#Frozen mud crab

[cryptidclaw]

Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is! 

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place! 

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish 

Fish

Bass

Bream 

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone 

Apricot

Barley 

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain 

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening 

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc. 

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright 

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce 

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

[palestaticexchange]

JUST THE TWO OF US

"Ey, C!" You shout over the fence where your new friend looks at you. She's all suspicious and shit. "Got you something!" Like a big man, you toss the chocolate bar and watch as she snatches it from the air. Primo-style.

"The fuck is this?!" C sneers, eyes glinting with danger. "You got me chocolate? The fuck are you?! Some kind of fägäri?!"

Your hackles raise. A shiver roots you into frozen mud at the unexpected aggression. Yeah, she's aggressive. Maybe the Cuno *should* have expected this. But you were being *nice* for fucks sake! You bought the scrawny little bitch some fucking chocolate! Money's *hard graft* in Martinaise! You're a MANS man: you know this shit... So you stole the 70 Centims from your deadbeat dad while he was comatose, then popped down the Frittte for some choccy.

In the eyes of this lass that's a weak manoeuvre. Time to embellish this shit: Cuno-style. "I fuckin' *stole* that from Frittte for you. Don't be ungrateful to the Cunn!"

Cunoesse cocks her head, bored. "*You* stole from Frittte?" Shit. She doesn't fucking believe you. A mocking whine creeps into her tone. "Cuno snuck past the fatass *kyrpänaama* stood outside? Fuckin' gun and all?"

Sweat prickles against the flannel of your top. No. Not sweat. It's just the lightning. This aint *shit* for the Cuno. You puff out your chest. "Maybe I did!"

C rolls her eyes then hops back. She's gone from sight but you hear her behind the fence all the same. "Fuck off did you."

"I fucking did!"

"No, Cuno," Bored again. "You didn't." The crinkle of tinfoil being unwrapped.

You growl and run at the fence. A tuffet of frozen crab grass bares your weight *just* long enough for you to vault up and grab the top. The wood wobbles and bangs in protest as you haul yourself onto your forearms, hanging half over it.

Beneath, the girl sits in a squat ripping strips of tinfoil from rich, brown chocolate.

"The fuck's your problem?! Try to do something nice for you and you fucking spit in Cuno's face?!" You puff out your chest again, but all that happens is a pressure against your ribs where you dangle. "Fuck you, C."

Her head snaps upwards, pippo catching against the wood. As her hat's dragged off it reveals lank hair. Her eyes are refined fire. "I didn't fucking *ASK YOU* to do that, did I?!" Her lip quivers when she snarls. She is a frenzied dog. "You fucking stupid vittupää bitch! Get out of my *fucking* face!"

You reel backwards, teetering on the fence edge as she lashes upwards. You thought she'd strike you but she throws something: a crushed ball of tinfoil which bounces, painlessly, off your face. Fucking pathetic is what it is.

"What is it you want Cuno? Want a big fucking scene?! Want me to *thank* you?!" She scrambles up and away from the fence, shoving half the bar in her mouth as she turns to face you. "Am I shupposed to-" She swallows roughly, brown-stained spit dribbling down her chin. "-Fucking *suck you off* or some shit?! Roll onto my back and let your limp little-" She coughs, pounding a fist into her chest.

"I didn't say that shit either!" You try to yell but it comes out more a wheeze. *Your* chest is hurting from the fence. "What is it then?! Is the Cuno a fag or does he wanna fuck you? Can't be both, C!"

Her face screws up as if she doesn't understand the question. She licks at her chops. "*How* the *fuck* am I supposed to know?!" She drags the back of her hand across her chin, regarding the sweet sludge before she licks that up too. "My bets on *yes* but that's *your* shit to sort out." Her eyes flick from her sticky hand to you. "And it's boring."

Whatever happened, whatever *barrier* you crossed; her rage is ebbing. You still don't fucking get it. She's just another silly bitch you guess.

"You better not be thinking nasty shit about me Cuno," C growls out a warning. "You've got that stupid fucking face on you get when you're thinking *stupid* fucking shit."

You startle, but play it off as teetering backwards. No sooner is that pressure lifted from your ribs than your FALNs make contact with the crushed crab grass. "Whatever, C." You shove your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker and turn. You don't need her. You'll be *forlorn* and shit. *Moody* like one of those cop-turned-killer types. You'll find a rooftop to stand on and stare into the distance all dramatic and shit.

Behind you the fence bangs as she scales it. There's a wooden wobble, and then a *weird* sound. Crunch. Oh shit. Is she-

As you turn you see her on *your* side of the fence. "The fuck you doing in Cuno's Kingdom?!" Your vitriol comes from a place of fear. She's never done this before.

You yelp as you scramble away, hands flying out your jacket as you make a dash for your hideout. You can hear her chasing but it doesn't matter. You've got your FALNs on. Primo-shit. High concept sportswear. Make a man a god. Three sizes too big. Make a man slip on his *fucking ass* as the whole *faggy* shoe slips around your fucking-

No. NO it's NOT fear! Cuno's not scared of anything, you're gonna-

Oh *SHIT* she's fucking *RUNNING* at you.

It's fear.

You're stunned as your back meets black ice. The white sky glaring bright above you and making your eyeballs throb. Your ankle hurts.

Quick pads slow into a leisurely walk, then she's stood above you. She smacks her lips licking chocolate from the inside of her cheeks. Cunoesse looks *beyond* bored.

Your ankle hurts.

"Real fuckin' cool Cuno. You pull these moves on the security fag outside Frittte?" She has chocolate all over the hand holding the bar. "He probably fucking *gave* this to you. Probably felt sorry for you." She takes a smaller bite this time.

"I told you, I-" You bite your bottom lip. She's being a *real* fucking piece of work today. "I fucking mugged him, yeah?! I'm a hard man! Hard man, Cuno! That's what they call me!"

The girl grins. Unlike normal it doesn't feel like she's on *your* side.

"Who calls you that? 'Cos it *aint* fucking me!" She cackles, spit-slicked globs of chocolate visible on the roof of her mouth from where you lie on the floor. "*Hard man Cuno* robbed the Frittte!" She mocks. "Took the fatass's gun and *SHOT* him with it!"

You snarl. You'll show her. You hop to your feet and- *FUCK* your ankle hurts! You yelp as you fall on your ass.

This only makes C laugh harder. "Holy shit! Are you for real!?" She walks around the length of you, eyes raking your prone form in glee. "How the *FUCK* you gonna claim shit like that if you can't even-"

You won't. You won't. No fucking way. You don't *DO* that pussy shit. It doesn't fucking help anyway. You fucking *WON'T*.

"Are you gonna cry?"

You won't.

A crow caws from the dead tree at the end of the yard. In the distance you hear the MCs making their way to and from the harbour. "Are you gonna cry, Cuno?" Oddly, her bark has lost its bite.

You stare at your feet still resting on the frozen slush. Your right shoe is still on but you've always lead with your left. The trainer's twisted sideways, your toes still clothed but heel exposed and flush to the ice. 'A strong left foot! My boy will be an athlete for sure!' And that's *worse* than being hit. A sudden burst of memory from the time *before* he got shit. Before *she* had to go and die like a stupid whore.

You start to cry.

"For fucks saaaake," C groans, arms dropping to her sides and cursing the clouds.

You don't give a shit. You'll fucking cry all day if you want: this is Cuno's fucking kingdom. Cuno can cry in Cuno's kingdom if he needs to. You cross your arms tightly over your chest and hiccup, still scowling at your feet.

C squints at you. For a minute she just watches you cry, then she drops into a squat next to you. "Eat this, runkkari." She holds the slobbery end of her chocolate bar against your face.

You scowl at her instead of your shoes.

"Huh? What? You want a fucking silver platter or some shit?!" She turns to spit quickly behind her. "Sorry, faggot, fresh out," she says sarcastically. When you neither move nor respond she wiggles the chocolate bar in your face. "My *patience* is running thin, Cuno..." She doesn't threaten you, but the threat *is* there. It's always fucking there.

Good. Maybe this time she'll actually fucking-

"Ugh!" She groans suddenly, dropping the hand that was in your face. "Fine. FINE! I'm fucking *SORRY* okay?!"

What?

"I'm *sorry* I didn't thank you for the chocolate, and I'm *sorry* for saying you wanna fuck me and shit when you're *probably* a faggot, and I'm *sorry* you fell on your skinny fucking faggot ass." She sniffs, then wraps the remainder of the sticky chocolate in ripped, crumpled foil. "So take the fucking sweets, paskapää." When it's wrapped, she leans in and tucks the sticky mess in the pocket of your windbreaker.

What?

"What?" She grumbles.

You blink. The chocolate's burning a hole in your pocket.

"You better not want anything else from me." She narrows her eyes. "I'll go. I'll leave forever."

She won't. You know this now: it's you and her. Cuno and Cunoesse. You're the same; that's why you named her. You smile.

"The fuck you smiling for, freak?! You bust your fucking brain when you fall?!" She cocks her head back and forth, assessing her Cuno for damages.

"Thanks, C." You say, pulling the chocolate from your pocket.

"Thanks..." She spits. "Don't *thank* me, you braindead fuck."

When you pop a cube in your mouth it's as sweet as it is slimy from her spit. Your smile widens.

"I fucking mean it, Cuno! I'm only keeping you around for alibi's sakes, you hear?!"

The crow caws again. There's a bang in the distance as something's unloaded from a crane. The backdoor to the Whirling opens with a creak and the blonde bitch gets one look at the two of you before she turns on her heel and takes the binbag *back* inside.

"I said do you *hear* me Cuno!"

You place your free hand on C's shoulder-

"Hey!"

And use her to pull yourself up, pushing your trainer back on.

"Touch me again and I'll cut your *FUCKING* dick off."

But she won't is the thing. She's fucking crazy, a killer for sure, but she's not *ever* gonna do that shit to *you*. You're *HER* Cuno, and as much as she's a crazy bitch: she's *yours* too.

Cuno and C.

Cunoesse and the big man.

This world is shit, but together the pair of you are gonna fucking make it.

[astral-disastral-catastral]

Haii splish splash helloooo hoiii hiii :33 uh don't mind this ig i just wanna put this here for fun or something since i like the not so original [at all] idea of the world of sky being more like sky: children of the dark instead of light like an apocalypse of the sorts for funsies [unoriginal as in I'm 100% not the first time come up with it at all and got like some ideas from looking at the game's concept arts for like 2 minutes]!! I even wrote like an entire not so good just basically very mid poem rhyming thing abt it cuz why nottttt rhymes are amazeballs. I wrote 7 whole pages in a notebook about each realm on 1 page and ideas for it and stuff and now i feel like shoving all of that info into a screen!! Guh……… I'll like edit this over time ig.

Our kingdom was filled with light and love, but wrath and rage transcended the eye above.

The clouds were painted in a hue so red, and from the sky, divine blood had seemed to bled.

Our lands were plauged with horror and screams, our souls faced the imminent doom of no redeem.

The soils had turned from green to black, beings of light sealed away, never to come back.

Our kingdom had fallen, and the only thing to be seen? The souls of us sinners and that which we dirtied.

The realms began to crumble and too did we, creatures of darkness had begun to be conceived.

Our hearts grew cold and too did our hands, amalgamating with creatures begotten by murky sands.

They march the land searching for remains, of a bygone era, seeking to relieve their everlasting pain.

We are no longer viable to heal the wounds of the land, so a final light, we please, to descend.

A new time has come, for this torment to end, children of light must find a way to ascend.

Child of light, go forth and spread your wings, let the heavens know of your arrival: sing.

To fix the remnants of a broken heart, scattered across the lands and torn into parts.

One child must brave the storm, before it becomes too late

To save us all.

⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠

ISLE OF DAWN Isle of Dusk

✦　There are many packs of corrupted sky kids & spirits on the outskirts 〘 especially in the water〙

✦　It's Dark; The clouds & temple 〘 Mostly the clouds〙block the sky, but even if they didn't, the sky would always be dark anyways〘the time of day in the isle only switches from dusk and the dead of night〙

✦　There are quite a few crabs 〘 different types of crabs aswell instead of just the 1–2 usual ones in the actual game〙but there aren't any 〘living〙 krills anywhere in the isle 〘any krills that were there are nothing but piles of dust, bones or remnants of the past, frozen in time and in place by a force not to be reckoned with〙

✦　“Home” is set up inside Prophecy cave and sealed off to corrupted creatures that try to enter be 〘 very〙 powerful magic. 〘 woulda been forbidden in the previous era due to how unsafe it is to cast let alone set eyes upon〙 All the skids are lucky nothing bad happened…

✦　Corrupted spirits in the isle are normally statues that slowly move when you're not looking & try to corrupt you/freeze you in place/sink you under the sand. 〘 but this only applies to some statues, not all of them do this〙However, Some statues can be re-frozen if you shift them into a certain position.

✦　Sand dunes rose & became caves/dead ends/dens for corrupted skids, also known as packs or “the hunt/hunters”, though they are quite scarce in numbers since most of them have been involuntarily buried underneath dunes of sand.〘 some dunes are sentient, best be careful where you tread.〙

✦　Some large dunes/dark water have/has small, turquoise dots in them 〘 they're referred to as “the lens”〙that stare are you as you pass by them but you can't/shouldn't look at them directly for too long or else they'll cause you to freeze in place due to inducing high levels fear/paranoia/panick at the same time.〘despite the fact that there's nothing major to ge scared of most of the time〙A black hand usually stretches out of the dark mud/water 〘 we'll call it murk for simplicity〙or a hole in a large dune from where “the lens” is and geabs you before dragging you into where the hand came from unless you are moved out the way in time 〘there is little to no chance of return after dragged away and in〙

✦　The outskirts of isle is mainly dark water sky kids normally can't swim in unless they're specially equipped/prepared to do so.

✦　The path to Daylight Prairie Nightmare Lowland is a sea of low, dark water teeming with with packs of slumbering hunters in which a boat is needed to cross.

✦　The isle elder, instead of welcoming you, tries to prevent you from entering their temple and tries to get you to leave by commanding “the hunt” & dunes to attack you, barricading any exits with solid sand and walls. They are referred to as “The Despair”.

⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠⚠

[expectodragons]

Bitter Water || Chapter 5

✦ Summary: Guided only by a thin paper trail and a promising job offer, Catherine Hart returns to the school of her youth. Taking on the mantle of Beasts professor, the young witch must find a balance between her lessons and her continued search of the Highlands. Especially when under the watchful eye of the Potion Master. ✦ Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Female MC ✦ Word Count: 10,300 ✦ Rating: Mature, 18+ only - minors do not interact. ✦ Tags / Warnings: Age difference, alcohol consumption, colleagues-to friends-to-lovers, Pagan sabbat (Yule), Sebastian Sallow being a flirt, slow burn. ✦ Story Playlist: Listen here ✦ Read on: AO3 || Tumblr (continue below)

Snow came to the valley in the early morning hours on the twelfth of December with a soft winter’s embrace – dusting the castle like a gingerbread house with its powdered sugar-like flakes.

Some creatures welcomed the change in weather better than others. The Fire Crabs’ enclosure was merely a puddle of thawed snow at this point, while the Mooncalves happily trotted and leaped through the drifts within their paddock.

It was the second to last week before Winter Break and the spirit of the season was felt throughout the castle.

Caroling ghosts positioned themselves in the large halls, surrounded by floating cream-colored candles. Sweet-smelling spruce garland wrapped the stair railings and beautifully decorated Pines could be found throughout the castle. Students and professors alike were in happier spirits as the promise of a short reprieve from studies was just within reach.

Catherine enjoyed her time outside almost as much as she did inside the castle – were it not for the bitter cold nipping at her cheeks and fingertips.

The creatures in her classroom had been rotated out at the beginning of November, making way for a new range of studies for her students. As her boots scrunch through the slush of snow and frozen mud that made up the paths between the enclosures, she keeps a watchful eye on her fifth years.

“Remember, Mr. Clearwater, unicorns are naturally distrusting of men. You need to back away and give them the chance to approach you, not pester them until they feel the need to flee.”

With a sigh, she jumps over the wooden fence and grabs hold of the brush from Ruth McKinnon.

“Now, if I were to brush your hair like this –” she demonstrates a hard yanking motion, “Would you feel particularly good about it?”

“No, Ma’am,” the girl replies with a down-turned look.

Reluctantly, she hands the brush back, “They may be creatures, but they do feel pain and discomfort as any one of you do. Please remember that, especially with these lovely beasts.”

With a clap of her hands, she addresses the class as a whole, “Now, I want any loose hairs collected in your labeled jars by the end of our lesson. We have about ten minutes now, so kindly go about your tasks.”

Effortlessly, she hops over the paddock’s fence once again and moves further away from the enclosure to keep watch over the three different groups of students. The first selection was returning the feed bags to the storage hut, the second was finishing up their hair collections, and the final group was getting around to mucking out the unicorn’s pen with varying looks of disgust.

As the bells in the tower begin to chime the hour, she drops the wards near the pavilion and wishes the students a wonderful rest of their afternoon before she goes around to inspect their handiwork before her final class of the day appears.

After her fourth years finish up their work with the Fire crabs, Catherine does a final check of the classroom before she secures the wards and heads back to the castle. She tugs her leather bag close to her body as she trudges down the worn path in the snow – littered with footprints of varying sizes.

Above, the sky is clouded with the violet hues of early sunset. In only an hour, the valley would be shrouded in near darkness with the lull of winter.

Her toes curl into the limited comfort of her socks as she makes her way across the courtyard – her boots did little to bade the cold away and she was looking more and more forward to the radiant warmth the castle would bring.

Through the Bell Tower, down the tapestry hall, and up the spiral stairs. She can finally feel her body begin to thaw as she vigorously rubs her hands together, begging the red tips of her fingers to return to their normal coloring.

After spending the past four months working together with Sharp, she was well aware of his schedule. And today, Monday, was one of the few days that they shared a similar free hour with their lack of sixth-period classes.

Giving a courtesy knock on the open classroom door, she steps inside only after casting a quick drying spell on her boots.

“Sharp? Are you in?”

She hears the familiar grunt of affirmation further inside the classroom. Crossing the flagstones, she finally spots him in a far alcove bent over a table with several bottled potions laid upon it.

Out of familiarity, she sheds her coat and scarf, laying it upon a barren counter.

“How are they fairing today?”

He beckons her over with a silent wave.

Catherine appears along his left side – about a head shorter than her companion, she realizes – and examines the range of shimmering brews. The Potion Master lifts one at a time, holding the glass bottle to the light, and giving it a gentle swirl before he places it back in line – writing a note on a piece of parchment to his right.

She lifts one up that holds a dull pea soup-colored liquid inside, “Well, this certainly doesn’t look right.”

Sharp gives it a glance and snorts, “No, it does not.”

“What were they supposed to brew exactly?”

He gives her a quick assessing look, “Surely you can ascertain that on your own.”

“Alright,” she gives him a challenging nod.

Studying the other bottles – whose liquid was at least a common shade of yellow or gold – she’s able to limit it down to a few dozen potions. Walking away from Sharp and the table, Catherine studies the room itself. While he had managed to erase the chalkboard of the day’s lesson already, certain things stood out.

1. There was a gap on the ingredients shelf. 2. There was a noticeable pungent scent lingering in the air. 3. As she dragged her hand across one of the counters, her index finger was pricked. Upon closer inspection, she discovered the source to be that of a nettle.

Staring at the shelf, which Sharp had alphabetized and divided up by most commonly used ingredients to least, as well as the most volatile to docile, she’s able to discern which item was most likely missing. As for the smell…?

Ah, yes. That likely made sense then.

She always hated the smell of puffer-fish eyeballs, it was almost as bad as the sound they made when they were crushed.

Bat spleens, nettles, and puffer-fish eyes. Only one thing could be made from those particular ingredients.

Tucking her hands behind her back, she strolls over to Sharp once again with a smug smile on her face.

“By chance, was it a swelling solution?”

He gives her a pleased nod.

“Were I able to, I would award points to Gryffindor.”

She laughs, “Please do. They’re utterly falling behind this year and it worries me as an alumnus.”

With a shake of his head, he returns to grading and assessing his second years’ attempts at brewing. Giving him a bit of space, she goes to collect her bag and begins pulling out the two thin containers of unicorn hair.

He strides over to her before she even has the chance to turn around. Plucking the vials from her hand, he holds them up to the light and examines the items with a critical eye. She merely folds her arms across her chest and stares.

“Yes, these will do nicely,” he lowers the containers and his gaze to meet her eye. “Thank you.”

“All thanks to the efforts of my fifth-years,” she replies smoothly.

He hums, walking over to a neighboring shelf to place the vials upon.

“With no thanks to their esteemed professor, I’m sure,” he says over his shoulder, offering her a playful smirk.

“None at all,” Catherine laughs.

Collecting her coat, scarf, and bag, she smiles at her colleague.

“Have a nice rest of your day, Sharp. If you’ll excuse me, I want nothing more than to remove these sodden clothes.”

“Of course,” he nods, a small chuckle in his throat as she turns around and heads out of the classroom.

Dinner was a cheerful affair in the Great Hall now, as the room was beautifully decorated for the season – perhaps the most gorgeous display in the entire castle. The students were of a more rowdy disposition than usual, unfortunately, as the build-up to the holiday break neared its crescendo.

“Mr. Parkin, if I need to repeat myself, you and your companions will find yourselves scrubbing trophies for the next two weeks. Do I make myself clear?”

Catherine hides her amusement behind her hand as Matilda scolds the unruly fourth-year who’s headed for the Grand Staircase.

“Yes, Professor!” He grins, offering her an ingenuous salute.

With a tired shake of her head, she bids the others goodnight and follows behind the group of Gryffindors.

“Shall we?”

Mirabel appears at her side, a warm smile on her soft features.

“If we must,” Catherine sighs with mock exhaustion.

The herbology professor loops her arm through the younger witch’s as they head out to the stone courtyard. Her floral green robes billow in the frozen air as Catherine tugs her own blue cloak closer to her body.

“I feel as though I never see you anymore.”

She glances over at the redhead, “Well, you know where you can typically find me. I’m afraid my department requires a little more attention than others once the school period has finished for the day.”

“Of course, of course,” Mirabel replies good-naturedly. “We should have tea one of these days before the break begins.”

“Or during, once the majority heads back to London,” she teases.

Mirabel grips her arm tighter as they pass over the Viaduct bridge, her smile widening.

“Yes, perhaps then I could track you down at last! Oh – look at that poor thing.”

Catherine’s eyes follow the herbology professor’s gaze, far across the lake, to a blot of gray streaking across the sky. Caught in an updraft, the owl soars to the side, flapping its great wings, before it barrels down toward them.

“Merlin!”

They duck down just as the bird nearly takes them out. She watches, wide-eyed, as the poor owl barely stops itself from slamming into the side of the castle, somehow landing on the ground. It ruffles its feathers with indignation before it scuttles over to her feet.

“Hello there,” she murmurs, bending down to pull the soaking-wet envelope from its beak.

Before she even has the chance to offer it food or shelter, the bird lifts up into the air and circles around Central Hall – likely headed for the owlery.

“Now what could that be?” Mirabel asks, wandering back over to her side.

Flipping the parcel over, she spots the familiar scratch of a self-writing quill.

A slow smile grows on her frozen lips.

“A letter from Ominis, I suspect,” she tucks it away into her pocket. “We have plans to meet over Christmas.”

“How lovely,” the other witch smiles in earnest. “I had wondered how some of your fellow classmates were faring. I only hear from a handful of them anymore and even then, those letters come few and far between these days.”

With a grin, Catherine pushes open the heavy doors of the Hall, descending the stone steps beside the herbology professor.

“Well, Poppy is far too busy handling her sanctuaries to do much more than send an occasional note. Natty is engaged to be married, as I’m sure Mudiwa has told you all. And last I heard, she was working on a relatively large case in her department.”

Down another flight of stairs, they go.

“You probably see Garreth every now and then in Hogsmeade, yes?”

Mirabel nods, “He’s the reason I’ve had to confiscate so many Zonkos products from my students. He’s far too good a salesman.”

Catherine chortles, “That he is. He’s also got a small brood of Weasleys of his own now. Let’s see –” Using her right hand, she counts them off, “There’s Edwin, and… Ronald. Gilbert and… oh, what’s the babe’s name? Starts with a B. Ben, Benjy, Barty… oh! Bertie. Four little Garreth lookalikes.”

The redhead offers her a conspiratorial look, “Perhaps by the time they’re due to arrive, I will find myself at another posting.”

“I certainly couldn’t blame you or anyone else for that.”

The gurgling fountain comes into view, oddly illuminated by the soft glow of the lit candles upon the decorated Christmas trees that surrounded the Hall.

“Maybe you’ll even join us then. I’m not sure I would have the strength to tolerate having another Weasley wandering around a group of beasts.”

Her expression drops slightly, perhaps not enough for Mirabel to notice, but she glances away anyway.

That kept coming up lately. In her thoughts, in conversations with her fellow professors. About her posting here at the school. How nice it was to have a permanent replacement for Howin. How excited they were to see what creatures she would introduce next year.

But what she herself didn’t know was if she would be here at all come next September.

There was no reason for her to be if all went according to plan.

She was expecting another note from Miriam, or Natty, or even Augustine in the coming days. Hoping for one, really.

After her ambush on the poachers in Crosskirk, no further leads arrived. And while Natty had been eternally grateful to her, as it had been a rather large nuisance for the Department, she had nothing more to offer Catherine – besides a chastising note that proclaimed that the young professor had nearly given the Auror a heart attack when her patronus came bursting into the office after hours.

And the Ministry itself seemed to be reluctant to admit there was a serious poaching and smuggling problem along its borders. Well, to be fair, they had been reluctant to admit a massive Goblin rebellion was overtaking the Highlands too, over a decade ago. So, it wasn’t truly surprising at all.

But she hoped. Waited and hoped that the smallest scrap of information would arrive and send her down the right path. But for now…

Now she had this.

A position she honestly would have never chosen for herself. Even though it seemed everyone around her – staff and students included – believed she was a perfect fit for the job.

“Catherine?”

She blinks, offering a sheepish look.

“Sorry, lost in my thoughts. So, did you want to take this side again or the Defense Tower?”

They split up the patrol duties of another mindless Friday evening. With a curious look on her face, Mirabel offers her a final nod before she turns and heads toward her greenhouses.

Biting her cheek, Catherine tugs her cloak closer to her chest and braves the cool night air of the Transfiguration courtyard. Hurrying across the path as fast as her boots can trek through the heavy snow before she finds relief in the neighboring tower.

Pulling her wand from her holster, she casts a soft Lumos and takes to the stairs.

She’s diligent in her duty, searching every hallway and corridor. But a simple Homenum Revelio shows that aside from Satyavati in her classroom, there isn’t another soul around.

On the third-floor balcony, she finds a bench to sit on and carefully pulls the soft envelope from her pocket. Using her thumb, she slides it under the seal and manages to pry the parcel open without a single tear.

Catherine,

I certainly hope you were joking when you said that about Sebastian. I personally will never be able to remove the thought from my mind, so thank you for that added trauma.

As for the holiday, I will find myself in Paris around the 19th. I sent word to the King of Dunces himself, though I have not received his reply. For now, assume he will grace us with his presence far later than he should.

If you would feel so inclined, I would be quite happy to see you again. Surely, it hasn’t been two years already? Perhaps you can stow those beasts of yours away in that hidden room you thought no one knew of at school. And if not, I suppose I could understand.

However, given the circumstances, surely you would not wish to bear me with the further hardship of trying to contain Sebastian Sallow while in the streets of Paris. If you agree, I will be indebted to you for life. I can also provide accommodations and any other frivolous things you would require.

Also, I hope that stubborn bird hasn’t given you too much trouble. He was as vain as they come. Did I ever mention that before I gave him to you?

As always, your humble friend, Ominis Gaunt.

Everyone was now counting down the days to the end of term. Four more to go and soon the castle would be emptied of the majority of the populace – off to spend the holiday with their families, no doubt.

“Oh, Professor Hart. Might I have a moment of your time?”

Catherine glances up from her seated position in the staff lounge, having found herself before the crackling fire during her free period. She closes her book – an Austen classic – and smiles up at the Deputy Headmistress, welcoming her over with a wave of her hand.

“Of course, Matilda. What can I do for you?”

The kindly witch takes a seat opposite her, resting her hands in her lap.

“Do you have plans for the holiday, Catherine?”

She gives a little grin, recalling her last two letters from Ominis, “I do actually. I’ll be heading to Paris before Christmas.”

“Oh, I see,” Matilda’s lips turn to a frown. Her soft brown eyes meet her gaze, “May I ask when you’re leaving?”

“Likely sometime Monday evening – before the Floo gets too overwhelmed with travelers.”

The older witch claps her hands together, a smile returning to her face, “Wonderful! Oh, simply wonderful. You see, there will be a number of students wishing to remain at the castle this year and I’m looking for another set of hands to assist with the Hogsmeade visit this Saturday.”

Catherine’s eyes bulge slightly, “Oh. Well, yes then.”

“Thank you, dear. I had hoped Mirabel would remain for the break, as she so often does, but she just informed me this morning that she has a prior engagement.”

The young witch stands up, offering a smile, “It’s no trouble at all. Surely it can’t be any worse than when we have the whole five years to look after.”

“No, certainly not! I’m sure you and Aesop will manage just fine.”

She blinks, “Oh… yes. I’m sure we will.”

With a parting smile, Catherine watches as the Transfiguration professor heads back toward her classroom with quick little steps. She glances back into the dancing flames of the fireplace and shakes her head.

The bitter wind makes the pace up to the village an arduous affair. The brisk breeze drawn across the valley sends its icy tendrils along their spines – freezing every appendage until all they can feel is the chattering of their teeth.

While the other students had loaded onto the snowy-white horse-drawn carriages to the station south of the village just an hour earlier, Catherine was leading the small party up for a final weekend in Hogsmeade. Sharp had informed her that he would meet them there – likely taking the Floo to avoid the long journey in the frozen snow.

And though the Beasts professor had been kind enough to cast warming charms on her younger students, her own spellwork was leaving little to be thankful for as the chill wind still found a way to bypass the charm. Digging her bare fingers into the lining of her cloak, she tugs the garment close and forces her feet to keep trudging forward.

“Professor?” A young Gryffindor moves alongside her, the girl’s breath billows up like dragon’s smoke in the cold air.

“Yes, Olive?”

“Have you ever stayed at the castle over break before?”

Catherine peers down at the third-year, her hands buried in a fur muff and her eyes just barely peeking out past her crimson and gold scarf. Something about the girl’s tone grabs her attention and she feels her features soften.

“I have. Every year I was a student. I suppose this is your first time then?”

The girl nods, kicking the soft fluff of recently fallen snow from her boot.

“My father wrote and said they couldn’t manage the funds to come to London this year, maybe for Easter break though.”

She gives a soft hum of understanding.

“What’s… what’s it like? Here, for the holiday I mean.”

“Well,” she breathes out, trying to recall her own memories of Christmas Break during her time as a student. “You’ll find the professors to be quite lenient during this time – now, don’t abuse that,” she offers a teasing grin down the girl, whose eyes brighten with a hidden smile.

“On Christmas Day, everyone sits together at one big table in the Great Hall. One of the finest feasts of the year, if you ask me. In the morning, you’ll find presents and treats in your common room. Find solace in the quiet moments of the castle –“ She looks down at the girl once again. “The house elves are usually eager to find something to do during this time – you’ll find random mugs of cocoa and biscuits appearing at all odd hours.”

With the young girl’s spirit seemingly lifted, she nods her thanks and hurries on ahead to a fair-haired Slytherin up the path.

The village, much like the castle, was decorated for the season in gorgeous abundance. Garlands and trees lined the streets and shops. It looked like a Christmas card – an idyllic little village in the Scottish Highlands.

Catherine watches as the small group of fifty or so students disperses; some heading off for nearby shops, others heading to the Three Broomsticks. She’s stood near Spintwitches, finding herself staring at the newest Comet model in the window. Though she hears the crackle of the Floo near the storefront, she can’t find it in herself to look away from the tempting price tag dangling from the handle of the broom.

“Window shopping?” comes Sharp’s gruff voice.

She looks to her left, offering a small smile, “Just browsing. I believe I’m still content with my current model.”

“Ah,” he hums. “I have heard tales of our resident Beasts professor flying alongside a herd of hippogriffs.”

“All hogwash, really,” she grins.

Together, they leave the broom supplier and begin the short trek up the hill to High Street. While the bitter chill is softened by the spread of houses and shops, her fingers still ache from the wind and she finds herself gathering her hands together to blow warm air upon them with her pursed lips.

Beside her, Sharp is surprisingly able-bodied as they make it up the incline. His coat is that of a woven gray with a dark fur collar and cuffs. Catherine tugs her own cloak closer in envy. He peers down at her.

Near the Square, wrought-iron white tables and chairs have been laid out near the empty fountain. As Sharp beelines for one, she’s inclined to follow – taking the seat opposite his, turning it out slightly so she can still keep an eye on the street.

Three sixth-years dressed in heavy cloaks emerge from Honeydukes, laughing as they link arms, hurrying down the cobblestone path. Two young third-years dip out of the Post office, rushing to their next stop to avoid the frigid air.

When she returns her attention to her companion, she finds that he is already watching her with those calculating dark eyes of his.

Digging her hands into the warmth of her armpits, Catherine nudges her chin down into the collar of her cloak – trying to stave off the breeze that nips at her ears. Sharp raises an amused brow in her direction, his smile hidden when he turns his head away – fingers lightly drumming on the ornate iron tabletop.

“Do you often stay during the break?” she asks after a long stretch of silence.

Sharp returns his attention to her.

“Yes. I find the castle to be a pleasant refuge after the last train leaves.”

A snort escapes her as she shakes her head, “I think you just enjoy being able to have the entire wing to yourself.”

“Well,” she watches the way he drags his index finger along the spiral vine pattern on the table. “Not entirely to myself anymore.”

“No, I suppose not,” Catherine glances down at her lap, a sheepish coloring of pink crossing her cheeks. “Though you’ll have the hallowed halls to yourself in a few days’ time.”

“Oh, will I?” he quirks his brow, a curious expression on his face.

“Mhmm. I’m headed to Paris on Monday.”

The potion professor looks away, his eyes focused on the scattered patrons throughout the square.

“I was unaware you had travel plans,” he loftily says.

She kneads her thighs as she watches a small family ducking out of Gladrag’s with a wrapped package in tow.

“Well, I certainly couldn’t leave you to watch this lot on your own could I?”

Sharp returns her gaze and smirks.

“I’m confident I could have managed it alone, Hart. You didn’t need to hold off your journey for something so frivolous.”

“I didn’t,” she laughs warmly, enjoying the scrunched expression he gives her. “I’m trying to avoid the excessive lines of holiday travelers. Monday was the clearest day on the schedule. And Ominis said he wouldn’t be able to secure me a room until then anyway.”

“Ah, how is Mr. Gaunt?”

His tone is airy, however, she assumes the query is not from a genuine place of interest but merely a reason to further carry on the conversation.

“He’s well; happier.”

The Potion Master nods, his gaze sweeping across the village square.

“It’s been years in the making on his, and Sebastian’s, part to get me into the same country as them for a few days. I’m afraid with my career of choice, I was rarely ever in one place for very long.”

Sharp rests his elbows on the table, folding his hands together into a fist which he then places his chin upon.

“A full reunion party from the sounds of it then.”

Catherine shakes her head, a laugh bubbling to her lips, “Hardly, as it’ll just be the three of us.”

With a pleasant sigh, she rests her cheek upon her palm as she stares at the towering decorated spruce tree next to the Owl Post.

“I sometimes forget how solitary this life could be. Don’t misread me, I will never regret the path I’ve chosen. But I feel as though my friends grew and had far more fruitful lives in the traditional sense while I was off, you know, chasing down poachers and the like.”

She shakes her head, blinking her dream-like eyes for a moment before she looks to her companion who appears to be trying to dissect her down to the last particle.

“Sorry, I’m not sure why I told you that.”

Sharp gives a small shrug of his shoulders, as if to say worry not.

And, for just a moment, she thinks that perhaps the ex-Auror could understand her positioning. She had to imagine that his previous line of work rarely left time for a person to have the traditional sort of life one would typically seek out. A doting spouse, cherub-faced children, a happy home situated in a neighborhood of good standing and prestige.

Though she knew little of the Potion Master’s past, she had never once been under the impression that there was a Mrs. Sharp hidden away in a lovely estate down south. She could hardly fathom the thought of tiny figures circling the stern-faced potions professor, lovingly calling him father.

No, the man before her had taken a similar path as she. The solitary one that was well-fulfilled with other means of joy and accomplishment. For a time.

They turn to more familiar conversations after that – grading unreadable essays, assessing dismal progress, and stories of their unruliest students. The sky fades to the heavier hues of magenta and navy as the sun begins to dip down past the horizon.

The two professors are walking down the street now, a breath of space between them as they pass other villagers and holiday shoppers. She can feel the warm brush of his fur-lined cuffs as her fingers graze the fabric.

Her companion stares up at the sky for a few slow steps, his eyes squinted ever so slightly. The colors up above mix together like loose watercolors on an evening canvas, swirling clouds of pink and dazzling gold.

“Only three more days till Yule,” she comments softly.

He nods.

“The return of the light will be welcomed after this constant darkness.”

And then his gaze turns toward her, “Will you be able to celebrate the day?”

She gives him a small smile, “Sebastian celebrates the bigger sabbats: Yule, Beltane, Samhain. So, I imagine we’ll manage to carve some time out for it. Though I’d rather do my usual traditions here.”

Rubbing her hands together once more, she gives a soft blow of warm breath before she tucks them away into her robes. Sharp’s gaze is latched onto the movement and she finds herself wishing she had the foresight to purchase a proper coat from Gladrag’s weeks back – before the temperature had dropped so drastically.

The waitlist was stacked out well past the new year now and by the time she could collect the package, the valley would be welcoming the warm flowerings of spring. For the time being, she would just have to make do with what she had.

After taking a final headcount of the students – forty-three in total – Catherine turns towards her fellow professor.

“If we don’t return by dinner, send a search party, will you?”

Sharp lets out a polite snort of amusement, but shakes his head, “I feel inclined to take the long way back –“ and when she glances at his leg, out of pure instinct alone, he adds, “Sometimes exercising eases the discomfort.”

Though she’s not convinced, she murmurs, “If you’re sure…”

Gesturing a hand outward, Catherine begins walking back down the path to the castle – the students stretched out ahead of them in little clumpings. She keeps to his pace without comment.

Much like her outings with Mirabel and Roland, she finds that she enjoys the silent company that Sharp brings. The quiet comfort that walks alongside her – occasionally trading glances and soft words.

It’s a tentative friendship, she realizes halfway down the road.

And while she would have never expected to find herself in that standing with her ex-professor, she would be foolish to deny that she enjoyed his presence. After years of traveling the world alone, after taking on a relatively solitary position at the school, Catherine found a familiar sense of comfort within the man beside her as she had once done with the friends she was set to meet in three days’ time.

As she rubs her hands together once more, Sharp rolls his eyes and mutters a barely audible, “Buy a pair of gloves, will you?”

Casting another warming charm, she can almost feel the liquid heat trying to penetrate the icy walls of her exterior appendages. It’s a small relief and one she is more than happy to accept as the looming towers of the castle come into clearer view.

A blur of people greets her as she steps out of the cool green flames of the Floo network, her head swimming with the motion. Grabbing a tight hold on her luggage, she steps clear of the hearth as another traveler comes through quite abruptly. Catherine barely has the chance to place her bag onto the ground before she hears the rumbling chuckle over the bustling sound of the Parisian wizarding street.

“There’s my girl.”

With a turn, her gaze meets the gleaming green eyes of her dearest friend as he beams at her through the passing travelers. Her eyes widen and her smile grows wider.

“Hello, darling.”

She rushes into his embrace with a bright smile.

His arms wrap around her in an instant, tugging her close to his chest. She can feel the bristles of his beard upon her crown as he presses his cheek down. The warm scent of woodsy musk and spiced rum tangled in his coat’s lapels. The rapid beat of his heart thumping away under the palm of her hand.

Sebastian Sallow had become a handsome wizard in the years following graduation – not to say that he was never a sight to behold prior to their seventh year, but she had certainly never noticed his charms for what they were.

He releases his hold on her, keeping one arm wrapped around her waist as he leans down to summon her bag to him.

“Six bloody years, Hart. That’s how long you’ve kept me waiting.”

She plucks the tip of his nose with her finger.

“As though you weren’t off shrouded in mystery and darkness down in that secretive Department of yours.”

“Yeah, comes with the name, doesn’t it?” He shrugs, unabashed, “But at least I stayed in the same country!”

With a bubbling laugh, she hugs him tighter – finding an old comfort in the embrace. His hands rest upon her lower back and she can feel his grin upon her shoulder.

“Oh, there you are.”

Catherine turns at the soft melodic voice behind her.

Not to be outdone, Ominis Gaunt had grown into quite the attractive man as well. His perfectly coiffed locks made his sharp features truly stand out. She finds herself visually tracing the constellations that his freckles created on his cheek.

“Hello, Ominis. It’s good to see you again.”

Tentatively, she pulls from the other man’s arms and steps forward, lowering her hand so her fingers brush against his.

He doesn’t stiffen this time but seems to relax instead as a smile crosses his lips. Slowly, she envelopes him in a hug, keeping her touch light in case he feels the need to rescind the affection. But he surprises her once again as he leans his chin upon her shoulder and holds her close.

“I’m happy to have you back, too.”

She hears a scoff to her left and she can almost imagine the face Sebastian is making as he says, “Oh sure, she gets a hug but I get a boxing to the head.”

Ominis pulls away, focusing his attention on the other man.

“Because you tried to bewitch the snow in front of a cafe full of Muggles, Sebastian! Honestly –“ he turns back to Catherine, “I’m thankful you arrived when you did. I’m not sure I could have managed another second on my own.”

“As if I’m a Crup that needs to be kept,” Sebastian scoffs.

With a roll of her eyes, she takes hold of both men by the crook of their elbows – effectively silencing them both.

“Well, you certainly know how to make a girl feel like she’s back in school again.”

Sebastian’s booming laugh follows them as they head out onto the magical streets of Paris – arm-in-arm.

Place Cacheé was bustling with holiday shoppers – the central square of the French wizarding market. The cobblestone streets were free of heavy snow drifts, as the Isles had been when she had departed. Instead, a light dusting clung to the colorful shop awnings, and thimble-sized icicles hung from the branches of the barren trees.

Ominis had secured the three of them rooms at the Hotel De Ginestou.

While he had forgone his measly inheritance once he broke away from the Gaunt family in its entirety upon graduation, Ominis had found his own way. And now, thanks to his own natural talents, he had sequestered away a sizable sum of money that he rarely ever dipped into. That no one but him could dip into.

This particular occasion, was one of the rare moments, however.

Catherine stares out at the market square from the arched window of her third-floor room. The suite contained two bedroom offshoots from a central living area – with the boys opting to share a double room while giving her the single.

The trio had spent their first day together out in the square, enjoying the varying foreign fares that the French market had to offer. Catherine had been on the lookout for gifts to give to her fellow colleagues. She had a handful of items already set to be delivered on Christmas morning back at the castle. But a few still needed to be sorted, as Hogsmeade hadn’t had quite the right trinkets in mind.

Sebastian planned to have them all traversing the streets of Muggle Paris before Christmas though, so perhaps she could find those last few presents out there.

That first night together, they sipped coffee on the patio of the cafe across the street from their lodgings and had the opportunity to watch the sun set while they finished their meals.

Everything had been so lovely thus far. They found their comfortable familiarity buried under six years of distant contact and unintentional silence. Soon, she felt quite similar to the sixteen-year-old version of herself – laughing with a bottle of wine shared between them as they sat upon the floor of their hotel suite, sharing more and more outrageous stories of their time away.

But now, the suite is quiet.

Blowing her breath against the window pane, she drags her index finger across the fresh canvas to create a multi-pointed snowflake. Outside, a light snowstorm had overtaken the city. Down on the street below, an inch or more of freshly fallen snow covered the walkways. Hurried shoppers darted between the safety of the awnings.

A small smile appears on her face as she blows once more to solidify the image.

This time of year brought around many different memories for her. For the last decade, she had spent the Christmas season in different countries around the world – where the momentous drink of wine or mead straight from the bottle was considered celebration enough. Familiar songs around roaring fires, or the very occasional passing of necessary items in lieu of frivolous gifts.

Miriam and Nigel had purchased a pair of sturdy leather boots for her during their travels across New Zealand on Christmas, as her own were terribly worn by that point. Yet that was perhaps the greatest gift she had received since leaving school.

During her short time at Hogwarts, the holidays were filled with laughter and joy as she celebrated with new friends. The spirit of the season was found in the snowball fights in the courtyard and the late-night conversations around the fireplace in the common room with mugs of cocoa and cider on hand.

But when recalling the years before the discovery of her magic…

Catherine starts another pointed snowflake on the fogged-up window pane, albeit slower as she drags her finger in a slow loop.

There were two different holidays in her mind. Those had before her parents died and those after. Admittedly, there was almost no celebration to be had in the aftermath.

The mill owner, Mr. Perkins, was a good Christian man who made sure his workers had the blessed day off. Many of the young girls who worked the bobbins had families to spend their time with. But several, like Catherine, who lived at the Boys’ and Girls’ Refuge in Manchester, simply didn’t have the luxury.

While the nuns made sure they attended the evening service, nothing more was had outside of randomly given brown-paper packaged gifts from the local charity organization. She usually gave her presents – a wooden train one year, and a gangly hand-sewn doll another – to the younger girls as she had no need for toys. Not since…

The holidays spent with her parents, however…

Those memories were concerningly faded after so many years.

She could recall a wreath with four candles nestled in its bows. The heavenly aroma of roasted goose and steaming potato pancakes with cinnamon applesauce. Images of the beautiful blonde-haired angel with a golden crown who was rumored to bring gifts to deserving children on Christmas Eve. The sweet ginger taste of Lebkuchens. The powdered sugar that would cling to the corners of her lips when she snuck another slice of Stollen.

Tucked away in those memories, hidden like the last present on Christmas morning, she could hear the sound of her parents’ laughter. The gentle chastising Johan would receive for sneaking a second biscuit before dinner. The exhaustion that was plain upon their faces as they watched their children unwrap their gifts. The tight warmth of her mother’s embrace.

A gentle rapping of knuckles upon her door has her turning.

Sebastian leans against the doorway, arms crossed and a deep smirk on his face. With a blush blooming across her cheeks, Catherine tucks her arms behind her back and glances away from the window.

“What?”

“Figured you wanted to get things started, unless I’ve interrupted the great artist at work?” he grins with a smug voice.

With a breath, she brushes past him, shoving his shoulder as she goes – though he doesn’t so much as budge, “Six years too short.”

His trailing laugh follows her into the dining area of the hotel suite.

Ominis had opted to leave them to it, as he had no love for the holiday and found his time better spent down at the complimentary bar. Catherine certainly couldn’t blame him, knowing the environment in which he grew up. It was a miracle Ominis had wanted to spend this time of year with anyone at all. Though she was slightly prideful of the fact that he chose to spend it with them.

She runs her hand along the soft leaves of the woody-smelling spruce wreath they had made earlier that day together. Sebastian had brought along the supplies in his suitcase, much to her delight. Rubbing her finger along the wonky-looking velvet ribbons he had tied, a warm smile crosses her lips.

In the center of the table sat the Yule log, surrounded by spruce bows, pinecones, and crisp red apples. A pair of wooden reindeer stood guard over the plates of prepared food – courtesy of a disgruntled cook down in the hotel’s kitchens.

“Would you like to do the honors?”

With a start, she glances up toward her companion who’s holding the three candles in his hand.

“Please,” she urges, gesturing at the log, “By all means.”

He gives a nod before carefully placing the two colored candles on the lace-covered tablecloth. Grabbing hold of his wand, he lights the first one with a delicate Incendio and situates it in the middle holder.

White: for purity, protection, and peace.

Rounding the table, Catherine takes hold of the second candle and does the same action. Her breath catches in her throat as she holds her finger close to the flame just to feel the flicker of heat against her skin.

Red: for strength and passion.

Together, they light the last candle. Sebastian places it in the final holder of the Yule log and steps back, a wide smile spreading across his lips.

Green: for health, prosperity, and new beginnings.

“Oh, look at that,” he says, with a soft voice of wonder.

She follows his gaze up to the ornate white ceiling where a spring of blooming mistletoe reaches down toward them. A look that spoke of having suffered too many mischievous pranks at the hands of the man across from her befalls her face.

“Yes, very clever.”

Sebastian immediately clears his throat, rocking back on his heels as he leans closer to her with his cheek on full display. With a sigh, she leans up and pecks a chaste kiss on his scruffy face.

With a pleased grin, he leans down and brushes his lips against the top of her head before picking up a slice of fruit cake – offering her a second piece.

“Blessed Yule, Cathy.”

Taking a bite of the sweet-spiced treat, she smiles back.

“Blessed Yule, Sebastian.”

Aesop awakens slowly as the pull of a precious dream keeps his eyes from fully fluttering open. Only due to the rich aroma of steaming coffee does he finally roll over, his legs tangled in the heavy red blanket, as he stares at the recently placed cup on his nightstand.

Salazar, bless House Elves.

Waking is a taxing affair on any normal day. But winter days had a particular added discomfort to them. His leg aches in a way that doesn’t stem from just the cursed muscle. It’s a throbbing somewhere deep in the very tissue brought on only by the weather.

He downs the half-used bottle of pain potion beside the mug of coffee.

At last, he rubs at his tired eyes and manages to sit up. The warm sheets pool around his lap as he stares down at the modest stack of presents at the end of his bed.

There’s no need to move as he grabs hold of his wand from the table beside him and summons the packages over to his side. It was self-indulgent, that he was all too fully aware of. But if one couldn’t be a little indulgent on this day of all days, then when could they be?

Abraham was gracious enough to purchase a lovely old bottle of whiskey for him with a golden dragon topper. It was nearly identical to the one Aesop had gifted the Charms professor.

This is followed by the usual array of potion and herb books from some of his other colleagues. He receives not one, but two copies of Potions of the Ages: A Collection of Advanced Brewing Techniques from Cecil Waterford and Headmaster Aragon.

Dinah sends him a thin book of obscure healing plants from around the world and their common usages. It appears as though the entire thing had been translated from another language as he flips through the pages with a surprised hum.

A new feathered quill, a glass paperweight in the shape of a curled serpent, and a box of assorted chocolates are added to the growing pile as well.

Tucked away between the packages, he plucks a plain envelope up with his calloused fingers. He peers at the swirl of writing on the front in deep emerald ink for but a moment before he stuffs the letter into the drawer of his nightstand.

That could be dealt with another day or once he had the proper amount of alcohol in his system.

With the final package opened – a slightly burnt fruitcake from Ranira Witherford – Aesop finally pulls free of the comfort of his bed and sets about to get ready for the day. He doesn’t take count of the presents to realize that one gift is missing.

The spirit around the castle would be in full swing with much merry-making and joy abound. Matilda would be supervising the remaining students as they took to the grounds while the ghosts and the portraits would inform them of any misbehaving miscreants running amok.

He was fond of this day, surprisingly. As in, most people found it surprising that the grouchy Potion Master was capable of finding joy in things other than belittling his foolhardy students.

But Aesop genuinely did enjoy the season. It was just due to the fickle nature surrounding his leg that he found his demeanor a sour affair.

For the majority of the day, he keeps to his quarters. Savoring the warmth of the roaring fireplace, the pleasant tingles of pain potion working to keep a numbness around the cursed appendage, the indulgence of fine artisan chocolates, and even the welcomed comfort of sketching in his armchair.

Little things that were difficult to come by during the average days of the school year.

But as the hours tick by and the light begins to fade from the window – forcing him to light the lamps around his study to continue his drawing – he comes to face the music that his free time is running out. Shuffling into his heavy woolen coat, the professor heads down the tapestry hall – passing the silent room near the stairs.

Briefly, he wonders what Hart is up to in Paris. If she was with Sallow and Gaunt, he couldn’t imagine any good. Though perhaps those thoughts only stemmed from the troubling three years the trio had shared as students together.

The crisp winter wind bites at his cheeks when he steps out onto the courtyard.

A handful of students are out on the hill near the empty Beasts classroom, sliding down the snowy slope on a wooden sled. A littering of oddly shaped snowmen line the lawn – with one holding what appears to be a broom near Kogawa’s shed.

He’s not sure, entirely, what made him decide to stretch his legs, so to speak. But he finds the chill air a welcome sensation as it fills his lungs. He makes a slow loop of the fountain, content to partake in just a small amount of exercise.

The looming gray-speckled sky above brings the promise of more snow as a slow drift of flakes begins to descend from the skies. One, rather large flake, seems to swoop through the air toward him before he realizes, as he squints his eyes, that it is, in fact, an owl.

A rotund, snowy white, owl.

The creature hoots only once as it soars downward, dropping a hefty package in his waiting hands before it circles around Aesop and heads off in the direction of the owlery.

The potions professor stares at the plain brown rectangular package, flipping it over to examine the folded white tag attached to the coiled string that reads only his name.

A momentary thought passes through his head – another book, lovely – before he schools himself and gently pulls the tied string loose. Unfolding the wrapping, just there in the quiet of the courtyard, Aesop vanishes the packaging and examines the crimson book with a skeptical eye.

He was mentally placing bets on whether it would be another book devoted to beginner-level potion-brewing or an encyclopedia of common herbs and fungi.

Golden embellished font garners his attention.

L’art Impressionniste en Europe (1865 – 1903)

Fingering the cover open, he flips through the pages.

Scaled-down portraits and landscapes and still-life greet him. The names of famous Muggle painters adorn the bottom of the pages. Monet, Renoir, Bazille, Morisot.

He snaps the cover closed, wanting to savor this in the privacy of his chambers. Aesop pockets the book as the students begin to trudge down the hill. With another glance towards the sky, he becomes aware of the hour and forces himself to patiently wait for them as dinner would soon be ready in the Great Hall.

Only four others had remained for the winter break. The Headmaster sits at the head of the long table, with Matilda and Mudiwa on either side of him. Students sit scattered about the table, far too nervous to sit directly beside their professors. Aesop nods politely at Ranira and the others before he takes a seat beside the Deputy Headmistress. A few stragglers make it to the Hall at last and then the delicious feast can begin.

Though he chats pleasantly with Matilda and a few Slytherin students to his left, his mind rarely travels far from the book in his coat pocket. His curiosity is burning, his desire to sequester himself away and savor each image too strong.

Pops of Christmas crackers pull his attention back to the moment as Mr. Nichols places a Viking helmet upon his head and Matilda happily takes hold of a pink crown. Aesop sets aside the velvet green and red elf hat that appears in his own package.

After bidding his colleagues good night and a happy Christmas, he’s finally able to depart. The entire journey, the book digs against his thigh like a scorching reminder.

But at last, he unlocks his chamber door, sheds his coat, and finds a comfortable position in his armchair. Thumbing the pages, he stares at the carefully arranged pictures that allow him to see the progression of a single artist’s portfolio through several years.

He finds himself lost in the golden sunset hues of Gillaumin’s Soleil couchant à Ivry (Sunset at Ivry). Transfixed by the gentle mixing of pastels in Cassatt’s Summertime. In awe of the depth of detail in Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party.

The potions professor finds himself eagerly studying each image until the fire turns to orange embers and his hip aches from retaining a singular position for so long. At last, he flips the final page over – only to discover a note carefully wedged between the page and end cover.

In a momentary lapse of memory, he chastises himself for not realizing who exactly had sent the book in the first place. The one professor he did not receive an expected gift from – as was traditional of the Hogwarts’ staff.

Holding the piece of parchment between his fingers, he examines the rough curve of Hart’s handwriting.

Aesop,

Apologies for the delay, owls are hard to come by this time of year – surprising, I know. While it’s not a book on potions, I do hope you give it a look through. I spotted it in a shop in the 18th arrondissement and thought it might be of interest. Hopefully, I wasn’t too far off base.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! - Catherine Hart

New Year’s Eve is an entire blur.

Glistening gold lights and silver streamers, blurs of drunken partiers with contagious smiles and bright laughter. Bubbling glasses of champagne and the noxious aroma of cigar smoke. Someone’s hand on her waist, spinning around on a marble floor. Counting down the seconds with explosions of multi-colored sparks emitting from everyone’s wands.

She regrets everything when she forces her eyes open the following morning. Dressing slowly as her sluggish mind refuses to cooperate with her schedule. With her wand, she packs away all of her clothing and trinkets. Squeezing everything into her luggage so the small stack of Christmas gifts can take up space too.

Sebastian had presented her with a beautifully carved wooden phoenix that ruffled its feathers and stretched its wings out. Ominis had been slightly more practical with a new quill and stack of personalized parchment bearing her name. So, you’ll have ample reason to respond to our letters.

The trio shares a warm breakfast around the dining table, filling the growing trepidation of parting with any small story or antidote that comes to mind – many of which had been heard several times before.

But, at last, their bags are packed and in hand, and the quiet peace of the hotel suite is locked up once more. Like little ducks in a row, they march down to the Floo Network. She wraps them both in tight hugs – ensuring that this is not like the goodbye they had shared before. They would meet up again – sooner than six years, she promised.

“You take care of yourself, okay?”

The blonde man smirked, “I always do.”

Taking hold of Sebastian’s warm calloused hand, she watches as Ominis disappears with the flicker of green flames. A second parting is had, in the quiet English port, as the oddly quiet man watches her enter another hearth – headed back to the village they had frequented so many times before.

“You can always come up during the weekends.”

“Or you could come down to London.”

They both knew it was unlikely.

With a wave, Sebastian fades from view and she’s stumbling out onto the quiet streets of Hogsmeade.

Shrinking her luggage down so it can fit into her pocket, Catherine heads back to the castle – feeling the warm beckoning of its call as she neared closer.

Several students are out and about in the courtyard, though it would be another three days before the rest of the student body returned to the school. For now, it was a quiet solace for the few bodies that remained for the holiday season.

Like a tight embrace, she relishes in the feeling of the Bell Tower. The earthy scent of spruce garland greets her as she heads down to her quarters – eager to shed away her traveling clothes and perhaps take the time to soak in a much-needed bath.

Once inside, she’s quick to light the fireplace – hoping it won’t take too long for the room to become heated up.

Flicking the locks on her suitcase, she directs her clothes back into the wardrobe, her new writing supplies to the desk, and the phoenix statue to her bedside table. Only once her things are put away does she draw her attention to a small stack of paper-wrapped packages on the rug beside her armchair.

As much as she wants to tear apart the strings and slide her thumb under the wrapping, she holds back – eyeing the open leather bag near the end of her bed instead.

Ducking her head down into the opening, she calls out, “Deek! Are you down there?”

She spends the next four hours busying herself in the bag. The old house elf was a natural of course, but she felt her duties had been severely neglected over the holiday – though she remained grateful for the help and thanked Deek far more than he liked for it.

Only then, after she climbed back out into her room and had to cast Lumos upon the scattered candles to fill the area with light, did she finally make her way over to the Christmas presents.

Like a child, Catherine deposits herself on the rug before the crackling fireplace. One by one, she reads the tag and opens the packaging.

A book devoted to North American beasts from the Headmaster. A jaunty sky blue pointed hat from Matilda – which the young witch immediately tries on and keeps in place for the remainder of the openings.

Broom polish from Kogawa, the expensive high-quality kind. Fruitcake from Ranira. A blooming purple plant from Mirabel that smells oddly of cherries. A new set of Tarot cards from Mudiwa that she stares at with a barely-masked look of disdain. A handful of books and sweets from the likes of Waterford, Crestwell, Moore, Shah, and Dippet.

There’s also a few items from Poppy: a small portrait of a soaring Hippogriff, a new dragonhide apron, and a pink and lime green box of cauldron cakes – still fresh as the day they were made. Natty also sends her a simple necklace with a silver feather attached to the chain – one that she is quick to place around her neck as she peers down to admire the placement.

She grins at the Christmas card sent by the Thortons, a moving image of them waving in front of a hollow of Nifflers who are actively trying to loot Nigel’s trouser pockets. Augustine’s card shows her atop a proud-looking Granian. While Edmund sternly salutes the camera from the top of the Great Wall.

With a flick of her wand, the cards float over to her nightstand and the torn packaging disappears. As she begins to ease onto her feet – her joints actively disliking the sudden change in position – she catches the faint blue wrapping out of the corner of her eye, wedged near the leg of the armchair.

Lowering herself back down to the rug, she pulls the small parcel free and examines the soft package. There is no tag, no note from the sender. But by doing a quick mental catalog of everyone who had already sent her gifts, she can easily limit it down to one person; one man.

Curious as to what could be inside, Catherine carefully pulls the paper free, unfolding it like a book on her lap. Inside, she finds another wrapped item – though the paper is a thin black that crunches beneath her fingertips. This too she pulls free.

A slow smile stretches across her pink lips as she picks up the glistening chestnut leather glove. Her fingers rub the smooth shell before they dip inside the warm black wool. She slides them on, one at a time, grinning as she finds that they fit perfectly and their added warming charm instantly sends a burst of heat through her fingers.

The memory of a quiet conversation held over a week ago on the journey back from Hogsmeade replays in her mind. Buy a pair of gloves, will you? He had said to her. While she had never found the time to do so before she left for Paris, clearly the potions professor had managed to slip away to purchase this fine pair.

She was truly looking forward to seeing him now, as she glanced over at the wall near the bed that separated her chambers from his. Ever observant, always watching – the ex-Auror must have truly pitied her that last trip to the village. But no matter, as she was genuinely grateful for them.

A brief thought given to the book she had managed to find in a tiny little store in Muggle Paris crosses her mind. It had been a risk at the time, something that he was unlikely to receive from the other professors. But she was aware of his secretive hobby and Catherine had hoped he wouldn’t be too offended by the purchase.

Brushing the knees of her trousers clear of imaginary dirt, she stands and begins to sort away her new items – keeping the gloves on the entire time, reluctant to take them off just yet. For what reason, she can not say.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[rodrigobera04]

The ice type is our next type, with just nine combos.

ICE pure

Cold-blooded snake freezing its victim when it touches it.

Ice blocks that combine to create obstacles for the player.

Huge and strong Husky, used as a pack animal.

Capybara adapted to a cold region.

Small creature that likes to climb mountains without difficulty.

A cold, crystal-clear bottle that sprays out foamy liquid like soda.

Fan dancer blowing freezing fog.

Goat on top of a giant snowball that spins as it walks.

Creature covered in a huge furry coat on its body.

ICE/ROCK

Rocky spider crab with ice claws, based on an ushi-oni.

Rocky elf from a cold cave with ice spikes all over his body.

Rocky humanoid from snowy regions, appearing to be gangrenous.

Ice cream monster that has a stone cone horn.

Snow hyena breaking rocks with its strong jaws.

Troll made of stones, camouflaged in a stone mountain.

Living comet covering its body with ice as it passes through the universe.

Rocky and crystalline creature armor that defends its fragile snow body.

Triceratops with a huge ice block head.

ICE/FIGHTING

Warrior creating ice weapons for fighting.

Yak breaking ice and stone with his headbutts.

Fighter with two huge gloves made of ice blocks.

Troglodyte covered in skin and using a mammoth tusk as a club.

Yeti with very long legs for kicking.

Masked wrestling Smilodon.

Blue oni who punishes criminals with icy breaths and an ice club.

Kaiju whale that destroys huge blocks of ice.

Monster with a hooked horn made of ice.

ICE/FLYING

Hare with a sharp ice horn, flying with its long ears.

Cold vulture that eats frozen animals.

Bat with wings forming ice stalactites.

Little bird frozen in a cube, still having its wings to fly.

Marten jumping through the branches like an icy wind.

Cloud of snowflakes in the shape of an owl.

Literal snow angel, a winged spirit that brings winter snow.

Skyfish absorbing ice particles from the atmosphere.

Pterodactyl surviving the ice age and becoming a predator of cold regions.

ICE/GRASS

Musk ox with aromatic herbs for its coat.

Floral imp that lives in the North and South Poles, proliferating due to climate change.

Watermelon producing a juice that heals burns.

Acai palm with cold breath, its leaves also create a cool climate.

Wooden chalet in a taiga forest, looking like a Baba Yaga's house.

Banana that manipulates and creates ice cream, based on a banana split.

Lotus blooming on frozen lakes and gliding over the surface.

Apple that only germinates in the snow, covered by a layer of ice.

Pea pods resisting winter and protecting the seeds until spring.

ICE/STEEL

Powerful elephant seal with a metallic head, like a hammer.

Polar warrior throwing snowflakes like shurikens.

Cetitan predator, hunting with a harpoon snout.

Deep sea squid with a drill on its head to drill through glaciers.

Moose with antlers like shovels, tearing snow to open paths.

Creature forming ice blades like cutting propellers.

Winter boar having blades and pieces of metal on its back.

Warrior fighting with icy chains that have ice morning stars.

Marine animal that swims through glaciers with its bladed skate-like fin.

ICE/GROUND

"Yeti" marmot or rabbit, made of snow and earth.

Earth gnome covered in a snow beard.

Sand camel, but covered with snow.

Woolly rhinoceros preserved by permafrost.

Mole evolving into a whale-like creature that swims in the snow.

Eel or snake that appears from within the snow.

Creature that catapults balls of mud and snow.

Groundhog that woke up from hibernation and plants flowers for the beginning of spring.

Quadruped using its wide feet to walk on snow without sinking.

ICE/ELECTRIC

Pokémon throwing electrified snowballs.

Destructive hail creature that also hurls lightning.

Air conditioning-based creature, using electricity to lower the temperature.

Owlbear snowy owl that kills prey with shocks.

Ice and lightning horse that creates aurora borealis, based on wild hunt.

Snow monkey that controls electricity, with traits of the yokai nue.

Pikaclone mouse, uses its tail as a beacon to find its species in the snow.

Animal with dense fur that accumulates electricity to keep it warm.

Predatory monster using electricity to keep its victim frozen or paralyzed.

ICE/FIRE

Platypus with powers of fire and ice, alluding to its chimerical nature.

Saiga antelope blowing fire from its trunk.

Crystalline ice horn unicorn, creating parellios with it.

Hare that burns its winter white fur to a charred brown.

Monster imitating a cave with a hot fire inside.

Demon covered in ice but possessing an interior of very hot fire.

Warm petit gateau with melted ice cream on top, combining heat and cold.

Volcanic kaiju that cools down when it falls asleep, being covered in snow.

Flaming prehistoric creature that was frozen but resurrected by global warming.

THE LEGENDARY:

"Ice Queen" creature, ice/steel, made of a cold and piercing metal, creates disasters related to snow, cold and ice.

See you next time.

[immigrant-rob]

The last move

It's been 2 months since the last blog, so time for an update on the highlights. We have moved in and settled into our new rental house provided by a miracle. It is located in the exact neighborhood we had wanted, close to Naomi's family but usually an expensive one to rent. However, the landlord was very generous and made a deal that if we took good care of the property the rent would be lower. After unpacking 104 cardboard boxes and a few weeks of minor repairs around the house we were finally ready to settle in and enjoy. Besides living close to Naomi's family (who love to cook, and guess where most leftovers end up 😏), it is also within walking distance of a huge supermarket (think like Albert Heijn XXXL) and church. I had given up all hope to be able to walk to places from home!

While clearing out the house, Hoydi, Naomi's brother and I did a trip to the dump. Going to the dump always was an exciting day out back when I was young, but this was on a different level. Whereas I'm used to dumping my couch in a container, here they have ''landfills''. Massive pits on the outskirts of the city where 1.2 million people literally can dump their trash. Not sure how I felt about dumping 3 couches into mother nature, but I was assured that the nice neighborhood next to it was built on one of these full landfills and in a few years a new neighborhood would be built on my 3 couches.

A few weeks later we hosted our first guests at our place. Jacqueline, an old university friend of mine and her husband Mark came over. We went on my first snowshoeing hike up to Chester Lake through fresh powder which must feel as outdoorsy as it can get. We witnessed a decent sized avalanche from fairly nearby, and the powder it spewed up blowing through the trees. The next day we spent playing boardgames, where Mark beat me at my home game Everdell after I made a shameful mistake, but redeemed my board gaming career with a surprise Scythe win. Both great games if you're into board games!

A week later Naomi and I took a 1 week breather in Vancouver and Vancouver Island, where my highlight was seeing unhuggable trees. The largest being 9m in circumference! We also revisited Naomi's memories of camping on the island, catching crabs and clam digging on the beach. We caught 19 crabs in total, unfortunately non were big enough to be eaten.

Initially, I thought we were going for the views, but soon it became apparent that Naomi had a different to-do list. Apparently, Vancouver is the place to be to eat Asian food outside of Asia. I should've known that marrying a foodie means travel destinations aren't based on scenes but on food. I'm glad they didn't charge me 2 seats on the flight back after that week... Anyway, the climate reminded me of home. Wet and humid. Ideal for someone whose nose had been clogged for the past 2 months to be able to breathe again, but also reminded me of what I did not like about Dutch weather. The wetness and gray skies. Believe it or not, while writing this the temperature is -31 C here, but it is dry and I will bet a Timbit on a clear blue sky later today, just like the past week. I'll deal with the congested nose.

Last 2 highlights were our Christmas dinner with turkey and ham prepared by Hoydi which I could help carve (and take home many leftovers). Secondly, a beautiful easy hike through Johnstone Canyon to view the frozen waterfalls and its dare devil ice climbers. It's a tourist attraction which always makes for fun viewings of unprepared tourists with no cleats slipping and sliding down the trail. The second part of the hike to the mud pots was very quiet and allowed for some Disney Wonderland like views in the valley.

Studying is going well, I'm still on track with my schedule to finish by the end of January and use February to revise. Looking forward to put the exam behind me and start working!

[1p2p-heta-imagines]

I saw in a post that you wrote about the mothers of the 2p allies in a human au... Could you write something about their fathers?

(To anyone confused, they are talking about *this* post! And I know that some characters “parents” are other characters like 2p Canada and 2p France but we’re going to pretend that that isn’t the case here)

2p America:

• Pretty much ran away when he found out about the pregnancy, not the first time he’s done that to someone, and it likely wasn’t the last

• Never really stayed in one place for long, he moved from city to city practically every couple of months so he was always very hard to track down

• Very childish, very immature, and very stupid

• Would always say that he refuses to grow up or be mature because it’s too boring, didn’t really see anything he was doing as wrong

• Tried to contact Allen when he grew up, but Allen just ignores any attempts, it’s too late for any kind of relationship to form

2p England:

• His father is very awkward and asocial so not many people see him, never mind talk to him, people really only know about him because Oliver’s mother will gush about him whenever she gets the chance

• Pretty much only talks to Oliver and his wife, he’s happier that way

• Usually let Oliver sit on his shoulders while outside (typically shopping), mostly because he worried he’d somehow accidentally lose him if he was running around

• Any time he made food, he’d try to make it look cute so Oliver would eat it. E.g. cat faces on pancakes, apple slice crabs, bear toast, etc.

• Had no idea how to play with children but he tried his best, usually through arts and crafts which Oliver was obsessed with as a child (especially tiny glitter)

2p Canada:

• He passed when Matt was pretty young, around 3 or 4, but there were always a lot of pictures of him around the house and Matt’s mother would always talk about him

• He was the reason that Matt became so obsessed with animals, he used to help a lot of injured animals and Matt so desperately wanted to be like him

• Matt’s mother got sick quite easily after she had him so his father was the main one to take care of him for quite a while, this lead to him knowing quite a bit about different over-the-counter medicines

• Dropped out of college to care for his fiancée and son, though he was looking for an excuse to do it anyway

• Felt like he always needed to help so he almost never said no to someone requesting help with something, this meant he learned a lot of useless things that made him very useful for the most random of situations

2p France:

• He was also very busy, working as a photographer, he usually worked with his wife

• He would spend a little bit more time with Louis, but it was always very awkward because he had no idea how to interact with children, even his own

• Never learned to cook, almost everything he ate was frozen pizza, the only reason Louis ever ate anything healthy was because his nanny would cook

• Grew up pretty much alone and always said he turned out fine so he didn’t see anything wrong with doing it to Louis

• Obsessed with cars but would rather die than drive anywhere because he’s scared of it so never got his driver’s license, he usually just bikes

2p China:

• While Xiao’s mother dresses very elegantly and refined, his father dresses in almost nothing that isn’t a shirt and sweatpants because most a lot of clothes textures bother him to no end

• It’s clear that Xiao took after him the most, and he would always brag about having a mini him around the house

• Useless at cleaning but would always try because Xiao was that kid who would draw on walls and drag mud into the house

• Can usually seen following his wife around like some kind of lovesick puppy

• Was never allowed to shop by himself because he’d end up getting all the food he wanted, only to realise that children can’t survive on just that because it’s unhealthy, he had horrible memory issues as well so it was difficult

2p Russia:

• He was around, but he was so emotionally distant that it felt like he wasn’t a part of the family

• Really only stayed with Viktor’s mother because neither could afford to live by themselves, especially not with a child

• Worked as a writer, nothing he wrote really took off though, but his love of literature did rub off on Viktor who seemed to have a natural talent for writing, which he despised Viktor for

• A very argumentative person, and someone who would only focus on the bad. If someone did everything perfectly but messed up once, he would take that accident and rip into them for it any time he saw them

• If he’s not right, no one is right. He will never admit that he was wrong, he’d rather die than consider the possibility he wasn’t right

[moths-wc-aus]

my personal prefix list

A

Acanthus, Aconite, Acorn, Adder, Agate, Albatross, Alder, Algae, Alligator, Allium, Aloe, Alpine, Alyssum, Amaranth, Amaryllis, Amber, Anemone, Ant, Apple, Ash, Ashen, Asp, Aspen, Asphodel, Aster, Atlas, Auburn, Avocet, Azalea, Azure

B

Badger, Barberry, Bark, Barley, Basil, Bass, Bat, Bay, Bayberry, Beach, Bean, Bear, Beaver, Bee, Beech, Beetle, Berry, Betony, Billow, Birch, Bird, Bittern, Black, Blackberry, Blackbird, Blaze, Blazing, Bliss, Blister, Blizzard, Bloom, Blooming, Blossom, Blotch, Blotched, Blue, Bluebell, Blueberry, Bluebird, Boar, Bog, Bolt, Bone, Borage, Boulder, Bounce, Bowfin, Bracken, Bramble, Branch, Brass, Brave, Bream, Breeze, Briar, Bright, Brindle, Bristle, Broken, Bronze, Brook, Broom, Brown, Brush, Bubble, Buck, Bug, Bull, Bullfrog, Bumble, Burdock, Burn, Burnet, Burning, Burnt, Burr, Bush, Buttercup, Butterfly, Buzz, Buzzard

C

Calm, Canary, Cardinal, Carp, Cave, Cavern, Cedar, Chaffinch, Char, Charred, Chasing, Cherry, Chervil, Chestnut, Chick, Chickadee, Chicken, Chipmunk, Chirp, Chive, Chrysalis, Cicada, Cinder, Cinnamon, Clay, Clear, Cliff, Cloud, Clouded, Cloudy, Clover, Coal, Cobalt, Cobweb, Cold, Comet, Comfrey, Condor, Conifer, Copper, Cormorant, Cornflower, Corvid, Cotton, Cougar, Cove, Cow, Coyote, Crab, Crane, Crawfish, Crayfish, Cream, Creek, Creeping, Cricket, Crimson, Crocodile, Crooked, Crouch, Crow, Cuckoo, Curlew, Cygnet, Cypress

D

Daffodil, Daisy, Dancing, Dandelion, Dapple, Dappled, Dark, Dawn, Day, Dazzle, Deer, Dew, Doe, Dog, Dove, Dream, Drift, Drifting, Drizzle, Duck, Dune, Dusk, Dust, Dusty

E

Eagle, Ebony, Echo, Eddy, Eel, Egg, Egret, Eider, Elder, Elk, Elm, Ember, Ermine, Evening, Eventide, Ewe

F

Faith, Falcon, Fallen, Falling, Fallow, Fawn, Feather, Fen, Fennel,  Fern, Ferret, Fidget, Field, Fin, Finch, Fire, Firefly, Fish, Flake, Flame, Flare, Flash, Flax, Flea, Fleet, Flicker, Flight, Flint, Flood, Flounder, Flower, Flurry, Flutter, Fly, Flying, Foam, Fog, Forest, Fox, Foxglove, Freckle, Freckled, Freezing, Fritillary, Frog, Frost, Frozen, Fruit

G

Gale, Gardenia, Garlic, Garter, Gator, Gentle, Ginger, Glade, Gleaming, Glimmer, Glowing, Gloom, Goat, Golden, Goldfish, Goose, Gopher, Gorge, Gorse, Gosling, Grass, Gravel, Green, Grey, Grouse, Grove, Gull, Guppy, Gust

H

Hackberry, Haddock, Hail, Half, Hare, Harrier, Haven, Hawk, Hawthorn, Hay, Haze, Hazel, Heath, Heather, Heavy, Hedge, Hemlock, Hen, Heron, Herring, Hickory, Hidden, Hill, Hive, Hollow, Holly, Honey, Hop, Hope, Horizon, Hornet, Hound, Hush, Hyacinth, Hyssop

I

Ibis, Ice, Icy, Indigo, Iris, Ivory, Ivy

J

Jackdaw, Jagged, Jaguar, Jasmine, Jay, Jump, Jumping, Juniper

K

Kelp, Kestrel, Kindle, Kink, Kite, Knotweed, Koi

L

Lake, Lamb, Larch, Lark, Larkspur, Laurel, Lavender, Leaf, Leaping, Leech, Leek, Lemming, Leopard, Lichen, Light, Lightning, Lily, Lion, Linden, Little, Lizard, Lobelia, Locust, Long, Loon, Lost, Lotus, Loud, Lupine, Lynx

M

Mackerel, Magnolia, Magpie,  Mallard, Mallow, Mantis, Maple, Marble, Marbled, Marigold, Marmot, Marrow, Marsh, Marten, Mayflower, Meadow, Mellow, Merlin, Midge, Milkweed, Mink, Minnow, Mint, Mire, Mist, Mistle, Misty, Mole, Monarch, Moon, Moor, Moorhen, Moose, Morning, Mosquito, Moss, Mossy, Moth, Mottle, Mottled, Mountain, Mouse, Mud, Muddy, Mulberry, Mumble, Murky, Mushroom, Myrtle

N

Needle, Nettle, Newt, Night, Nut, Nuthatch

O

Oak, Oat, Ocean, Oleander, Olive, Orchid, Oriole, Osprey, Otter, Owl, Oyster

P

Pale, Pansy, Panther, Parsley, Parsnip, Partridge, Passerine, Patch, Pea, Peach, Pear, Pearl, Pebble, Peeper, Pelican, Peony, Pepper, Perch, Peregrine, Periwinkle, Petal, Petrel, Petunia, Pheasant, Pickerel, Pigeon, Pike, Pine, Pink, Pipit, Pitch, Plover, Plum, Poison, Pollen, Pond, Pool, Poplar, Poppy, Possom, Posy, Pounce, Prickle, Primrose, Puddle, Puffin, Pumpkin, Purple

Q

Quail, Quick, Quiet

R

Rabbit, Raccoon, Ragged, Ragweed, Rain, Raining, Ram, Raspberry, Rat, Raven, Red, Reed, Ribbon, Ridge, Ripple, Rising, River, Robin, Rock, Rocky, Rook, Rooster, Root, Rose, Rosemary, Rowan, Rubble, Rue, Rumble, Running, Rush, Rushing, Russet, Rust, Rusty, Rye

S

Sable, Sage, Salamander, Salmon, Salvia, Sand, Sandwort, Sandy, Sap, Scarlet, Scorch, Scorched, Scorching, Scratch, Screech, Sea, Seal, Sedge, Seed, Senna, Serval, Shade, Shadow, Shale, Sharp, Shatter, Sheep, Shell, Shimmer, Shining, Shiver, Shore, Shrew, Shrike, Shrub, Shy, Silent, Silk, Silver, Singe, Singing, Skip, Skunk, Sky, Slate, Sleek, Sleeping, Sleepy, Sleet, Slight, Slip, Sloe, Slug, Sly, Small, Smoke, Smudge, Snag, Snail, Snake, Snap, Sneeze, Snow, Snowy, Soaring, Soft, Song, Soot, Sorrel, Spark, Sparrow, Speckle, Speckled, Spider, Splash, Splinter, Splotch, Spot, Spotted, Spring, Spruce, Squirrel, Stag, Starling, Stem, Stoat, Stone, Stork, Storm, Stormy, Strawberry, Stream, Strike, Striped, Sugar, Sun, Sunflower, Sunny, Swallow, Swamp, Swan, Sweet, Swift, Swirl, Sycamore

T

Tabby, Tall,  Talon, Tanager, Tangle, Tansy, Tawny, Teasel, Tempest, Tern, Thicket, Thistle, Thorn, Thrush, Thunder, Thyme, Tide, Tiger, Timber, Tiny, Toad, Topple, Torrent, Tortoise, Tree, Trout, Tulip, Tumble, Turkey, Turtle, Twig, Twilight, Twist, Twisted, Twitch

U

Umber, Ursinia

V

Valley, Velvet, Venom, Vervain, Vetch, Vine, Violet, Viper, Vixen, Vole, Vulture

W

Walnut, Wandering, Warble, Warbler, Wasp, Weasel, Web, Weed, Wet, Whirl, Whisker, Whisper, Whispering, Whistle, White, Whorl, Wild, Willow, Wind, Windy, Wish, Wisp, Wolf, Wood, Wool, Wooly, Worm, Wren

Y

Yarrow, Yellow, Yew

[yandereaffections]

Romance isn't exactly something that's prioritized in this moment where the three of you are spending most of your time looking for resources while also learning about the many dangers of the place you've found yourself in, don't get them wrong though they still manage to show you love every so often, one of their actions will certainly prompt the other to supply you with their affections

You must be grateful you got stuck with two mastermind geniuses instead of anyone completely useless, these two will manage to get a actually shelter made out of mud and sticks rather quickly, strong enough to keep the crabs from the nearby beach out while also giving you a good identifiable location so it's easy to come back to eachother if anything goes wrong

Honestly you never thought you'd see these two get along but when they're frozen in front of a predator they seem to link up their brains rather quickly, either already knowing how to act in this situation or analyzing the animal to figure out just what to do. Either way one things for sure is that whoever's closest to you will hold you against them, ready to run off with you if needed.

[izem-zaki]

FFXIV Write #2: Bolt

I’zem stood perfectly still at the mouth of the island’s tunnel, staring directly at the quarry he’d been hunting fruitlessly for the past hour. She stared back at him, perfectly frozen where she had just emerged from the pond, dripping with duckweed and mud. After a fraction of a moment, her eyes flicked to her left, towards the strip of land that followed the stream.

“Do not,” he warned softly, barely above a whisper. 

A beat passed in silence and stillness- and then she bolted.

“Y’MIRA ZEM!” He roared, tearing after his daughter. 

He was faster than her, with a longer stride and a longer reach, but she was twice as bloody nimble with half his mass, and too clever for her own good by half again. She wove in and out of the underbrush like a snake, cutting close to tree trunks and slipping through thickets of vine-tangled sugarcane that slowed him just enough to keep her a few scant inches ahead of his grasping hands. 

Hope flared in his chest when she cut towards a small clearing, triumph already on its heels as he made a desperate lunge for her- and landed empty-handed in a pile of leaves and half-rotted pumpkins, snarling in fury and disbelief. She’d leapt straight up over his head, at least five feet higher than her legs should have been able to carry her, letting him dive straight through a tell-tale tingle of dissipating aether in her wake and then disappearing across the stream. 

“Alisaie,” he spat, shoving himself up out of the muck. If she’d taught Y’mira aetherial manipulation, then there was no holding back anymore. He cursed and dug a crystal out of his pocket, pausing to take a few deep breaths as memories poured into him, and the flow of aether through his body settled into a new rhythm. 

Then, he vanished.

Blessedly, Y’mira was not quite as practiced at hiding her tracks- not yet. He stalked her trail silently and invisibly, encouraged as the signs of her passage became fresher and fresher, until finally he found her again.

She was crouched in the muddy sands where stream met the sea, digging intently. There were a few yalms between them, more than there had been back at the pond- but there was only open sand and water here, and he was done chasing her.

I’zem’s hands flashed through shukuchi’s seals, and he appeared behind Y’mira in a burst of aether. She sprang forward instantly, but so did he, and caught her by the ankle at last.

“Got you!” he snarled triumphantly.

“No!” She shrieked as she went sprawling, loud enough to make him wince and flatten his ears to his skull. “My research!” 

I’zem looked up sharply, and swore- a crab was scuttling frantically away from them, right towards the ocean. Y’mira wailed like a demented voidsent being devoured. 

I’zem lurched to his feet, hitching Y’mira up under his arm, and made yet another desperate lunge. He landed face first in the surf, twisting at the last moment to avoid crushing Y’mira into the sand, and felt his hand close around the crab. He yanked it from the waves, it’s tiny legs waving furiously between his clutching fingers, and spat saltwater and grit back into the ocean. 

After a few aborted attempts, he managed to drag all three of them to his feet again, even without the use of his hands and a squalling, thrashing child tucked under his arm; then he yelped and swore as the bloody crab’s pincers found his bloody thumb. 

“Give it back!” Y’mira howled, “Give me back my specimen!” 

“No!” he snarled, barely curbing the urge to fling the damn thing back into the waves. “No more research until after you are bathed and dressed!”

There was a brief lull as Y’mira sucked in a deep breath, giving I’zem just enough time and warning to flatten his ears to his skull again- for all the good it did. Y’mira shrieked her fury so loudly he could feel his ear drums tremble in his skull, and the crab released his thumb to thrash frantically in his grasp. 

I’zem gritted his teeth, hitched Y’mira tighter against his side as she screamed, and began the long march back towards the farm. 

--- 

“Oh, you found her,” G’raha said.

I’zem stopped dead in his muddy tracks in the middle of the bathhouse. Slowly, he turned and stared at G’raha where he sat in the tub with the twins, the toddlers splashing and gurgling contentedly together in his lap. Y’mira’s fury had faded to soft, hiccuping sobs, but only after he’d dragged her, himself, and the bloody stupid crab up four flights of stone stairs, all while she had alternated between thrashing like a rabid morbol and going limp as a wet sack of noodles in an apparent effort to send them all tumbling to their deaths. 

The look he gave G’raha was equal parts exhaustion and baleful venom; he could only hope it communicated exactly what ‘finding’ her had entailed and exactly how much he blamed G’raha. Whether or not he fully understood, G’raha still had the good sense to lower his ears sheepishly, and give I’zem a wan, sympathetic smile. 

“She gets this. From her mother. And you,” I’zem accused softly, raising his hand and letting the crab dangle from its death grip on his swollen, bleeding thumb. He gave it a little shake without breaking eye contact- daring G’raha to try and point out that I’zem was her sire.

“Oh- Oh dear…” G’raha said, his ears wilting guiltily. “Perhaps Y’shtola and I should have waited until she was a bit older to let her audit a Studium course…”

“My data!” Y’mira sobbed quietly.

“Yes. Perhaps.” I’zem gritted out.

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Cassandra (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- The Doomed Prophetess by the people of Troy

Cassie by her family & friends

Age- 17

Location- Troy, Olympius

Personality- She has always had an outspoken rebellious streak despite the challenges growing up, dealing with being "wired differently." She's independent, passionate, & fearless and is currently single.

She was born, raised, & still resides in the state of Troy where her parents Priam and Hecuba rule as Lord & Lady. Cassie has a sister named Creusa who's a couple years older than her and a fraternal twin- her brother Helenus. She also has fourteen older siblings. Cassie is quite close to her eldest brother Hector (who's a corporal in the Olympian Army).

Even as a little girl, she always liked pushing the boundaries with authority figures. A vivid memory Cassie has of this was when she was four. She spent the entire day outside during a rainstorm jumping in mud puddles. Returning home (& knowing full well the servants had just finished cleaning), Cassie proceeded to walk all over the waxed floors then jump on all the furniture, screaming "Couches are less important than little girls!"

Cassie had quite the imaginary friends as a kid!

She experienced her fair shares of doctor offices, hospital waiting rooms, and behavioral therapists. When Cassie was six, she received an official diagnosis of ADHD. At school, she often disrupted the class by talking with her friends, answering questions that she wasn't called upon to answer, & even leaving her seat and classroom to walk in the hallways or go to the bathroom. At the time, the only outlet for her was gym class. Sometimes after school, her parents would participate in high level activities with Cassie like go-karting, surfing, and visiting the amusement parks, all in an effort to tire her out.

Once in third grade, Cassie snuck into her teacher's classroom and took two boxes of rubber bands from the desk. At home, she made a rubber band ball- knowing the exact number of each color.

A go-to drink is the angel delight's cocktail (a drink made with gin, triple sec, cream, & grenadine). She also likes the s'mores milkshake from The Frozen Spoon.

When she was 10, Cassie had a prophetic nightmare, visioning all of Troy engulfed in flames. With each passing year, the vision becomes more detailed and disturbing.

She self describes her brain as a system of "knotted frayed mismatched wires."

Into her teen years, Cassie also received diagnoses of bipolar disorder and OCD. Cassie doesn't cook, instead opting to warm up meals in the microwave instead of the stove (hates being around flames since the nightmare). She routinely takes a bath in almost scorching hot water after masturbating or having sex. Throughout it all, her parents & most of her siblings have been a support system for her- especially her older sister Creusa. She doesn't take it personally when Cassie lashes out at her during her manic episodes & she's usually the one to remind her to take her medication.

Her favorite food is steak and crab legs. She also likes her mom's stifado.

Cassie's favorite musical artist (& god) is Apollo. She used to want to be a priestess at one of his temples. Her favorite album of his is These Blinding Lights, often playing the song "Emergency Contact." It sometimes became a part of some of her depressive episodes- one instance being where she spent a week in bed with the album playing in a continuous loop. Her mother finally managed to bathe her. Some of Cassie's more manic episodes included driving across five states with Helenus just to find a store that sold a particular flavor of ice cream, threatening the house staff with a sword after one of the maids went to the pharmacy to pick up a refill of her medication, & hooking up with a guy while he was driving. She once livestreamed on Fatestagram for almost twelve hours- talking about the most random things.

In her free time, Cassie's gotten into dancing. She and Creusa take hip-hop and interpretive dance classes together & she often posts short clips of her dancing on Fatestagram. She also likes playing video games, watching true crime programs on TV (as well as a docu series on the Titan god Kronos- which she rewatched a dozen times), and she partakes in weed, lotus tiles, & lotus dust from time to time (her family- except Helenus, unaware of that fact).

"Forget The Titanomachy or The Olympian's Rebellion. The war between me and my mind should be in the history books."

[random-imagines-blog]

All the Love {Thranduil x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @queenofmankind​ Wordcount: 3296 Summary:You show up uninvited to a grand affair, hosted by King Thranduil. There’s been some things left unspoken.

No matter how ornate your gown, or how beautifully braided your hair was, attention always went to the necklace that rested between your breasts. Silver, twisted into branches to make a teardrop like shape, framed the four pointed star within. It hung off of a delicate looking chain, but it was one which was extremely hard to break. Throughout your long life, it had never broken once, not even when you were a child and not as careful as perhaps you should have been. It was not only a beautiful piece of jewelry, but it was a sign of your life force. It was realized that if you were ever seen without it, it meant that you had fallen in love. Many elves had tried to have the privilege by courting you, but you remained stubborn and so the necklace had stayed. There was no one you had yet met who you would give your heart, your life to. The keyword in this being yet.

The rain was falling when you reached Mirkwood. You never minded the rain, but nonetheless, it was a relief when you were under the thick canopy of trees rather than out in the open. It was only when you saw the lights floating among the trees that you even realized you had reached your destination. A blonde haired elf approached, his hair as straight as the tree trunks around you. “Welcome, Lady y/n,” He said with a bow of his head. You chuckled, your fingers playing at your bottom lip.

“After all of the playing that we had done while you were a child?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “You should know better than to call me a Lady. We both know I’ve never acted like one.”

“Calling you a mudcrab wouldn’t have been as nice a greeting,” Legolas said with a smile, welcoming you into his arms. He still smelled of the deep forests, you noticed. Your oldest friend had not changed much over the years, though perhaps he had gotten a little more serious. It seems like it had just been yesterday when you had been one of his carers, and walked him through these very woods to help him appreciate nature. It was something that he was born with, but you had helped him to look beyond the trees. To respect the soil as well as the roots, and the birds as well as the leaves.

“Might have gotten a few looks for that, you’re right,” You smiled. You weren’t opposed to getting dirty when you went on your little adventures. It was why he called you mud crab - because you would wander into the lakes and come back looking like some sort of creature. He let go of you, and you let go of him, once the timing was on the verge of being inappropriate. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“He’d want you to be here,” Legolas said, taking you from your guards to lead you to where you would be staying.

“He still has no idea, does he?”

“He might. One of his spies might have already told him that you’re here.” Legolas was, of course, talking about his father. Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. The most noble and regal elf that you had known, except for perhaps Elrond. “He claims to know everything that goes on in here, but we still have some secrets.”

“That’s good. I would hate for him to know what we used to call him,” You whispered the last bit in case there were, indeed, spies about. Legolas smiled, and stopped in front of a archway.

“This will be your room,” He told you, bowing his head as you walked inside. It was a bit dark, but airy. Little fireflies were buzzing their way around, landing on the wooden headboard. Not much had changed in the millenia that you had been away. You could well recognize that it was the same room you used to use.

“Of course,” You said, your guard coming behind you, bearing your things. He started to unpack on your behalf. Gowns came out of your bags and were hung from a thin but strong branch, coming in from the outside. An owl flew in and perched on it, keeping its wide eyes on what was happening. “Where is your father now?”

“There’s a concert in the main hall. The first of many, I expect. I remember the celebrations for his 6000th birthday, and there was a lot to sit through. This year is meant to be more spectacular.”

“Well, it’s not everyday that a King makes it to seven thousand years old, now is it?” You said with a faint smile. You had come for the last large birthday, and the one before that. Back in the days when there was a Queen, Legolas’s mother, before she had passed. You had been a friend of hers from childhood. That was why you were selected to be one of her son’s caregivers after she was gone. You could tell him stories that Thranduil could not, and help him to forge a relationship with his dead mother. “I’ll freshen up and then I’ll go down. See if I can give him a little surprise.”

“I’ll be watching for you,” Legolas said with a grin. He left you and your guards to prepare for the night ahead. The first thing that you did was change out of your traveling attire into a more respectable gown. You chose something in a muted gold, floor length, with a slit in the front to make walking easier. It was a bit low on the chest to show off your necklace, but had long sleeves so it was still modest. With your hair tumbling down, you thought it was most appropriate for the beginning of a long birthday festival. Your guards gazed as you finished getting ready, bringing on a sort of confidence in you. You weren’t one one of the royals, but rather the daughter of a noble and thus you didn’t get much attention. You were only invited to this because of Legolas but - perhaps, you might look like you belong.

“You look beautiful, y/n,” Your closest friend and bodyguard told you, taking a seat on the floor. There would be more than enough protection in the concert hall. He and the few others would stay in your room until you returned, then find lodgings as close as they could be.

“Thank you,” You said with a curtsy. You wished them all a good night, then followed the few stragglers left to the grand hall. It was the sound of the music that guided you more than the elves. It was far from happy, but rather, a tragic sort of song, a longing sound coming from violins. Leave it to Thranduil to be dramatic.

You spotted the King as soon as you walked inside. He was sitting on his throne, hair draped over his shoulders, attention on the band in front of him. Standing to his right was Legolas, with his hands clasped in front of him, playing the part of the Prince. He caught your eye and let go of the facade for a second, sending you a smirk which you returned before standing on the sidelines to watch the band. You nudged yourself in beside Haldir, who smiled at you, and indicated that he was pleased to see you without verbalizing in it. It would be a very bad idea to interrupt the music.

The song came to an end, then something more upbeat started. “Would you like to dance?” Haldir asked, holding out his hand to you.

“I would be delighted,” You said, taking a hold of it. It was not a slow dance, but it was not as if elves were known for jigging the way that other races did. But you gave it a little of your energy, eyes sparkling bright as you did a spin. He was a beloved friend from years ago, but it had been centuries since you had seen him last. It was wonderful to be in his presence once more.

“First, you show up uninvited,” A voice drawled, bringing your attention to a figure standing beside you. You stopped mid-spin, frozen in spot at the stares this brought. “And then you don’t even come and say hello when you do get here. I must say, you are one of the rudest houseguests that I have had in quite some time. And to my birthday, of all occasions.”

“Now now, Thranduil,” You said, letting go of Haldir’s hand so you could give a proper curtsy to the King. You noticed his eyes trail to your cleavage, but stopped at the necklace. It made you feel a little warm. “I wasn’t going to interrupt the experience of such a lovely band. I plan to stay for as long as you will have me, and would have come to you at an appropriate time. And as for being uninvited, I think you should ask your son about that.”

“I think I will,” Thranduil’s eyes flickered to his son who was still standing by the throne. I noticed him look uncomfortable at the glance, and walk to find someone to dance with. Some things never change. “You look well.”

“I am well, thank you,” You said with a smile. Haldir excused himself from his position beside you and went through the throngs of people who were still dancing. Even with the music still playing, some of the elves looked a little antsy for the King’s attention. It was a special celebration in his honor after all. “And you - you haven’t changed at all.”

“Older and wiser, though perhaps those are things that you cannot see,” Thranduil snapped his fingers and the band began playing another tune. One that you recognized as his favorite. You had heard it many times while you worked under him. “Would you care to dance?”

“It would be an honor,” You accepted his hand and fell into a perfect harmony with the King. And an honor it was - he could dance with anybody here. No one would dare to reject him, even if they had wanted to. They were all here for him, and here he was, picking you. The uninvited former nanny. A singer came onto the scene and gave a powerful performance of some passages, which you noticed Thranduil singing to as well under his breath. Where his hand and yours were clasped, you began to feel warm. And where the necklace sat upon your breast, that too was beginning to feel warmer. When the song came to a close, he bowed his head to you, and you curtseyed back to him.

“I’ll be just a few moments,” He said, barely moving his lips as he told this to you. No doubt you were the only one who could hear it, even with the enhanced ears of the others in the room. “I expect you to wait here for me.”

“Years, if I have to,” You risked saying, the tips of your ears growing red. A smug smirk went across Thranduil’s features, and you had just enough time to catch a glimpse of it before he headed back towards his throne to make a speech. He thanked everyone for coming out, he was honored to have them in his home, enjoy yourselves but follow the rules - the same speech he had given last year, you recalled. An elf came to you with a glass of sparkling water, which you accepted and sipped at while watching the display. Thranduil really was a good speaker, keeping eye contact with the adoring crowd throughout. He spoke about how everyone here was vital to his success as a ruler, and you thought - perhaps it was an illusion - that he looked at you as he said those words.

After the speech, the music picked back up, and finger foods started to arrive from the kitchens. You looked at the snacks with a sparkle in your eye but did not venture forth to take anything. You had been told to wait here and thus you would. You were as obedient as a perfect child, you thought, and your heart beat inside of your chest as you thought of what he might want from you. Elves were known for being aloof, nonchalant, emotionless.  Some certainly were, including the King that you were waiting for, while others had more man-like emotions. Like Legolas, who was still discovering his own. You were in the latter sort. You felt, and you felt things strongly, and you weren’t ashamed of that. Standing here, feeling like your heart was going to beat out of your chest - you never felt more alive.

You remained silent as you waited, though a few had asked you to dance. You only shook your head politely and sipped at your water, smiling softly at anyone who tried to get your eye. Thranduil had disappeared briefly, as had his son, but when they reappeared, it was not to the throne but it was to beside you.

“Why don’t you find someone to dance with, Legolas? I do recall that I had Lady y/n here give you lessons as a boy.”

“Yes, I hope you’ve kept up with those lessons,” You said with a mischievous look. Legolas looked a slight bit uncomfortable but he did give you a smile and a nod.

“I am a prince, of course I remember how to dance,” He protested, before going through the crowds to find someone to partner up with. Thranduil lightly touched your arm, the bell sleeves of his cloak almost enveloping it from sight.

“I wish to speak with you alone,” He commanded rather than asked. He turned on his heel and walked out of the grand hall, leaving all of the food and friends alone. You looked over your shoulder to see if anyone was paying attention to you now, but everyone was so excited over the delicacies, you didn’t even get a second glance. So you left as swiftly as the King did - for you knew that it was far easier to do as he said than deal with his temper tantrums. There was a reason that you and Legolas had called him King PrissyPants.

You saw the tail end of his cloak spin around a corner, and so you followed it cautiously until you found yourself by the dungeons. “Are you really this upset that I came uninvited?” You asked, feeling nervous.

He finally turned to look at you, with eyebrows furrowed. Why, it even brought a wrinkle to his otherwise ageless appearance. “Yes,” He started. “Tell me - do you know why I didn’t invite you?”

“I didn’t really think about it much,” You admitted. “I didn’t take it personally, is what I mean. Perhaps because I’m just a former nanny?” You weren’t regretting coming at all - seeing Thranduil and Legolas was worth this grief, but you were starting to think it might not have been the best decision you’ve ever made.

Thranduil took a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. It was really weird seeing him out of sorts like this. “No - that is not why,” He stared at you, hard. You could physically feel it. “It is because I do not plan on getting married ever again because of how heart breaking it was to lose...” He couldn’t even say her name, and you could not blame him. You felt sorrow for him, until you remember how this conversation had come about.

“What has that to do with my being here, Thranduil?” You addressed him by his name, rather than just his title. It felt more personal. This whole conversation felt more personal.

“When I watched you raise my son, it brought something out of my heart that I was never ready to admit to. Even now, I do not wish to say anything out loud. To me, the years since I’ve seen you last were long, but I was ready to move on, to attend to my duties as King. To focus all of my energies on Mirkwood. But then you came along once more, ready to ruin all of that.”

Damn your human-like emotions! You were close to a faint with all of the words that he spoke. Never had anyone come across as so romantic while so angry before. And angry he was - you could see that he blamed you rather than his own heart for these feelings. “I know you have cared for others in your long life, so you are more than capable. But has it really become so foreign to you that it infuriates you? Have you forgotten that love can be such a beautiful thing?”

“I have not forgotten, but neither have I forgotten the feeling of losing it.” Thranduil’s thumb grazed against his lower lip. It took restraint not to kiss him there and then. You weren’t just here for a good party, you were here to see him, and what he was saying - why, they were things you felt when you lived under his canopy centuries ago.

“As a King, I understand that you sometimes must dwell on the shadows for it helps you to find the light once more,” You said, your own hands going to the back of your neck, fiddling with the chain. “The sun always rises again, you know this as well as anyone. So I am going to give you a little something which I hope brings the dawn.”

The necklace fell loose against your chest. You kept hold of the chain, and held it out to Thranduil to take. He did not do so, but regardless, it wrapped it around his wrist with the pendant resting on top. “I’m not sorry that I came back for the celebration. I’m not going to apologize for coming back to you. I think that she would have wanted me to take care of you, as well as Legolas. So take this, and know what it means.”

You patted his hand, leaving the necklace with him, then turned and quickly went back to the party. You couldn’t make eye contact with anyone when you returned, your nerves were buzzing with the possibilities. Thranduil was a King - surely he would not want the heart of someone like you.

“Where is your-?” Legolas asked upon approaching you, but you hushed him, just like you had done when he was a child. You didn’t want any of Thranduil’s subjects hearing what he was going to ask.

“Hush now,” You said, taking his hands and leading him into a dance. “We’ll find out sooner or later, won’t we?”

It was sooner rather than later. Thranduil returned to the party after a few more songs. Around his neck, in a place of high honor, was your necklace. The pendant that meant your life, your love, your being, was close to his heart. He saw you dancing with his son and sent you a rare smirk as he took his seat upon the throne. That alone was enough for now. That was a serious sign that feelings were returned. If he did not return them, the necklace would have been sent discreetly to your room.

“I’m not calling you mother,” Legolas said seriously, once he saw what you had been looking at.

“I wouldn’t expect you too. Mud-crab is always fine by me.”

[whoknowsbud]

Stand Mutation AU

Warning, this is FILLED with body horror! And somewhat loose but present connections to the recent epidemic! Mainly in part 4...

These are mostly just lists of the designs, and this post will only contain parts 3 & 5. There’s a lot more bulk to what was written to part 4, and there’s a lot more angst written, so that’s going to be a separate post.

(Which is now here!)

The idea here is essentially taking the ‘stand sickness’ Holy and Josuke had and twisting it into overdrive. Rather than gaining stands, the infected mutate (often horrifically, but there are some who look almost unaffected) based on their in-canon stands. The uninfected don’t see the full image; the shapes and colors come through, but not completely. The common headlight-style eyes are a big giveaway (until they’re not).

The mutations here will also commonly hinder most functions, especially rational thought. It’s most often temporary as the infected adjusts to the changes of their body. This can take a number of forms, but what happened to the Nijimura brothers is the worst it gets. The term for this for now is going to be ‘fried’.

The infection is only transferred by the arrow, and genetic relation.

Part 3

Holy has flowers growing on her body. Has a way better handle on it than Jotaro; fully present and coherent, the flowers just need to sap a little of her energy to grow big and bright. So, yeah, she's completely fine.

Jotaro ends up this ethereal star man with so much luscious hair, but also partly fried at the start; ends up being essentially like a big dog for a while (acts on base instinct and can’t articulate).

Joseph’s arms become vines. That’s it, that’s all. Vines for arms.

Avdol is pretty much just fused with Magician’s Red. I say ‘just’, but he’s pretty damn rad.

Kakyoin is basically a bunch of wires, wrapped to make a more human shape. Rather than shooting solid energy bursts, he can send energy through the wires.

Polnareff, like Avdol, is also just fused with his Silver Chariot. The armor and sword are still removable.

Iggy is made of sand. Can shapeshift, often takes the form of a wolf, because he can and he wants to.

Hol Horse has a gun for a hand. Yes, that's all.

Gray Fly... tiny man. Beetle sized old man with beetle wings and dagger tongue. Nasty nasty.

Imposter Captain Tenille is a fish-man, simple as that. Basically take Dark Blue Moon and put it in the mans clothes. This makes it obvious that he’s the enemy the moment he comes out, but Anne is still under some suspicion at first.

Forever is just Strength. Green ship with orangutang face.

Devo basically is Ebony Devil. Imagine making a (somewhat crappy) almost life size doll of Devo, and there you go. Rather than needing a grudge to act, he forms his grudge as he fights, making him stronger.

Rubber Soul is just Yellow Temperance; when he went through stand puberty he just pretty much melted.

J. Geil is just Hanged Man; only seen through reflections. Tied a knife to his hand.

Nena is almost the same as canon; she assimilates a beautiful woman to host her real body (which has no skin covering, so here she needs a host, the looks are just preference), and still leaves parasites on victims through her blood.

ZZ's stand mutation is actually his arm. His arm is the car.

Enya… ghost? Still uses fog for the illusions, still does puppet stuff? But then Jotaro would still have to suck her down so NO, THANKS

Steely Dan, the crab man. Can duplicate himself but at NOWHERE near the same rate. Not as effective either. He's about the size of your average 14 year old.

Arabia Fats is just. On fire. Fire man. Human torch. But more fire. Just fire.

Mannish boy appears with a flat, jester-like face, so the group knows to refuse.

Cameo... genie?

Midler is basically herself with High Priestess's power to become any mineral. Still can shapeshift, but its limited.

N’Doul… could be a water man. Sends his hand out so he can stay safely out of most people’s range.

Anubis... is just the same Anubis as canon. It's a sword, what were you expecting?

Mariah is the magnetizer. It happens through contact, and feels like a small static shock. It does not work on normal people, although they do feel the shock.

Alessi has just become a shadow, his own silhouette, that de-ages those it touches like in canon, with the same eyes and manifesting ability, too. Cannot talk.

The D’arby brothers are a terrible amalgamation of the souls they’ve taken.

Pet Shop is... just its stand I think.

Vanilla Ice is another stand/user mix. As uncomfortable as the v o r e is, it seems like the only sensible thing...

Dio is similar to Jotaro. But green & yellow, with more disturbing growths (those... bullet chain suspenders looking things, and the apparent oxygen tanks on the back). He's a bit distorted, rippling in time with the seconds.

Part 5

Haruno becomes a plant creature (Oh you want limbs? Limbs to hold things? Too bad, you get tendrils!), changes his name to Giorno. The human body is still inside, controlling everything. When he’s truly happy, he blooms.

Bruno's body is just zippers. They can all be opened or closed (although if they're all opened he's kind of a mess, and its an awful noise), and what's under them is just a void. He seems to have glowing orbs as eyes, revealed by a single open zipper over where his eyes would be. To resemble a more human form, he has zippers on his head to look like hair. There are a few zippers that hang off his arms and legs almost like fins, and he will whip you with them.

Abbachio is a glitchy creature that looks like someone constantly flipping channels, with a sort of goo coating his body in almost the exact way it does Moody Blues.

Narancia is a ‘cyborg’, fighting logic output to stay ‘human’

Mista basically goes through mitosis, becoming 7 of himself; but it takes time for them to truly separate.

Fugo appears to be normal, but he has this ‘oxygen’ tank & connected mask. The Purple Haze virus is more of a gas here, produced in his lungs, so he has to have a way to contain it when he's around others. Once he starts getting emotional, he sort of melts into a zombie-like form; starts looking like a typical victim of Purple Haze.

(Giorno's able to take in an absurd amount of toxins and pollution and spit out a shit ton of oxygen, so there's much less concern.)

WE RETAIN THE DINOSAUR SPICE GIRL HERE, TRISH IS A STRETCHY & SQUISHY LIZARDWOMAN.

Mr President is a cube, still with the room. He's like a box. A box turtle, you might say.

Polpo is still in prison. His shadow does pretty much everything Black Sabbath does. Permanent poggers face.

Zucchero is a slug. Has spikes on his body that perform Soft Machine’s ability, and they’re barbed to grab the deflated forms.

Sale... maybe he's already dead. Infection stopped his own heart or something. Or hes like.. a landmark. Like Angelo in canon; fully immobile, but sort of immortal. /till you destroy the body I guess...

Formaggio’s size is constantly fluctuating, not always proportionately consistent.

Illuso... doesn't exist outside of mirrors. He can still communicate to those on the other side, and pull them in, but can't leave, himself. He works similarly to Yoshihiro Kira; ig seal the mirror, you seal him.

Prosciutto has so many eyes. Just all over, so so many. Somewhat shriveled up from the waist down.

Pesci has a fishing pole arm I guess...

Melone is some sort of... digital-ish cyborg thing. The Babyface kids are the same though

Ghiaccio is essentially fused with his suit, with the weak spot in the back of his neck frozen over. It’s actually like the mane of a lion, but ice; he can’t turn his head at all, speaking is near impossible, and eating is a struggle as well. The white album fight reveals a lot:

Due to literally being plants, Giorno has to revert back to Haruno or risk serious danger. This is the first time he’s come out; they knew he existed (he was mentioned in passing) but they weren't sure if he was alive or dead. When he can take his plants form again, it’s... kind of horrifying. Roots and vines coming out of his body, wrapping around him...

Risotto is basically a living Metallica colony. Take risotto, make every 5x5 pixels a metallica bean, there you go that’s him.

Squalo... Sharkboy

Tiziano looks fine, but his mouth is all wrong. Tongues like a starfish.

Secco... mud? Mudman?

Cioccolata looks like a zombie, moldy and decomposed an shit.

Diavolo and Doppio are... basically, literally, just King Crimson and Epitaph. They can apparently switch places? Maybe

[seizethecarpe]

Davy Jones’ Locker || Solo

Content warnings: reference to sibling death 

Dave solves a problem in the past and finds a problem in the present.

2008.

 “Sorry Dave. I just can’t make it out there.”

 Dave rubbed his face, staring in frustration at the pixelated skype window. “You heard from Joaquin, then? Didn’t pick up.”

 Mason sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Joaquin’s dead, man. He got fried by an out of control spellcaster six months back. He was trying to help -” The screen froze and the staticy call was too unclear for Dave’s ears without the lipreading “-half the street. It was a mess. What about Selena?”

 “You told me to try her last time and she nearly gutted me like a fish,” Dave replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You sure there’s no one else nearby?”

 “You know I don’t just have a magic connection to every other slayer, right? Guess you’ll just have to call an exorcist for this one, man. Or take on the rusalka twins yourself.”

 Dave nodded curtly, and flashed a sharp smirk at Mason. “Don’t let me keep you from your elder vamp fun. Next time we grab a beer, you’re gonna have to tell me all about this one.” Mason chuckled, but his body looked tired and beaten down, too long on the trail and too little success to keep the heart warm. They threw around a couple more jokes before the internet completely crapped out, and it was only when Skype had frozen half way through disconnecting that he looked down at his list of names, hunters of all stripes and exorcists alike, and drew a thick, crushing line through the last name on the list.

 ----

2021.

 The first time Dave had stood up on the deck of his boat and realised he no longer knew which direction was north, he had fallen right into the water. Knowing his cardinal direction was as natural as knowing to breath, and to lose it, even briefly, had been terrifying. 

 Relying on his GPS to get him back to land for the first time in decades had been even worse, especially when thirty minutes into his journey back to land, he wasn’t anywhere near land. 

 Now, as Dave hauled up a net heavy with squirming fish onto the deck, he didn’t even try to work it out from the stars or skies above. He reached for something he’d once been sure he’d never touch again. 

 It was, apparently, Adam Walker’s compass that was destined to guide him home. 

 ----

2008. 

 As Dave marched to the water, they were waiting. Two women, red hair entangled with algae, their band camp t-shirts clinging to their frames. One of them had a deep bend in her neck where it had snapped, the other had eternally bleeding fingers, torn up by the dirt she’d tried to climb out of. They stared at him expectantly, like old friends. Their pale eyes bored into his, asking, ‘Think you can do better this time?’

 Dave touched his side tenderly, wincing at the taped up rib there. He didn’t. He could only see himself doing worse. They stared at him anyway, and he stared back, walking right up to the water’s edge. It was only when his quarry screamed and tried to run that Dave looked away from them at all, and he threw the man - barely past boyhood - onto his knees, where the water lapped at his legs. The violent movement dislodged his gag. “I didn’t mean to! Janice!” The young man begged, struggling to try to stand up with his bound wrists and slipping in the mud instead. “If I knew what was going to happen, what would happen to Sarah, I would have stopped - Sarah, I didn’t know! It was just a prank! I’ve changed since then, I have a family! Please-”

 The two women, two ghosts, stared at him impassively. Dave stared at them, waiting for something, anything. They weren’t lacking in eagerness, these Rusalka. A dozen dead in a year. Families torn apart, lives destroyed, a village that would never be the same. They stood there, regarding Eric Jackson in their water, but yet, they did nothing. Dave looked at them, remembering the stories told to him while he cracked open crabs to eat as a child. His shoulders fell. 

 “Haven’t I done enough?”

 ------

2021.

 The compass, which pointed to one’s home, did not, as Dave had thought, pointed to Texas. The first time, Dave had reasoned the if it was pointing north to Texas, then he could work out the angle to White Crest from there. It wasn’t until Dave had made land on the edge of Canada when he realised how far wrong he was. 

 The compass pointed to something in White Crest. Over and over, it lead him back to the rocky shores near the docks, so that he could bring it back to be tied up. Over and over, as the jetties grew closer, Dave toyed with following it all the way to wherever it led. He thought about it over and over. Tried to imagine what his home was in White Crest. A grave, a bar, a tiny crop of rocks that caught the perfect amount of sun for lakeside fishing? 

 Each time, by the time his boat was moored, his courage had left him and the compas was tucked away out of sight. He thought about it as little as he did his new feathery scar on his face. Which was to say, all the time, but only in a superficial way. Cowardice had become a coat as comforting as his pelt, and that was just as true today, as he turned to walk along the coastline instead. 

 He walked until he caught the scent of death, rancid in his nose, and hurried towards it instinctively. Tucked behind a rock lay the pale corpse of a young man, drenched with water but not yet bloating.

 ----

2008.

He watched them the entire time. They watched him, slowly walking closer, their dead eyes piercing right through his soul. The thrashing stopped, then the breathing, and at long last, Dave felt the last tiny vibration of Eric’s heartbeat against his skin. The rusalka stood right before him, and despite their last altercation, he did not flinch. Their hairs dried and shimmered as if freshly washed, their clothes found form again and lost their green sheen, and both women’s eyes returned to a rich hazelnut brown as warm colour flushed their cheeks. For the slightest second, they felt alive. 

 “We have our justice. Goodbye, sealskin.” She said, as their bodies turned to mist, finally at peace. Dave looked down at the fresh corpse bobbing against his knee, blood still seeping from the bite in its shoulder. Whoever Janice and Sarah had been in life, their unearthly remains hadn’t deserved their justice, nor their peace. He turned away from the body and the water, his arms trembling with exertion as he waded out. 

 One life to prevent a bloodbath. Dave wasn’t sure the math made it worth it.

 -------

2021.

 Dave rolled over the body carefully, gently wiping seaweed from the young man’s face. Blue lips spilled water between them. The body’s fingers were scraped up and bleeding, grazes covered his forearms. Drowning had been a struggle, right up to the end. His shirt was askew, so Dave tugged it down to offer the man some decency as he called the hotline to report his morbid find. He touched his pocket absently

 Peeling away more seaweed away from the body, Dave paused at the ankle. A deep bite had torn into the man’s leg. Not the bite of something looking to eat, but a killing bite all the same. Dave leant down and sniffed the wound closely.  Wet dog. Something mammalian had done this. Hell, if Dave was a betting man, there’d be money on it being a someone. 

 “What the hell did you do to make someone drown you?” He asked it, pulling out his phone to take a picture, in case he could use it later. The corpse, like most, didn’t answer.

[wildshq]

                                Storm’s over. It’s a new day.

The girls successfully rode out the storm in the cave. Thanks to the game of WNRS they played, they’ve come out knowing and understanding more about each other. Here’s to hoping this means they can get through another day of tasks without any issues arising. (Fingers crossed.)

Thanks to the storm, trees were shaken and new things have washed up. The Food and Inventory girls have come across all sorts of new finds on the beach and in the jungle.

12x coconuts — Food Team (Erin, Halima, Bev, Elise)

8x ripe mangoes — Food Team (Erin, Halima, Bev, Elise)

3x unripe mangoes — Food Team (Erin, Halima, Bev, Elise)

1x bag of Herr’s Salt & Vinegar chips — found by Izzy on the shore

9x crabs — collected by Cherry and Alexa on the shore

1x bag’s worth of calms — collected by Inventory Team on the shore

1x can of Coke Zero — found by Margo on the shore

1x mini bottle of Bombay Sapphire — found by Izzy on the shore

Providing Grace with the excuse of “going to find more branches”, Shane and Jenny hurried to the jungle with the intention of heading to the cave for some ‘private time’. On their way there, they happened to run into the Food and Water groups who appeared to be on their way back to camp but were frozen in place. With a simple turn of their heads, they understood why the others were stunned.

Before their very eyes stood 8 boys, looking worse for wear and covered in mud, some carrying spears (one of them with an axe!) and several others sporting nasty injuries.

The vibes I’m going for is this:

The groups look at each other. No one speaks but it wouldn’t take a genius to guess the question on their minds as they stare at each other in a palpable amount of awe:

                                              What the fuck?

So to recap: here are the first bunch to meet the boys! The rest will meet them if the boys are brought back to the beach where the rest of the girls are waiting for the others to return for lunch. So, boys: make a good case that you’re not scary natives, and girls: breathe.

For a more fast-paced and real-time experience, we will be using Discord again! Under the IN-CHARACTER category, you’ll find a new channel entitled #plotdrop-day13 where you can post in character. To post in character, you’ll first have to register your character through Tupper. You can find a tutorial for that HERE and you can register your character and test out Tupper in the #bots channel under the IGNORE-THIS category.