#I need to keep him in a glass bowl like a goldfish

[sixteenthtry]

Can't even look at tbp Gerard because this bitch's face makes me wanna CRY. FUCK.

[mousequill]

My thoughts/head cannons on Velvet and Veneer

On Veneer: I personally believe that Veneer’s sympathy stems from his goldfish he used to have. Here’s how I think it went down. Veneer, like any other little kid, probably begged his parents for a pet dog or something but his parents thought that was too much responsibility so they gave him a fish instead. Veneer might have been bitter about this, because c’mon now, that’s a boring fish and Veneer probably wanted his pet to be more entertaining (referring to his pet monkey). So he might have halfheartedly taken care of it and slowly over time he might have even grown a small bond with it but again, Veneer is a little kid and I doubt he did any research on how to properly take care of a fish (the fish probably lived in a small glass bowl with no enrichment) and of course, the fish dies despite Veneer now giving it slightly more attention. This makes Veneer guilty of course but he moves on because in the end of the day, it’s just a fish. Then much later on Floyd comes along, not in a glass bowl but similar, and this time his new ‘pet’ can actually talk to him. I personally see it as Veneer viewing Floyd as something akin to an entertaining talking hamster or something or the sort. So forming a bond with Floyd becomes a lot easier than his fish. And then Floyd begins to lose his color (much like how fish do when close to dying) and that same guilt begins to creep up on him, because internally wether he realizes or not, he sees his goldfish in Floyd, leading to him eventually helping out Floyd.

Tldr: Veneer feels guilty about killing his pet goldfish so he makes up for it by helping Floyd.

On Velvet: People need to stop making her out to be this sadistic abusive monster. She’s literally just a bratty teen diva, and arguably, also suffering from addiction from not only the fame going to her head but also actual addiction lowkey. Like, I can’t be the only one that noticed how agitated and on edge she sounded before giving herself a few doses of essence and her voice immediately going soft and relaxed. Additionally, just because she’s the stronger voice out of the two twins doesn’t mean she’s abusive to Veneer, y’all need to chill with that. Speaking of loud voices, I’m also seeing the theory that Veneer actually has talent but acts like he doesn’t to keep his sister happy, and like, I get it, considering his speaking va and his singing va are the same and he doesn’t dose himself as much as Velvet, but I think that’s simply because he doesn’t NEED his voice to be as strong as Velvet’s, he’s just the backing vocals, so of course he’s not gonna dose himself as much as her. Lastly, Velvet is a good sister to Veneer and I say this on the basis that Velvet was happy to perform with her brother at all times. She could have done a solo career and hogged all the fame and glory for herself but she didn’t. The fact that Veneer actually sassed Velvet back in two scenes (“Our parents were dentists 🙄” “Why do I have to do it 🤨” tells me that he’s not afraid of to talk back to her like some of you are making him seem out to be). Velvet loves her brother obviously, but being famous, being remembered forever, that was her DREAM, not Veneer’s, so of course she went a little aggressive with it towards the end.

Tldr: Velvet is actually a good sister and a normal teen girl acting her age.

[kazcreates]

Simple Solutions

Summary: A glimpse into a soft morning in the Rietveld-Fahey-Ghafa household, and a show of how partners complete each other.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54864406

“Damn it!” Kaz shouted, loud enough to startle his partners who were lounging in the living room. 

Before Jesper and Wylan could challenge each other to Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who was to get up, Inej slipped from the nest of blankets that she and her partners had bundled together on the couch. Her feather-light footsteps made no sound, and yet she knew Kaz could sense her presence as she slipped into the kitchen.

He was leaning over the counter, propped up on his elbows, his face in his hands. She worried for a moment that he might have hurt himself, then she saw it.

Small droplets of waffle batter surrounded the large red bowl that Kaz had been using to mix it all up in. Inside said bowl, half-submerged in sticky batter, were Kaz’s glasses.

His eyesight had been getting worse over the years, too many knocks to the head during countless brawls and jobs gone sideways. It had taken quite a bit of convincing before they finally got him to visit the optometrist and had gone home with a pair of corrective lenses set in thin black frames.

“Damned things keep falling off and now look,” Kaz grumbled, rubbing his face roughly with the palms of his hands. He glared at the batter-caked glasses as Inej plucked them out of the bowl. One of the most feared men in half the countries in the world, at war with a pair of spectacles.

Inej couldn’t fight the smile that pulled at her lips. 

“Don’t laugh,” Kaz whined, burying his face in his hands again. There was no commanding in his voice, this wasn’t the feared Dirtyhands giving an order. This was an embarrassed Kaz Rietveld begging his wife not to make fun of him. “It’s bad enough that we missed Jesper’s birthday because of my surgery. I just wanted to make a nice breakfast for all of us.”

“Breakfast isn’t ruined, you know,” Inej chided him gently. She reached for the towel which hung on the stove handle, and dampened it beneath the faucet.

“And if I may, it’s not your fault we missed my birthday. I have the memory of a goldfish,” Jesper piped up, moving from the doorway and moving up behind Kaz, snaking his arms around his waist. “I’m not holding it against any of you. Especially not you. You needed that surgery.”

“My leg has been messed up for 13 years, it could’ve waited another day,” Kaz said, his voice low and gravelly with contentment, as Jesper nuzzled his head into Kaz’s shoulder.

“Speaking of which, have you had your medication?” Wylan called from the living room.

“If you’re going to eavesdrop, my dear merchling, you may as well join us!” Jesper called back, clasping a hand over Kaz’s ear as not to yell directly into it. 

“If you insist,” Wylan sighed dramatically, sweeping into the kitchen with a blanket wrapped snugly around his shoulders. He’d picked up on Jesper’s theatrics over the years.

“How is your leg doing, Kaz?” Inej asked, giving the glasses a final wipe with the rag. 

“It doesn’t hurt so bad this morning. In fact, I think this is the best it’s felt in months,” Kaz admitted, melting a little as Jesper pressed kisses to the side of his neck.

“I’m glad,” Wylan said, folding his blanket over the back of one of the chairs at the dining table. He rolled up his sleeves and went about finishing the breakfast that Kaz had started, hushing him when he began to protest.

“You should probably get off your feet either way, darling,” Jesper said, and, without warning, swept Kaz off of his feet, narrowing avoiding knocking into Inej. 

Kaz rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything more. He was getting better at allowing himself to be taken care of. And with all of the progress that he’d made in touch over the past decade, he had no objections with being as close to his partners as he could get.

Jesper set him down carefully in one of the dining chairs, and then stepped back, like an artist admiring his work. “Hmm… something’s missing,” he said, tapping a finger against his chin. “Ah! Inej, give me those glasses.”

Inej handed over the freshly cleaned glasses.

Jesper took them carefully, and placed his hands over the hinges. The screws tightened, making the arms more rigid. Then he ran his hands along the plastic, molding it beneath his fingers. When he was finished, he set them gently against Kaz’s nose, tucking the arms over his ears. 

“There. Perfection,” Jesper grinned, placing a kiss against Kaz’s forehead, before ruffling his hair just to annoy him.

“It’s getting long,” Inej noted, twirling a strand of Kaz’s hair so that it stood almost directly up on his head. 

He pressed it back down against his head. She was right though. The sides had grown out enough to curl around his ears, and the top was long enough to fall into his eyes if he didn’t brush it back. He hadn’t ever let it get this long since he was a child.

“You’re starting to look like a farm boy again,” Jesper teased. “It’s a good look on you.”

Kaz shook his head, but he was smiling.

These were the moments that had made ever moment of pain and agony worth it. Healing had been a hell of a process, and he wasn’t near finished with it. But he’s grown a lot since he was seventeen. He hoped to grow some more, with his Crows right by his side. 

Wylan set the first plate of waffles down on the table in front of him. 

“Candles?” Kaz asked, trying to focus on speech as Inej braided the longer strands of his hair. 

“Gasp, birthday waffles? You shouldn’t have,” Jesper again with the theatrics. He fetched the candles from a drawer and placed them into the fluffy center of the stack of waffles.

An off-key rendition of happy birthday began and ended in a fit of laughter. 

The Rietveld home full of love and life once again.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Misaki, would you love me if I were a platypus? Yata: yes. Fushimi: ok, could you come and pick me up? Here is the address. Yata: can’t you come yourself? Fushimi: yes, I definitely love you not for your intelligence. How can I get to you in the body of a platypus? Yata: SO IT WAS NOT A QUESTION OUT OF INTEREST, IN THE “WOULD I LOVE YOU IF YOU WERE A WORM” STYLE? Fushimi: so are you coming? (The story of how ask whether "Yata would love Fushimi if he *insert word*" became a reality for a week.)

Yata isn’t aware of the normal day to day workings of S4, so it’s not until he and Fushimi start dating that he learns that ‘would you love me if I was an [X]’ is not a hypothetical for the members of S4, it’s a warning. Yata doesn’t really think about it when Fushimi asks him one day if Yata would love him if he was a platypus, Yata actually isn’t even entirely up on what a platypus is but sure, he’d love Fushimi anyway. What he doesn’t know is that S4 is hunting the Turns People Into Platypi Strain and Fushimi figured there were even odds of this scenario occurring. Yata assumes Fushimi is playing around when he texts Yata later and says he needs Yata to come get him, since Yata did promise to love him even if he was a platypus. Yata’s like ‘what does that have to do with anything’ and receives in response a picture of a very gloomy looking platypus with glasses on. Yata suddenly realizes he needs to stop at the library on his way to pick Fushimi up, because he knows absolutely nothing about how you care for a platypus. 

This is of course not the last time this happens, and Yata now has reason to be wary if Fushimi asks him about certain animals. Yata does love Saruhiko but can you please be careful chasing after the Turns People Into Tarantulas Strain because tarantulas are kinda creepy (but Yata will definitely still love him as a tarantula! He just would rather not have to). Loving Fushimi as a goldfish is difficult because Yata always killed his goldfish as a kid and he spends several days terrified that Fushimi will go belly up at any time, luckily Kusanagi has aquariums at the bar and provides Yata with the proper setup so Goldfish Fushimi doesn’t have to swim around a tiny bowl. Loving Fushimi as a boa constrictor is also different because Fushimi normally isn’t this interested in hugging him and Yata has to keep verifying that this is you right Saruhiko. Loving Fushimi as a teacup poodle is thankfully pretty easy except when Yata accidentally stepped on his tail and immediately had his ankles bitten. Loving Fushimi as a tropical parrot would be easier if Fushimi didn’t just keep squawking ‘Idiot! Virgin!’ loudly all day long. Yata is almost thankful for Worm Fushimi after that, who just chills in the little pot of dirt Yata set up for him, waiting to change back to normal.

[kenkaodoll]

Kamiya Dojo Monogatari Tale 69 (JUMP SQ 23/10)

About Kamiya Dojo Monogatari: Tales of Kamiya dojo is written by Kaoru Kurosaki and published along with the “Rurouni Kenshin Hokkaido” arc in JUMPSQ. The tale involves the Rurouni Kenshin character in daily life that takes time between Kenshin and Kaoru marriage until the epilogue chapter in the original manga before the Hokkaido Arc. Until this month (September 2023) there are a total 69 chapters in Tales of Kamiya dojo. This is an unofficial translation. 

Previous Story: https://www.tumblr.com/kenkaodoll/726821717591408640/kamiya-dojo-monogatari-tale-68-jump-sq-2309

“Oh damn, it looks like they’re looking for us,” Mikio whispered to the woman and looked for a place to escape, being very careful not to be suspicious.

“Goldfish…! Goldfish…!”

At the right moment, a goldfish merchant arrived.

He carried goldfish in two buckets slung over his shoulder and sold them on foot. It was the early-summer style. 

“Hey, please show me!” Mikio looked into the bucket.

In this way, they would naturally look down and not show their faces to Kenshin without acting suspicious.

“Hey you, wait a minute. I had enough to keep a pet.”

“It’s not. I'm just trying to do something until they pass by,” he whispered and sneaked around.

“Oh, goldfish! Hey, Kenshin, would you like to take a look?” Kaoru asked Kenshin.

“We need to ask around for information now.”

“Then let’s go talk to the goldfish seller!”

“Oro…”

Kenshin and Kaoru walked straight towards Mikio, although he was not even an expert, Mikio could know their arrival while he was staring at a goldfish. 

They might find him like this. Mikio sweated and gazed at the goldfish, trying not to make eye contact with Kenshin, who would be coming.

“Hey, look, look. Look at this cute little goldfish,” Kaoru pointed at a round goldfish without a dorsal fin, and her voice was a little flirtatious. Fortunately, Kaoru and Kenshin were looking at a different goldfish from the one Mikio was staring at out of the two buckets.

“Oh, this must be a *Ranchū,” Kenshin said.

“What are you talking about? This is a goldfish called *Marukko.”

“Well, I remember the proprietress of the inn where I used to stay told me that a goldfish similar to this one was called a Ranchū,” Kenshin shook his head.

“Aah.. this young lady must be born in Edo (Tokyo) and this mister must be born in another part of the country,” the goldfish merchant guessed right, just like a great detective.

“Eh, how did you know?” Kaoru asked in surprise.

“Marukko is what Ranchū is called in Edo,” the merchant explained.

“Sometimes there are things that are called differently in different regions, I didn't realize that the goldfish have such different name too, that it is”

“It’s really interesting, right? The miso tasted different in the west and east regions, and the language is different. Isn’t it wonderful that with the development of transportation in the Meiji era, we can experience these differences so close to home in Tokyo?”

“Is that what we do, right?”

“Yes, it’s very wonderful. I hope that in the future, we will be able to feel more familiar with more things from far away.”

Kaoru looked at the goldfish. Her eyes were sparkling with the light reflected in the water of the bucket. Kenshin felt like she was really looking into the future. 

“So, what do you want to do? Do you want to take the round fish home with you?”

The goldfish vendor poked at a hanging glass container he brought.

It was a goldfish ball, put the goldfish in this small glass container and take it home.

“This goldfish ball is not only used for bringing the fish to your home, they are also beautiful when hung on the eaves of the house after you return home.”

“They are really beautiful, aren't they? The goldfish balls shine in the sunlight. But it is also nice to keep them in a bowl and look at them from above.”

“Ah, young lady! You know what I mean,” the goldfish seller smiled.

My late grandfather was an ink painter. He was a person who loved elegant style. He used to draw goldfish paintings when he was alive.”

“Oh, that's really cool, isn't it?”

Mikio, who had been listening intently to the conversation, thought, "Now!".

Then he pulled on his woman’s sleeve and sneaked away from the goldfish merchant bucket. She was interested in the goldfish, but not today.

Kenshin and Kaoru was still looking at the goldfish,

“Hmmm… But I wonder if it would be a good idea to bring home a goldfish right after the rabbit fiasco,” Kaoru seriously considered taking a goldfish.

“The rabbit fiasco? Young lady, could it be related to Akabeko? The rabbit incident was very serious, wasn't it?” The merchant responded.

“Oh, you mean related? Well… yes we are,” Kaoru answered curtly.

“Did you see or hear anything about someone bringing rabbits into Akabeko?” Kenshin started to inquire about their original purpose.

“No,” the merchant answered. “I carry my goldfish bucket on my shoulder only when I see a lot of people walking by. The rabbit was brought to Akabeko in the morning, right? I wasn't around at that time.”

“You don't know anything?”

“Only that there were a lot of rabbits in the store.”

“Is that so?”

“Hmm. Too bad.”

The merchant didn’t know anything, then Kenshin asked Kaoru,

“How about the goldfish then, should we keep it?”

They had to decide whether to keep a goldfish or not.

“Hmmm… I like goldfish, but Kenji puts everything in his mouth right away.” Kaoru was a little dismayed, remembering Kenji almost putting rabbit poop in his mouth.

“Wouldn't it be better to wait until Kenji is older and more sensible?”

“Sure, I agree with you. I'm sorry, mister goldfish seller, that we have bothered you for so long.”

“No, no, no, it's fine. It's better than having a deserted shop. When customers stop by like this, it makes it easier for other customers to stop by.”

Then a customer called out to the goldfish merchant right after his words as proof of it.

“Mister, I want two goldfish, a red one and a black one.”

“My pleasure!”

With their cheerful voices behind, they left the goldfish merchant.

・

Mikio endured the tension, he was breaking out in cold sweat, and slowly back off from the goldfish merchant, couldn’t help being unnatural. 

He needed to make a gap while Kenshin and Kaoru were talking to the goldfish merchant, but he could not run or rush. He must act like an ordinary passerby.

Slowly and gently.

Slowly.... But then....

“I'm sorry! I'd like to ask you a few questions.”

He was too good at pretending to be a passerby, and Kaoru called out to him.

Mikio cringed and his head spun fast, trying to figure out how he could get away with it.

“Let me see…”

He looked around and saw a man with something like a rental library. He carried a wooden rack with a shoulder strap and put a stack of books inside. He was just about to pass by Mikio. 

This is it! he thought.

Mikio pretended to stumble over a hair to his right and slammed himself into the book-lender man!

“Oops!"

The rental library was hit and flipped over, scattering books all over the street.

“Ah! Stop it! What are you doing?”

“Oh, I stumbled. My bad.”

“Oh, no. I was careless too.”

The book lender bowed his head, even though he had done nothing wrong.

“Mister, I’m really sorry”

The woman picked up the books scattered on the street, apologizing for Mikio's carelessness.

“Oh, my God!”

“Oro!”

Both Kenshin and Kaoru helped her pick up the fallen books which were for loan.

“Oh, this is Jules Verne's "Around the World in Eighty Days!” Kaoru shouted happily.

“Miss, you have a good eye. It's a science fiction novel that's currently popular in the world. Would you like to borrow it?" The book-lender spoke to Kaoru as he picked up the book.

“Ah, it was so popular that by the time I really wanted to read the book, all the rental books didn’t have it because it was out on loan. I ended up buying it at a bookstore in Nihonbashi.

“I see… You like to read.”

“Yes, I love to read.”

“How about Samuel Smiles' "The History of Western Country" (English title : Self Help)*?” It is a book that describes the success stories of great people who have succeeded in the Western countries. Fantasy novels are good, but success stories of real people are interesting and informative.”

Success story. I hear it's interesting!"

Kenshin looked at the book.

“Ah, that's the famous book, "Heaven Help Those Who Help Themselves," isn't it?”

“Yes, it is! Yes! Since its translation came out about ten years ago, it has been very popular.”

Kenshin, Kaoru, and the book-lender are excitedly talking about the "Self Help" book.

Mikio glanced at them while hiding his face behind Takizawa Bakin's "Chinsetsu Yumiharizuki," and gently put the book back in the wooden rack, then quietly, but not unnaturally, left that place and then hid in the shadow of the dango stall.

And.

“Hey, Kenshin. Do you want to eat Dango?” Kaoru asked.

Mikio was stumped again, cold sweat pouring down his face, then he left the dango stall before Kenshin and Kaoru could get close enough to him. He thought he would escape while the two were eating dango.

“But I feel bad eating dango when Kenji and the others are waiting for us at home. Let's do it again next time when we all come together,” Kaoru said in a cheerful voice and it turned out that they did not stop by the dango stall shop where Mikio had just left.

What the hell, damn it.

Mikio cursed in his mind and tried to hide behind the wind chime shop.

“Hey, look, Kenshin! A wind chime! I think I'll buy it as a souvenir and take it home. If I hang it high, Kenji won't mess with it, it's beautiful, and it has a nice tone.”

Mikio became increasingly irritated.

This stupid couple! How long will you keep following me around?

He wanted to yell at them, but he held himself which was unusual for Mikio.

・

Meanwhile at the police station, Chief Uramura was so enchanted by the fluffy rabbit that he forgot his duties and patted the rabbit all over the place.

Notes:

Ranchū : A type of goldfish with round head

Marukko : How Ranchū was called in Edo (Tokyo area), literal meaning: round child. 

Book-lender: a man who goes around and lends books to people in town, he brings the books on a wooden rack on his shoulder. (If you wonder how he is look, Hannya in episode 10 of anime remake is disguised as a book-lender)

Jules Verne : French author, his work ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ was first translated into Japanese in 1878. Kaoru asked Kenshin to buy the book referring to chapter 32.

Samuel Smiles was a British author and government reformer. His work ‘Self Help’ was introduded as ‘Heaven Help Those Who Help Themselves’ in 1859, （天は自ら助くる者を助く), then it was translated as ‘The History of Western Country’ (西国立志編) in year 1867 by Nakamura Masao, who studied in UK. In 1871 it was first published in Japan.

Takizawa Bakin a.k.a. Kyokutei Bakin, was a Japanese novelist of the Edo period. Born Takizawa Okikuni, he wrote under the pen name Kyokutei Bakin. Later in life he took the pen name Toku. Modern scholarship generally refers to him as Kyokutei Bakin, or just as Bakin.

Ps: Kurosaki-sensei wants to give us the view of the lively street at Asakusa, in the remake anime at the episode 2 shows us a good deal how the town and the merchant looks like in the street. 

.…..to be continued in chapter 70……  https://www.tumblr.com/kenkaodoll/731981457127604224/kamiya-dojo-monogatari-tale-70-jump-sq-2311

TLnote(1): translating Japanese is so hard because the sentence structure is very different compared with English. Also the style of writing is different, plus there’s a lot of figurative, poetic language and things that don't make sense if it’s directly translated into english. So forgive me if this is very weird to read, and please tell me if you want to give corrections. 

TLnote(2) I will provide the original Japanese text for correction if any of you who read have better knowledge of the Japanese language. Just dm and I’ll send the file.

TLnote(3) Dtninja had translated some earlier chapters on his website. You can go and check on there

Read the rest of the story here: https://www.tumblr.com/kenkaodoll/686193523858538496/rurouni-kenshin-tales-of-kamiya-dojo?source=share

[tauntthetaintedlove]

Hi!! Could you possibly write about Danny Wagner being all soft with the reader when they’ve had a bad day? The reader doesn’t want to show that they’ve had a bad day but Danny can always tell and it’s just fluffy??

My Love - Danny Wagner

WARNINGS: None really

Word Count:

A/N: This was an absolutely adorable idea, I hope you like it. Glad to be back and Send Asks!

------------------------------------

"So what happened?" Danny says slumping his arms over the back of your shoulders. "What do you mean?" How the hell did he know, ever since you came home you've been trying to keep it not so obvious. Today was not an easy day, it started off great, walking up next to your boyfriend and having breakfast together, it was shocking enough that he was even here, a small break in tour made just the perfect time for you to fulfill your missed opportunities while he was gone. But today you still had to work, and god damn was it not easy. Your co worker was being a bitch, and didn't do what they were supposed to so you had to do it, not to mention the fact that you got totally rained out so an outdoor event you and Danny were gonna go to tonight got canceled. But you didn't wanna spoil his time so you kept quiet. "Baby you're a sheet of glass, I can see right through you. Are you upset that we were able to go to the winery tonight?" He says gently playing with your hair. "I mean a little but not really. Mostly just my co worker today was a total douche. Nothing to really worry about." You say looking up at him. Spinning you around and placing a kiss on your cheek he looks at you "well it may not be something to worry about to you, but I'm gonna do something about it." And after those words he walks off, thus leading you to follow him. Walking into the kitchen he looks in the fridge and grabs a nice pinot noir he shipped from France before he left. He looks over at you and just stares, stares til it gets uncomfortable. "Why are you staring at me?" You finally ask. "Go sit in the room for now, this is a surprise." He says ushering you back into your bedroom.

About 30 minutes later he calls you to the couch, there you see an array of items sprawled around the table and a smiling Danny peering up at you. "Movie night, see we got Wine, food, and my attempt at a charcuterie board." He chuckles at the end. Looking closer you see grill cheeses, glasses of wine and the bottle sitting in the center if the table, the looking over to the odd attempt of a charcuterie board. Filled with miscellaneous fruits, a small bowls of goldfish, gummy worms, and m&ms, and a nice display of pizza rolls sitting on a plate. You giggle a little and sit next to him, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. "See we don't need to go out to have a special night love, now what are we gonna watch?" You end up watching a random show of your choice and cuddling up together. Finally at the end of the night, eyes weary, and muscles tired, it finally time to clean up. After a lazy clean up, mostly just leaving all the dishes for tomorrow, you lay down together in bed, your head to his heart, and lightly drifting off. "thank you."

"Anything for you my love"

[shotgunningtheuniverse]

Thank you @terra1ncognita your mild fluff shot, jealousy style, garnished with established relationship, served with a domestic family dynamic right here. Enjoy!

-

“George, help me with my math homework. Please!” Dream heard his younger sister whine from the living room.

“Yeah sure, what do you need help with?” Dream heard his boyfriend asked. George. He wanted to see George. Maybe he’d drop by the kitchen.

Walking down the hall Dream headed into the living room. Looking at his sibling and his boyfriend sitting at the bar that separate the kitchen and the living room. A piece of paper in front of his sister.

Dream walked into the kitchen taking a bowl and three glasses down. Filling the glasses with orange juice and the bowl with goldfish he slid the bowl and two glasses over. Taking his own glass and heading back upstairs. Not thinking much of it.

-

So that moment in the kitchen might’ve been the start. Of his cat, his mom, his dad, his sister, stealing his boyfriend.

Whenever they were over, which was often. George was always talking with one of them. Chatting with his sister about ideas and chaotic things. His mother about life and things they’d seen. His father about stories about Dream, the more technicalities of life.

And then Patches. Who loved snuggling with George, sitting in his lap, grabbing his attention away.

Unfortunately this left little time alone with Dream. Well there was plenty time alone to most. But to Dream who was used to having George’s attention 24/7. He didn’t particularly like it.

So he decided to actually talk about it with George.

“So, what did you need?” George asked, looking at Dream from beside him on the couch.

Dream glanced down at his hands awkwardly not sure how to start, “you know how my family comes over a lot to see us. And stuff?”

George tilted his head confused but nodded nonetheless, “yeah?”

“It’s kinda stupid now that I-”

“Dream your feelings aren’t stupid, keep going.” George cut in, cutting off Dream’s to be ramble of making himself shut and down and invalidating his own feelings.

“Yeah sorry, uh. I don’t know. You spend like a lot of time with them when their here. And you kinda spend less time with me?” Dream finished weakly.

“Are you jealous baby?” George asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Dream looked embarrassed, “may, be?”

“It’s okay, it’s fine. I’ll include you more in the discussion and stuff. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

Dream visibly relaxed. “Thank you George, your the best.”

“I try.”

-

Dream hovered by the doorway watching George talk with his mom. Just watching. George glanced up, spotting him. “Dream!” He said cheerfully, “com’re love. We were just talking about that bird we saw yesterday. The one we couldn’t figure out the name of?”

Walking over Dream smiled, “oh yeah that one. I remember that.”

[hermannsthumb]

possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

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Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

[inkoutsidethelines]

Just a little moment of Owen and Mary dealing with some of the practicalities of deciding they’re getting married.

Owen belongs to @universalfanfic

Link to fic on AO3

Late March, Year 3

There were, Mary and Owen were discovering, certain practical issues they needed to address now that they were engaged.  Especially given how short their engagement was going to be; five months, they’d soon realized, wasn’t nearly as long as it had seemed when they’d picked their August wedding date.

To that end, they were having a date night in at Mary’s apartment to talk about finances.  It was a topic they’d never broached yet, though Mary had her suspicions about how much Owen had to make to afford his apartment. Definitely he had more money than her, though she didn’t think she was in too bad a shape.  She didn’t own a car, so no payment there to worry about, the Army had paid for her associate’s degree, so no school loans, and one credit card she was careful to pay off at the end of every month.  She wasn’t bringing a large net worth to the table, but she wasn’t bringing a bunch of debt either, so Mary considered that a win.

But money talk could be awkward, so Mary was doing her best to counter that from the get go.  To that end, she set out juice boxes, a bowl of goldfish, and tray of pizza bagels.  A little silliness, to hopefully prevent any tensions.

Blue sparked in the living room as Owen teleported in.  Mary flashed a smile his way.  “Perfect timing! I just got the pizza bagels out the oven.”

His mouth tipped up in a smile as he glanced over the food she’d put out.  “I’m impressed you used the oven for them.”

Mary wrinkled her nose. “It takes longer, but unfortunately you were right that it cooks them better than the microwave.”

Owen pressed a quick kiss to her lips before sitting in a chair.  He set the folder he’d brought on the table before filling a plate with goldfish and pizza bagels and snagging a juice box.  Mary fixed her own plate, glancing at the folder as she did.  It’s not weird, she firmly told herself.  We’re about to get married.  Sharing financial information isn’t weird.

Okay, no, it felt a little weird.  But she’d get used to it.  And since there was no avoiding the awkwardness, she might as well jump into it.

She washed down a bite of her pizza bagel with her juice box then said, “Right, so I guess we should get into it.”

Mary pushed her own papers towards Owen; bank statements, retirement funds, and her monthly budget. The folder Owen had brought was a bit thicker than Mary’s stack of paperwork, and she wondered for a moment what he might have that she didn’t.  Really hope he doesn’t have a bunch of loans to pay off.  Not that debt would stop Mary from marrying him, but she still didn’t want to deal with that.

She opened the folder and skimmed through the first page.  Stopped. Reread slower.

“Owen,” Mary said, and she could hear the weird pitch in her voice but couldn’t do anything about it. “Am…am I reading this right?  You have…twenty million dollars?”

Owen shrugged, his expression sheepish.  “It’s not as impressive as it sounds.  Uncle Tony set up trust funds for me and Maddie when we were born, and he made sure they were invested well, so…”

So he was a multimillionaire.  By a lot.

Mary ran a hand over her face.  “I think…I need something stronger than a juice box.”  She didn’t keep much alcohol on hand anymore, but she did have some boxed wine in the back of a cabinet that had been there long enough to collect a fine layer of dust.  It was probably still okay.

She almost went for a glass, then paused.  “Are you okay?” Owen asked.  She waved him off.

“I just need a minute to process.” She rifled through a drawer and found a metal straw.  Taking aim at a likely spot on top of the boxed wine, Mary rammed the straw through.  She took a long sip of the wine.

From the table, Owen let out a snort, that quickly turned into laughter.  He laughed so hard his shoulders shook as he leaned forward on the table for support.

Mary arched an eyebrow at him.  “What’s so funny?  It’s just a grown up juice box.”

That made him laugh harder, and Mary couldn’t keep a straight face.  Her own grin slipped out, easing her shock and giving her the courage to flip through the other pages Owen had brought while he got his laughter under control.  

Nothing else in there was particularly shocking after the paperwork about his trust fund.  His pay was about what she’d expected, his bank accounts seemed healthy, nothing in there about any loans – which he definitely shouldn’t have, given the size of his trust fund.  

Owen finally got his laughter under control, wiping away tears of mirth as he settled down.  “So,” Mary said, tapping the paperwork, “is all that money in retirement funds, or can you actually use it now?”

“I can use it now,” Owen said.  “Though I mostly just live off my paycheck and let that money grow.  There’s not been much that I’ve needed it for so far.”

“What have you used it for?” Mary asked.

Owen shrugged.  “School loans.  I got some scholarships, but not quite enough to cover everything, and I couldn’t touch the trust until I was twenty-five.  As soon as I had access, I paid them off completely.”

Mary definitely approved of that line of thinking.  “No fancy sports cars or private jets?” she asked, mostly teasing.

Owen rolled his eyes. “I can teleport, why would I waste money on that?”

She nodded and tossed some goldfish in her mouth, gaze dropping to the numbers again as she chewed. Twenty million.  It was more money than she’d ever expected to see in her life.  She wouldn’t even know what to do with that kind of money – Oh.

There was a huge disparity between Owen’s net worth and hers, and Mary came from a family of lawyers. It wouldn’t be shocking if he wanted some protections in place, but things like prenups could be awkward to suggest, so Mary decided to bring it up first.

“Mm, so, are you going to want a prenup?” Mary asked.

Both his eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline.  “A prenup? Why?” he asked.

Mary shrugged and indicated the paperwork.  “Well, you’re coming into this with way more money than me, and if we ever divorced – “

“Mary,” Owen said flatly. “You’re Catholic.  You’re never going to divorce me.”

She paused, rolling her lips between her teeth.  “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.”

“Look, the way I imagined this working,” Owen said, “is us combining finances.  I just believe that in a marriage, everything should be shared. I mean, obviously we’d need to agree to a budget and we should talk about any big purchases, but…”  He tapped the files he’d brought.  “Once we’re married, as far as I’m concerned, all of this equally belongs to you.”

Mary’s stomach fluttered, and she wasn’t sure if the wine was responsible for the sudden warmth she felt, or Owen’s earnest gaze.  “I think I can handle that.”

[talkfastromance4]

fun day with uncles//Luke&Lily special feat Ashton and Calum

a/n: I want to expand on the relationships the girls have with their uncles (and soon Oliver and Michael) so I hope you enjoy!

word count: 2.1 k

warnings: none, just fun and fluff with our girls and Cashton :)

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Enjoy!

***

You and Luke were going to the doctor’s office for Oliver’s routine check-ups and Calum and Ashton offered to take the girls out for a day. Lily and Posy were talking nonstop about it during breakfast asking where they were going and what they were going to do.

“Will Duke be with us?” Lily asks while you’re styling her hair in her room. Luke has Posy in her room getting her dressed and Oliver is in his swing sucking on his fingers.

“I don’t know, honey. I guess we’ll see when they come pick you up,” you kiss her head watching her pull on her socks. 

That was the one request Ashton and Calum had for you and Luke; the girls had to wear shoes and socks. You had packed sunscreen, goldfish crackers, and some extra pull-ups for Posy in case she had an accident. She’s been doing really well going potty on the toilet but accidents happen. You packed an extra outfit and sweaters just in case and placed them in one of Luke’s backpacks. 

You figured Ashton and Calum wouldn’t want to carry around the baby bag that you have.

“I ready! Let’s go!” Posy announces skidding to a stop in Lily’s doorway. 

“Uncle Ash and Uncle Cal aren’t here yet, bug,” Luke laughs poking at her cheeks from behind. 

The girls busied themselves with their toys as you and Luke made sure you had everything you needed for Oliver. Then there was a knock on the door followed by Petunia barking and the girls screaming in excitement running down the hall. 

When it opens, Posy rushes to Ashton’s legs and Lily grabs hold of Calum’s hands pulling him inside the house.

“Hey, hey, let them get in the door,” Luke laughs entering the living room behind you. 

Oliver woke up from the loud noises and you scooped him up into your arms, rocking him slightly until he calmed down. 

“I want to be greeted like this everywhere I go,” Calum laughs, lifting Lily in his arms. “Are you ready for a day of fun, Lils?”

“Yes! Where are we going?” Lily asks. 

“Up, up, up Unca Ash!” Posy is trying to climb her way up Ashton’s legs. He picks her up easily as well and pokes her nose.

“Hi little one,” he grins then turns to Lily. “It’s a surprise, but there’s rides, animals, and yummy food.”

You and Luke exchange a look. Rides?

“What kind of rides?” Luke asks, his eyes moving to Lily who’s always been the most cautious with certain things. 

“A carousel and pony rides,” Calum eases. 

“Ponies?” Lily’s eyes widened. 

“Do not let them out of your sight,” Luke warns, lifting the backpack you packed and handing it to Ashton.

“We won’t. How long do you think you’ll be at the doctor’s?” Ashton asks. Calum moves forward towards you and gazes lovingly at Oliver. 

“No idea. They’ll probably check his oxygen levels, weigh him, take some blood...a few hours at least,” you respond. “I packed extra clothes and some snacks for them.”

“We’ll be back before dinnertime,” Ashton informs. “You girls ready to go?” 

“Bye mama! Bye Daddy!” Posy waves. 

“Have fun and listen to your uncles, okay?” you tell them. “And hold their hands.”

“We will mama. Bye Olly!” Calum sets her back on the ground and she touches Oliver’s arm softly. 

***

Ashton carries Posy along the grounds of where the circus is in town. There’s a train painted in bright colors with animals drawn all over it and clowns are walking around. Lily is holding onto Calum’s hand taking in all of the sights around her. 

“Where should we go first?” Ashton asks, looking at the booths of face painting, jewelry, t-shirts, concessions, and games with colorful stuffed animals. 

“Let’s just start on one end and work our way around,” Calum shrugs.

And so they did. First, they ordered a large lemonade that was shared amongst the four of them and looked at the animals. Lily and Posy wanted to feed them so Calum bought the food from a machine that usually holds pieces of gum. He took photos and videos of the girls laughing at the tickling sensation from the goats’ whiskers. 

“Goats are pretty cute,” Ashton muses, scratching one on the head. 

“No way are you going to get a goat,” Calum shakes his head. 

“I want a goat!” Posy claps her hands. 

“Ask your daddy that, little one,” Ashton giggles. 

They wash their hands and look at the rest of the animals for a bit longer until Posy whispers something in Ashton’s ear. 

“She needs to use the potty,” Ashton tells Calum with wide eyes. 

“Oh, okay. Uhh…” Calum looks around but all he sees are portable ones. “Looks like those are our best option.”

“Those are disgusting,” Ashton crinkles his nose. “There has to be an actual bathroom somewhere. Let’s ask someone.”

Calum and Lily follow him to a worker and shockingly enough, there is an actual bathroom building but it’s way in the back.

“Can you hold it until we’re at the bathrooms, little one?” Ashton asks, already walking towards the back at a brisk pace. Calum and Lily follow. 

They push through the crowds of people muttering their apologies. At long last, they’re in front of the building and thankfully see a door that’s labeled as ‘family’ restroom. 

“Here we go,” Ashton says and Calum stops him.

“Do you even know what to do?”

“I’m not dumb, it can’t be that hard. Have some faith, man,” Ashton shakes his head and moves into the restroom. 

Calum looks down at Lily who gives him a nervous smile. 

“Do you think Uncle Ash will drop her in the toilet?” Calum asks and she giggles.

“I hope not. Dada always sings when she’s on the potty to help.”

Calum looks to the restroom door and approaches it. He knocks lightly.

“Occupied!”

“It’s me!” Calum shouts. “Lily says Luke sings to her to help her go.”

“Sings what?” 

Calum looks down at Lily.

“Wheels on the bus.”

“Wheels on the bus!” Calum shouts.

“Got it! Thanks!”

Calum notices a bench against the wall and he pulls Lily onto his lap.

“You’re such a great big sister, you know that? You remind me of my big sister,” he says then realizes Mali hasn’t officially met the girls or Oliver. 

“Who?”

“My big sister, Mali.”

“Mama showed me Mali! She sings pretty.”

“Yeah, she does,” Calum grins, “she’d love to meet you someday. I’ll see if she can come visit me soon.”

“Can we ride the ponies next?” Lily asks and Ashton comes out with Posy with a triumphant smile. 

“Did it all go well, then?” Calum asks.

“She did such a good job,” Ashton praises and Posy is grinning like he is. “Your mama and daddy are going to be so proud of you, Posy.”

“Way to go Posy!” Calum and Lily clap their hands. “Lils wants to go on the pony rides next.”

“Then let’s go see some ponies!” 

Calum and Ashton were able to walk alongside the ponies to make sure the girls didn’t fall off. There was a strap that could be secured around their waists. Calum held onto Lily who kept petting at the pony’s mane and neck as he strutted around the circle.

Ashton was speaking in a southern accent trying to sound like a cowboy and Posy was laughing the whole ride. 

After the ponies, they had lunch which consisted of a slice of pizza and some fruit that was sold as a side. Games were next and Posy loved watching Ashton do the hammer one to test his strength. Her peels of laughter encouraged him to keep trying until he finally hit the bell at the top. 

He asked Posy which toy she wanted as a prize and chose a purple looking monster with orange teeth and green hair. Lily looked at it apprehensively so Calum towed her along to the water games. She had a good shot with the water guns being aimed at the spinning target as it ascended up the pole, but she didn’t beat the buzzer. 

“It’s okay Lils, let’s try this one over here.”

They walk over to the ping pong toss over small fish bowls while Ashton and Posy are throwing balls at glass bottles. Calum buys a bucketful of ping pongs and tries to help Lily with her throws. He loves how dainty she holds the white ball in her hand and she sticks her tongue out in concentration. One of her eyebrows quirks up and she looks so much like Y/N when she does it it throws Calum for a loop. 

“Try not to aim for one certain one,” Calum says. “Just throw it and I’m sure you’ll make one in.”

“Okay…” Lily tosses a ball.

She and Calum watch it in slow motion as it hits one bowl then falls into the one next to it. Lily lets out a scream and Calum whoops in excitement as the attendant shouts out “WINNER TO THE LITTLE GIRL IN PINK!”

“I won! Unca Cal I won!” she jumps up and down clutching Calum's fingers.

“Way to go, Lils!” He congratulates and Ashton and Posy come by.

“What’s going on?” Ashton asks just as the attendant comes forward with a bag of water and a small pink fish. 

“Lily won a fish,” Calum explains proudly and takes the bag. 

“No way! Lily, that’s awesome!”

“I thought she’d like this pink one,” the attendant smiles.

“She loves pink, thank you,” Calum grins and bends down to Lily’s height. “What do you think, Lils?”

“He’s pretty,” she smiles, poking the bag lightly where the small fish is poking in the corner. “Will mama let me keep him?”

“I don’t see why not, you don’t have to walk them.”

“I love him. His name is Bruno.”

“That’s the perfect name,” Calum grins.

“Po, look at my fish.”

Posy scrambles down from Ashton’s arms and presses her nose to the bag. 

“He’s tiny!” Posy crinkles her nose. 

The rest of the day Calum carried Bruno and Lily would check on him periodically. Posy started to get fussy and they ended the day at the pet store to get some supplies for Bruno. The clerk informed them that Bruno was a male betta fish and about 6 months old. 

Calum bought a small tank with gray stones and a lily pad for the fish to sleep on; Lily loved knowing that bit of information that betta fish like to nestle. He bought food and some colorful fake plants. 

Ashton stayed with Posy in the car because she fell asleep on the ride to the pet store. 

“He won’t...die right away will he?” Calum asks nervously as Lily inspects some more water accessories. 

“No, as long as you feed him and change the water periodically he should live for about four years.”

“Four?”

“That’s the average lifespan of betta’s. He’ll be a good starter fish for her if she wants to get another one. When the time comes.”

Calum feels saddened by that because he doesn’t want Lily to be sad when the fish will die. But she’s so enamored by him there’s no way he’ll tell her any of this. 

He’ll just tell Luke.

***

“Mama! Look what I got!” Lily runs through the door with Bruno in his bag. She stops in the kitchen where you’re making dinner, Oliver is held against you in the wrap around your body. “I won him! His name is Bruno and Uncle Cal got him a nice home and some food!”

“He did? Wow, he’s so pretty sweetie,” you smile looking at the pink fish. 

“What’s with all the noise, is there a circus in town?” Luke asks, coming up from the stairs. “Hey bug, are you still sleepy?” He takes Posy from Ashton’s arms, Posy rests her head in Luke’s neck. 

“Look dada! I got a fish!” Lily spins around and shows Luke Bruno.

“Oh wow, and he’s pink! Did you have fun at the circus?”

“Yeah, Po used the potty and won a monster. We had lemonade and pizza and cotton candy. Can Uncle Cal help me with Bruno’s tank?” Lily looks up at you and Luke.

“Absolutely. Thanks for buying everything Uncle Cal,” you smile at him and Lily runs to her room. Luke follows to put Posy down to finish her nap and Ashton crashes on the couch sighing heavily. “Busy day, huh?”

“I don’t know how you and Luke do it,” Calum shakes his head. “And now with three? You’re super human.”

“I’m just a mom.”

“You’re the best mom, lovie,” Luke reappears with a smile. “I take it you two are staying for dinner? Need us to bathe you and tuck you into bed as well?”

“The only one I’ll let bathe me is Y/N,” Ashton sighs, closing his eyes and you laugh loudly.

“Sorry mate, she’s all mine,” Luke gives you a kiss on the cheek and Calum goes to Lily’s room. “Can’t wait to spend the weekend with you, soon.”

Taglist: @calumance​  @in-superbloom​ @calpalirwin​ @karajaynetoday​ @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @hoodhoran​ @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sunshineeashton​ @ashtonsunflower​​ @mymindwide​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @seanna313​ @fivesecondsofonedirection​

Luke&Lily: @prentisswrites​

[thatesqcrush]

Gods & Monsters

Nevada Ramirez x Reader. Sequel to After Midnight.  CW: smut, hurt/comfort, physical violence (slap), language, dubcon references. AN: This fills the cock warming square in my kink bingo.

WC: 1489

He was the relationship that was not supposed to happen. You were the quintessential goodie goodie, the girl next door who never broke a rule. You didn’t do drugs, you barely drank, and you didn’t so much even have a parking ticket.

But you had been through a rash of bad luck – lost your job and got dumped. At your friend’s insistence, you decided to join her at trendiest club in all of New York City. First a round of tequila shots was ordered; the second and third included a mix of cocktails and beers. 

What followed was a one night stand with the club’s owner, Nevada ��El Trujillo” Ramirez. The drug lord was a fearsome man who did not let anything get in his way in getting what he wanted. And that night, in his seedy club, with all the men and women that he could have his pick of - he wanted you. 

And now you were the girlfriend of the self-proclaimed King of the Heights.

It had been three weeks since you last saw Nevada. Nevada and his crew had gone on yet another raid in the Heights. It was always the same – you would come home (to his apartment) to an empty apartment with a half-assed note saying he’d be back. At some point he would text you “143” and you knew that he was okay. Sometimes he would come home in one piece, other times, a bit tattered and torn with an occasional shine (no big deal) or a bullet hole (a much bigger deal). 

But he always came back. And he was never gone for more than a week’s time. 

Now, it had been three weeks. No texts. No nothing. Nevada was a powerful man who made many enemies along the way. Miguel, Nevada’s right hand was ordered to stay behind to keep an eye on things – and you. You pleaded with Miguel but even Miguel had no idea of what was going on. “He usually sends me some kind of heads up lil mama, but it’s been radio silent. Lo siento.” 

You crossed your arms against your chest. “I am worried. It’s never been this long.” 

“Me too.” Miguel replied. “Me too.” 

--

 Another week passed by. Then another. And then two more followed. 

You were near delirious with worry. You tried to focus at your new job, but your concentration was off and you felt like you had the memory of a goldfish. With Nevada’s money, you didn’t need to work but he respected that you wanted to earn your own keep. Thankfully, there was always a legal assistant job out there and your line of work on more than one occasion, helped Nevada when he was toeing dangerously across the line. 

You trudged back to your apartment, worn out and weary. Miguel came around to pick you up when you got out as he always did, but you rebuked him, preferring to take the long subway ride from downtown Manhattan to The Bronx. 

The dark silent apartment didn’t bother you anymore. If anything, it offered solitude to quiet your racing mind. You dropped your keys in the little bowl on the table next to the door and shrugged off your sweater. You reached down to take off your booties and you groaned in relief as you rubbed your aching feet. You sniffed the air – something smelled different. “What the fuck?” You wondered out loud. 

“Your voice is like music in my ear ma’.”

You jumped and then squinted. “Nevada?” The apartment lights switched on and there was Nevada in the corner sitting in the corner, one hand holding a smoldering cigar, the other, with a glass of something amber colored. 

“Maldita sea la madre! Hijo de la gran puta! Where the fuck have you been?” You hollered as you marched over. Nevada stood and in two giant steps, had you in his arms. You struggled for a bit and before jerking your hand free. You smacked him across the face so hard, your hand stung. 

“That’s the kind of welcome home I get?” Nevada spat, grabbing your face. He had prepared himself that he wouldn’t get a warm reception but this was not what he had expected at all. And then what followed – he didn’t expect at all.  

You crumpled to the ground, sobbing in relief that he was there – he was real. The smack across his handsome face did occur and you weren’t hallucinating. 

“Oh Y/N,” he murmured. “My sweet princesa.” He dropped to the ground and picked you up into his arms. He sat there on the ground, holding you as you sobbed. Nevada pressed his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. You smelled like warm vanilla and cinnamon and any hardened resolve he had, melted away.

“I thought you had died.” You continued to sob, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Splashes of warm drops dripped down, soaking his shirt. You pulled away, and you stared into Nevada’s eyes, which were shiny and wet as well. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Nevada nodded. “I am so sorry; I got caught up and the Feds closed in and --.” 

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter – you are here. I love you and missed you so much.” 

“Shh, I am here now. I am not going anywhere.” Nevada rumbled as he stroked your hair. His hands moved up your sides, feeling your rib cage and then to your back, feeling the knobs of your spine. He could feel that you had lost weight. And then, before you could even think your next thought, Nevada enveloped you completely into a tight embrace. You pulled away and moved up to kiss him. Nevada groaned, returning the kiss. The kiss became more heated and he tangled his hands in your hair. You pushed his shirt up, desperate to feel more of him. 

“La cama, ahora.” Nevada growled and you nodded. He stood and you followed, making way to the bedroom. Clothes flew off and you both tumbled back onto the bed, a mess of limbs. Hands touched everywhere. Nevada rolled you, so he was on top and he hungrily kissed you before moving down your body, leaving wet kisses across your clavicle and down your sternum. A small growl rumbled from his chest as he circled your nipple with his tongue, before taking it into his mouth. He used his other hand to pinch and roll your other nipple. Nevada took his time, leisurely playing with your breasts, stimulating you with various intensities of touch. You whimpered and mewled under his touch as he kept going - sucking, touching, rubbing, squeezing, and stroking. Your skin was flushed with arousal. Finally you spoke up, unable to take anymore. 

“Nevada please… I just need to feel you inside of me.” You pleaded.  

Nevada pushed one leg up over you and he fisted his cock. “Whatever mami wants, mami gets.”  He stroked your soaking wet cunt with the head of his cock, before pushing in. You gasped as he filled you and then bottomed out. Nevada let out a deep rumble, having missed the sensation of your greedy cunt taking him. 

“Oh my god ‘Vada, oh fuck! Don’t move.” You gasped. Nevada stilled his movements and leaned down to kiss you passionately. You clung to him and he buried his face in your neck. You each wrapped your arms around each other. Nevada was desperate to undulate his hips and when he moved to do so, you wrapped your legs around him tighter. 

“No…” You panted in his ear. “Quédate así por un ratito. I just want to feel you inside of me.” 

Nevada nodded. “Okay.” And like that, with him inside of you, you both stayed there, enjoying the closeness and intimacy.  It was rare that you two ever had a sweet, bonding moment such as this one. Your eyes were shut, enjoying the feeling of fullness from his cock and the pressure of his weight over you. You shifted and Nevada grunted, desperate for more, but also giving you what you wanted. 

Nevada kissed you languidly and you rewarded him but squeezing your muscles. Nevada grunted again. He trembled above you and you knew this wouldn't last much longer.  

“Please,” Nevada begged and you nodded. It only took a few soft thrusts of his hips before he came deep inside of you. You continued to cling to Nevada, and you whimpered as you felt his cum drip out of you. 

“I love you, you stupid asshole.” You replied, a smile twitching across your face. Nevada’s breath hitched and he felt his heart swell at your proclamation.  

“I love you too. Siempre.” Nevada smiled before leaning to kiss you once more.

 --FIN--

Tags: @mgarner1227   @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90​ @evee87​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom @blk0912 @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @the-hopeless-haze

[thecozywhaleshark]

Pocket BTS

Choose Your Fighter

(For reference, all pocket members are about the size of a mouse. Please treat them kindly and with care, as they are very smol.)

Jimin:

won't stop hugging you (esp your boob if you put him in a shirt pocket – please put him in a shirt pocket he likes to be near your heart when he sleeps)

wants to sit on your shoulder

likes to play hide and seek

constantly giggling

extremely ticklish

can be really dirty – whispers naughty jokes in your ear

full body hugs on your fingers

literally “if you give a mouse a cookie…” he’s the one you feed cookies to

small munchkin while he eats

if you don’t catch him fast enough after bath time he will streak around the countertop naked with his towel flying behind him squealing

gets playful before bed

Taehyung: 

likes to wave from his pocket

sleepy baby

wear a hoodie and he’ll sleep in your large hand pocket all day

wants to color-coordinate his outfit to yours

little berets

likes shiny things

gets super happy if you let him ride the dog around the house

give him paper and crayon stubs, he likes to draw you pictures

will spend all day on one flower

please put it on the fridge

likes to try on Barbie clothes, will beg you to bring him to the kid aisle in the store so he can find more clothes

pouty baby when he doesn’t get what he wants

Jin: 

the screamer

always hungry

will leave crumbs in his pocket

give him goldfish and he will be happy

likes to throw kisses and wave grandly like the queen when you walk

gets annoyed when nobody notices him and will scream

likes to be told he’s a handsome man

hands out hand made paper hearts to those who compliment him

Namjoon: 

happy to sit contently

always begging to go outside

likes to see the pages of your book when you are reading

likes when you read aloud

doesn’t stop talking

will start philosophizing about the trees, the stars, the person you just walked past… 

put him in your houseplant and buy him some of those fairy houses and décor and let him dig around and he will love you forever

get him some tiny pencils (like the ones you use for mini golf those should work) so he can write 

he likes to leave you sweet little notes around the house on mini sticky notes

you’ll have to read them with a magnifying glass

you keep every single one

if he’s in your pocket, watch him

he leans too far forward and will fall out sometimes

Jungkook: 

will always be moving

but not that loud

likes to ride on your shoe if you’d let him

likes the thrill and swinging from shoelaces

can be a helpful boy

will take your pencil back to the pencil holder because wants to prove that he is s t r o n g

wants to help you fold the laundry

will be so careful to line it up right, running back and forth across the one shirt you gave him and asking you to pick him up so he can see it from above and make sure it’s even

playdates with Jimin will result in fencing with push pins so please cap off the ends to avoid injury

will steal toothpicks from the kitchen so he can dress up as a pirate or a knight

will occasionally charge you of this happens

just wants to play

Hobi: 

another one who will not stay still

is loud

sits on your head when not in the pocket, though will get scared of the height

give him a helmet and let him hold your hair and it will be okay

thinks he’s fiercer than he is – very protective

will wake you up at the crack of dawn bc he wants to play

likes it when you freeze a bowl of water so he can go ice skating – will slide around for hours.

Yoongi: 

grumpy pocket 

stays in the pouch at all times

will not come out

will wake if you gently poke him but will not be happy

give him play dates with Hobi and he will give you big gummy smiles and be extra affectionate for days

if you pick him up to make him socialize he will fall asleep in the palm of your hand

put him on the piano and let him bounce around he’ll get giggly

will also need mini pencils and sticky notes, but if you look at his he’ll be angry

it’s mostly music notes

always looks like he just rolled out of bed but if Taehyung puts him in a sparkly jacket will get all blushy

compliment him non stop and tell him how cute he is and he’ll give you lots of affection

wants to hold your hand and by holding your hand I mean wants to have a hand on you at all times

tugs on your shirt to let you know he wants to be picked up

always wants to be carried

pouty when you make him walk

[brydeswhale]

Fic Preview Time!

Bc I might as well tease you guys since I actually haven’t been writing that much lately.

1. Untamed death row exoneration fic

So, I was writing this one before the US government went on it’s little killing spree, but it started to be topical and real, so I put it on a backburner, but I'm getting back to it.

The house wasn’t huge. Wei Ying knew that, intellectually. Compared to the house he’d grown up in, it was modest. Compared to the entire lake that had been in his backyard as a kid, the small pond and five trees in the backyard were cute. 

But he couldn’t help it, as soon as A-Yuan left the house, just walking from room to room to room, in and out. He tried to be careful and close the screen door, but sometimes he’d forget and one or two rabbits would hop in and surprise Lan Zhan in his office.

Lan Zhan never scolded him for it. He’d just pick the rabbit up and put it in his lap. 

“You’ve got to go to therapy,” Jack came by with a bottle of wine the first day, patted A-Yuan on the head, and let his wife give Lan Zhan a salad with nuts and artichoke hearts. “I’m going to give you this right now, and that’s all the booze you get until you send me a picture of the appointment.”

“I can buy my own alcohol,” Wei Ying laughed at him. 

Jack just smiled indulgently at him.

“Trust me,” he said, gently. “You want to do this. For your kid.”

So he had an appointment on Friday, and until then he was walking the house the same way he’d paced his cell.

Wen Ning was in his room, working on something A-Yuan had asked him to do. Qing-jie was working on finding whatever job a woman who was snatched from the gentle grip of a first year med school could get.

Wei Ying tried to lie down at the edge of the pond. Several goldfish swirled around, looking at him expectantly, and he waved apologetically.

“Lan Zhan told me you guys are on a diet,” he pointed out. The fish, disgruntled, fluttered their fins, and drifted away.

The sun went behind a cloud. The lilies floated in the wind.

He slept. 

The sun shone off the wine bottle, still unopened, on the kitchen windowsill.

So it’s not really about the death penalty, per se, it’s more about exoneration and also humans and trauma and stuff. Really heavy and it makes me sad.

2. Unnamed Teen Wolf vampire fic

So this isn’t REALLY a Vampire The Masquerade crossover, but it kind of IS, because I played that LARP for ten years and I still don’t understand(because I’m stupid) so it incorporated a lot of their brokenness, lol. Basically, it’s Scott getting kidnapped by vampires, who then decide to keep him and won’t give him back based on him being their precious darling.

A hunter came up behind him, but Scott felt, smelled, heard him, and, with a twist, threw him into the lights. They smashed, and several of them died, much to the delight of the captive. Her grin, briefly delightful, suddenly terrifying as two delicate fangs appeared, brought a cry of terror from the hunter as she dragged him up, and Scott found himself stepping forward, hands outstretched helplessly.

“Don’t kill him!”

She paused, and her pout returned.

“But I’m hungry,” she complained. “And he’s not exactly a good guy, wolf, he steals kids.”

“Just,” Scott wanted to agree with her, wanted, suddenly, to just leave the bastard there. She was right. He was a kidnapper and probably a murderer. 

(“Some of us are human!”)

“Just, please,” he begged. “Just leave him. Help me save Siobhan.”

She looked him in the eyes, hesitating, then bent her head and sank her teeth into the hunter’s neck.

Scott felt himself drop a little. That was that. He didn’t know why he’d expected to persuade her otherwise.

“Fine,” she stood up, letting the hunter fall into the broken glass of the lights, blood dripping down her face. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You could turn a cat from a mouse with those eyes. He’ll live, he just needs some juice.”

...

Maybe it wasn’t the shadows that had taken his breath from him. She’d thought the blood was someone else’s, but she could see it seeping out from under his fingers.

“Are you okay, wolf?”

“Scott,” he reached for a shirt, and pulled it on with jerking, shaking fingers. 

“My name’s Scott McCall,” he clarified for her raised eyebrows, then collapsed in a heap beside a pile of laundry.

She let a note behind. It was what you did, right?

She wrote it out on thin, lined paper, and pinned it to the fridge under a cute, pig shaped magnet. Then she picked him up, and stepped into the darkness.

...

“You’re awake!” The girl walked in carelessly. She wore draping scarves over a loose, not very long dress, and long, flashy necklaces. Her curls didn’t quite seem to match. “Took you long enough.”

“I can’t- I can’t stay here,” he was trying to get up, and he realized that someone had taken off his jeans and replaced them with loose, soft pyjamas. He was wearing a matching shirt. 

“You took my pants?” He held himself up with one hand, and noted, as if from far away, that it was shaking.

“Don’t worry about your maidenly modesty,” she pulled out her phone and used the camera to reapply lipstick in a bruised purple. “Seamus wanted you to be more comfortable. That’s all.”

“I have to go,” he shook his head. “I have to- How long have I been here?”

“Almost four days now,” she said, pushing him back into bed. “Stop that. You nearly died about five times.”

“My friends,” he tried to move, but she was stronger than she looked. Her hands were cold, and she smelled strange. Dull, and still. 

“I left a note,” she seemed utterly unconcerned. “I put it on your fridge. Cute magnets, by the way.”

“I’m Jewel,” she told him, clambering up to sit cross legged on the bed beside him. “Jewel Cleary.”

“Scott-“ she interrupted him carelessly. 

“I know, Scott McCall, you told it to me while you were dying.”

That explained it. They didn’t know he was an alpha.

“I wasn’t dying,” he tried to explain. “I’m an alpha. I would have been fine, you didn’t have to bring me here.”

“You nearly died three times in this very bed, boyo,” a huge, decaying mountain of a man, whose bulk spoke of power beginning to fade, and who had laugh lines at every corner of his face, came in with a steaming tray. “And now you’ll stay in it and eat your dinner and rest until you look a bit less of a corpse.”

“I’m Seamus,” the man handed the food to Jewel, then helped him sit up. “Tho most call me Shea, on the belief that my true name will call all manner of calamities down upon us. You’re Scott McCall, who saved our Jewel, and it’s a pleasure, indeed it is, Mr. McCall.”

He was saved from replying by Jewel putting the tray under his nose and both of them beaming expectantly over a bowl of stew and a cup of something dark and hot. 

It was… very good. And he fell asleep again as soon as he finished.

3. Another Chapter In Mysterious Fathoms Below

So this fic is actually stalled because I’m writing Uma giving a Ted Talk style speech on what it was actually like growing up in a concentration camp run by a totalitarian dictatorship and I’m stumped on it, also the mystical stuff that's coming in. But I'm back on track soon, so hopefully this will come out soon.

“Davy Jones’ Locker!”

“Don’t curse, dear,” Merryweather had scolded absently, trying to clear up supper dishes. 

“Don’t-What? Merryweather, look at the bloody stars!”

Harry grabbed her arm, pushing her to look up at the sky. It was just past dusk, soft and velvety blue, with early stars cheerfully popping into place. She followed Harry’s finger.

There should have been two stars there. One was newer, and that one had taken its place, although it’s bright shimmer was somewhat reduced.

Where the other should have been, there was black emptiness. Somehow, the sky looked cold and empty without it, and its mate seemed to shiver in the blackness.

“The second star,” she whispered. “Oh, Harry, what’s going on?”

…

“I was born in a prison, and on that day, from the moment I came screaming and bloody into this world, I was sentenced to life without parole. Like everyone born on the Isle Of The Lost, all my friends and my enemies, I was born to starve, suffer, and die, for the crime of being born to the losing side.”

“My first memory is of vomit. I was sick, because the food that came to the Isle came off garbage skows. Now, I don’t mean that the ships that transported the food were garbage skows, repurposed for bringing food to our prison, I mean it was garbage. The leftovers, the trash, rags and rot. Every bite we took was Russian roulette, and that day, I guess I lost.”

She smiled, and turned slightly again. She had never managed to stay still, even when she slept, she kicked and pushed out against the world. She had crawled early and walked early, she had swum from the moment of her birth.

“I don’t mean for you to think this was some kind of unusual event. I had food poisoning several times a year. The alternative was to not eat. There were no gardens, no farms. The ground was rocky and hard, and even if we’d managed to till it, the earth was leeched of life, to keep the barrier going. It was fed from the very island.”

From something more than the island. From something that had been since long before the Beast and his doll had been even thought of, something that had reigned before princes and queens.

Ursula drank her daughter’s face in. Sweet and pretty, crowned and gowned, just as she should have been. She traced the curve of her cheek, and pretended that this was something else, something from another world, where Uma was all that she appeared, and pure, and soft. 

…

They were making their way through grey fog, as fast as pixy dust could swing them. The Pan stood at the bow, staring into the mist. When Harry approached, he turned, eyes glowing with a terrible fire.

“It’s begun, impossible child,” he said, cheerfully.

Harry swore at him, savagely, and sat on the rail, listening for the sounds of planes and guns.

…

“Look how she lights up the sky,” she could hear Naveen singing, singing somewhere far away.

She stumbled out of bed. He must have been singing to Jimmy, and Jimmy was probably missing her.

But when she got to the nursery doorway, it was gone. 

The air was rich and humid, sweet with flower and sour with decay. Dragonflies hummed, their jewel-like bodies gleaming in the last of the sunlight as they danced over the glimmering water. She took one step, and another, the ground not giving way, but welcoming her in, wrapping water and earth around each foot. The trees swayed overhead, moss waving in the wind.

A place of death. A place of life.

3. The next chapter in Five Wolves Sansa Never Had

So this was a fic that stemmed from my irritation that Sansa lost her puppy. This chapter is called “Ned, you fucked up big time” and its about Ned trying to replace Lady with a sickly puppy who actually IS a dire wolf. Knowing what I know about dire wolves now, this is HILARIOUS.

He almost bought a doll, but Jory had shaken his head furiously, and he’d stepped past the toy shop, to a man selling what he called “exotic beasts, fit for the King’s own menagerie”.

Of course, the quiet little pup certainly wasn’t the dire wolf the man advertised him to be, but something in his golden eyes and quiet nature had reminded him of Lady, and he’d paid far too much for the little creature. 

Far, far too much, it seemed now.

Sansa hadn’t been grateful. She’d sullenly put it in her lap, and told him he couldn’t replace Lady, and needn’t have tried. Then she’d gone to her chambers, ignoring Arya, who wanted to play with the little creature.

At first he’d thought it was simply a quiet pup, like Lady had been. It had had little appetite, and messed in Sansa’s chambers, but she had been used to that from Lady’s infancy and hadn’t complained. He’d heard it when he accidentally eavesdropped on Jeyne’s complaints to another maid.

But after some days it had become clear that the little beast was dying. Food and water ran through it, ending in messes on the floor, it slept for hours, and when it woke, it cried weakly. It couldn’t walk, and Sansa would carry it out to the gardens, lay it on a blanket, and sit and embroider, only getting up to change the linens under the poor thing, or to persuade it to take a sip of water or a bite of food.

Ned tried to broach the facts of the matter with Sansa, but she had only glared stoney-faced at him, until he found himself faltering and retreating. He’d thought of sneaking in at night and smothering the creature, but it felt too much like murder, and he finally gave up, leaving the little creature alone to die in peace.

The one good thing about the matter, which was the rift between Sansa and Joffrey. The Prince found the puppy disgusting and wasn’t quiet about it, and Sansa found his rudeness distasteful, and tactfully avoided the boy. By the time he was able to put them on a ship, sickly pup and all, she was distant enough from Joffrey that her protests were only quiet, pointed remarks about how he had made her fit to be a princess, and now didn’t find the price she brought him high enough.

It reminded him, chillingly, of how Lyanna had argued with his father, and he found himself unable to embrace her when she left.

…

Stark had sent one of his daughters with a Braavosi swords master and the other with a sickly puppy, as if he thought that Stannis hadn’t enough to do, and would appreciate some further inconveniences. 

The younger daughter had no idea how to behave, and put the entire castle into uproar after uproar. But if he had hoped that the eldest daughter, who had lived up to her reputation as far as being a pretty child, who curtsied precisely the right depth, would balance the little urchin by behaving and staying in her place, he was, well, mildly disappointed.

“The dog will be placed in the kennels,” he told them on the arrival.

The girl shook her head. 

“No, my lord.”

He had paused, and the entire parade of noblewomen, septas and servants had stumbled in its tracks.

“No, Lady Sansa?”

She met his eyes, and he was reminded, uncomfortably, of her father.

“No, my lord,” she reiterated. “He shall not go to the kennels. He is the symbol of my house and he will remain with me.”

“It’ll probably die soon, anyhow,” the younger girl told him. “It’s been dying since father bought it, it’s an ugly little thing.”

For a moment, Lady Sansa was unable to school her expression to proper demureness, and a cold rage turned her eyes from sky on sea blue to springtime ice as she glanced at her sister. It only lasted for a heartbeat, then she was back to cold courtesy.

Stannis ignored their silent squabble, and looked more closely at the creature. It lay limply in her arms, eyes unfocused, and breaths shallow. 

“At the very least,” he allowed. “We ought not to bring whatever sickness that is amongst the dogs.”

Later, he found the girl seated by her hearth, trying to feed the little creature a soup of broth and bones, while her ancient septa slept in the window seat. The pup ate but little, and the girl rubbed a hand over her eyes before she saw him and stood to curtsey again.

“Forgive me, my lord, I did not see you.”

“I brought this,” he held up a small pot. “I purchased it for a sick hound, once, and it brought the creature strength enough to heal.” 

She thanked him very prettily, and he mixed a spoonful with the broth she was trying to feed the pup, showing her the portions carefully and appreciating her careful attention. Between them, they got the poor thing to finish the broth and eat a little meat, before it fell asleep in a rabbit fur lined basket.

“Thank you, my lord.” 

He took a closer look at the child. He’d never thought much about the girl who would marry his goodsister’s bastard, but he could see now that she had bright, intelligent eyes, despite her clear exhaustion, and that she carried herself very well.

“It must have been a shock,” he said, abrupt in his discomfort. “When your father told you why he had to break your betrothal.”

She hesitated.

“My father,” her voice was very soft, and uncertain. “My father has not-“

He stared at her, irritable and disbelieving. 

“Did your father not tell you why you were being sent here?”

He knew he sounded skeptical, but the idea that Eddard Stark would not have told his eldest child why her very excellent marriage pact was being broken seemed truly ludicrous. Stark wasn’t stupid, and he was a man of honour. It would only serve him well to keep his eldest daughter in his confidence.

The girl blushed in embarrassment. 

“He-He told Arya,” she said, slowly. “That is, I believe he told her. She hasn’t said anything. To me. But he speaks to her. He likes her.”

Stannis frowned. 

There had been another father, once upon a time, that father had made sure there was a space in his mews for a crippled bird, and as much fresh and good food for her as any flighted creature, all because his son had hoped she might fly again. Even if that son was not as handsome, or charming, or bright as his brother.

“Your father has been foolish,” he told her, coldly. He had not the talent to speak to children, but she seemed to understand that he meant no harm to her. “He may as well have sent you riding an aurochs blindfolded.”

“No matter,” he continued, and sat down in a chair by the hearth, motioning her to the opposite seat. “Listen to me. It’s a very long story.”

…

“…His Grace, the King, has explained all to me, my Lord Father. 

I am very glad to hear that you have escaped your confinement. Perhaps we shall see each other again soon.

Your Obedient Daughter,

Sansa Stark, lately of Dragonstone”

There was something cold about the letter, Ned thought, running a hand through his hair, for all that it was prettily written, with no ink blotches or crossed words, but he couldn’t quite tell what made him think so. He set it aside, with a group of others he planned to answer later, including word from White Harbour and the Wall.

Stannis had overstepped, he thought. Sansa was too young to know the truth of her betrothal, that her former betrothed was a bastard born of incest, that Jon Arryn had been murdered. But Stannis had never been known for tact.

His son had become a king. The Riverlands and the North called him so. So did some among the Vale. Word had come to the Stormlands, just as he managed to convince Renly to wait for the proper order of succession.

He put it aside for now. Robb was a boy, he could be persuaded to see sense.

“Sansa has chainjed her hair again. She just brayds it and pins it back under a hood like the new Queen does except she hardly spends any time with the queen. She and Stannis are always together with the Prinsess. All they do is play kivuss, and talk over maps and books. 

“I found a secret passij in the cellar of the kassle. It goes to the dungeon.

“Are you alright, Father? I herd one of the men say you lost your leg. I miss you very much.”

He smiled fondly over the mis-spelled words, imagining Arya roaming a new castle, learning all the new haunts and secrets.

“My Dearest Arya,

“I have not lost my leg, but it was very badly infected. I hope you are well, and you are behaving for your hosts…” 

…

The black wolf didn’t die, to everyone’s surprise. To their further astonishment, he thrived, with an ever-growing appetite and a newfound strength to match. He began to grow, and developed a certain cool dignity, to match his mistress’ adolescent gentility. She named him “Prince” and embroidered a collar in silver-grey thread and white shell beads.

Stannis wasn’t, precisely, surprised to find that the elder of his new wards was quick and clever, or that she knew already the names and banners of nearly every house in the Seven Kingdoms, and the relevant histories of said houses. His wife was pleased with her sewing and manners, and engaged a musician to teach her and Shireen the high harp and the lute. The girl’s septa kindly took Shireen under her wing, along with the younger Stark girl(when she wasn’t playing at swords with her water dancing master or dragging Shireen and Patchface into trouble) and their maid. She couldn’t really do much more than teach them etiquette and sewing, but she meant well, and she was too old to do anything else, so Stannis allowed it.

Sansa and Melisandre had begun a polite war. Word had been that the girl prayed as much in the sept as her father’s godswood, but she was little interested in opening her faiths any further, and clearly disliked the Red God’s followers for their fanatic disavowal of the older faiths. The small folk had been afraid that she was a witch, with her black wolf as a familiar, but when she proved kind and generous, they apparently decided that she was a good lady, whose wolf was a sign of favour by either the old gods, or the new.

[nillegible]

Hidden in the leaves

This is my gift-fic for @withyourrhythm, for the 2020 MadaTobi Gift Exchange (@madatobigiftexchange)

Withyourrhythm, I really hope that you enjoy this fic! You asked for:

My first prompt would be AUs! Maybe something like coffee shop AU, florist/tattoo artist AU, or even a zombie apocalypse AU. Second is dystopia, and the third one is sniper!Tobirama

This isn’t quite a florist AU, but Tobirama helps run Hashirama’s plant nursery? I hope that it’s close enough to what you wanted! I’ll confess I really couldn’t pick just one thing to write; I was 3-4k deep in a Red, White, and Royal Blue AU at the beginning of January, before the continuous news about the primaries and the election basically destroyed all my will to continue with that. (That’s why I asked about the modern royalty AU. Sorry about that!)

So… here it is! I really hope that you’ll like it!

“Hello, can I help you?” asks Tobirama, setting down his tablet when he hears the wind chimes tinkle. Hashirama had set them up above the door in place of a doorbell. Only then does he catch sight of the two customers who have entered the store; a handsome young man, maybe a little older than Tobirama with a wealth of dark hair, and a tiny boy with equally messy hair, maybe six years years old.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” says the kid looking up at him with large dark eyes, and a pinched expression on his face.

“I’m sorry?” asks Tobirama, glancing at the other man who looks a little embarrassed.

“Kagami, that’s impolite Mr.-” the customer’s quick glance at Tobirama’s nametag doesn’t really help since it’s an artsy embroidered thing without his last name on it, but he perseveres - “Tobirama can welcome us however he likes. I’m very sorry, I’m Uchiha Madara, we visited last week, and the person working had a different greeting.”

“Senju Tobirama, you must have met one of the others,” says Tobirama, realizing now what the kid was talking about. There’s no way Tobirama is going to repeat the same cutesy spiel, ‘Hello, welcome to The Senju Plant Nursery and Interior Landscaping Solutions, which of our lovely plants would you like to adopt today?’ that Harshirama asked his employees to use on every unsuspecting customer to cross into their shop. The kid is still staring at him like Tobirama has done something unacceptable though, so Tobirama tries, “So you would like to…adopt a plant?”

The kid instantly grins widely, “YES! Uncle said I could, I asked all week and I read two books about plants from the library, and I get to build a terrarium, and I can choose what to put inside it!” he says, without stopping for breath.

Tobirama can’t help it, his lips twitch into a smile at the genuine enthusiasm. “That sounds wonderful! Are you only looking for the plants to go in, or are you looking for a tank, lighting, gravel, and moss as well?” he directs the question to Kagami, seeing how excited he is, but the kid looks up at his uncle.

“Uncle?”

“Do you have all of those things?” asks Madara. “If so that would definitely save us a few more stops.”

“We do,” says Tobirama, coming out from behind the counter. The shop’s layout was odd, most likely because it had been a row of smaller stores once, before his brother had bought the whole lot and knocked down only some of the walls. It meant that from the entrance the store looked far smaller than it really was. “Come this way,” he says, leading them out of the first section (indoor plants that were fine with dim lighting, through the outdoor plants and pots section that opened into the actual outdoors behind the store where the hardier half of their inventory was, and into the third part of the store that had the components for setting up terrariums or aquariums. Starting with a correctly sized tank made the most sense, after all.

“Oh there are fish!” says Kagami, once there. They don’t stock quite as many fish as an aquarium or pet shop would, but they have enough small ponds and pond-plants that they prefer to have some small goldfish, koi, and other pond fish in stock. “Can I get a fish for my terrarium? Please?”

“Do fish belong in terrariums?” asks Madara.

“We could make a tiny little pond inside, and then we can get lots of tiny little fish to go in the pond!”

“That would be far too little water, you’d need at least twenty gallons of water for most fish to be comfortable, and they’d be happier with more. You’d need a full aquarium, not part of a terrarium,” says Tobirama, hoping the kid isn’t going to be throwing a tantrum over this.

However, Kagami just clutches his uncle’s leg and looks up at Tobirama, “They really won’t fit? Even the small ones?” he asks eyes wide.

“We all fit inside closets, but we wouldn’t like to live there, right?” asks Tobirama. Madara’s lips definitely quirk at that, and Tobirama can’t glare at him (or rephrase his statement to be less embarrassing) because large dark eyes are regarding him very carefully.

“No, that would be bad,” the kid decides sadly, then gives the goldfish another longing look.

Madara pats him on the head, “Come on, I see the tanks. We’re here to adopt a plant, remember? Don’t get distracted,” and he gently guides his nephew toward the display of glass tanks and bowls. Tobirama hovers in the background, listening as Madara carefully talks Kagami down from a rectangular twenty-gallon tank to an eight-gallon bowl, by pointing out that they could keep it on that table near the window, wouldn’t that be nice?

Some faint tinkling alerts Tobirama to another visitor, and he tells the Uchiha that he’ll be back momentarily, and hurries back to the front. He hopes Yamato would return soon, it’s always a bit worrying when he’s left all alone. This customer is far easier to help, she’s looking for a tabletop cactus arrangement, and she picks up one of the smaller ones without much time to deliberate. He packages it up for her, provides a gift bag, processes her purchase, and heads back to his previous customers.

They’ve wandered on to the selection of gravel and marbles now, and Kagami seems insistent that they get an eye-searingly orange gravel. Between the soil and the activated charcoal layers, they’re going to end up with something a little too Halloween-seeming for August, but clearly this isn’t a battle that Madara is going to win.

“It has to be orange,” Kagami says again, after Madara points out that the plants will be green, and their living room is blue. “It just has to.” But he won’t answer when Madara asks why. Giving it up as lost, Madara takes the orange gravel, and Tobirama hands him a basket that already has a package of activated charcoal in it for him to put the gravel into.

“Do you need potting soil as well or do you have that?” asks Tobirama.

“No, we definitely have soil. You mentioned moss?”

“It’s there,” says Tobirama gesturing, so that Madara can pick out one that he finds appropriately colored and priced. “You’ll want enough for a layer between the soil and gravel.”

Madara seems to take two at random, and then turns to Kagami. “Ready to find your plants?”

“Would you like some other decorations, first?” asks Tobirama, pointing out the shelf with different odds and ends, from miniature wells and animals, to packets of miniature paving stones or park benches. Kagami bounces over at once, and Tobirama ignores the guilty twinge at taking advantage of a child to buy more from his shop. They’re running a business here, after all.

“This one!” says Kagami, picking up a medium sized orange stone, with a spiral design on it. Madara lets him add it to the purchases in their basket without complaint.

Helping them select plants doesn’t take nearly as long as Tobirama expected, apparently the child had been entirely serious when he said that he had researched what plants he wanted to get. Kagami earnestly lists out the names of the succulents that he wants – making him a far more serious customer than most adults who just browse and choose whatever they think looks pretty. Tobirama manages to find four of the five plants that they want, but doesn’t have the last one in stock.

“I’m really sorry, we don’t have any more on hand. Do you want to pick something else? I can tell you which plants need the same amount of water as these ones.”

To his horror, Kagami’s face scrunches up at that. “But we need that one.”

“I’m really sorry, you could either pick it up later this week – I’ll order one for you – or I could tell you where the other plant shops are around here so you can check if they have some, but I can’t confirm that they will.

“Kagami, you can pick out a different plant,” says Madara, and the child bursts into tears. Madara, looking distressed, sets down his basket and lifts Kagami into his arms, trying to calm him by patting his back and making soothing noises while Kagami sobs into his shoulder.

“But Uncle, it has to be that one, we need it,” he says.

“Shh, please tell me why, my heart. We’ll find you one if we can, but if you tell me why, I can help you find something else too, right?”

“Because Obito-nii wanted that one,” says the kid, and Tobirama thinks he sees grief flash across Madara’s face.

“Kagami. When did he–?”

“He said it was pretty when I showed him the book, and he liked it, he said so,” he says, and Madara shuts his eyes for a long moment, before he continues to soothe the child.

“We’ll get some, we’ll ask Mr. Senju to order one for us, and we’ll leave space for it in our terrarium, and we’ll add it when they get here, is that alright?”

It takes some time for Kagami to calm, but the promise seems to help. He finally agrees with a soft, “Okay.”

Tobirama is about to get the box of tissues he keeps behind his desk, but Madara’s pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his nephew’s face. Kagami doesn’t let go of him though, and Madara doesn’t seem about o let him down. He shifts his Nephew, then picks up the basket to place on the counter. Tobirama processes the purchases silently, not wanting to further stress Madara out. It’s like the happy pair that had walked into his store had completely vanished; Kagami doesn’t emerge from where he’s hiding his face in Madara’s neck and Madara’s handsome features have gone cold and tired.

He’s not really sure what’s up, but he kind of wishes he could help.

Wait, he can help. “If you leave me an address, I could have one delivered in a few hours,” he says, before he can think it through.

“You… really?” asks Madara. Which makes sense, Tobirama had just told him it would take a few days.

“I’ll find you one,” he says, instead of backtracking. After all, Hashirama has a large personal collection at home and he’s sure his brother wouldn’t mind if he took one. He can replace it later this week when the next shipment comes in. Kagami finally lifts his head up to look at him, and Tobirama asks, “Do you know what size you want it to be? I can’t confirm I’ll get the exact size, but I can get you something close.”

“Like this one,” he says, pointing at one of their purchases, maybe 5 inches tall.

“I can do that,” says Tobirama, relieved. He’s definitely seen that size.

“Thank you,” says Madara a bit more intensely than Tobirama thinks is actually warranted in this case, and then he lets his nephew slide down. “You’re going to have to help carry things out to the car,” he says, and Kagami nods seriously.

Madara pays and leaves his address, and Tobirama watches them leave, the soft tinkle of the doorbell ringing for s few moments after they leave.

Yamato and Kawarama should turn up for their shift at twelve, Tobirama would make the delivery after that.

Tobirama should have remembered that every person in his life is an insufferable busy body, because before the week is out, he greatly regrets the random moment of generosity that led him to help Uchiha Madara and his nephew out. He’d told his brother that he was appropriating one of his succulents, and Hashirama had been fine with that. But then he’d also told Mito, who’d found it odd and mentioned it to Touka, and it spread from there and he’d been listening to sly comments all week.

“So, everyone’s curious: was he pretty?” asks Itama the moment Tobirama picks up his phone, and Tobirama resists the urge to just hang up on Itama.

“I see you’re free enough to join in the absurdity. Assignments just not hard enough for you?” he snaps.

“Wow you’re touchy,” says Itama with a faint note of surprise. Which, fair. This was the first time Itama had mentioned it, so it wasn’t frustration at him that Tobirama was reacting to.

“I’m sorry,” says Tobirama. “They’ve been at it all week, I’m tired of it.”

“Sorry to add to it, then,” says Itama. “I just… Never mind. So how has work been?”

“Never mind what?” he asks, instead of accepting the change in conversation.

“It’s just not the sort of thing you do. You’ve yelled at Hashirama for much less,” says Itama quietly.

Right, the whole: They’re your customers, not friends, brother, don’t be ridiculous, speech that he’d perfected when helping Hashirama find his feet with his new business and his brother treated every single one of them like a friend.

Tobirama’s not sure how to explain… Madara had looked pained, over the lack of a simple plant that they usually sold by the dozens. He’d wanted to help. “Well, I’ve learned my lesson,” he says lightly. “And my week has been well, I’ve completed the renderings for that old age home I was working on, and aside from my two current projects I’ve started discussions with a potential client with a potential client who wants to surround his mc-mansion with tropical trees and put in a hedge maze with a heated pool in the middle,” he says, making Itama giggle. He’ll probably turn the last project down, the client had very bizarre tastes, Tobirama would hate to be associated with the final product. “How was your week?” he asks.

“Well, we’re considering arranging a game of Humans vs Zombies that goes on until Halloween or the last human dies…”

Tobirama settles in to listen to Itama, wishing once again that his younger brother had decided to go to a closer school for his undergrad. He misses having his most sensible sibling around.

His family tires of the subject soon, which is good because Tobirama doesn’t see Madara again for more than a month.

“Good afternoon,” says a familiar voice, speaking over the tinkling of the chimes over the door.

“Hello again,” says Tobirama, giving Madara a small smile. “How can I help you today?”

“I hear that that’s not what you’re supposed to say,” Madara says, grinning, and Tobirama rolls his eyes.

“You’re not nearly cute enough to pull that off,” Tobirama tells him, then blinks as he realizes what he just said. “What can I help you with?” he asks quickly, hoping Madara would let it slide.

Madara pauses, then says “I need a selection of seeds, and some starting trays.”

“It’s far too early, you should start in January or February depending on the species,” he says, but sets his tablet down and comes around the counter anyway.

“That’s not what I need them for, it’s for a science fair project.”

“I see,” says Tobirama, gesturing Madara to follow.

“Are you the kind of person who’ll be upset if I confess that most of these plants are probably going to die in the name of science?” asks Madara as he references a list and grabs the corresponding seed packets.

Tobirama laughs. “No, I’m not. And a science project is a worthy enough cause.”

“I’m not the one working at a place that gives plants up for adoption,” says Madara smiling. He holds up three varieties of cucumber seeds. “Which of these would you suggest?”

“Usually people ask which are the best for pickles,” says Tobirama, considering the three packets. “It really depends on what you need them for? The Dasher and General Lee are really sturdy species, so if you want something a little more sensitive, go with the Wisconsin SMR58? But if you would like them to last, either of the first two would be fine.”

Madara considers and then takes one each of General Lee and the Wisconsin SMR58. He’s amassed quite a selection, and Tobirama can’t help but be curious.

“What is the science fair project on?” he asks.

“They’re looking at how the wavelength of light corresponds to plant growth,” says Madara.

“That seems pretty advanced for a first grader,” says Tobirama. Not that it’s any of his business, and Kagami had seemed like an intelligent child, but that’s not a project for someone that young.

“Oh no, it’s not for Kagami. This is for my ten-year-old, Shisui. He wanted to come with me but he has so many after school practices, and Mondays are my only reliable days off, so I made him give me a list of the things that he needs.” He meets Tobirama’s eyes, and he nods in understanding. “I just need two 1020 trays, and then I’m done.”

“Over there,” says Tobirama, and then leads the way back to the register.

“Oh, you’re hiring?” asks Madara, stopping halfway with his card out. Tobirama glances at the sign behind him on the bulletin board, which says they’re looking for new full or part-time workers.

“We’re always hiring. My brother likes to hire from the local high-school but the kids are always graduating and leaving, or getting detention or they have tests coming up and beg off, so we’re always short on staff.”

“So you take the school-time shifts? Oh, sorry - ” he says, and finally hands over his card.

“I take a lot of the morning shifts. It doesn’t make much difference to me if I work here manning the register or from my office at home,” he says, gesturing at his tablet. “When I’m busy, Hashirama or Yamato will take them.” He finishes up and passes the card back, and slips Madara’s seed packets into a paper bag and hands it over.

“Do you know someone who’d like a job?” he asks. I could put in a good word for them to my brother.

“I’m not sure, I’ll check with him first,” says Madara.

“Well, you know where we are, but this is my brother’s number if you want to pass it on,” says Tobirama, handing over a card that he keeps behind the counter.

“Could you give me your number too? I might have some questions,” says Madara, and Tobirama scrawls his own number on the back of the card.

“Thank you,” says Madara. “I’ll text you if he’s interested. Have a nice day, Tobirama!”

“You too,” says Tobirama, and after giving him another smile, Madara leaves.

Tobirama sits back down in his chair, but doesn’t go back to work for several minutes, trying to decide if that had been an excuse to get his number, or if Madara really did only want to pass on a potential employment opportunity to someone that he knows.

If he’s being honest with himself, he kind of hopes that it’s both.

He gets the first text about a week later:

senju tobirama? hi, this is uchiha madara. I’ve spoken to my nephew’s therapist and she thinks getting a part time job now is a good idea. I just wanted to ask you a few things before I ask my nephew if he’d be interested.

Hello, sure. What would you like to know? (I’m assuming this is a different nephew)

oh yes, I have three. Obito was in an accident a few months ago, he’s only recently gotten out of hospital. we’ve decided to home-school him this year, but there’s only so much time that a teenager can stand being home alone, and he’s always liked plants… I was hoping if he had something to do that made him feel useful he would cheer up a little?

That sounds like a great idea. What specifics do you need to know? I can ask Hashirama for you.

It takes longer than Tobirama expects, so he nudges him a little with an extra text.

Madara?

the accident. it left Obito with very visible, significant scars. some people find it disgusting, and I know you’re running a business, and if you’d rather that your customers not have to deal with that, then it’s fine. but I’d rather know now than have him be rejected for that alone when he turns up to meet your brother. that’s the most important thing. besides that, his shifts may need to a bit flexible, he has a lot of physiotherapy appointments to get through for a while.

It won’t matter. And all our employees get flexible shifts.

You should probably ask your brother?

Trust me, it won’t matter.

There’s a long gap again before Madara replies. When he does, it’s quite short:

Thank you.

It feels wrong, to be thanked for basic human courtesy, so Tobirama doesn’t answer. Instead, he goes to find Hashirama.

Obito turns up for an interview the following week, and Tobirama hangs around even though both Yamato and Hashirama are on shift and he doesn’t have to be there. He’s glad for it, because his brother comes out from the office with a hand on Obito’s shoulder, looking extremely cheerful. “You just said he was good with plants, not that he grows vegetables for several families and makes his own organic fertilizer!”

“I take it he’s hired, then?” asks Tobirama.

“Oh yes! Of course!” says Hashirama.

Tobirama glances at Obito again, the right side of his face is badly disfigured but he can see a faint blush on his left cheek. “Welcome,” says Tobirama. “I hope you’ll like working here.

“Me too!” says the boy, and though it’s a little quiet, Tobirama has the feeling that this boy is actually a lot like Hashirama and Kawarama (loud, passionate and enthusiastic). He’ll settle in soon enough.

After Obito leaves, Hashirama leans over the counter and continues talking about the things that Obito apparently does in his home garden. Tobirama feels no shame at all in ignoring his brother’s enthusiastic gushing to text Madara.

Hashirama adores him. He hasn’t shut up about vermicomposting and coffee-grounds fertilizer and youths who believe in the sanctity of the environment since your nephew left.

The reply is almost instant this time.

thank you, Tobirama.

I didn’t do anything. He’s a lovely young man, and my brother may be idiotic at times but he would never send away someone who loves gardening as much as he does.

just accept the thanks, Senju

Accepted, then.

 Having Obito at the store quickly becomes routine. Obito talks a lot more than Yamato did when Tobirama was paired up with him for shifts, but he doesn’t mind if Tobirama listens while he sketches and is suitably impressed by some of Tobirama’s designs, so he doesn’t have any complaints about the young Uchiha.

(Obito also comes with a lot more stories about Madara. There are also stories about his younger brothers Shisui and Kagami, and his best friends Kakashi and Rin, but after filtering them out Tobirama has learned quite a lot about the young uncle who had taken the three of them in when their parents died, and who was of all things an Elementary School art teacher and a Martial Arts instructor, which was why he had such strange work hours.)

If Tobirama always made sure that he was working on Mondays, the day when Madara took advantage of his day off to either drop Obito off or pick him up, solely because Madara usually comes inside to talk for a few minutes, well. No one had seemed to catch on quite yet.

And then Itama comes home for the winter holidays, and while Tobirama is very happy to have him back, his little brother watches with his too sharp, all-seeing gaze when he says goodbye to Obito and Madara when they leave after one of Obito’s shifts. Once they’re gone, Itama raises a single eyebrow at him.

Tobirama gives him a level look, trying to project how much he does not want to be interrogated on the subject.

“Does that mean you’re not going to ask him out?” Itama asks.

“We’re just friends.”

“Yes,” says Itama slowly. “Because you haven’t asked him out yet.”

“I’m not going to,” says Tobirama firmly. He definitely liked Madara, he’d though the man was pretty gorgeous the very first time he’d seen him, but he’s decided to suppress that. Because reducing Madara to just a hot guy is almost offensive – he’s so much more than that. Kind, and generous, and he watches over his family with the sort of single-minded focus that Tobirama respects deeply.

In just three months, a few exchanged texts had grown into longer conversations and sometimes phone calls. He’d been invited along to see Shisui’s exhibit at the Science Fair, and invited along on one of Madara’s extremely rare Saturdays off to a Botanical garden for Obito’s birthday. Tobirama had had a pretty faithful shadow that day in Shisui who in spite of being Obito’s younger brother had still listened with great attention when Tobirama tossed out plant and insect facts, and then criticized the design of some of the walkways and arbors.

Tobirama likes them. All of them. He isn’t going to ruin what he has.

“I only told Touka and Mito to leave you alone until Christmas,” says Itama.

“You what.” says Tobirama flatly.

His brother shrugs. “They were really bothering you, remember? So I told them to lay off while you get your head together. But I didn’t think it would take you this long to make a move.”

“I am not going to make a move,” says Tobirama.

“Why? You really seem to like him! Do you even know how much you talk about him or his kids?”

“Please just drop it,” says Tobirama.

Itama stares at him a moment longer then exhales loudly. “Fine. There’s still a week. I’m not saving you from Mito and Toka again.”

“I can deal with them, you didn’t have to protect me the first time,” says Tobirama.  

“Really? Their pointed questioning wouldn’t have embarrassed you enough to push the Uchiha away to save yourself the trouble?”

His brother has a point. While both women would absolutely throw down in his defence if anyone else was bothering him, the knowing looks and the witty comments would have made him much more self-conscious when actually speaking to Madara. He might not have even tried to work toward a friendship. And that would have been sad. He makes a note to get Itama something nice before he has to leave.

A few days later, he has a new customer, but he looks so much like Madara and Shisui that Tobirama knows he has to be the often mentioned but never seen younger uncle who’s usually away at university. “Hello, is there something that I can help you with?”

“Uchiha Izuna, nice to meet you,” he says, “I just wanted to see the place that my nephew has been working at, and maybe pick up a few poinsettia plants?”

“You don’t want Poinsettia, Obito doesn’t really like them,” says Tobirama before he realizes that’s not quite polite. “Um, I mean. If you wanted to get them for him?” Strangely, Izuna doesn’t look offended.

“No, you’re right. Obito doesn’t like them, he says so every year.”

“So these are for someone else?” asks Tobirama. He gestures toward the stand with an array of potted poinsettia plants. “You can choose what you like, it’s a bit late in the season so these are all that we have left.”

“What should I get my nephew instead? I missed his birthday this year, so I was hoping to get him something special for Christmas.”

“Well, he said he needs new gardening gloves, but that’s not really an apology present, is it? He wanted that new video game – Outer Wilds. He wanted to have an excuse to invite his friends over more often since he doesn’t see them at school anymore.”

Izuna nods thoughtfully. “The other two?”

“Madara is getting Shisui a microscope. Maybe a set of prepared slides to match? Or a telescope. He likes insects but I don’t think he’d really want a preservation kit, he’s not the type. I don’t think you could go wrong with getting him a book, either.”

“Hm. And Kagami?”

“Definitely a book,” he says. In fact, there’s a book on aquatic sea creatures that Tobirama has already bought for him; he’s seen the way Kagami always runs to see the aquariums for a few minutes whenever he visits the store. “Do you want me to suggest some titles?” he asks, when Izuna just continues to stare at him strangely.

He seems to be hiding amusement. Tobirama does not understand why he’s amused.

“That will do,” he says. “Those are excellent suggestions. Thank you for the help,” he says. ”I guess I’ll see you around sometime, I’m staying until after the new year.”

“So, you don’t actually need to buy anything?” Tobirama asks just to confirm.

“Not right now, sorry. Poinsettias were a silly idea.”

“Oh, Izuna! Back again?” asks Yamato, coming back from where he had been arranging a shipment of gardening tools.

“Ah, yes! Still can’t decide what I want to get though. I’ll be leaving now. Bye! Bye, Tobirama!” says Izuna, and makes a speedy exit.

“Well that was interesting,” says Tobirama, though he can’t quite keep himself from smiling. “How many times has he come over?”

“Three times,” says Yamato. “He seemed desperate not to ask when you’d be around in case one of us told Obito that his uncle was being weird. Did Hashirama tell you when the seed-starter order will get here? We’re really running low.

“I’ll check,” Tobirama assures him.

That night, after dinner, Tobirama is in his room finishing up a layout for a client, when he gets a text from Madara.

did my brother come to see you today??

Yes, he did. He was looking for a gift for Obito, but didn’t buy anything in the end. I told him to buy him a video game instead and sent him away. Not the best business decision, but your brother said it was partly an apology so I had to help.

Did he say anything?

He asked me what he should get Shisui and Kagami as well.

And nothing else?

No, he didn’t say anything else.

Tobirama stares at the message for a few moments after that. Tobirama has had a lot of experience with how younger brothers teased, which meant Izuna had been teasing Madara about… potentially revealing something embarrassing to Tobirama? That made it sound like… like Madara did care about him? No one really cased out their nephew’s workplace by just quizzing the person at the register, and Yamato had let him know that Izuna had come to the store a couple of times, clearly looking for Tobirama even if he didn’t admit it, so it had to be… Tobirama holds closely to the fluttering hope that this gave him, and types out:

Madara, when you’re free, would you join me for coffee?

I’d like to talk, can we meet up?

Madara, don’t be offended but I’d like to ask if we could

He deletes every message instead if sending it. What if Madara assumes that he’s only asking him out because Izuna said something, and not because Tobirama really wanted to ask? He should probably wait a little, right?

He gets a call from Madara a few minutes later.

“Hello,” says Tobirama, picking up.

“What did he do? He looked suspicious and embarrassed when he got home.”

“Yamato spilled that he came to the store multiple times trying to catch me on shift, and he fled,” says Tobirama.

“That… sounds like my brother. I’m sorry, that was really rude –” he sounds exasperated.

“No no, it’s fine. He was really kind of cute!” says Tobirama.

“He. He was?” asks Madara.

“Yeah. He was definitely flustered, all but bolted once Yamato saw him. Don’t worry about it, I’m not angry with him. It was quite nice meeting him, really.” Tobirama tries to force some reassurance into his voice, because Madara sounds a little…stiff.

“That’s good. That’s really… good. I’ll talk to you later? I just wanted to make sure he hadn’t offended.”

“It’s all fine. Bye, Madara.”

“Bye.”

There was something wrong with that conversation, Tobirama just knew it. He’d expected Madara to laugh about his brother’s ill-conceived but well-meaning plot to make sure Tobirama was a decent person. But Madara hadn’t laughed.

Why not?

When he finally realizes what he had just implied during that short conversation, he wants to slap himself in the face. Stupid. So so stupid. Leaving his room, he heads straight for his brother’s, glad that Itama’s staying with him now that Hashirama’s house needed a nursery. He knocks on the door.

“Come in,” says Itama.

“Itama,” he says, but isn’t sure how to explain.

“What happened?” asks his brother.

“Madara called me.”

“And? What did he say?” Itama actually looks… strangely angry?

“What?” asks Tobirama.

“If you asked him out and he turned you down then he’s an idiot who doesn’t deserve you,” says Itama. “But I really thought – ”

“No, listen.” Why is everyone jumping to conclusions today? “Madara called me, because Izuna came to see me at the store today. It seemed like he was checking to see if I was a creep? So I thought maybe Madara was interested?” Itama nods encouragingly.

“And when he called I… I sort of told him that Izuna is really cute and I was glad I’d run into him.”

Itama looks pained. “Tobirama-nii, why.”

“That’s not what I meant! I didn’t even realize until after, when I was trying to figure out why he sounded so depressed. I was glad to meet him, but not because I like him, it’s because.” it gave me a tangible proof that Madara might like me back.

“So what are you going to do?” asks Itama.

“I’ll speak to him tomorrow,” says Tobirama. “I’ll ask him out properly.”

Itama is looking down at his desk, and he taps his finger a few times like he’s thinking something through. “No,” he says finally.

“No?”

“You should go now.”

“It’s late,” says Tobirama. “He has kids so he sleeps early! And we’re adults, not teenagers from a Hallmark channel romance movie, we can wait until the morning.”

“Don’t be stupid, Tobi-nii,” says Itama. “He really likes you. He’s probably hurt.”

Right. Madara had sounded a little hurt.

Tobirama hates that he’d done that, even unintentionally.

Right then, he’s apparently doing this.

(He grabs his potted lavender plant on the way out, and Itama says, “You absolute dork.” Tobirama ignores him.)

He’s even more nervous this time than he was the first time that he’d been standing on this doorstep. Steeling himself, he knocks on Madara’s door. That time he had been hand-delivering a succulent he’d appropriated (with permission) from his brother’s private collection to a complete stranger, and it had still been easier. He knocks again, he doesn’t want to ring the doorbell, because he knows Kagami should be asleep already.

This time it’s not Madara who opens the door, but Izuna.

“What do you want, it’s late,” says Izuna, keeping his voice down.

“I need to talk to your brother! I don’t think you’re cute!” says Tobirama. Ah, that wasn’t quite what he meant to say. “I mean-”

“Oh, thank god,” says Izuna instead of getting offended. “Come inside. He’s in the living room.”

Izuna lets him walk in ahead, to close up behind him, and Tobirama enters the room to see Madara on the couch, Obito curled up with a book in the armchair beside him.

Madara looks at him, eyes wide, then glances at the herb in his hands. “Hi, Madara, Obito” says Tobirama. And then Obito bursts out laughing.

It stings.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come here, with literally an offering of love, maybe Madara might not know what Lavender stands for but Obito, who cons every teenager who steps into their store to buy a pot of the herb definitely knows what’s up. (“Roses? Bouquets? They all die. Lavender is the true symbol of everlasting love and devotion,” he says to each one of them, eyes shining and they fall for it hook-line-and-sinker).

Tobirama involuntarily steps back, eyes on the ground so he doesn’t have to see their faces and tries to come up with something to say. He should confess anyway, even if Madara doesn’t reciprocate, but he’d rather not do it on front of Obito.

“No, no, no! I’m sorry! I’ll leave, you guys should talk!” says Obito, and suddenly the teenager is right next to him, gripping Tobirama’s arm with his scarred right hand. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I am so sorry. But I’ll go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tobirama-nii.” And then he’s running away, Tobirama can hear him thunder up the stairs.

Tobirama glances at Madara who’s also standing up now.

“You brought me lavender?” he says.

“I did. On the phone, you misunderstood. It’s not Izuna that I like. I wanted to call you back, but maybe this is better done in person, so I thought- So I came,” he says. The small but unbearably radiant smile that unfurls on Madara’s face clears away the lingering doubt.

“Thank you,” says Madara, taking the pot from him carefully and setting it on the small table, and then takes both of Tobirama’s hands in his. “Tobirama, I love you too, and I would very much like if we could go out officially,” says Madara.

“Yes, we should,” says Tobirama. “I’d really like that.” He hadn’t really called it love yet but Madara’s not wrong. Even though they’ve known each other for so little time there’s something about the other man that makes Tobirama think there could never be anyone else who had the potential to fit into his life the way Madara does. The way Madara’s family does. “I really like your nephews. I haven’t decided about your brother,” he says.

“I’m hurt,” says Izuna from behind, and Madara glares over Tobirama’s shoulder.

“Go away!”

“Fine! But this is so unfair, I was cute not two hours ago, and now I’m not even tolerable,” he complains, and they wait while Izuna makes his way up the stairs so they have some privacy.

“My nephews like you too,” says Madara. “As does my brother, he was quite complimentary earlier.”

“Is Obito okay with it? He seemed…” odd. Tobirama cuts himself instead of voicing the tactless word that comes to mind.

Strangely, it makes Madara chuckle. “He was laughing about the lavender, not at you,” says Madara.

“I don’t understand,” Tobirama says, and Madara takes his hand and leads him towards the downstairs office that the kids used for homework. All along the large window, in different sizes, are lavender plants. Seven of them.

“I’ve been trying to confess for a while,” says Madara, squeezing Tobirama’s hand.

“I’ll take them back with me,” says Tobirama, and Madara carefully brings up one hand to Tobirama’s cheek. Tobirama’s never been this close to Madara before. He’s just as beautiful close up.

“You don’t have to take them home. I can keep them for you. You could move in,” says Madara. He looks so very very hopeful.

Tobirama can’t resist, doesn’t have to resist, he leans closer for a kiss and Madara meets him halfway, and it’s soft and gentle and perfect. When they finally pull away, Tobirama looks at Madara’s radiant face and decides he needs another one. He catches Madara’s lips again.

“I’m not moving in with you now,” Tobirama says, when he’s caught his breath after two kisses. He can feel his cheeks stretch with an uncontainable smile; the offer alone is enough to make him feel giddy with joy, but he can’t accept it yet.

“Too soon?” asks Madara. He doesn’t sound upset.

“It’s too soon,” he agrees.

“I can wait,” says Madara.

“Mm. And you haven’t met my family properly yet,” says Tobirama.

Madara tilts his head a little to the side. “I know Hashirama and Kawarama. I don’t think they dislike me? And I met Itama this week. He seemed nice.”

Itama? Nice? There’s only one person who can get both Mito and Touka to do what he wants, and that’s his little brother. Itama is not nice, that’s just what he prefers to let people think about him. How on earth is he supposed to break this to Madara?

“Itama does seem to like you,” he starts. This would be Madara’s saving grace. “But Mito and Touka haven’t met you yet. They, and Kawarama, have sworn to leave you alone until the 25th. After that…” he trails off. “I think Hashirama really does like you, though,” he says, hoping it’s consolation.

“Leave me alone?”

“They didn’t want to scare you off too soon,” says Tobirama. Madara presses a kiss to Tobirama’s nose, then his cheek, then tilts his head up by the chin for another kiss.

“No one’s scaring me away from you,” he says firmly.

“I will hold you to that,” says Tobirama. He really will, too.

“Please do,” says Madara.

[lunermagick-sims4]

Griselda’s Story Part 6

Griselda new place was all furnished when she arrived to move in. She had no idea how her family friend, Minerva had time to put all this together! All Griselda had to do was organize things in their proper places, and since her bed was together get it made. She was thinking she definitely needed to thank Minerva for finding a bedroom set, couch, chair and even a mini fridge for her and all the hard work of getting it to the house! The bedrooms set was a great find from a friend of Minerva who was keeping stuff in their basement and wanted to get rid of it so they could get ready to do some needed work. Thanks to Gemma’s college friend who was moving in with his girlfriend and wanted to get rid of his old couch, chair and even a mini fridge! I was lucky the place had a working stove and the last person living here left a table set and a old small tv. I received a desk for a home warming gift from Minerva and the family gave me a new laptop as a going away present which will be need for school in the fall. It was a small but comfortable home for her and Storm to settle into. Griselda unpack the last of her things she brought from the Charm home. Once her frog and insects were put in their proper places, everything was finally together. There was a couple of garden boxes outside, so Griselda was thinking maybe tonight she would work on getting a garden started. She had a number of seed packs that she wanted to get planted. She got a catnip pack for Storm to enjoy, she found some magic plants and even some weed pack. She was hoping to sell some of the weed on the side to make some needed money. A bag of weed can sell as high as $100 a bag. Griselda was thinking she may keep a bag for herself here and there. The bills will come in sooner or later, so hopefully the plants will do well! Griselda was only able to save $200 before she left home so having these plants prosper would be a great help, it would keep her from trying to work and go to school! She wanted to focus her time on her studies so she could apply to some good Universities at the end of the semester. She did not want anyone to know she did not save much, but she also knew she would figure stuff out, she always has. If the garden deal fails, she would be prepared to get a job over the summer to save up some cash, while she figures out what else to do or try again at her weed crop! Griselda took a hit out of her bong of purple haze, that she bought a while back from some guy a friend knew. She had been smoking for some time now, her friend, Gemma is the only one who knows about her habit! Griselda feels it take the edge off sometimes when she is having a rough day or week! Storm was playing with his little mouse toy and Griselda had her tiny little tv on not really watching it, just channel surfing and for the noise. It is kinda quiet living on your own.

Griselda was up late gardening and slept in very late the next day. She is starting to liking the night more then the day. This was going to take some time to get use to. She felt that if she did not get use to staying up at night it would be hard in a few weeks to get up for school. Griselda was just nicely getting up, still sitting on the edge of the bed not even showered yet and she heard a knock at the door. “Who can that be?” She thought. Griselda walked out of her room and Storm was running over to the door, Griselda followed him. She open it and to her surprise it was Minerva. She was alone. “Come in” Griselda said. Minerva smiles and walks through the door. She eyed the place. “You got it set up nicely all on your own. How are you doing dear?” Griselda was shocked to see her come all this way to check up on her! “Good and thank you for all the work you did to get me the things I needed! I am surprised to see you. Come sit.” They sat at the little wooden table and chatted. Minerva did not stay long she had a glass of water, said she was passing through and wanted to check up on her. Griselda was happy she stopped in and thanked her for the visit.

Griselda love going to the Realm it is so beautiful and magnificent. She decided today she go visit the Realm and explore it some. She had noticed there are a few different portals and she wanted to explore them, especially the one closes to the entrance. It has been so sunny and hot and she became so bored out of her mind with nothing to do as she could not leave the house, least in the Realm of magic there it would protects her from the sun. She does not know why but the sun rays there does not make her feel like she going to burn to death. She petted Storm and told him he could go next time. She used her glitter stone and transported herself to the Realm, she was not sure if she was strong enough to transport them both. She arrived at the entrance and walked toward the portal near the entrance. She was surprised by what she saw! A garden, it was such a magical place! She harvest what was growing so she could plant later or use for a potion. Griselda went fishing and caught a goldfish. She decided to keep the fish so needed a bowl to keep it in. She stayed awhile to take in all the different energy. She felt very zen by the time she flew home.

[bygosscarmine]

We Who See Thestrals

A Harry Potter post-canon fic: Luna Lovegood x George Weasley 

hopefully that isn’t a shocker at this point

Go to Chapter 1

2: George Weasley, Talent Manager

2183 words

They went clattering down the stairs to the shop's main floor, where Luna was standing behind a cleared table, with a circle of children of varying ages. As they got closer, George realized she was doing Muggle magic. Her soft voice pattered through a nonsense description of space and time, while the cards seemed to leap from her hands--not necessarily that strange to a wizarding audience, but different cards seemed to leap out of the deck and show themselves as she said words related to hearts or kings or seven and so on.

"Not that," said Ron, annoyed. "It's the Pygmy Puffs!"

George went to the big glass enclosure, and peered in. The coloration and markings range seemed to be normal but...

"Gobstopping Goblins," he whispered.

There was a nest of baby Puffs in the corner, just naked tiny bean-blobs. All Pygmy Puffs until now had been magically altered Puffskein young. The best results were at about two weeks before birth, but the range of about two weeks around that date was usually fruitful. The tricky bit was transforming only the developing young, not the parent. Never had he dreamed they could actually reproduce the Pygmy mutation naturally.

"Are you telling me that Luna is in some way responsible for inducing the Pygmys to have offspring?" he asked Ron, trying to imagine this process.

"She thinks it has to do with telling them fairy tales. I think it has more to do with the fact that she's built them little homes."

Sure enough, there were little decorated boxes, two large enough to hold a whole pack of Pygmy Puffs, two smaller as if for a nuclear family unit. The nest appeared to be made from the shreds of one of the smaller boxes. The tiny hairless creatures he assumed were the natural children of some couple within the glass container were being hovered around by two pink Pygmy Puffs, who had floated to be between his large head and the nest so he could no longer see it directly.

"You know, I think you're right. Probably you're both right."

He stayed until Luna had finished her magic show, to ask her some more questions.

"What do you think?" she asked. "Is my Muggle magic pretty good now?"

"I saw you finessing that with some summoning," George said severely. "Which just goes to show you are a very skilled witch, since that's not easy real magic, either. What about these guys? You've been giving them the birds and bees talk?"

"Just a little privacy and folklore to build their culture on," she said, reaching down under the mesh top of the cage to let some of the little fur balls cluster against her fingers. "I thought about separating the males and females but Ronald said you didn't know a way to determine sex. Besides, we don't know if they have a binary breeding system."

One of the pink parental puffs bobbed over to Luna's hand cautiously, zoomed at her as if beating her off, and rushed away again. Luna slowly withdrew her hand.

"I don't think they are smart enough to recognize a person," she said somewhat sadly.

"They're probably smarter than they let on," said George, who had never seen the puffs so interested in a human. There was a bit of an issue of bonding with the puffs, which wasn't bad for shop profits, but wasn't quite what he liked as an inventor. Puffskeins seemed just barely large enough to have the brains to recognize a familiar human. Pygmy Puffs, not so much.

Maybe they were usually just too immature.

"Was there anything else?" Luna asked.

"Sorry?" George was a little startled.

"You came down here in such a rush, and I hate to keep you from your work. Ron said you only come down to work in the shop when it's really crazy."

"Well, yes," George said. "Rather. Summer hols coming up, will need to be up to snuff so we can just offload our goods on the children who will be loose for a few months."

"So was there anything else you needed to ask me about?"

"Nothing I needed to ask, but plenty I'd like to," he said, grinning. "How long did you practice the cards before coming up with that little twist?"

"I bought a pack and the pamphlet and took it home," said Luna. "So I've had a lot of hours at home working on it."

She seemed to be apologizing for not being an instant expert.

"I have never seen anyone over the age of fourteen put so much effort into card-tricks before. I am impressed."

"Oh," said Luna, nonplussed.

"I was also going to ask you to consult on my ideas for a new mothers line of products, but somehow I don't think you're the right candidate for that."

"Can I see your workshop, though? I'm very curious about that," Luna said. "Ronald said you wouldn't want to be disturbed but he just went to get you so you're already interrupted."

"Certainly you can." He was pleased, really. "I just got off the phone with Neville, but maybe you can give me an opinion on the algae pet I'm developing."

"A phone?"

"Not a Muggle phone," George hurried to say. "I'll show you what I mean with that, too."

"I'd like to talk to Neville, too," she said. Her always slightly wistful voice was not necessarily more melancholy as she said this, but he was strangely afraid it was.

"Rhodie, we'll be back in a jiff," George called out. "I'm curious about our numbers of Pygmy sales to availability over the summer last year, if you have a minute to check on that."

He ushered Luna up the cramped stairs in the stock-room, where the muted sounds of children shouting at the Snap made the sense of having slipped out of the world more acute. He always felt that a little, coming up here, but leading a newcomer through the maze of boxes with their slight coating of inevitable dust, the sound of their footsteps in the heavy quiet, made it stronger.

"Did you have this one made?" Luna said when they came to the cabinet.

"Well spotted," said George, fairly sure he should be feeling a little shame about conspicuous wealth right now, but just feeling a bit pepped up. "It's pretty new. We had to actually do a lot of research and a little guesswork to get it made. Very complicated magic, have a feeling the originals were dark in nature. Nothing a little ingenuity couldn't fix!"

He opened the door. "Usually I'd say, after you, but always watch a man go first into his vanishing cabinet. I'll leave the door open on the way out."

He stepped through.

For a few moments, he was unsure if she'd lost her nerve to come. Or something bad had happened with the cabinet.

Then she stepped out nonchalantly, staring at the lintel of the door keenly, as if she'd been inspecting it.

"That felt like nothing. Really, apparating could well be replaced by a few of these in wizarding gathering places and we'd all be so much more comfortable."

"True," said George.

Now a pang of consumer guilt hit him, so he did not volunteer that to keep this one working accurately he had to limit daily use. Luna took in the room around them and he considered it himself. It was cleanish and brighter than most wizarding research facilities. He had a rather large terrace-house and the attic formed his laboratory. Everything from modern muggle science equipment to herbs hung from the gabled roof, with the highest center part over the working table, where he'd installed an intake fan so he could easily air out the fumes. He'd bespelled it to also make any colorful or intriguing fumes clear.

Just the kinds of precautions he and Fred had found out the hard way in their room laboratory all those years ago.

"How do you call Neville?" Luna asked.

"Here, see this? Do you remember the extendable ears?"

"Sure."

He held out the bits of rubber-covered foam that now were just as long as a fingertip, and brightly colored so he lost fewer of them. "It's actually connected to the Floo network, so you may see things slightly green for a moment, but you just have to give the address."

Luna gingerly took them but nearly immediately dropped the first one she tried to put in. George swiftly bent down to pick it up, and said, "Here."

He brushed some of her rampant hair away from her ear and squeezed the earplug before setting it in her ear. "Like this," he said, showing her how to compress it. She put in the other without too much issue, knowing know she could safely push it inward.

"What's Neville's fireplace?" she asked, a little too loudly.

"Twelve, Hogwarts."

The earplugs didn't really dampen sound much, so he didn't have to yell. But Luna did, as if jumping into a fireplace, and he grinned.

"Hello, Neville," she said next, in a normal tone of voice. "Did I startle you? Yes, it's me, Luna. Oh, this marvelous!"

She gave George an incandescent smile, and jumped a little. "Neville, how's Pomfrey? Oh, good. I thought that tonic should help his scalewort. I have to go. Maybe George will lend me his ears again. Goodbye, Neville!"

After a pause she said in a whisper, "Do I just take them off?"

"Yes," he said, holding out his hand. "Before I had them turn off with a word, but it was annoying to hear other people say half the word all the time, and it's easier if they just stop when one or the other takes them off."

She dropped them in his hand, scrutinizing them slightly, then turned to the desk beside them. "Were you talking to Neville about this?"

The goldfish bowls with the hopeful algae pets were lined up, labelled so he could track the various tests he'd done. Currently there were twelve. The first six he'd given up on as past further experiments were now living with his female relatives, and a few were set downstairs in the shop as a teaser while they waited for Neville to come pick them up.

"Yes. It's tricky to work with biological things. I don't have the hang of it. Neville secretly disapproves of me messing with nature, or I'd just ask him to be my inventor."

George raked his hair up on end as he stared at the blobs of algae that loosely resembled the heads of the Green Man but not enough.

"I suppose using a cutting charm to just fix them isn't enough," said Luna. "You want them to develop for real so people know what they are."

"And it's pretty easy to get them to look vaguely like people in an ugly way. We always think things look like people."

"You want them to be cute? One of your mom-line?"

"Yes," said George, a little surprised she had connected those thoughts. "If I figure out how to affect their shape more, then I can make them trolls or fairies or crones or princes. Then people can pick what they like."

"Yes, and then people can really talk to them, like a friend."

George had not considered this angle, but it made sense.

"Well, it's just something I'm asking anyone for leads about. Feel free to look around and ask about anything you find intriguing."

She pattered around, hands holding her hair back from falling on anything. It was so unconscious he suddenly saw her as a tiny witch in her mother's test kitchen, keeping her hands out of the range of anything dangerous. He had known her mother had been killed by a failed experiment, which he had promptly tried to forget, as an inventor prone to explosions himself.

"What is this?" she asked, leaning over a pan of starts.

"I'm just trying to learn more about botany and magic. They're violets."

She looked up, eyes glinting. She was laughing, for some reason, about him growing flowers. The skylights diffused the light well through the room, but she was wreathed in sun, since he'd put the starts right in the path of the light.

"Well, probably should send you back through to keep Rhodie in line." He stood, "It's been lovely having you. And don't listen to Ron if he says I'm not to be disturbed. I say that to him because I find him disturbing."

Luna chuckled, and swished out through the cabinet, which he shut with deliberation. Then he went downstairs from his house and out the door to walk all the way to The Three Broomsticks instead of just going out his own shop door and turning left.

By the time his friends showed up for the late Brazil v. Mozambique match, he was three pints in. Angelina swung her way in, and halted next to George to say, "Blimey, George. Why are you sodden already?"

"Just enjoying a night off," he said vehemently.

-

Go to Chapter 3