddenly grateful that Felix hadn’t reacted negatively to being woken up. 

“It’s late,” Felix murmured, gaze flickering towards the alarm clock behind Pepper. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s okay. I just wanted to talk to you.” Pepper stepped towards the edge of the nightstand, evaluating the gap between it and the bed. Sucking a sharp breath, Pepper leapt over the gap and onto Felix’s mattress, stumbling on the plush surface and tossing his hands out for balance. When he glanced up, Felix was watching him curiously, silenced by the sudden close proximity between them.

“Thanks for handling the situation with Owen and Breanna,” Pepper commented, placing his hands on Felix’s pillow and hoisting himself up. When he finally squirmed into a seated position, he was only a few inches away from Felix, who had sunk further away into the pillow as if he was afraid of the borrower, a positively silly thought. “I… I still can’t believe they caught Basil.”

“Is she okay?” Felix asked quietly, lashes fluttering. Pepper felt the light breeze of his voice.

“Yeah. She was a little shaken up, but Owen and Breanna seem like decent people… How much did you tell them, anyways?”

Felix drew his bottom lip between his teeth, taking a moment to recall. After a few seconds he shifted until he was laying on his back, gazing at the ceiling. Pepper did the same.

“They already figured out some of it on their own. They know that there are more of you than just Basil, and that you live in the walls of this building, but that’s basically it.”

“Do they know that we’re soulmates?”

“No.”

“…Maybe you should tell them.”

Pepper felt the pillow shift under him as Felix turned his head, blue eyes inquisitive. “You think so?”

Pepper spared him a glance. “I mean, it can’t be a secret forever, can it?”

A comfortable silence fell over them at that, as Felix peered back up at the ceiling, considering. Once Pepper decided that the soft whirr of the air conditioning was too quiet for him, he sat up, turning fully towards Felix.

“I know that this can’t be easy,” Pepper stated calmly. Felix blinked. “I don’t know if we’re the first pair of human-borrower soulmates to ever exist, but it definitely puts more pressure on you than it does for me. You have a life outside of the apartment— friends, school— and I’m sorry that you have to balance me along with it.”

At Felix’s surprised silence, Pepper continued, leaning closer. “I feel like I’ve put so much responsibility on you since I met you. Our size difference means that you have to always be so careful, and never make mistakes, and that’s a lot to ask of you. So… thank you, for everything you’ve done for me.”

Felix flushed as he took in Pepper’s words, unable to pull his gaze away from him. “What are you talking about?” He asked, barely breathing with the borrower so close to his face. “You’re not just some burden. I care about you.”

Pepper observed him for a moment, heart fluttering. Felix’s cheeks were tinged with pink, so close to the borrower, and he felt the strange need to reach his hand out towards him.

Filled with a sudden resolve, Pepper sat up, moving closer to Felix. He paused, taking a moment to appreciate the way Felix froze completely before he leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the tip of Felix’s nose. When he pulled back, Felix had gone scarlet.

Pepper’s heart warmed. He stepped back, holding back a laugh at how Felix released the breath he had been holding. 

“You should go to sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

-------

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t @gtzel @gt-newbie @da3dm @clumsiergiantess @vee-normous @fee-hunter @torakan @mabelisthebatman @andithewhumper @mothsintherain @violetlight

tumblr lovessss to not tag people properly so i'm sorry if you are one of those people </3

[grinningfox]

Ratigan was furious.

This was the second caper that Basil managed to foil, and he was forced to abandon the job before it resulted in a confrontation with the police or him in jail. As he scrapped the plan and made away with what sad little portion of the heist that he and his crew did succeed to acquire, he turned and saw that smug, knowing grin on Basil's face.

"Checkmate, old boy."

That infuriated him the most.

Back at his hideout, he was in a rage. A chair was thrown against the wall, valuables knocked off of his bureau and scattered all over the floor. He then reached for the object of his anger, his frustrations, and grabbed the little doll that imitated dear Basil of Baker Street right off of the mantel. He snatched it with such force that all the pins sticking inside of it like some voodoo craft fell off.

Ratigan gripped it tight, his eyes looking to the fireplace and watching the flames dance and flicker. He moved closer to it, the doll still in hand. Burn it, he thought.

Burn him.

He almost threw the doll in the fire. He was ready to. But then he looked down at it in his hand, and the death grip lessened. A tightness formed in his chest. The anger began to subside, but now in its place were the emotions Ratigan tried again and again to bury, but they always came creeping back...

Emotions he felt back before he and Basil were on the opposite end of things. Before when they shared more than just their ambitions, dreams and ideals.

He gently rubbed his thumb along the doll's cheek as he looked down on it, then closed his eyes as he brought it close to his face and took in a deep breath.

It still smelled like him.

He had it stuffed with the tobacco Basil often preferred smoking in his pipe. And how he loved that smell.

It would swirl about them, sweet and smokey, on warm, lazy afternoons after enjoying each other's company.

Oh, how he loved those days. Loved him.

~~

I wanted to draw this tiny little headcanon of mine in a comic format, but sometimes it's hard to convey across what you want to express in that matter, so I decided to just write a little story to go with the drawing instead lol.

[jcreauprcntissfam]

more than just scribbles.

it was a thursday evening, slow and easy, the kind that settled into the bones like a deep breath. the week had been long, but today had been good—jj had gotten off work early, and somehow, so did emily. for once, emily was happy to be able to scoop aria up from daycare. usually, she didn’t get off as early as jj - so when she was able to be the one to get their daughter, she did, every time. 

now, the sun was beginning its descent, spilling gold through the kitchen windows, catching in the fine strands of aria’s blonde hair, which still held a bit of static from where she had cuddled into jj earlier on the couch.

jj stood at the stove, barefoot, stirring a pot of pasta sauce. the scent of garlic, basil, and tomatoes filled the air, mingling with the warmth of home. she hummed softly as she cooked, moving easily around the kitchen. the boys were at their father's for the next few days, the atmosphere a little calmer without two teen boys roughhousing - even though they all missed it when it wasn't around.

at the table, emily sat with aria, watching as their two-year-old daughter colored. aria was still in her clothes from the day, her white polo shirt stained by a few drops of pink paint from art time at day school. her teacher apologized when emily picked her up, and the brunette mother laughed - stating that ‘we have stain remover for a reason, it's no issue’.

aria’s little legs kicked absentmindedly beneath the table as she leaned over the paper, completely focused, her tiny hands moving with quiet determination.

aria had always been a quiet child. observant. she spoke in words here and there, small phrases when she wanted to, but for the most part, she was content simply watching. she noticed everything—the way the wind made the trees dance, the way the morning light filtered through the blinds, the way emily and jj moved around each other so seamlessly, like they had spent their whole lives orbiting in the same space.

and she loved to color.

it had started as scribbles, uncoordinated lines that made no sense to anyone but her. but now—emily could see a shift. the shapes were becoming more intentional, the strokes more careful.

emily tilted her head, watching the way aria carefully switched crayons, choosing each one with clear intention. then it hit her.

these were not just..scribbles. 

after a moment, aria set her crayon down and picked up another, switching colors.

emily tilted her head. “what’re you drawing, baby?”

aria didn’t look up right away, just kept coloring, brow furrowed in concentration. then, after a moment, she pointed to the figure in the center of the page—a round shape with two stick-like arms, a smiling face, and dark scribbles on top of its head.

“mama.”

she had drawn emily.

emily felt something catch in her throat as she took in the details—black crayon for her hair, little brown dots for eyes. the figure stood in the center of the page, arms stretched out, unmistakably happy.

aria switched colors, grabbing yellow next.

emily watched, entranced, as she carefully added another figure beside the first. this one had long, golden scribbles for hair, a matching smile, drawn just as big.

“who’s that?” emily asked, though she already knew the answer. she had also drawn jj.

“mommy.”

jj, still at the stove, turned slightly - hearing her name.

 “what’s that, baby?”

emily pointed gently at the drawing, her heart swelling. “she’s drawing us.”

jj abandoned her cooking instantly - putting a top over the pot, and wiping her hands on a towel before crouching beside them.

“oh, sweetheart,” she breathed, her eyes softening as she looked at the page. “that’s beautiful.”

aria, still fully focused, picked up a light blonde crayon and carefully added a smaller figure beside them.

“me.”

emily exhaled slowly, her chest tight. she reached out, smoothing a gentle hand over aria’s hair, feeling the slight static cling from earlier. “you drew our family,” she murmured.

aria nodded, but she wasn’t done yet. she drew two more figures, bigger than her figure. boys, blonde hair. henry and michael, her big brothers.

she looked at the drawing again - then, as if realizing something important, grabbed an black crayon.

“oh,” she mumbled to herself, before scribbling quickly. “sergy too.”

emily let out a soft laugh as aria added a small, rounded shape with four little stick legs—a cat, their cat, sergio, curled up beside them.

jj chuckled, brushing a kiss against the crown of aria’s head. “of course. can’t forget sergio.”

emily’s chest ached in the best way as she took in the details—the way aria had chosen their favorite colors, on purpose. emily’s figure had black hair, a purple shirt, jj’s golden yellow hair, a blue shirt, henry and michael with blonde hair like jj's with green shirts - and aria’s hair a pale blonde - and a pink shirt.

she had noticed.

every time jj talked about how much she loved baby blues, every time emily commented on how much she liked deep, rich purples that reminded her of grapes at the vineyards in maine—aria had been listening. even when her older brothers teased her that 'green was superior' - she listened, even if she thought it was absurd.

and then there was the most important part of all.

the smiles.

each figure was grinning, big and happy, arms stretched toward each other, touching but not clinging—free and safe, together and warm.

that was how aria saw them.

that was what family meant to her.

happiness.

emily swallowed hard, glancing at jj, who looked just as overwhelmed. 

“we’re framing this,” jj said firmly, voice thick with emotion.

aria looked up, her large brown eyes flicking with a bit of pride. she knew framing things, meant important.

“you like?”

emily nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to aria’s temple. “yeah, baby,” she whispered. “we love it.”

aria beamed at them, then, as if nothing in the world was more important than finishing her masterpiece, went back to coloring.

jj laughed softly, beginning to slowly clear the craft filled dinner table. 

“alright, break time.. let’s eat, little artist.”

emily picked up the drawing, tracing the lines one more time, her heart impossibly full.

their quiet, observant daughter had just given them a glimpse into how she saw the world, how she saw her family. 

and it was beautiful.

[adarkrainbow]

A final (for now) sharing of trivia from the notes of the Brothers Grimm's märchen - maybe I shall do a second round later because there are SO MANY OF THEM DAMN IT

I thought the confusion over everybody calling "The Frog King" a "Frog Prince" was due to English translations, but no! There WAS another story of the brothers Grimm called "The Frog Prince", existing alongside "The Frog King" in the first edition of the book (1815, n°13). But the brothers removed it to the notes of The Frog King due to the story being too similar. Also, another very famous trivia but I still include it: it was another story that fell to the censorship of the Grimms as originally the frog's spell was broken by him "sleeping" in the same bed as the princess, with all the erotic connotations it implies.

The brothers Grimm thought this story one of the most "ancient and beautiful" of all their collection - hence why they wanted it to open their collection and be their first fairytale (despite The Valiant Little Tailor being their original opener in their manuscript). Interestingly, the oldest literary record of "The Frog King" story comes from notes in the 1801 edition of "Complaynt of Scotland" (1548) and it mentions a much more epic version - about a young girl sent by her wicked stepmother fetch "the water from the well of the world's end". There she finds the well guarded by a frog, who only agrees to give her the water if she agrees to marry it. And if she refuses... the frog will rip her apart.

Mary's Child was one of the two very first fairytales the Grimm collected. The brothers Grimm collected two versions of Mary's Child, which correspond to the two most common oral forms of this fairytale-type. In the first version, the girl is taken by the Mother of God (as in the Grimms' tale), and it is a version that can be found in Benedikte Naubert's Volksmärchen der Deutschen (Ottilie). The other version, corresponding to the alternate collected by the Grimms, has the supernatural caretaker being a woman dressed in black who from time to time becomes an animal, a la Mélusine. (This is the version that Basile used for his Pentamerone). The Grimms compared this story, in their notes, with the Swedish fairytale of The Grey Cloak - which interestingly corresponds to the third format of this fairytale type, where the supernatural entity is male.

The Grimms went VERY very far in their "finding" of Norse mythology in their fairytales. I can agree that Briar Rose and Brunhilde have a link, I can get that the "promising of a child" a la Rapunzel can be found back in the deal of Signy and Odin in the Alfkongs-Saga... But that the tree in which the heroine hides is a symbol of Yggdrasil? And that as a result she is linked to the Norns somehow? I think it is stretching things just a tiny bit...

In a variation of "The Boy who went Forth to learn what Fear was", one where the hero is from Tyrol, an additional "trial" he faces at th haunted castle is a ghost "covered in knives" who shaves his beard and is about to cut his throat right as the midnight rings. This figure of the "ghostly barber" can be foundn in Grimmelshausen's Simplicissimus, as well as within Dickens' Christmas Stories.

In another variation, the boy can defeat the ghosts thanks to a supernatural staff - given to him by the ghost of an innocent who was wrongfully hanged, and to which the boy gives a decent Christian grave. Instead of facing three nights of trials, the boy must open three different doors in the castle, each gathering its own demons. One of these entities is a tall black dog with a fiery chain around its neck - which reminds of the appearance Mephistopheles takes in Goethe's "Faust I". In another variation yet, the hero (Fearless Hans) actually kills his own sisters who dressed up as ghosts to frighten him.

The Grimms "The Wolf and the Seven Goats" was actually rewritten in the fifth edition, due to Stöber publishing in 1842 his own version of the story - "Die sieben Gaislein", in the Alsacian dialect. The Grimms had a Pomerania variation about a child devoured while his mother is away by a type of bogeyman known as "The Ghost of Children" - and he is not saved by his mother, but rather the Ghost is so gluttonous he also eats stones, that make him too heavy so he falls down and somehow it helps the child escape. The Grimms went as far as to link this fairytale to an obscure Greek legend where the Nereid Psamathe sends a wolf to eat the flocks of Telamon, only for the wolf to be petrified.

"Faithful John" replaced "The nightingale and the slow-worm" due to it being identified as French in origin. "The good deal" (Der gute Handel) displaced "The stolen heller". "The strange musician" (Der wunderliche Spielmann) replaced "The hand with the knife", due to it being of Scottish origin.

In a variation of Faithful John that the brothers collected, the two main characters are not a king and his servant but Joseph, son of the king, and Roland, the king's godchild, born at the same hour and who believe they are brothers. In this version the young wife of Joseph is the one who learns, through a dream, that her child's blood can resurrect Roland, and Joseph can only bring back his child to life because an old man gives him the Water of Life and the Water of Beauty.

[cutestkilla]

Happy Sunday! Thanks for the tags today @monbons, @run-for-chamo-miles, @orange-peony and @nausikaaa.

(And @thewholelemon and @rimeswithpurple on Wednesday.) I love all of your creations!

So this week, I posted updates on two different fics. (A first for me, and probably something that will never ever happen again 😂.) It often seems to end up that I'm too busy when I actually am working on the WIP to share it, so instead, have an indeterminate number of sentences from each of those updates. Under the cut for length (and spoilers and minor smuttiness too, I guess).

First, from Ch 2 of Into Her Arms (a birthday gift for @ivelovedhimthroughworse written by @bookish-bogwitch and I):

He raises his head and looks at the reams of streamers and bunches of balloons hung from every bookcase in sight. “Very beautiful,” he says seriously. Then he points. “Aubergine, emerald and crimson.” Natasha smiles proudly. “That's right darling, just like you asked for.” Basil tilts his tiny head to the side, squinting at one of the nearby balloons. “But is that—” He screws up his mouth like he just sucked on a lemon. “Why did you use tape, mummy?” It certainly wouldn't have been Natasha's first choice to spend the past hour and a half climbing up and down and then back up a ladder. She might prefer to be dealing with matters of far greater import, such as the care and cultivation of every single young mind in the World of Mages, but today is too special to leave in the hands of the staff. Today, she’s celebrating her precious boy’s third birthday, and no matter how busy she is with curriculum updates and budget allocations and dealing with the unfortunate results of a careless fourth year putting magic into the phrase “The bomb dot com”, Natasha is determined to give every aspect of this party a mother’s touch.

And from Chapter 7 of Hiding Out in the Open, my gift to @artsyunderstudy:

There’s a new potential charging the air. Like the possibility of sex is somehow bending spacetime, like the lube I left out on the milkcrate next to his bed is a gravity well, dragging his hand down, lower and lower on my stomach with every circle it traces. His knuckles brush through the hair below my navel, and I hold my breath. I hold it as he skims across the waistband of my pants. I hold it when touches me through the thin fabric, as the backs of his fingers graze across my cock, until I can't anymore and it comes out unbidden, as a small raw sound, into his mouth. He hums and keeps going, making smaller and smaller circles and I can’t—I don’t know if I can— “Simon,” I say, without meaning to say anything at all, and he groans. One of his wings wraps around me, crushes me against him, and I can feel how hard he is against my hip. He kisses me hard, pulling my lower lip between his teeth, and I groan too.

TAGS!

@hushed-chorus @shrekgogurt @whatevertheweather @emeryhall @facewithoutheart

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @aristocratic-otter @fatalfangirl @whogaveyoupermission @skeedelvee

@raenestee @ileadacharmedlife @onepintobean @martsonmars @brilla-brilla-estrellita

@moodandmist @captain-aralias @j-nipper-95 @iamamythologicalcreature @roomwithanopenfire

@angelsfalling16 @best--dress @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ic3-que3n

@larkral @letraspal @messofthejess @mooncello

@nightimedreamersworld @palimpsessed @prettygoododds @noblecorgi

@stitchyqueer @technetiumai @that-disabled-princess @theearlgreymage @urban-sith

@valeffelees @youarenevertooold @cosmicalart @alexalexinii

@forabeatofadrum @supercutedinosaurs @theimpossibledemon @blackberrysummerblog

[iloveschiaparelli]

Harvesting & Processing Basil

Finally! The long-awaited basil post! I wanted to wait until the process was completely finished before putting this together. I deeeefinitely made some mistakes, as you will soon realize.

Part I (October 9): Harvesting the Leaves

I didn't take a picture directly before the harvest, so these ones from 12 days prior must suffice. This is more or less what I started with:

As you can see, it's a fairly healthy plant, albeit smaller than you might expect. My first attempt at basil died in July, and was replaced in August with a cutting from someone else's plant that was being given away on the local freecyling facebook group. I was pleasantly surprised to find out it the cutting had roots, so I planted it and this is what it became in ~ 2 months.

I wasn't originally planning to harvest on any particular day. It was more like I just, on a whim when I got home for the day, grabbed some kitchen scissors and went outside to cut some leaves. I was originally only planning to take a few, leaving some to grow. That was, until I discovered that the plant was flowering. If you don't know already what basil looks like when it flowers, here are some pictures! If you don't know, basil dies after it flowers. (At least that's what I've been told) So when i saw this, I knew I had to go ahead and harvest the whole thing. There is also a photo at the end of the flower/seed pods that are precursors to the flower. I had never understood how the ends of basil look different when they're growing new leaves vs. about to flower until I saw this. Now I know what to look for.

I was texting a boy basically the entire day while harvesting, so it took several hours longer than it needed to, because I kept pausing to type on my phone. I went out at like, 3pm, and finished + came inside around 6-7pm. Yes, we are dating now.

This is what it looked like at the halfway point, when I was just laying all the stems in a pile and collecting small leaves in the strainer:

That is when I realized it was hubris to have such a small vessel, so I grabbed a large mixing bowl from inside.

This is what the plant and both bowl & strainer looked like when I finished picking off of the main plant:

I was... shocked, haha. I did not expect the stems to have so much volume when picked. As you can see, I left some leaves at the end of the plant where there were flowers, so that I could enjoy them for a while longer until they withered. Also left some "undesirable" (by me) leaves behind on the woody stems.

The next step was to separate the leaves from the stems. Remember, I was winging this whole process and not thinking ahead. Otherwise, I might have been pulling off the individual leaves from the start. I got this setup, with a paper towel for a working space, and a slightly smaller mixing bowl as the receptacle for stripped leaves. I used bag clips and the weight of the bowls to prevent the paper towel from blowing away:

For the most part, I just relied on my fingernails to cleanly break the leaves from the stems, then threw the stems to the back of the paper towel and the leaves into the bowl. I only had to use the scissors a few times, especially for cutting off pieces of leaves where bugs had begun to eat them, or they were extremely yellow, but I wanted to still use the green part. Here are some process photos, including a couple of tiny heart-shaped leaves. There's also one leaf where, when I cut it, just the clear strip of cellulose remained where the rest of the leaf had been, and I thought it was cool that I could see through it.

When i was done, I threw the stems back into the planter. With the stems removed, everything fit in the smaller mixing bowl just fine. Since the basil was in the planter for only ~2 months, the plan is to remove the roots and re-use the dirt for something else (like giving more space to + propagating my African Violet! Which is something I've been wanting to try lately. I already saved an egg carton to potentially use for starting the leaves.

Part II (October 10): Washing & Drying the Leaves

I was going to wash the leaves and lay them out to dry on the same day, as I believe is recommended, but I got lazy LOL. So I returned the following day. I started by putting leaves in the strainer and rinsing them under the faucet, but quickly realized that that was going to be annoying and take forever. I finally decided that the most efficient course of action was just to fill the bowl with water so that everything got soaked. I used warm water, with no solution or vinegar or anything added.

I got an extra large baking sheet and put down a paper towel on it. I had just begun pulling leaves out of the water and laying them out on the paper towel when I realized that this was too much water involved. I fixed the issue (somewhat) by pouring all the wet leaves into the strainer and shaking it gently to remove as much moisture as I safely could, then set it down to let it continue to drip down into the bowl while I worked. Setup A vs B:

Although I started off trying to make sure everything was evenly spaced, I had roughly 14 layers of paper towels to put down so I eventually faded into chaos, as every ADHD gardener is wont to do. Some vague asf process photos & what the stacks looked like:

I let it sit for a few hours while I cleaned out my food dehydrator. Now, this is the part where I Completely forgot to be taking process photos, so Unfortunately, I don't even have any pictures of the dehydrator to share, except for this product photo of the model that I was using:

I laid out all of the still-slightly-damp leaves in all of the trays, trying to keep them evenly spaced and not overlapping but (kind of) failing. Then I shelved it to wait overnight for the leaves to air-dry. Had I been doing this properly, I would have let the leaves sit on the paper towels, in a single layer, instead of stacked up or in the dehydrator the way I did.

Part III (Several Day Period Oh My God): Dehydrating the Leaves

It is utterly embarrassing how difficult it was to get these leaves dry. The recommended temperature for basil/herbs is 95 degrees Farenheit, for 12-24 hours for basil. I started off at the lowest dehydrator setting, 100F, for 13 hours and started it overnight.

In the morning, two of my three roommates were complaining about the smell and asked me to move it outside to the porch (direct sunlight) I obliged, and seeing as the basil was still thoroughly damp, added another 6 hours on.

Then I forgot it overnight again. *sigh*

I brought it back inside and realized that all of the leaves on the top were brown (albeit mostly dry), but many of the leaves at the bottom were still wet. This is when I posted my cry for help on Tumblr dot com, and was told to not put them outside again.

Unsure what to do and overwhelmed by other tasks, I pretty much gave up. I ran it for roughly 12 more hours indoors a day or two later as a last-ditch effort, but didn't check it right away.

October 22nd was the day I finally took the time to check the leaves and I was immensely and pleasantly surprised to find that almost all of the leaves were dry! I knew that it had likely been exposed to moisture in the powered-off dehydrator, so I ran it for 2 hours just to get rid of any atmospheric moisture and then set to work on grinding it up.

Part IV (October 22): Processing the Dried Leaves

This was, honestly, the second-most-fun part of the process immediately after the harvest. It was a little bit tedious, but I still enjoyed it. It's also when I started taking pictures again.

First of all, I spilled several leaves onto the floor while trying to empty the trays into a small metal mixing bowl that I was using to collect the dried leaves. Unfortunately, they had to be swept away because our kitchen floor is dirty.

A week or two earlier, I had washed out an Old Bay seasoning container, anticipating putting ground basil in it. I know that whole leaves preserve the flavor better, but I am working with what I can here!!! This is what worked best for me this time. My roommate Lilly has a tiny asf mortar & pestle that she allowed me to use, so I washed it out. I grabbed a funnel for the Old Bay shaker, and set up shop at a foldout table right in the middle of the kitchen floor. I put on the podcast that I'm currently working through, a Behind the Bastards miniseries titled Behind the Police. It was released in summer of 2020 and is all about the history of the institution of police in the USA. Super interesting.

This was the setup:

So, the way I did this was, I would gather a few leaves at a time into the mortar & pestle, grind it up in a circular motion, and then pour the ground basil into the funnel and the Old Bay container. Pretty simple and straightforward.

A few leaves in the bowl were still damp/limp, and wouldn't crumble in the mortar & pestle. I just removed them as I went. I included the brown leaves from the top tray because, at this point, I was just happy that I wouldn't have to throw everything away.

This is what it all looked like when I was done! As you can see, only a few leaves had to be removed.

Part V: Conclusion & What I've Learned

It's absolutely incredible to me how much those leaves at the start reduced, until they only filled a tiny handheld bottle!!! Yes, that is ALL of the leaves!! To drive home how insane this is, here is a side-by-side of the initial harvest of leaves-only, and the bottle that it filled at the end:

Just crazy! It's a bit hard to comprehend the scale from these pictures, honestly.

From there, it was just cleanup and storing the dehydrator, then writing BASIL

basil BAsil. BASIL

BASIL. BASIL

all over the Old Bay container so that it wouldn't be mistaken.

The plan if i didn't have enough room in the bottle was to portion out & give away bags of whole leaves at the punk rock market, like I've been doing with zines (oh! that's something I haven't posted about!). I was slightly disappointed that I didn't have enough, to be honest

Going through this process has given me an insane amount of increased respect to spice harvesters both currently in the spice world, and throughout history. It's a LOT of work to harvest & process just one bottle of basil! It's like that one post talking about how our ancestors are probably proud of us, or at least happy for us, to be surrounded by spices and luxuries that previously were only available to the rich and powerful.

Also as someone with Indian heritage, which is known for its spices LOL, this honestly felt like it connected me a little bit with that culture that I wasn't raised in. Not in any crazy metaphorical way, just coming to appreciate the process and work that goes into spice production, in a way that I wasn't able to before going through this process. The significance of spices carries more weight for me now.

I don't think I'll be able to use all of this basil before next year. I honestly don't even cook with dried basil that often, it's just nice to have fresh basil. What I might do is manage a plant again next year, for the gardening experience, then just straight-up give away fresh & dried basil at the market like I was originally planning to this time. I could plan it a little bit better, though, to ensure that I can feel confident in the quality.

8/10 enjoyment. Tedious & frustrating at times, but ultimately very rewarding, and mostly fun! This is the first, and likely only, harvest I've had this year in 2024. I look forward to expanding next year!!! I can't wait to see what I'll grow then. Time to start planning, I guess!

[unspokenwords94]

I couldn't help myself. I shortened the age gap between Theseus and Newt.. because I just love this idea in my head and it's been days and won't go away.

https://www.tumblr.com/unspokenwords94/785617513201451008/i-had-this-fun-fanfiction-idea-where-the-hogwarts?source=share

(to my whole idea)

Quick one-shot

- The Littlest Kneazles-

-‐-----------

Set years after Hogwarts, in a quiet, hidden cottage in the Scottish highlands.

The soft breeze drifting through the herb garden carried the scent of rosemary, thyme, and fresh soil, familiar things that no longer felt like a luxury. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you gently lifted a bunch of basil from its roots.

“Theseus!” you called over your shoulder, not unkindly. “Love, what herb did you pick for the stew?”

There was a long pause, followed by the sound of footsteps crunching over gravel and a sheepish, “It was... definitely thyme. I think.”

You turned, arching an eyebrow just as he reached your side, holding out a purple-flowered sprig.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Theseus Scamander. That’s lavender.”

He grinned toothily. “Well... it smells nice?”

You stifled a laugh, tousling his hair. “Come on, let’s go see if your father hasn’t been buried in Kneazles.”

You brushed the dirt from your apron, motioned for your oldest to follow, and headed back toward the open cottage door. The late afternoon sun pooled across the floor in golden slants, warming the wooden floorboards. You paused in the threshold, smiling softly at the scene before you.

Ominis was crouched beside the hutch you’d built together two summers ago. A little older now, faint lines near his eyes, but the way he knelt patiently with one hand on the straw and the other wrapped protectively around your youngest son... that was unchanged. Timeless.

Newt sat beside him, barely four and full of wide-eyed awe. His curls were a tangle, his cheeks flushed with excitement, and his little hand rested just above the straw bedding where four newborn Kneazles squirmed and squeaked beside their mother.

“They’re so tiny,” he whispered, as if the mere volume of his voice could scare them away. “Papa, can I name one?”

Ominis tilted his head in your direction — he always knew when you were watching — and smiled.

“Only if you promise to be kind to them,” he murmured. “Kneazles are very proud creatures. They never forget a name… or a grudge.”

Newt nodded solemnly, as if he’d just been entrusted with a sacred task. He pointed toward one a fuzzy orange kit with an unusually fluffy tail.

“Marigold,” he declared. “That one’s Marigold.”

“Beautiful choice,” you said gently, stepping forward to kneel behind them.

Ominis reached for your hand, linking his fingers with yours without looking. You squeezed back.

“You’ve got another magizoologist in the making,” you whispered.

He chuckled softly. “I had a feeling the moment he tried to smuggle that Bowtruckle into bed.”

Behind you, Theseus clambered inside, holding an armful of thyme and an expression of deep pride. “This is thyme. For real this time.”

You reached up to accept it, laughing as you kissed his cheek. “Thank you, darling. We’ll add it to the pot. But first, come meet the new babies.”

Theseus peered over his father’s shoulder, eyes going wide at the sight of the Kneazles.

“Can I name one too?”

“No fighting,” you said preemptively, half-grinning.

“There’s enough love in this hutch for everyone,” Ominis murmured, his voice low.

You leaned into him, brushing your lips against his shoulder. “I still can’t believe we made it here.”

He turned slightly, pale eyes softened by the glow of the sun. “We made it because of you. Because you gave us the chance to be someone new. Because you gave me this name, this life, these boys…”

You silenced him with a kiss and let your forehead rest against his.

“I would do it all again,” you whispered.

Outside, the garden rustled in the wind. In the straw, Marigold mewled again, crawling toward Newt’s hand. Theseus quietly pointed out markings on another kit, already devising names. Your children — Scamanders by choice, were safe, loved, and whole.

[brooklynisher]

Here's a bunch of old sketchbook doodles I made y'all

Stick around bc this includes my first SPG drawings!! (Before I joined Tumblr)

Riveting start

I'll start off with little drawings I made of myself. And my god do you see what I'm doing with the anatomy? Do you see how tiny those joints are? That's horrific. Why did I build everyone like that? But Yugo is where I began to find my art style. Will love them forever for that. I've got to go back to simple-shaped heads one of these days and blush/eyelashes on everything

We've got some lovely Smile For Me-related doodles. First is a Flower Kid design. Second was not smile for me specifically, but Face Love (by the same devs). And the last two were my earlier attempts at making comics and scenes. Ft. lancer for some reason.

Here are a couple of abandoned OCs. Pretty boy (Basil) is supposed to be yellow. We've all had that OC whose only trait was being a hot person and that's what he was all about. Didn't develop him much in terms of character which is sad because I kinda like his design. He was created when I was doodling random designs in FireAlpaca. I'll have to show the other doodles in a different post (If you are interested).

THIS GUY I WOULD LIKE TO BRING BACK! Might be kinda basic in terms of like "Weird Core" designs but I still love him. His plot keeps changing though because his design is so strange yet so simple to the point where I could put him in just about any world I wanted to had I gotten bored of the old one. Which is silly bc he's just a depressed news anchor man.

Anyway bc of that, Basil used to be his bf, but isn't anymore. He got replaced with fat peppermint man who fun fact: was inspired by the song Brass Goggles BEFORE I even got into SPG and learned what it was about! How silly is that! Peppermint boy is technically my first SPG OC!

She was a fun one, but I abandoned her too. I think she was too influenced by Frye's character from Splatoon. She was a warrior of sorts. Sort of tribal I suppose. She spoke fast, and in her tribe's language, so many people struggled to understand her. She was very bouncy too. Jumping all over the place. If you know Frye, you'll probably notice that they're a bit too similar to each other. That's usually why I abandon my OCs. When they're too similar to another.

Critter I doodled. Not really an OC, but I still think she's cute

Don't ask me about the first guy. The girl was a mii that was born in Tomodachi Life! Her name is Lily. She is the child of Kris (Deltarune) and Hatsune Miku. She looks silly which is why I love her.

I'm Picasso. Kinda vibe with this ngl. Not sure if I could ever turn this into anything though

Here are some low-effort doodles. Enjoyed the design of the big lady more than I thought. I was practicing drawing bigger bodies at the time. Joints are still KILLING ME but it's not bad considering I had the worst anatomy method imaginable

Here are some higher-effort doodles. Aside from the abhorrent anatomy (WHY DOES THE PIG ZOMBIE HAVE TWO DIFFERENTLY SIZED SHOULDERSS????) I quite like these critters. That mermaid girl had lore too. She could control the dead of the sea. She was lowkey evil. Never turned her into anything though. Also, you can see by that guy at the bottom of the first one, that Bunny's art was starting to take an influence on me.

Lots of stuff going on over here but LOOK! MY VERY FIRST SPG FANART! IT'S OF VI POINTING AT AN APPLE AND YELLING AT IT

I was inspired by Bunny to make these monster-ish-looking people

More thingies! There's the goopy robot which I initially drew as a first attempt at drawing a robot, but then I made it black and goopy bc that's what it was giving. The star guy appears and disappears a few times. I think I wanted to keep them, but the design was very similar to LightLazer so I felt a bit weird about drawing them.

More robot shenanigans. First time drawing Rabbit and The Spine! Cannot believe that my first Spine drawing was in a dress oh my god.

More Bunny-inspired drawings and I'm REALLY kinda digging that weird tiny robot critter. Looking at it now, it's kinda like Spring in a few ways, but it's also completely different from Spring in so many other ways. The limbs are retractable. I kinda like this thing actually. I Oughtta do something with it.

These ones are more SPG-specific. You'll have to forgive me, most of these are from memory. Don't ask me why Rabbit looks like David Bowie in the first one.

And finally, some Rabbit and Spine doodles! Rabbit's doing the "Hey Andy Sweetie" meme. I could totally reattempt drawing that today actually.

Anyway, hope you had fun. I did. Ugh this is so sillyy

[issilya]

OC Tag Game

Thanks @kai-dimir! Tagging back, lets see, @baar-ur and @thebarghestiest - show me your OCs if you feel up to it, I'd love to see them.

Meet Esha de Riva, the Godslayer, bought to crows as an orphaned brothel kid from Trevisan alienage. She has an axe to grind and a permanent need to appear scary because people tend to underestimate the tiny elf woman

featuring a beautiful portrait of her from @annanuna-arts

General:

Name: Esha de Riva. Fun fact, Esha's probably not her full name. :) There's probably only like one person in the world who knows her full name at this point. She likes that. Alias: Technically "Rook" Gender: Woman Age: 20-something. Around 25? Something like that. I haven't decided 100% yet. Spoken Language: Antivan, Trevisan Elven (*ask me about my headcanons!), Crow Cant, Trade/Common/Whatever you call it, probably also some other languages but I haven't decided which ones exactly as of now Sexual Orientation: Yes (bi/pan) Occupation: Viago's little enforcer

Favorite: 

Color: Black + blue/purple spectrum Entertainment: Getting wasted (like here) Pastime: Playing music (like here!) Food: Strawberries Drink: Spiced Rum for alcoholic, Basil-Strawberry Lemonade for non-alcoholic (basil seeds for crunch are fun but not needed)

Have They…

Passed University: Only the best training Viago has to offer, but does it technically count as a university...? Had Sex: Absolutely and unashamedly. Solo and in groups and in bondage and in pain. Preferably when high. Had Sex in Public: Yeah, most likely. And I don't just mean the orgies, that barely counts for the purpose of the question. Gotten Tattoos: So, so many of them. Few of the interesting ones would be: a snake on her right hand (it's Emil!), and a wyvern on her left hip (it's Perry!), an underboob motif playing off Falon'Din vallaslin and the Tenebrium somewhere (because she delivers death), and a cool ear tattoo on her right ear. For two of those I even made some refs because I'm very normal about her, have a look:

Gotten Piercings: Yes! Elven ears without piercings are a crime, it's free real estate. Her ears are pierced in many places and she alternates + she wears a cuff on one of her ear kinda like this (have I mentioned I am normal about her)

Gotten Scarred:  Yes, and that includes intentional scarification for both aesthetic and showing-off-among-crows reasons. (*she's kind of a masochist so getting a scarification as a bet is absolutely something she would do.) She does have two scars on her face, one being pretty standard eyebrow/cheek slash on her left side, and one on her upper lip going up, also on the left side Had a Broken Heart: OH BOY THAT'S A QUESTION. Does it count as a "broken heart" when you have the one person who has always been with you and you grow into each other like you're one soul and always have been one soul, and you knew and felt that since you were kids, but one bad decision made out of care and a lot of outside trauma in one moment make it impossible for you to be together? Because despite loving them, you can't look at them without reliving the worst moment of your life and blaming them for it? Because um. Like I'm taking some liberties to make it shorter and less complicated but. Yeah. So she had that..

Are They…

A cuddler: Not exactly "cuddler" but she is a very touch-oriented. With lovers it's more like... little feather touches, trailing your fingers on their skin or weaving them into their hair, etc etc. Nice, soothing, tactile. Apart from that she's also the kind of person to trail their fingers on a balustrade as they walk up the stairs, trail them on the surface of a table as they're passing etc. Viago hates it. Scared Easily: No. Jealous Easily: Hmmm. Not exactly. She can be jealous, but hey, some jealousy is kinda hot. Trustworthy: If you earn her respect. She's a crow after all, there is not a single bone in her body that's against using people and lying to them if it serves a goal. She's not gonna betray people for the fun of it, reputation is important of course and favours are worth more than gold, but. Yeah. She's not particularly honor-bound.

Family

Sibling(s): No. Parents: She's a brothel child of an unknown father, and her mother died when she was a young child. Children: No and never. Pets: Not exactly. But she likes the attack dogs from the kennels, and the cats on Trevisan rooftops, and she wouldn't be against having a pet. But crow life is not exactly convenient for that. I think she'd enjoy having a rat as a pet, though.

[holy-knighted]

Hcs of mikey I can recall:

*his favorite fruit is blueberries his favorite dessert is blueberry pie, his favorite breakfast food is blueberry waffles

*he is shorter than his twin by a inch, luci never let's him live it down

*mikey helped create the constellations!

*mikey created swans while luci made ducks, heaven favored mikeys swans more

*mikey and luci fought a lot for attention but also had good moments

*his favorite animal is swans of coarse

*he's a workaholic

*loves black coffee

*doesn't sleep for days sometimes

*can sing very well

*has blue and white feathers

*he used to look identical to luci, twins n all, w his hair short he still do,grows it out now

*he has lucis depression, but added anxiety

*he and luci are similar w love, falls madly in love, does anything even falling for said love

*mikeys eyes change to gold when angry

*mikeys seraphim eyes appear on his wings when angry

*he hates apples cuz it reminds him of what luci did

*he is loved by France, they made hin the patron saint, he visits sometimes, not often anymore

*used to train knights in the middle ages, was worshipped by them

*knew Joan of arc

*has a war mode he goes into sometimes, hard to control bloodlust when like that

*has ptsd from wars he been through

*he is constantly training for war

*he works in the law dept in heaven, locking up prisoners, torturing the real bad ones, enacting justice, protects heaven too if threats occur, and goes into any heavenly wars as a general

*he has horses,loves them, the solders occasionally use them too

*he was built for war so he's really good at it, strong, smart, battle ready

*he's so bi and mostly likes men tho

*he doesn't believe in gender tbh, but mostly masc

*he still loves adam despite everything

*he has a ex named basil

*A fling he had too, didn't work out either

*still believes in chivalry, thinks humans need to go back to middle ages

*he finds birds majestic

*he's scary when angry

*drama king lol

*has his dad's characteristics, his brothers too tho

*is older than luci despite the size by a couple minutes cuz twins

*he misses luci hides that a lot

*he his serious mostly,or tries, tries to be emotionless but has a hard time, he wears a mask in battle for that reason

*loves to read, had that habit since a kid

*he treats emi like a daughter, abel like a son

*he was a shy , quiet ,nerd kid, and scared a lot before he eventually learned the hard way to be tougher , got hurt by a exorcist once

*he is considered a very strict boss when told to boss, or train someone

*he can play the lyre

*he knows French, will rant in French if angry enough

*has a French accent, just a lil

*wears fancy clothes,thinks it looks better

*can ballroom dance

*goes for days without food, or rest, worries coworkers often

*gets hurt in combat often, worries Raphael

*he thinks adams the best soldier, favors him often

*doesn't quite get human slang, especially young human slang

*draws badly lol

*still writes to adam

*can shoot bow and arrow

*has wavy blonde hair

*his wings are very sensative

*currently going through a phase where he thinks love is dumb and fighting is better

*has a sharp fang left over from when he was fallen a while back

*he's so tiny lol

*loves wine and smoking

*has scars on body he hides from fights

*collects swords like luci collects ducks

*born on his patron saint day in France which is in late September w the start of fall, France celebrates it yearly

*loves dogs

*has a drinking problem

*can shapeshift like luci

*hates snakes

*can manifest stuff, like luci

*has a human disguise

*if luci was made for creation he was made for destruction but they call it protection lol

*can summon blue flames

*can teleport

*hates humans kinda.

*hates demons too. Doesn't mind slaughtering them, but if adam ever got involved oh boy..different story

*goes crazy when extermination are coming around as if his body knows, was made to fight them of coarse

*can exercise demons, with his powers

*every hell person fears him, some want to kill him, he can't wander off the extermination grounds too far or it gets dangerous

*does not get lustful things at all, might be ace, won't admit it

*called heavens prince, does not like that title, wants to be a knight instead

*he's still so into being a knight lol

*has holy armor that protects him from hells atmosphere, exorcist wear armor that protects too

*his is fancier looking more knight looking tho

*spending too long in hell can effect heavenly bodies greatly, he must be careful

And more to come I dunno lol

*he is God's favorite, God never admits it, but it's obvious w how protective his dad is of him

*angels are (technically) genderless

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat AU masterlist

TLLR masterlist

i have a bunch of AU ideas so here’s where i’ll put them!! :P this will probably get very unorganized very quickly. if anything doesn’t have a link to it, it’s because it’s been a WIP for a long long time and i still haven’t finished it yet…

Misc / oneshot AUs:

Basil lives AU: takes place directly after chapter 8. Basil doesn’t die and Anton gets to introduce them to Dew!

Anton lets Dew go AU: takes place somewhere between chapter 10 and 11. After the passing of his best friend, Anton suddenly has a change of heart and decides to let Dew go.

Interactive AUs:

TLLR CYOA: Anton decides to choose you as his new test subject! Whatever will you do?

part one // part two // part three // part four // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11

AUs:

🐹 Borrower Basil AU: Instead of a little talking mouse, Basil is a tiny, 4 inch tall borrower living in the walls home to a reclusive scientist. She gets caught, like all borrowers do, but instead of being put in a cage and experimented on like she thought, her and Anton actually become friends! Years later, Basil is working alongside Anton, as his little lab assistant helping with whatever strange and bizarre experiments he comes up with.

art // picrews // part 1 (coming soon)

🛸 Alien Abduction AU: Dew and his best friend (and crush), Hayden, are walking alone one night and find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time as they are beamed up into a curious alien’s spaceship. Anton (the alien) is fascinated by humanity and wants to learn as much as he can about his new test subjects in the only way he knows how: unethical experimentation! Hayden had always loved aliens, space, and the supernatural, and is adamant on somehow befriending the alien. Dew is scared out of his mind and wants nothing but to escape and go home to Earth, but can’t stand the idea of abandoning his best friend in the vast, infinite abyss of space.

art // part 1 (coming soon-ish)

🦇 Vampire Dew AU: When Dew was turned into a vampire, he had no choice but to run away from his old life. He couldn’t bear to let his friends see him this way, now that he’s bloodthirsty and wanted for murder. He wanders among an empty forest, a safe place to hide. But he has no idea of the scientist lurking in the shadows, who had been looking for a new test subject for a long time, and who has so many plans for the vampire who walked right into his trap.

art // picrews // part 1 // part 2 (coming eventually)

🧵 Borrower!Dew AU: Dew lived in a tiny dollhouse in a local craft store owned by his best friend and the only human who knew he was a borrower. That was until one day when Anton wanted to buy something nice for Basil, and chose a cute little house that was the perfect size for his mouse to hang out in. Dew woke up in the night being brought to Anton’s cabin, realizing that someone had bought the small house he had been sleeping in. Dew escapes the first chance he gets without being seen, but avoiding a mad scientist and his mouse friend in a cabin in the middle of the woods is far more challenging that Dew had thought. (also Anton definitely catches him and gets super excited about his new lab rat. a tiny little mouse boy Dewey…)

🌀 Vampire!Anton AU: An AU where Anton enthralls Dew. But he also enthralls Aspen! And me! And you! Might just write something for all four of those scenarios, I have no idea yet, but I desperately need a possessive gentle vampire Anton to hypnotize someone and suck their blood soooo bad. It would heal me. Putting it here to force me to write something eventually.

🍄 Fae AU: Anton’s a lonely faerie with a fascination with the human world when he one day finds a lone, hurt human in his woods named Dew. He feels bad for the human and cares for it, tending to its wounds, feeding it and treating it like you would an injured animal. It’s also quite cute, and Anton has never seen anything like it before. He decides to keep it, it will be safe with him, after all.

🥼 Role Reversal AU: A role reversal AU created by @vidawhump where Dew is a scientist alongside his friends and their goal is to make all sorts of cool body modifications possible and safe. But he needs a test subject, so he kidnaps Anton from his reclusive home in the woods and secretly experiments on him. Anton is extremely defiant and sassy, wanting to escape and get home to his animal friends, Basil and Sasha, however he can.

Crossover AUs:

🌲 TLLR x UARAD crossover: A TLLR x UARAD crossover AU where Anton “rescues” Ruaridh after they were abandoned in the woods, and brought them to his lab to be a new test subject. Ruaridh and Dew become roommates, and they also become friends because they both are so incredibly lonely. Ru is also an unhinged creature who doesn’t have much of a memory. Hijinks ensue. (Ruaridh and Uilebheist A Rinn An Duine belong to @inkwell-and-dagger)

🦉 The Owl House AU: Anton is a witch in the boiling isles and finds a lost human named Dew who stumbled in through his portal. He decides to keep him and help train him to be a witch.

⚠️ Gravity Falls AU: Anton meets a weird triangle demon in his dreams and agrees to make a strange portal to other dimensions for it! nothing will go wrong.

also i am 100% open to crossover aus with other stories! please feel free to ask :D