#Marcie's (small) Thought of the Day <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[marxistmanicpixiedreamgrrrl]

The recent rise of AI “art” has made me realise something which is pretty integral to the way I personally experience art & that is that I think art without an artist is no art at all, for pretty pictures or drawings does not art make.

I would personally define art as unconventional ways to express thoughts & feelings & most importantly of all, self-expression. & if there's no self to express, you simply cannot live up to my definition of art.

Importantly, then, I also things we wouldn't conventionally consider art should count, too: Talking, cooking & sewing are to me, for example, all forms of art. & to me, the truer the art is to the artist, the better. I suppose that might be another reason why I feel so iffy about capitalist art, the profit motive disturbs that somewhat.

[waywardxrhea]

deserving - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

In your distraction after a rough day you end up the victim of a band of muggers.

word count: ~1.5k

content: angst, mugging, anxiety, panic attack, language, canon typical violence, fluff.

dividers by: @firefly-graphics (i seriously only ever use the graphics from this account and I am so grateful for them! <3)

As you walked back to your apartment complex in the near darkness of Hell’s Kitchen, your mind was anywhere else than where it should have been. Where it should have been as you carried a mid-sized box in your arms which caused you to leave your purse freely dangling at your side was on your surroundings. Hell’s Kitchen, even with Daredevil running around at night, was still dangerous, and not everyone knew to fear the Devil who lurked in the shadows. 

You came to regret your stupid choices of not putting your purse on top of your personal effects in the box and to make this trip in the near darkness when all of a sudden there was an arm pulling you into a chokehold from behind. The man’s gruff voice began demanding your purse and anything of value you held in the box while another man knocked the box from your arms before beginning to yank on the strap of your purse. Rather than using any form of self defense you knew though, you just froze in place as you began to get less and less oxygen to your brain as your attacker choked you out while his buddies ransacked the box that had crashed to the ground. 

“She doesn’t have shit in here!” one of the men groaned in dismay. You heard the sound of glass breaking as he added, “Stupid picture of her and her boyfriend, a plant, a couple of calendars!”

“Oh you just got fired didn’t you, doll?” the one choking you sneered in your ear as he added just a bit more pressure while he laughed.

“Ooh this is promising, she’s got a laptop charger! Look for the computer!” said a different voice from near the box. 

Suddenly though, air finally flooded your lungs and you dropped to your knees as your attacker was pulled away from you. You couldn’t even process what was happening around you as panic began to overtake your body. As your breathing became erratic and your heart pounded in your ears, you curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and tucking your head in to make yourself as small as possible. A sense of doom creeped up your spine and into your brain as thought after brutal thought reminded you of every single terrible thing you had ever done or said or thought. Everything was free game to the monster running rampant through your memory banks, and he gladly reminded you of how badly you messed up. All the time. It seemed to be your defining characteristic. Nothing you ever did seemed to-

“Shh, shh, sweetheart I’m right here,” came a gravelly voice close to your ear as you were suddenly aware of a presence right beside you. The figure pulled you in close to his chest as he whispered, “I’ve got you. They’re gone.”

Your breathing came in sharp between short sentences as you gasped out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t see them coming! I wasn’t paying attention! I’m sorry! I can’t do anything right! I’m sorry…”

“Shh, sweetheart, you don’t have anything to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong,” said the voice. 

Tentatively, you pulled your face out from its place in your folded up legs and looked around, noticing your ransacked box, your purse lying beside it, your intact laptop, the leaves of your spider plant, and the broken framed picture of you and Matt at Foggy and Marci’s wedding. Bringing your senses closer to your body you felt the cold ground beneath you, the sharp poke of some rocks in your bottom, comforting arms wrapped around you, and beside you the strange armor that Matt wore at night when he went out to fight crime in the streets of the Kitchen. You heard the distant sound of cars driving, Matt’s voice returning back to normal from the Devil’s, and his steady heartbeat as you pulled yourself closer into his embrace. You smelled sharp metallic blood in the air, but Matt’s cologne from his day in court overtook the smell as you burrowed into his embrace. Finally, you tasted the salt of your tears in your mouth and you finally felt like you could breathe normally as you came down from your panic attack in Matt’s arms. 

“There you are,” Matt whispered before kissing the top of your head. “There’s my sweet girl. You did great coming back from that.” You didn’t deserve his sweet words or his encouragement, but you were too weak to argue. How pathetic… Where was your ability to hold your tongue earlier? “Let’s get you home,” he said after a few more moments, getting up and locating all of your things to get packed into your box before helping you back onto shaky legs. 

Matt got you back into your shared apartment and went about the formality of leaving the complex, only to come back through his usual route via the roof access mere minutes later. When he got back, you feigned being fine and encouraged him to get out of his suit as you busied yourself with making the both of you hot chocolate. After he was out of his suit and had quickly wiped the sweat away from his body, Matt was behind you again, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close. This show of tenderness only broke you down once more and your tears began to fall again no matter how much you willed them to stop. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart, let it out,” Matt told you, turning you around to face him so he could hold your head close to his chest. “Whenever you’re ready we can talk about it,” he assured you as he slowly guided the both of you toward the bedroom so he could hold you more easily. The gesture only broke you more and you fought a battle in your head between wanting to push him away because you didn’t deserve him and pulling him closer because you knew Matt was the only thing holding your broken pieces together. Eventually the latter won out and you clung to him with everything your weak body had as you continued to cry into his chest. 

After a few minutes you managed to regain a semblance of your voice and you choked out, “I’m sorry…”

“For what, sweetheart?” Matt asked, the tenor of his voice and the rumble of his chest beneath you managing to calm you down just that much more. In response, you began to feel some of the tension in your muscles release. 

“I messed up… Big time…” you whispered, your voice breaking again as you remembered what happened at work that day. “I was having a rough morning. Got in late. Spilled my coffee. Didn’t get to eat breakfast. So when I was called to my boss’s office I snapped at him and he…he fired me on the spot. Cited insubordination. Told me to collect my things after business hours. I’m so, so sorry Matt…”

You could feel Matt’s muscles tense and could practically sense the Devil beginning to itch to be let out onto someone for hurting you. But then the tension eased as he kissed the top of your head before he said, “He’s an asshole who didn’t truly know who he had working for him. I’ll help you find somewhere else to work, one that doesn’t have sleazebags just wanting to line their pockets in charge.”

“You…you aren’t mad?” you asked timidly, your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“B-because I lost my job… One income is hard to live on in this city, and the firm’s been taking on more pro bono work lately, and-”

“Sweetheart, I’m not mad. I promise,” Matt reassured you. “I hated that you had to work for that company and I’m actually happy that you’re out now. They didn’t deserve your hard work and dedication. You’ll find somewhere that will. Somewhere that understands that people have bad days and they don’t deserve to be fired over it. Somewhere that cares about you and what you have to say.”

“So like you in business form,” you said, a ghost of a smile making its way onto your lips. 

“Like me in business form,” Matt confirmed with a quiet chuckle. 

You were quiet for a moment before telling him, “Thank you for saving me out there by the way… I… The day got to me and I just froze. I’m-”

Before you could get the rest of your next apology out, Matt was tilting your chin up and placing a gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, he told you, “I would go to the ends of the earth to protect you. No matter how bad of a day you’re having. I will always be here for you.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he told you fondly which made tears start welling up in your eyes once more, but this time they were tears of happiness. How you ever got lucky enough to have Matt in your life was a mystery you would never figure out, but in moments like these you were truly grateful for his kindness and the safety he provided you - not only as Daredevil, but as the man in your arms cuddling you until your mind came back to the reality that everything would be okay eventually and that you were deserving of him and the kindness he gave you.  

a/n: so this was inspired by a dream i had a few months ago wherein i too was having a panic attack and our sweet Matty came to my rescue combined with having an absolutely terrible mental health evening last night (whoops). whatever the circumstances i am just grateful to have the ability to express myself via my writing and i hope others can find some solace in my writing!

xo, brooke <3

general taglist: @reidmarieprentiss

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

[Anne wakes up and noticing she’s alone the door opens to Sasha and Marcy carrying things]

Sasharcy: Happy Birthday Anne!!

Anne: Aww, you two <3

[Sasha puts a food tray with breakfast and a small vase of yellow tulips while Marcy puts several presents next to her on the bed]

Anne: Oh wow, you didn’t have to do this.

Sasha: Of course we did.

Marcy: We want to show you how much we love you. We’ve the whole day planned.

Anne: That’s awesome, I love both of you. These flowers look beautiful but I thought the florists were sold out this time of year.

Sasha: We know a guy.

Anne: Who?

Marcy: Chuck.

Anne:……………

Sasha: He grows tulips.

Anne: Oh, that Chuck.

[mammameesh]

12 days of fandom

Merry Christmas (Eve) my friends! I've been very busy, but I still wanted to participate so enjoy my 12 days of Christmas all at once!

In No Particular order:

Noble Beloved by AWorldOfDreams @a-noble-dragon

from the author : Schitt's Creek has a secret. And it's a rather large one. David's not at all pleased that this secret involves him, becoming a Dragon Liaison Officer. Because Dragons don't exist... right?

2.

Marcy's Girls by Turkey_Virgin @tyfinn

from the author: Marcy is left alone with Alexis and Stevie after David has to pick Patrick up from a vendor run. Alexis and Stevie both turn to Marcy for relationship advice, and Marcy finds herself to be a substitute mother to the girls.

3.

Marcy's Innocent Questions by Characterassassination @characterassassination-at-9am

from the author:

A series of chapters wherein Marcy Brewer, mom extraordinaire, is a little naïve about Patrick and David's relationship, and maybe gay relationships in general? "Queer things" in general? Not sure where this one's going to go, but I love Marcy and I love embarrassing her and Patrick a just a touch....so we'll see. I just thought it'd be a fun idea to explore.

4.

Apricity by Demora00 @demora00

from the author: “‘ – advised by the Council that in a bid for reconciliation, any members who cannot prove significant and meaningful attachments in North America within 60 days are to return to their originating nation.’"

5.

Conversion (Part One) by Obsessedwithdavrick @obsessedwithdavrick

from the author:

Patrick Brewer had grown up within the confines of the Catholic church.

He was baptised in the nave of the St Celeste church, received his first holy communion in tandem with his cousins and attended the small primary school adjacent to it until he was old enough for high school. He then joined his cousins and the other children of the town, travelling thirty minutes by bus to Ingleside to attend the Catholic high school, where the cohorts were split by gender.

When he wins a coveted Baseball Scholarship to play and study at the University of Toronto, he is matched with an enigmatic roommate, David Rose. David upends Patrick's life (in the best possible way) and takes him on a journey of self-discovery he hadn't realised he desperately needed.

6.

Everything's Too Cold... But You're So Hot by ApothecaRose @apothecarose

from the author:

When David's ex, Sebastien Raine, unexpectedly shows up in Schitt's Creek, David enlists the help of a stranger on the street to pretend to be his boyfriend in an attempt to get rid of Sebastien.

7.

102 Words by RamonaFlow @ramonaflow

from the author: This is a collection of 102 ficlets consisting of 102 words each using this prompt list

8.

[Art] Painted Pride by lizzie_bennetdarcy @lizzie-bennetdarcy

from the author:

David and Patrick paint themselves for Pride

9.

dinner by flowertrigger @flowertrigger

from the author:

Patrick’s parted lips are as shiny as the glazed ham Marcy pulled from the oven twenty minutes ago and looking just as delicious.

10.

Won’t Love Anyone Else Like I Love You by LikeItsAllInfinite @like-its-all-infinite

from the author:

David Rose is about to turn eighteen and his whole world is going to change when he swaps bodies with his soulmate. Patrick is here to help, but what will David do when he wakes up and Patrick isn't his soulmate? And how will he tell his soulmate he can only ever love Patrick?

11.

Hydrate. Caffeinate. Medicate. Repeat. by coffee_and_glitter @fictasticvoyage

from the author:

Patrick starts meditation to help with his mental health. He and David try a 30 day challenge to focus on their mental well-being, sometimes individually, sometimes together.

12.

It's Photoshop. by jesuisici33 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)  @jesuisici33

from the author:

TK meets a friend who also likes bearded dragons. And Carlos' secret comes out.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 13/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

He knocks again, then stands back to wait. What the hell are they doing in there? he wonders, shifting the six pack of beer he brought to the other arm. Poker night is every Thursday—it’s not like they aren’t expecting him. 

The night is cool and crisp, the clear indigo sky speckled with pinpricks of starlight. Trillions of miles traveled across the universe over thousands of years, just to be overpowered by skyscrapers and streetlights and the haze of the industrial revolution. He tips his face up and locates the Big Dipper, the North Star, Cassiopeia. It makes him at once feel insignificant—a speck on a rock in a pile in a quarry—and extraordinary. How many events throughout the history of time had to happen in precisely the way they did in order to bring him to this moment? It feels like destiny, which is both a comfort and a burden. 

Finally, the door pops open and he’s greeted by a tall blond man with thick glasses. 

“The party has arrived!” the man says jovially, standing aside to allow him entry. “Jeff’s here!” he hollers, and voices of the other two call out greetings from a nearby room. 

“I’ve been standing out there for ten minutes,” Jeff chides gently. “I thought you’d kicked me out of the coven.”

They enter a small dining room with a circular table surrounded by four chairs, two of them occupied.

“We were out back smoking a cigar,” the blond man explains as he takes his seat. “Cuban, the real deal.”

“And you didn’t wait for me?” Jeff asks, exaggerating his level of offense as he sits in the remaining chair. 

“Come on, man, we know Diana would have your balls if she smelled cigar smoke on you,” one of the other men says. He’s older than the other two, with wiry salt and pepper hair. 

“You’re not wrong,” Jeff agrees, cracking open a bottle of beer. “Let’s get this show on the road; who’s dealing?”

The third man, mahogany-skinned and handsome, shuffles the cards artfully, making a show of bridges and cascades as he smirks to himself. 

“Mike thinks he’s hot shit with his little card tricks,” the blond man says bitingly. “Just deal the things already, Mike. Jeff has a curfew.”

“Fuck off, Simon,” Mike shoots back. “I’m perfecting my craft.”

“Women are attracted to money, not junior high magic tricks,” Simon says, nudging the third man with his elbow. 

“I like magic tricks,” the third man comments self-consciously, and the other three laugh. 

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Mike says, shaking his head. “You always gotta be the weird one, don’t you, Frank?”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be laughing when I clean house,” Frank grumbles, and Mike finally deals out the deck. 

Frank does, in fact, clean house. They don’t play with real money, just chips, but that doesn’t hamper each man’s desire to win, nor his disappointment when Frank scoops up the lion’s share of the pile and begins stacking them enthusiastically. 

Simon checks his watch, then sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “I gotta head out in a half hour or so,” he says. “Marcy didn’t want me to stay too late.”

“Well, I guess Jeff isn’t the only one with a curfew,” Mike teases, and Simon shakes his head with a smile. 

“It’s not that, it’s just hard for her to get up with the baby at night right now, so I’ve been taking all that on.”

“Is she okay?” Jeff asks, his mind immediately going to the kinds of things that can cost you a sister. 

“Yeah, she’s fine, just tired. She’s, uh—she’s pregnant again, actually,” Simon offers, and all the eyebrows at the table shoot up to their hairlines. 

“No shit,” Frank says carefully. “Is that good news or bad news?”

“Surprising news,” Simon says. “But ultimately good. We didn’t really plan to have two this close together, but I guess fate had other ideas.”

“Congratulations,” Jeff offers, extending his hand. “That’s great.”

“Can’t say I miss those days,” Frank remarks, still stacking his chips. “Up at 3:00 am trying to get a baby back to sleep when you have to be up for work at 6:00? No thank you. I’m glad mine are all grown.”

“Thanks, Frank, that’s really kind of you to say,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. 

“I always miss my kids when they’re at Jenny’s,” Mike says sadly. “Being a dad is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Hey now, I love my kids,” Frank defends. “I’m just saying, waking up in the middle of the night fucking sucks.”

Jeff watches the exchange, unable to take part. He can relate to overbearing spouses and the perils of the working world, but he has nothing to offer on the subject of fatherhood. 

“I actually need to head out too,” he says as he stands and retrieves what remains of his beer. “Wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to my balls.”

“Send our best to the warden,” Frank quips, earning him a warning look. 

He leaves them, a peel of laughter fading as he pulls the door closed behind himself and makes his way to his car. 

It does bother him a little, the way they talk about Diana. At the same time, what they say about her isn’t untrue. She is a little bit controlling, but not without due cause. He’s made mistakes in the past, ones he can never fully set right, and ones that justify Diana’s desire to know where he is and with whom. He promised her that he would do whatever it takes to make it up to her, and that has included checking in regularly and being home by midnight. Of course, his friends don’t know that, because he’s never told them. He’s too ashamed. So he accepts their cheap shots at his wife, and then drives home to her so he can prove again and again that she is the only one he wants to come home to. 

He slinks into the house quietly, shushing Frenchie’s barks as he enters through the laundry room. He walks towards the back of the house to let her outside, and is startled by Diana’s voice as he passes through the kitchen. 

“You’re late.”

He jumps a little, bringing his hand to his chest as he pulls the sliding glass door open and Frenchie slips out. 

“Jesus, you scared me,” he admits, though that was fairly obvious by his reaction. 

Diana is perched at the kitchen island wearing a silk nightgown, a glass of water on the counter before her. He looks at the time on the microwave display and then back to her pinched expression. 

“By four minutes, Diana,” he defends, indignant. 

She pulls in a deep breath, straightening her posture. 

“Where were you?” she asks. 

“At Frank’s, for poker night. Same as every Thursday. There was an accident on the turnpike,” he tells her, and his gut twists at the disbelieving look on her face. He steps closer, laying his hand over the top of hers on the countertop. “Diana—”

She pulls her hand out from under his and stands, walking to the sliding glass door to let Frenchie back in. 

“I believe you, Jeff. But call next time, okay?” she says tersely, and he nods. 

He lies awake in bed, and by Diana’s breathing, he can tell she is awake too. He feels guilty, but also angry that he feels guilty when he didn’t do anything wrong. He knows that he deserves this, knows he’s lying in a bed of his own making, but he still hates knowing that it will never go away. Six years later and she’s still watching him like a hawk. He thought it would get better over time, but it hasn’t. 

And then there’s Simon and his new baby. He was surprised by the pang of jealousy that lit up in his chest upon hearing the news, a sensation he’s never experienced before. He’s always considered he and Diana to be childfree by choice, but looking back, he doesn’t really recall weighing in on that decision. Diana never wanted to be a mother, and he wanted to be with Diana, and so it was simply part of the deal. Now, at nearly 39 years old, he suddenly wonders if being a father would suit him.

“Did you always know that you didn’t want children?” he asks out loud, and Diana’s breathing pauses briefly. 

“Where did that come from?” she questions.

“Marcy is pregnant again, and I was just thinking—”

A blustering sigh. 

“Jeff, are we really going to do this right now?” she asks, annoyed. 

“Do what?” he counters, equally irritated by her dismissiveness. 

Diana rolls to her side to face him, propping her head up on a fist. 

“Can you really see yourself giving up poker night, and sleeping in, and playing basketball on the weekend?” she asks, her tone shifting to something lighter. 

“I mean…I don’t think I’d have to give up all those things. Not forever, anyway,” he says. 

“Imagine walking into the office to find your rare book collection in tatters on the floor, covered in drool,” she teases, and he smiles. 

“That would be less than ideal,” he agrees. 

“Imagine having to stay quiet when we make love,” she continues, sliding her hand across his belly. 

“I’m not even sure that’s possible,” he says, now grinning. 

She hitches her leg up over his hip, straddling him, then peels the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing her breasts. 

“These are, and always will be, exclusively for you,” she says in a syrupy voice, then leans forward and brushes her lips over his. “Help me fall asleep, Jeff,” she whispers. 

Her nightgown finds its way to the floor, as do his boxers. She sits astride him, grinding with her eyes locked on his. She’s possessive, maybe a little desperate, though he’s not sure why. 

“That’s it,” she encourages him, her hands planted on his chest. Her eyes slide closed, her mouth falling open. “Yes, Fox,” she murmurs. 

When she collapses against his chest he rubs wide circles over her back, and his mind instantly returns to its wandering state. 

“What did you say about a fox?” he asks, and she stiffens. 

“What?” she asks breathlessly, her face tucked against his neck. 

“You said something about a fox, during—”

“I’m relatively certain I said ‘fuck.’ Sorry to offend your delicate senses,” she says somewhat defensively, rolling off of him. 

He turns toward her, laying a reassuring hand on her bare hip. 

“I’m not offended, Diana, I was just wondering—”

“Goodnight, Jeff. I have work in the morning, I need to get to sleep, if you don’t mind,” she says in a clipped tone. 

“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Goodnight.”

He waits for her to turn her face towards his so he can kiss her goodnight, but she keeps her back to him. He presses his lips to the curve of her shoulder, lingering there as a confusing mix of emotions swirl around in his chest. 

The life he has. The life he sometimes thinks he might want. The discrepancy between the two. He wonders why now, all of a sudden, he’s peeking over the fence at possibly greener grasses. Why the life he’s been content with for years suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. 

The rush of the waves fills his ears, calming him. A gull calls out, its shriek carried away on the wind as his toes sink into the sun-warm sand. He spies a child further down the shore, a boy with dirty blond hair building something with a shovel and a bucket. There is a feeling of recognition, a sense of knowing, though he cannot recall the child’s name, nor their relationship to one another. 

A strong wave pushes up beyond the waterline, sweeping across the child’s half-finished project and washing it into an indecipherable mound. The child’s shoulders slump, defeated, so he approaches and calls out to him.

“Oh, hey, buddy. That’s okay, you can build it again.”

He kneels down beside the boy and touches the child’s cheek, brushing an errant grain of sand from his downy skin. There’s something in the child’s eyes, something familiar that makes him feel a swell of affection and protectiveness. 

“Just start again,” he tells the child, reassuringly. 

He jolts awake, his heart racing. Frenchie stands from her bed on the floor, alerted by his sudden movement, and watches him for an indication of what’s next. 

“It’s okay, Frenchie,” he murmurs, rubbing his hands over his face. 

The night is still in full swing, only inky darkness peeking in around the blinds. He looks over at Diana’s sleeping form, her back still turned to him and her breathing even. It feels like only minutes have passed since he fell asleep. 

Wired from adrenaline, he stares at the ceiling and waits for the potential of sleep to return to him. His dream has mostly faded, and he grasps at snippets. The beach, he remembers the beach. 

Just start again.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[not-a-space-alien]

All Creatures Great and Small Chapter 16: Tea Party

Surprise! Two in one day. Sometimes you just get a little excited over your blorbos >:3

In this chapter:

Story Masterpost

On AO3

As always thanks to @static-stars and @appelsiinilight ! :)

Important note: Since is the first chapter in the series that's had large portions of dialogue in Pixish interspersed within large portions of English dialogue, I decided to differentiate the two languages by putting Pixish dialogue in italics. Thistle, of course, understands both, but I thought it was important to make it obvious at a glance which language was actually being spoken because not all characters in this chapter are bilingual.

***

Marcy, a human who spoke English and a little bit of Pixish.  

Thistle, a pixie who spoke Pixish and English.  

Severa, a naga who spoke only Pixish.  

Jewel, a merminnow who spoke English and his native underwater language, which no one else at the table spoke.  

Moon, a moth fairy who spoke English, Pixish, and a number of other unknown languages.  

And Violet, a borrower who only spoke English.  

For someone who'd never expected to meet anyone who wasn't a Pixie, and who'd only been vaguely aware of the existence of other languages until recently, it was a lot.  Especially since they were all going to be at the same table.

Marcy helped Thistle set up.  They got out the biggest table he had–it was from a doll tea party set.  It was always a challenge to find furniture that was scaled exactly right since there was such a variety, and this particular set he treasured both because it happened to be exactly the right size for him, and because it came with a set of usable teacups and a teapot, all made out of fine ceramic.  Thistle privately thought it was too nice for a child to use for play, and any parent giving this to a clumsy child would be a fool.

He got out the plates he had too–likewise from a set for dolls.  These ones were a little too big, but Thistle figured that was all right since Moon and Severa were bigger than him anyway.  Marcy got him a nice, thin towel that made an excellent tablecloth, which he shook out and put over the table before putting out all the place settings.  Marcy dug out the castaways from other mismatched sets that Thistle didn’t use–for Violet, a chair from a set that had been too small, and for Moon, one from a set that had been too big.  Thistle had Marcy set the table on stacks of notecards to elevate it until Moon’s chair was the correct height, then do the same for the rest of the chairs until they could all sit equally level at the table.  Violet’s chair was cartoonish–she would have to climb a stack more notecard than chair to get up to the table, but the alternative was making Moon sit with his knees to his chest, which Thistle didn’t want to do.  The chairs were all boosted to the appropriate height in the end, and Thistle preened, so excited about having such a variety of people to talk to.

The whole setup was placed directly next to Marcy’s table setting, so she could sit at the human-sized chair to participate…and be within grabbing distance of the participants.

Teddy helped him make some small cakes, which he set out with a little bowl of jam.  Colin got out the mealworms and put them in an ornamental dish, and also arranged crackers, cheese, and fruit at Thistle’s instructions.  Marcy started brewing the tea so it would be hot when everyone arrived.

Teddy and Colin asked if they should participate, and Thistle apologetically told them it would probably be better to minimize the number of humans looming over them.  He didn’t specify names, but he knew Moon would probably be incredibly unhappy with having three giants at the table.  Teddy and Colin made themselves scarce, wishing Thistle good luck and shutting themselves in their bedroom to watch TV.  He could see the disappointment on their faces, though they were happy to support him.  They were good friends like that. 

He didn’t blame them for being disappointed.  This was going to be great.

Jewel arrived first, mostly because he arrived when Thistle instructed Marcy to scoop up some water and carry him over to the table in a mug.  She set it down and pushed the cup flush with the small table, so Jewel didn’t have to lean over so much.

“Hey, bug boy!” Jewel shouted as he was set down.  “This is quite a spread you’ve set out!”

“Yeah!” Thistle enthused.  “Teddy helped me–no!”  He cried this last part with horror as Jewel tried to take some of the cakes.  “Stop!  We can’t eat until everyone else is here!”

Jewel let go and held his hands up defensively.  “Sheesh!  All right.”

“No need to be snippish, Thistle,” Marcy chided.

“Sorry,” Thistle said, embarrassed.

Jewel crossed his arms and rested them on the lip of the cup.  “Marcy…  Are you…?”  He looked at her from under his eyebrows, clearly struggling to get the words out.  “Um.”

He’s scared, Marcy realized.  She drew her hands around the cup, which caused him to flinch back, which wasn’t at all what she’d intended.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she said.  “I promise.  I’ll be keeping a very close eye on her.”

Jewel nodded, some of his tension dissipating.  “Right.  Thanks.  Maybe this will be nice…or at the very least, not a disaster.”

Violet arrived next.  Petunia was dragged along behind her, clutching her leg, sobbing and wailing about how she wanted to go to the tea party too.  Violet told her over and over that she couldn't because it was too dangerous, and eventually Marcy convinced her to go sit in the pink dollhouse instead.  

Violet was still a little nervous about being handled, so she rappelled herself up to the top of the table with a grappling hook.  “Eh,” she said.  “I forgot ‘bout the fishmen.”

“Yo,” Jewel said, raising his hand.  "I'm Jewel." He'd been trying to get less shy about telling people his name at Colin's suggestion, not that he would ever admit he'd taken it.

"I'm Violet," she said, looking at the food instead of Jewel.

“Don’t touch the snacks, or Thistle will bite your hand off.”

“They’re for when everyone gets here!” Thistle insisted.  “It’s just–Violet!”  

Violet had started taking a cracker even as Thistle had been speaking.  “It’s just one from a stack,” she said, holding it up.  It was the size of a dinner plate to her.  “No one’ll notice it’s gone.”

“...everyone already at the table will notice, because we just saw you–You know what, fine, pick your battles.  You can have one cracker, but that’s it.”

Violet slipped the cracker into her bag.  It stuck out the top very visibly.  Thistle walked over and gave it a kick, which broke it so the pieces slid down into a heap in the bag.

“Hey!” Violet said.  “Don’t touch my stuff!”

“Your st-  Violet, I-”

“It’s all right, Thistle,” Marcy interrupted.  She reached over and picked him up by the back of the shirt, and he went limp like a kitten that’d been scruffed.  “Don’t get all worked up, everything is fine.�� We have more crackers.”

She set him down in one of the chairs.  Thistle looked embarrassed again.  “Sorry, I just want it to be perfect.”

“Because that moth man is going to be here, is that it?” Jewel said, smiling devilishly.

Thistle went bright red and hid his face.

“Speaking of,” Jewel said.

Thistle instantly stood up, craning his neck at the window Moon had instructed them to leave open for him to enter.  It was five minutes after the start time of three o’ clock, which was the fashionably late he’d warned Thistle about.

Moon alighted on the windowsill, fanning his wings and peering into the house cautiously.  He wore the outfit they’d picked out together - a deep blue velvet suit with a red cravat and a wide-brimmed hat topped with a feather, the sunglasses tying the whole look together. 

Thistle had warned Marcy to try and be restrained around Moon to not freak him out, so she sat at the table vibrating with excitement, eyes burning on him with barely held-back eagerness.  

Moon spotted Thistle and fluttered onto the table.  Thistle jogged over, smiling big.  "Moon!  Moon, thank you for coming!"

"Of course.  It’s lovely to see you."  Moon slid his sunglasses down to peer at Violet, still sitting at the table.  "And who's this lovely creature?"

Violet blushed and squirmed.  "V-Violet."  

Moon took her hand and gave it a kiss.  "It's a pleasure to meet you," he purred.  "You may call me Moon."  

Violet blushed even deeper and giggled.  Thistle felt dread crash over him.  Oh no.  This was the worst thing that could have happened.  Moon is like this with everyone.  

Marcy couldn’t hold it in any longer.  She leaned over, grinning.  "Moon, it's-"

Moon cut her off with a glare.  "You may call me Mister Moon."  

Wow, okay, so maybe not everyone.  Marcy wrung her hands, enthusiasm shot.  "Right, okay….  Mr. Moon, it's great to meet you.  Thistle's told me about you." 

Moon pointed at her with his cane.  "Let me make something perfectly clear for you.  I am not here for your entertainment.  You are not to touch me, ever, nor my companions without explicit permission immediately beforehand.  As long as I am in the room, there will always be a nearby window open, or some substitutable manner of egress.  You are not to stop me from attempting to leave, and you are not to make demands of me.  You are not to touch me, ever.  Do I make myself clear?"

Marcy looked cowed and chastised.  "Y-yes, sir."

"Moon," Thistle whispered.  "You don't have to talk to Marcy that way.  She's nice."

Moon turned away from Marcy.  “Never hurts to set clear boundaries.”

Thistle mouthed Sorry to Marcy, and she shrugged.

“Well, Marcy is going to make sure everything goes smoothly, and that Severa really does stay nonviolent.  Um, I’m sure she’d love to talk with you, Moon, but-”

Moon pointedly turned his back to Marcy and walked over to the table.

“Right,” Thistle said.  “Um.”  He skittered over to Marcy.  “Sorry, Marcy,” he whispered.  “I want you to have fun, too, but it might be better for you to hang back and not intervene unless someone is in physical danger.”

“Oh,” Marcy said, trying not to let it show how crushed she was.  “Right.  I’ll…I’ll observe.”

“I’m really sorry, it’s just-”

“No, no, I get it.”  She was trying very, very hard to get it and just be happy to be an observer–it really was an incredible privilege very few other humans had ever gotten–but she felt herself getting more upset with Moon.  Of course it made total sense for him to be standoffish around her–there was no telling what kinds of experiences he had in his past–but could she not even interact with Thistle freely when he was around?  Surely he didn’t have the right to demand that?

She kept her eyes on him.  His frame was broader than Thistle’s, more muscular, and Thistle barely came up past his waist.  Thistle seemed…more at ease around him much more quickly than he had been with Marcy.

Don’t be jealous.  Don’t be jealous of a guy eight inches tall.  That’s too ridiculous.

More than that, she was burning with curiosity.  She knew even less about him than Thistle did, even less about him than she knew about Jewel and Violet and Severa.  It was a significant effort to not just reach out and brush her fingers against him.  The temptation was real, but she knew the consequences would be dire.

His wings were beautiful, with eye spots.  He smelled nice.  He fanned his wings as he stepped forwards towards Jewel, getting on with the interrupted introductions.  "And who might this strapping specimen be?"

Jewel flushed deep red and sank down into the water in his mug, averting his eyes.  For someone who’d been teasing Thistle about having a crush, he’d gotten awfully quiet as soon as the attractive one had shown up.

"This is Jewel," Thistle said.  "He's shy."  

"I'm not shy!" Jewel burst out.  

"Then say hello."  

He looked nervously at Moon.  "H-hello."  

"There," Moon purred.  "See, I don't bite."  

Marcy cleared her throat.  "Speaking of… It seems like everyone is here now.  Should I bring her out?  Is everyone ready?”

The creatures on the table scuttered to their seats.  Moon took the seat to Thistle’s right, leaning his cane against the chair, while Violet sat at the end of the line.  

That left the other half of the table empty.  A gap big enough for the largest tiny person invited. 

“I think we’re ready!” Thistle said, flashing her a thumbs-up.  

“Ready,” Moon announced.  

“Let’s go, I guess,” Violet said nervously.  

Jewel glowered and crossed his arms.  "Sooner it can be over, I guess."  

Marcy walked into the pantry, leaving the tiny creatures alone.

“Why are we doing this again?” Jewel said.

“If I can form a connection with Severa, she might not need to hunt,” Thistle answered.

Moon was staring at him.  Thistle shrunk under his gaze.  “I just–I just think it’s worth trying to find some way she can live without killing people.”

Moon folded his hands on his lap.  “That’s awfully noble of you.”

“I still think this is kinda stupid,” Violet muttered.  “She’s a predator.”

“We can at least try!” Thistle insisted.  “If you had to eat people to survive, I’m sure you’d love for someone to try and help you!  She’s hurt and trapped and scared and she has no way to help herself!  You’ve been there!”

Violet’s ears lay flat back against her head.  “I-I guess.”

Thistle nervously looked back at Moon, searching for approval.  Moon looked surprised, if anything.  “You really mean it.  You really have compassion for her despite being terrified of her.”

Thistle fidgeted with his fork, unsure if he should try to confirm or deny it.  He certainly felt something, and there was definitely both compassion and terror in his maelstrom of emotions.

Marcy came back, mercifully cutting the train of conversation off.  She set the cage on the table and said in awkward Pixish, “All right, Severa, ready to exit?” 

Severa tentatively uncurled, looking up at Marcy, and nodded.  

“Remember, if anyone says she goes back in, she goes back in,” Marcy said to the others in English.  "I’ll grab her as soon as you give the word."  

“Your kind certainly are good at grabbing,” Moon commented darkly.  

Marcy waffled back and forth on how to handle the rude comment, before she decided to just ignore it and unlock the cage then lower the door open.

Severa hauled herself out of the cage, slithering her long body over the door.  Despite their agreement, all the small creatures at the table fidgeted.  Jewel’s eyes were wide.  Violet flinched repeatedly.  Thistle’s breathing picked up.  Moon’s face was cool and collected, but his ears twitched.

Severa didn’t seem bothered.  She curled her coils up underneath her to use as a seat.  "Hello,” she announced.  "I am Severa."  

Thistle suddenly realized he would be stuck translating if he wanted Jewel and Violet to understand Severa.  "She’s introducing herself."  

“Uh, h-hey,” Jewel said in English.  "I’m Jewel."  

Violet opened her mouth to speak, then clamped it shut, grabbing the tablecloth.

“You may call me Moon,” Moon said in Pixish.  He reached out and lifted her hand up as though to give it a kiss.  She was the only one big enough to have hands significantly larger than his.

She looked at him like he’d grown a second head.  “What are you doing?”

His eyes flickered up to her, eyebrows raised.  He quickly turned her hand sideways to give it a handshake instead.  “Just–just a greeting, darling!”

“He’s just being friendly,” Thistle said in Pixish.  “These are my friends Jewel, Moon, and Violet.”  They weren’t his friends yet, not really–he didn’t make any magic with them.  But he was patient.  He’d get there eventually.  “Jewel and Violet only speak English.  But I can translate for them.”

Severa nodded.  "Thistle intends for us all to be friends.  I am willing to give it a try, though I do not think it will work."  She put her enormous, scaly hand on the table.  "How do we have…a tea party?”

Thistle perked up.  "Well, you sit around and talk nicely and drink tea and eat snacks."  He switched to English.  "I told her your names, and I’m explaining to her what a tea party is."  He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t even considered the logistical difficulties.  He’d never had to serve as a translator before.  This was going to be…cumbersome.

"Wonderful," Severa said.  She never had any enthusiasm in her voice, or much emotion at all.  "May I eat, or will that upset your little friends?"

"Yes, go ahead!"  He switched to English.  "Everyone take some yummy snacks now!  Dig in!"

"Finally," Jewel complained.  He took a cake and bit into it.  He got sparkles in his eyes immediately.  It looked like he was about to cry, enraptured by the taste.

"You've never had cake before?" Thistle asked.

Jewel shook his head.

"Well…what do you think?"

Jewel swallowed quickly, face burning.  "It's….fine."  He quickly reached over and took two more.

Thistle beamed.  “Yeah, it’s– Violet!"

Violet had been shoving food into her pack without even eating any of it.  "What? You said we could have the food!"

"To enjoy with each other!  Not hoard for later!"

"I'ma borrower!  We hoard and save for later!  It’s kinda our whole thing!”

Severa reached out towards the table, and everyone fell silent.  Her enormous hand dipped into the bowl holding the mealworms and emerged holding one of the wriggling creatures.  She simply opened her mouth and swallowed it whole, in one smooth motion.

Thistle tried to convince himself it wasn’t scary.  He reached into the bowl and took one of his own.  He bit the head off–that was as big of a bite as he could get.  We’re not so different.  See?  We even eat the same food!  She’s just big enough to eat the whole thing in one bite!  Oh God oh God oh God-

“Is it working?” Thistle said, voice shrill.  “Does anyone feel anything?”

Violet’s tail thrashed.  Jewel nibbled on his cakes, rendered speechless.  Moon lifted his teacup up and spoke in English.  “I feel thirsty.  I thought this was a tea party?  Hm?”  He waggled the cup.

“R-right!  Marcy, can you pour the tea?”

Marcy’s mind was filled with horrible images of her spilling the hot liquid all over the tiny people at the table.  Don’t think about it, don’t spill it, holy shit.  She took the teapot in the center of the miniature table and brought it over to herself, then filled it with tea from the larger teapot.

“There you go,” she said, setting it back.  “Enjoy!”

Moon ignored her and picked up the miniature teapot, pouring himself a cup.  “My, this smells delicious!  I haven’t had tea in ages–not since I lived with those borrowers back in Louisville.”

Violet’s tail curled upwards.  “You lived with borrowers?”

“Yes, indeed!  And I know what you’re thinking, how could that have possibly worked?  Considering our, ah…”  He gestured to Violet, tracing an imaginary line from her head to his.  “Differences.”

“Wha’sthasupposestamean?” she demanded.

“I’m simply referring to the fact that I’m nearly thrice your size, darling.”

Violet looked a bit mollified.

“But to answer the question, I simply used magic to make myself smaller!”

“You can do that?” Jewel said, astonished.  “The most I can do is make myself look like a fish, but I don’t actually turn into one.”

“Yes, I know a number of spells I can use to modify my appearance!”

Thistle’s mind ran off with that thought.  Was this…was this what Moon actually looked like?

"What is he saying?" Severa said.

"He, uh, he said he lived with borrowers for a while, and he can do magic to alter his appearance, including shrinking himself down."

“That’s fascinating,” Severa said, voice as flat as ever.  “All of my magic is for helping me hunt.”

Moon looked nervous.  “Erm…right.”

“Although I suppose for certain kinds of creatures-”

“That’s enough about hunting,” Moon said.  “Magic is fascinating, and it has many uses beyond hunting.”

"You don't have to be scared," Thistle whispered to Moon.  "Marcy will stop her if she tries to hunt us."

Severa took the teapot and poured some into her cup.  “You know, Thistle,” she said, lifting the cup in her enormous hand.  She was able to fully close her hand around it.  “I’m surprised you’re so tense around me, but perfectly at ease around Moon, considering he’s an ukubó.”

There it was again.  A word he’d never heard before in Pixish.  Thistle was faced now more than ever with the realization that his knowledge was limited to whatever his hive had known about magic, and whatever knowledge gaps Mother’d had, he now had as well.

Whatever the meaning of the word, Moon didn’t seem to like it.  He stood up, slamming his hands on the table and rattling everything on it.  “Do not say that in front of them,” he growled.

Thistle, Violet, and Jewel drew back fearfully.

“They don’t know what it means,” Severa said, amused.  She lifted her teacup to her mouth and took a sip.  "Two of them don't even speak Pixish."

Had…had Severa just called Moon a slur or something?  “Severa, please be nice,” Thistle whispered.  He’d have to ask later what that word meant. 

Her mouth turned up in a wry smile.  “Fine.”

Hackles still raised, Moon sat down.

"What exactly is going on?" Jewel said, irritated. "You're all just yelling at each other in Pixish."

"Sorry," Thistle said. "I think Severa called Moon a rude name or something."

"...huh, I didn't expect her to attack us emotionally."

Moon crossed his arms.  “But, yes, to get back to the point, I’ve interacted with a number of species of magical creatures and learned a number of magical spells.”

“Well lah-de-dah,” Jewel said, burying his nose in his teacup.  “Mr. Cool Guy over here.  Thinks just because he smells nice he’s God’s gift to the table.”

“He does smell nice!” Violet piped up.  “Like hickory and cured meats and cheeses!”

Questioning eyes fell on her.  “What?” Jewel said.  “No he doesn’t.  He smells salty, like ocean water.”

“That’s you,” Violet insisted.

Moon’s frame shook with laughter, and he leaned in towards Thistle.  “What do I smell like to you, my dear?”

“You smell like…honeysuckle.  Wildflowers.”

Moon smiled, eyes soft.  “You all have discovered my pheromones.”

“Ph…eremones?”

He picked up a cube of cheese and weighed it in his hand.  “I smell different to everyone.  It has to do with my magic, you see.”

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a grappling hook catching on the table and distant grunting sounds.

Violet leapt out of her seat and rushed to the end of the table, peering over it.  Of course it was Petunia hanging from the line of the grappling hook, shimmying her way up it in her prettiest dress.

“Petunia, get down!” Violet shouted.  “Go back and play!”

“No!” Petunia shouted back.  “I’m coming to the party!”

Severa uncoiled herself and slithered away from the table.  Marcy hesitantly raised her hands as though to stop her, but nobody told her to, so she didn’t.  She let Severa go over to the edge and lean over to look down.  Violet’s knees buckled, and she fell, shuffling away from Severa but refusing to leave the grappling hook.

What Petunia saw was her sister’s face looking down at her, then the much larger face of a scaled predator leaning into her field of view.  She froze halfway up the line, letting out a scared meep.

“You-you see!” Violet yelled.  “It’s dang’rous!  Get back!”

Petunia’s gaze stayed frozen on Severa.  Severa stared back, eyes misty, tears brimming.  “Oh, oh my God,” she breathed.  “That baby is so small.  Whose baby is that?”

Thistle got up and got between Severa and Violet.  “That’s Petunia,” Thistle said. “She’s Violet’s little sister.  They don’t have parents.  Violet is taking care of her.”

“No parents?” Severa said, heartbroken.  She put her hand over her heart.  “Can…Can I hold her?”

Thistle bit his lip.  He already knew what the answer was going to be, but he had to translate it anyway.  “Violet, she’s asking if she can hold Petunia.”

“What!”  Violet stood up ramrod straight, fur on end.  “No!  Definitely not!”

“Violet, if she wanted to hurt Petunia, she wouldn’t ask to hold her.”

“Maybe it’s just to get her up on the table.”

“She wants to hold me?” Petunia’s distant voice said.  She cautiously restarted climbing up the rope.  “Everyone else is up there and nothing bad happened!”

“Please,” Severa said desperately.  “I would never hurt a child.  Please let me hold her.”

It suddenly clicked for Thistle.  She had an egg due.  Either she was hormonal, or she had a soft spot for children.  Maybe this could be the key.  This was the first time she’d expressed any strong emotions about anything at all.  Even during hunting her general demeanor had been passive chagrin and dull acceptance of the situation at hand.

“I can’t,” Violet said, starting to cry.  “I can’t let Petunia get so close to a predator.  I can’t.  Thistle, even if your humans are here to watch, they won’t be able to stop her in time if she hurts Petunia while she’s holdin’ her.”

That…was a very good point.  Thistle had no counterargument.  “Okay, you’re right about that…  But what if we just let Petunia come up on the table?  She doesn’t have to get close.  Severa’s been here long enough that we can see she’s not going to just ballistic for no reason.”

Severa kneaded her hand, still looking at Petunia.

Violet hesitated.  “All…all right.  But only if Teddy comes and sits at the table too.”

“No,” Moon said instantly.  “Having one human here is bad enough.”

“Would you all just calm down!” Thistle said, stomping.  “Nothing is even happening.  I’m the one she tried to kill, not any of you!  And none of the humans in this house have done anything except try to be supportive right now!” 

Moon flushed and turned away.  Violet fidgeted with the hem of her shirt and muttered.

Petunia’s little hands finally appeared at the edge of the table, dragging herself up.  She wound her grappling hook line behind her.  “I’m here!”

Severa made a motion to start towards her, but Thistle stood in front of her, despite his own hands shaking with fear.  “Severa, wait.” Marcy is here, Marcy would stop her if she attacked.

She stopped, eyes still on Petunia.  “I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I believe you, but Violet is uncomfortable with you holding her.”

Severa flexed her hand, looking anxious to interact with Petunia.

“Violet?” Thistle prompted.

Violet’s head swung from Thistle to Severa to Petunia.  “I…Okay, she can sit at the table.  But she has to be at the seat farthest from her.”

“Thank you,” Thistle breathed, having no idea how to resolve this otherwise.  “I promise she’ll be safe.”  He turned to Severa.  “How about you sit at the table together for a while before we talk about holding her?”

Severa backed up slightly, coils wrapping around herself.  “Yes.  Okay.  Thank you.”

The small creatures all cautiously retook their seats.  “Everything okay?” Marcy whispered.

Thistle flashed her two thumbs up.  “Everything’s cool, calm, and copacetic!”

Petunia dashed over, giggling happily, and clambered up into Violet’s lap.  The poof of her dress crinkled against the table.  “Vivi!  Look at all the food!”

“Yes,” Violet said cautiously.  “You can have some.”

Petunia opened her bag and started shoveling food in.  Ah.  Well, Thistle wasn’t going to tell Petunia not to do that.

Severa watched the tiny borrower, her expression now completely different.  She had a soft glow about her.  She was smiling.  “Your dress is very pretty.”

Thistle translated.  “She said your dress is pretty.”

Petunia perked up.  “Yay!  Thank you, thank you!  Your ribbon is nice.”

Thistle translated.  Severa reached a hand up and stroked her hair ribbon.  “I’m not sure why I wear it.  I suppose it feels nice, sometimes, to feel beautiful, instead of only destroying beautiful things.”

Thistle’s skin crawled.  Every time he’d almost managed to start forgetting Severa’s true nature, he was reminded of it somehow.  He decided to only translate the Thank you.

Moon cleared his throat.  “So tell us more about yourself, Severa.  Do you have any children of your own?”

Thistle certainly hoped not, because they would have been keeping her from them the past few days.  “No,” she answered, much to his relief.  “Though not for lack of trying.  My first hatchling starved to death, because I was a poor hunter at the time.  Inexperienced.  My second disappeared from my nest at the hands of a predator while I was away.  My third egg was laid premature, small and feeble, and when it hatched it was not strong enough to survive.  I’ve held off on mating for a while after that, since I could not take any more heartbreak.”

“Oh?” Moon said.  “That’s tragic.  I’m so sorry.”

Thistle privately thought it wasn’t tragic at all for there to be fewer nagas in the world, but he did have to admit the idea of innocent babies dying was sad, of course.  Theoretically.  In reality, he was struggling to detach himself from the hivemind way of thinking–that he shouldn’t feel bad about someone dying if they were a threat to the hive.

But he wasn’t with his hive anymore, he was with Marcy, and Severa wasn’t a threat to her.

Severa’s gaze came over and burned into Thistle.  “But I do have an egg due soon, now.  I hope it will be different from the others, but I do not have much hope.  I need lots of magic to produce a healthy egg.”

“Right…”  Thistle hadn’t felt the spark of magic he knew meant he was making a connection with someone else.  Severa was just too scary.  It was easy to say you were friends.  It was harder to actually do it.  You couldn’t fake it.  You could lie to yourself, but you couldn’t lie to magic.

Severa picked up her teacup agitatedly.  “Perhaps your plan would work, Thistle, if I were allowed to hold the baby.”

“I’m sorry,” Thistle said.  “Violet doesn’t want you to.”

Severa slammed her cup down.  “I would not hurt a child!  I have never hurt a child!  You act like I am a monster!”

You ARE a monster, Thistle wanted to say, but he didn’t, of course.  “I’m sorry.”

“Uhh, Thistle,” Jewel said nervously.  “What’s happening?”

Severa’s tongue flicked in and out, and her sides heaved as she hissed in air.  “We both know this isn’t going to work.  I’m going to die, and you’re not even going to let me hold the baby before I die.  And for what?”

Marcy’s hands crept closer, alarmed by the visible increase in agitation.

“Severa,” Thistle squeaked.  “Please.  It’s not going to work if you get mad at me.”

“It’s not going to work at all!”  Severa got up, leaning over the table at Thistle.  “We both know that!  You are trying to defy the natural order of things!  You are foolish and naive!  To think I could be anything other than a killer, a predator!  I am hungry!  And not for companionship!”

She lunged.  Jewel splashed back in his cup, Violet grabbed Petunia and darted away, and Moon threw himself at Thistle to push him out of the way.

She didn’t reach him, though: Marcy’s hand closed around her, yanking her up into the air.

Severa writhed in her grip, squeezed her wrist.  Petunia cried loudly.  Severa stopped and looked down at the little girl, tears in her eyes.

“I wouldn’t hurt a child,” she insisted.

Still sobbing in fear, Petunia got up and scampered away, Violet not far behind.

“Come back,” Severa wept.  “Come back.  Please.  If I could just hold a baby one more time, I could die happy.”

“Okay, teaparty over,” Marcy declared.  “Sorry.”

***

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[kiwibirb1]

Haha so au meetup right? Where I throw all my aus together to have funny conversations? Great Great yeah so my most recent au, the alt version of WV where the Forgers are dead. Mhm you see where I'm going with this?

ToaF girls have joined the gang. Them and WV recognize all the similarities between their adventures (all the Sashas are wondering if this is what would have happened if they hadn't stayed with Grime too now), and start comparing. ToaF were in amphibia for like 2-3 years longer than WV (and also didn't really stay on earth. I'll talk about that later.) Anne's are comparing arm braces, marcys are comparing core possessions, the usual. The Sashas though? They have one key difference. Timing. ToaF brings up Finley, how rambunctious the little kiddo is, how great she is to have around. WV laughs, and mentions Isley, waiting for the other to fill the gap. Silence. "Y'know, Finley's sister?" Oh. ToaF's eyes widen, and she quietly explains the empty snail shell, the destroyed wagon, the remnants left behind. The house, silent but for small whimpers in the basement, a child alone and orphaned by the herons. Oh. WV tightens his grip on the purple sword, a sibling to someone he might have never known.

Yeah. WV is kinda mad at ToaF for a while, because he had gotten there fast enough why couldn't she, and Toaf agrees with them. She had proof now of what haunted her thoughts every night as she watched over her kid, a kid that never should have been hers.

Hehe this has been swirling around my head all day glad I finally typed it out

[tieronecrush]

bestie!!!

for the ask game:

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

T: Any fandom tropes you can't stand?

U: Share three of your favourite fic writers and why you like them so much.

HI BB :)))

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

The light bounces off the surface of the water, reflecting in his eyes as you hold his gaze and silence falls over the two of you for a handful of heartbeats. He speaks in a hushed voice as if any louder would shatter the moment, “M’gonna marry you. Gonna give you whatever kind of life you want — a house, babies, I’d move across the world with you if you wanted. Middle of nowhere. Whatever you want, Mari.” A smile grows on your face, droplets littering your face as you match his volume, “The only life I want is one with yours.”

this is from my most recent chapter of h&h and idk i feel so attached to lil moments like this cause they feel genuine to me like such simple expressions of love <3

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

ABSOLUTELY there are so many but some highlights would be tumblr wise: YOU EL @swiftispunk @cupofjoel @darkroastjoel @atinylittlepain and so so many more

non-tumblr wise, i would aspire to write something like elif batuman's the idiot, v.e. schwab's the invisible life of addie larue, lily king's writers & lovers, sally rooney's normal people, and of course, i love the classics from jane austen & charlotte bronte & love sylvia plath

a big influence is stories that feel like incredible representations of real life and i can feel what the characters are feeling

T: Any fandom tropes you can't stand?

oh god..........idk there's not a lot that i won't give a shot but i am not a fan of the inexperienced reader who has NO CLUE about anything cause that is just a sure fire way to take me out of the story cause in today's day and age, even if you're sheltered, you're still gonna learn or be exposed to sex

U: Share three of your favourite fic writers and why you like them so much.

you are included in this list and i have told you all the time but i am always in awe of how you build your fics and include such poetic language and also make me go insane cause i fall in love with your characters so quickly. let my barbies marcie and jo kith <3

@swiftispunk -- han is such an incredible writer and makes me want to be better and was my first friend on here and encouraged me to write and i love her so much!!! always and forever a favorite of mine, i would eat up anything han wrote, fic or not!

@atinylittlepain -- GIN my cousin they are seriously so skilled and so creative in their story ideas and character development is just chef's kiss. again, a writer who inspires me! i am putting my gin cap on for a WIP i have attempting to write something with as much depth and beauty as they put into their writing every time.

@ladamedusoif -- the thoughtfulness in rose's stories is so immaculate, i am always transported into the worlds that she builds. it's careful creation but not fragile in the slightest, i can really dig into her stories and characters.

@whatsnewalycat -- hands down writes fics that should be novels. the amount of times i have sobbed or laughed or yelled out loud while reading aly's stories is concerning. i devour everything they post as soon as it's posted and i have had weeks at a time when i have found myself continually thinking about their stories and characters and certain small choices that have left an impact on me.

ask me a question about my fics!

[tea-plantz]

Hello lovelies! I’m so sorry for my lack of fanfics these last weeks, but I assure you that once it’s summer and all of my final exams are over, I’ll be able to post a lot more!

So I just decided to post this little Marcy drabble, before I continue working on some of my longer requests<3

(I have some reallyyy old requests that I haven’t finished yet, but I’ll get to them I promise)

She/her for the reader

~Marcy Wu x fem!reader

Romantic movies~

I were sitting on my couch with my girlfriend, Marcy. We had been planning a sleepover for such a long time now, and the day had finally come!

“Hey Mar-mar?” I turned to look at her.

“Yeah, N/n?” She responded, looking up at me.

“Could you head over to the kitchen and fetch us some popcorn, while I pick out a movie?” I asked her as I slightly tilted my head to the right.

“Yeah of course! You know what type of movies I like~” Marcy giggling as she pecked my cheek, before standing up and making her way to the kitchen.

I giggled slightly to myself as I watched her walk away. God, she was just so cute sometimes, I sighed lovingly, before remembering that I actually had to find something for us to watch.

After a little bit of a scavenger hunt, I finally found the remote behind a couple of pillows at the very edge of the sofa. I clicked the on button as the TV lights sprung to life, before I started searching for a movie. Maybe ‘Lord of the Rings’? No, we watched that last time. How about ‘The Shining’? No, Marcy is kind of a scaredy-cat, haha. I continued to search a bit more, my eyes skimming through the different covers, as I heard Marcy roaming around in the kitchen, until one particular movie finally caught my attention. ‘From up on poppy hill’, a studio Ghibli movie, and… a romantic movie. I blushed slightly at the thought as I smiled. This is perfect! Marcy loves Ghibli movies and this is a chance for us to have a romantic couple moment! I said to myself with a determinant look on my face. We. Will. Cuddle.

“Hey Y/n!” Marcy suddenly said as she returned with a big bowl of popcorn.

“Marcy!” I said, startled, as I hadn’t herd her coming. “I um.. I picked out a movie!” I said with a nervous smile as Marcy turned to face the TV.

“A love movie?” She looked at me with a small blush covering her features.

“Y-yeah, we can pick out something different if you don’t wanna watch it, I just thought that-“

“Hey hey, it’s ok!” The back haired girl giggled a bit as she calmed me down with a sweet smile.

“I absolutely love that movie and I would love to watch it with you” she said as she looked away from my eyes, slightly smiling.

I sat there in silence as I looked at her, before I captured her in a big bear hug.

“Awwwh sweetie! You really wanna watch a love film with me? Your too cute~” I smirked as I laughed.

Marcy burrowed her face into my chest with a whine, clearly embarrassed, as I laughed even more.

In the end, me and my girlfriend ended up hugging each other close under one of my moms big and fluffy blankets on the couch. Marcy even rested her head on my shoulder as she gave me random fun-facts about the movie from time to time. Tonight couldn’t have been more perfect.

I felt like this little scenario actually turned out really cute! Sorry it’s so short though, but I really need more sleep 🥲

[waybrights]

may i offer some sats au in this trying time? (as usual it's late so, if u see any spelling mistakes, no u don't <3) enjoy !!

---

as much as sasha complains about it, once they actually start recording, she doesn't mind having to repeat the same verse again and again until its perfect. sure, it's tedious, but she would be lying if she said she hated it. how could she, when anne and marcy are with her, and they're laughing over a quiet joke. she might even consider it fun.

might, being the key word.

"stop it," an angry voice shouts over the intercom. sasha groans, letting her final chord echo around the small booth. "you aren't even trying, none of you are." it would be fun, sasha thinks, if andrias could keep his nose out of it for five minutes.

"we're playing exactly what you gave us," sasha says into her microphone, struggling to swallow the anger rising in her throat.

the man shakes his head, eyes sliding over the three of them from the other side of the glass. "no, you aren't. marcy's behind, and you keep messing up the lyrics," he waves his hand as though that would help get his point across. "anne seems to be the only one who knows what's going on."

behind her, sasha can hear anne shifting in place, a single note drifting through the room. "i don't think it's their fault," she says firmly, pulling the strap of her bass over her head and placing the instrument gently on its stand.

"oh?" andrias raises a single, white brow, eyes narrowing on anne as she steps forward, pressing her arm against sasha's.

"yeah, the music isn't making any sense. it's like a child wrote this stuff," she claims, and sasha hears a snort from marcy. anne picks up the sheets of music on sasha's stand and holds it away from them, turning the page to face the glass, and the men sat behind it. "you can't expect us to play anything substantial when it's hardly legible," then, as though it would help calm the rising tension, she adds, "from a musical perspective, of course."

the booth goes silent, a static filling the intercom as andrias turns from them and starts talking to one of the producers. sasha doesn't bother trying to guess what they're saying, instead taking off her guitar and turning to marcy, still sitting at her drum kit with a small smile on her face.

"you finding this funny, mars?" sasha asks as she walks over, sitting down on the raised platform.

"a little," marcy giggles, leaning her chin on her upturned palm. "also a little annoying," she whispers as an after thought.

sighing, sasha leans her head against marcy’s leg, watching anne pace and fiddle with her bracelet. "yeah, i get that."

"it feels like nothing we ever do is good enough," she says after a while. "no matter how long we play for, or how much new music we write, it's never right."

she sounds so tired, and all sasha wants to do is pull them into her arms and make sure they never feel this way again, but she doesn't. sasha just takes marcy's hand and squeezes it as tightly as she can. "they'll see one day, mars. they'll see just how hard we work, how hard you work, for this to happen."

"you sound so sure about that," marcy mumbles, tapping her fingers against the back of sasha’s hand.

"i am." sasha nods, pulling her eyes off anne to smile up at marcy. "i'll make sure they know. promise!"

marcy looks unsure, as though she doesn't believe that this could change, that one day they aren't arguing over music they never even wrote. but sasha swear to herself in the moment, that no matter what happens, no matter how long it takes, she'll make sure that one day, marcy and anne are happy, doing what they want to be doing.

anne joins them after another ten minutes of pacing, flopping down next to sasha and dropping her head into her lap as she lets out, what could be, the worlds longest sigh.

"we'll get through this, girls," anne mutters as her eyes flutter. "together."

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, April 7

BUFFY: Y'know, I never stopped thinking about you. RILEY: Me neither. All I had in there was this one little part of you. (Gives her bandana piece) BUFFY: It's just the scarf part of me really. RILEY: Sure it is. Just knowing you were out there...that you cared...

~~This Year's Girl~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Pieces by CoffeeHunt (Fanged Four, M)

Research by skargasm (Xander/Spike, T)

Poem: the spark by LiraelClayr007 (Buffy/Spike, T)

Untitled ("big anya problem") by scooby-group-texts (Xander/Anya, not rated, worksafe, posted as an image)

Partly Cloudly, Eclipse 1999 by Saranac (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

First Day by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy, anthology rated PG-13)

Me and My Shadow by Chelle (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Surviving Together, Ch. 17 by ionlylikebadboys (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Something Lost Something Found, Ch. 8 by Safire (Buffy/Spike, R)

Love Lives Here, Ch. 46 by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Rebehold the Stars (Love from the Other Side of the Apocalypse) Ch. 11 by Asokatanos (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Wilderness Retreat OR Super Mega Happy Kill-A-Rama! Ch. 3 by Melme1325 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Gargoyle, Ch. 2 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Boyfrenemy, Ch. 5-8 by Lady Emma (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Celebrating You, Ch. 5 by DeamonQueen (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Scoobies in Neptune, Ch. 30 by Buffyworldbuilder (Veronica Mars crossover, FR7)

When Ethan Rayne made Rambo, Ch. 9 by SplitEnz (Rambo crossover, Xander, FR15)

An odd Couple of grumpy old Brits, Ch. 11 by Julikobold (Giles & Spike, Buffy/Spike, G)

Forgiveness Doesn't Come Easy, Ch. 29 by Slaymesoftly (Buffy/Spike, R)

To All We Guard, Ch. 11 by simmony (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Perfect Clarity, Ch. 25 by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, R)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Tarot card design: Andrew my little strudel Page of Cups by isevery0nehereverystoned (worksafe)

Meme: Positive reminders 🫶 by shewhosleepsalotincemeteries (Faith, probably worksafe, canon-typical manslaughter)

Giles/Jenny screencaps captioned with text posts by vampswritings (probably worksafe, somewhat nsfw text in a small font)

I tried drawing Drusilla from memory. Thoughts? by Coochie_Von_Moochie (worksafe)

Queer Buffyverse Moodboards by MadeInGold (Buffy, Dawn, Darla, G)

[Reviews & Recaps]

Fredless by evolutionleftovers

Buffy S7E2: Beneath You | Booze & Buffy

Superstar by Buffy the Vampire Straya

Pop Culture Role Call: Angel Series & Buffyverse Wrap-Up

[Recs & In Search Of]

All time favourite Spuffy fanfics recced by williamprattz

[Community Announcements]

alexsrousseau made an 18+ Buffy/Giles BtVS server

[Fandom Discussions]

People are too harsh about Kennedy from btvs by explosionshark

So Jesse’s death was supposed to be a twist right? by nicnacsnonsense

Watching the episode with Marcie... by nicnacsnonsense

I feel like ppl write the Slayer off too quickly. by theredpharaoah

I was thinking about Willow's will-be-done spell from S4... by ashmaenas

Re: favorite BTVS character arc? by breathing-and-stuff

Xander becomes such a compelling character when you imagine... by felixsfishnets

AU... where Spike is just a little more overtly bisexual than he is in canon, and Andrew gets turned... by lierdumoa

Re: If you could have given Riley a B-plot in an episode he didn't have one... by riley-summers

Riley ship opinions, pt. 3, Polyship edition by riley-summers

Tara and Riley friendship headcanons by riley-summers

Andrew - comic man-child or naive nuisance? (cont'd) by multiple people

Re: Where are people from, do they write, and has upbringing or location affected their work? by DeepBlueJoy

Which [AtS] “bad guy” character deserved another chance? by buffyangel468

willow x faith could have actually worked by Saturneinyourhead

How do the vampire origins, ubervamps, The Master, and Kakistos all work together in the Buffyverse lore? by cre8ivemind

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Join the editor team :)

[coconurt]

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DEAR FRIEND @owlfacenightkit !!!! I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH BESTIE 💞💖💕💝

Here, I wrote you a lil something :3 I hope you like it!!

~~~

"Alright, one chocolate, one strawberry, and one mint chip." The lady behind the ice cream cart set the frozen desserts down with a practiced movement and accepted the wrinkled wad of cash Sasha gave her.

With a quick smile, Sasha thanked the vendor and walked back towards where she'd left her girls. Balancing three cups of ice cream in her hands at once was a bit of a challenge, but she managed.

Once she was sure she wasn't going to drop her precious cargo, she tilted her face upwards, savoring the feeling of the sunshine on her face. It was a mild April day, one of those precious few meant to be enjoyed before the LA summer sun came along and burnt everything to a crisp.

Which was exactly why she had dragged her two oldest friends along for a relaxing day at the park.

She heard Anne before she saw her, over at the outdoor chess tables.

A shout of, "Again?! How?!" echoed conspicuously through the park, shortly followed by, "HOW did you do that?!".

Sasha found the other girl engaged in a boisterous game with an older gentleman she was pretty sure Anne had never met before. It was a pretty amusing sight, to say the least.

Anne was too busy loudly protesting the seizure of her knight to notice Sasha's approach. Barely even slowing as she passed, the blonde simply slipped her her styrofoam cup and moved on.

Now to find Marcy. She wasn't on the bench where Sasha had left her, which was only slightly suspicious. She mentally shrugged and rounded a corner, past a swing set and a few hedges.

And, there she was. Sasha smiled warmly at the sight. Even after everything, in some ways, Marcy hadn't changed a bit.

She was sitting cross-legged on the grass, in an open spot away from the main walkway. Two crows ambled around remarkably close to her, evidently not frightened of her in the slightest. They were pecking at little pieces of granola bar Marcy had obviously given them. She watched them intently, her phone dangling loosely from one hand. Upbeat music struggled from the phone's speakers, the sound tinny but audible.

Sasha tiptoed closer, trying to be stealthy and failing. Marcy didn't look up. The shiny black birds considered her warily, but stayed where they were.

"Hey, Marce," Sasha whispered in greeting. "You make some new friends?"

Marcy smiled then, finally acknowledging Sasha's presence, but still didn't tear her eyes away from her birds.

"Yep!" she replied, popping the P. "At least, I think so. These two seem to remember me. Which. Cool."

"Wow, so you know these two in particular?"

"Mm-hm! I've been interacting with them for maybe a month now."

Sasha sunk down onto the grass beside Marcy and passed the other girl her ice cream.

"Ooo! Mint chip, thanks Sash!" Marcy quickly shoveled a large scoop into her mouth and shut her eyes in bliss. When she reopened them, she turned her head and peeked at Sasha shyly.

"Do you… wanna hear more about crows?" she asked around a mouthful of ice cream.

"Always," she answered immediately. Marcy's face lit up.

"Okay okay so!" She swallowed. "Their binomial name is Corvus brachyrhynchos, also known as the American crow!"

She went on, excitedly moving her hands as she spoke. "These are extremely intelligent birds. In studies, they've been shown to have the capacity to remember human faces!"

Sasha cracked a small, genuine smile at that. "That's really cool. Got any other interesting crow facts?"

Marcy thought for a moment. "Hm… OH! Did you know they have the same brain-weight-to-body ratio as humans? Amazing right?!"

"Wow! Yeah, that is pretty amazing, Mar." Lost in thought, she absent-mindedly rubbed the scar on her cheek with a fingertip, then reminded herself to stop. She glanced down at Marcy's phone, which was now lying in the grass and still playing some chipper electropop song. "So… what's that for? The music, I mean."

"Oh! Yeah, I had the thought one day to play some music for these guys, and they seem to like it," she answered simply and shrugged.

The song playing ended with a smooth final chord, and another started. Sasha tilted her head and considered the lyrics.

~Oh, oh, I can't even take it in, Oh, oh, I can't even take it in, Oh, oh, I left my heart in Metropolis…~

"Heh, makes sense," she chuckled. Marcy turned her head and looked at her quizzically.

Sasha blushed. "Owl City… for the crows…" She gestured vaguely to the phone. "Ya know… fits the bird theme…"

She trailed off awkwardly. The other girl blinked at her once, twice, then snorted.

"You're such a dork, Sash," Marcy chuckled.

The blood rose in Sasha's cheeks, but not in a way she really minded. She huffed out a laugh and rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously.

"Pfft, yeah whatever…"

They sat after that for a while in comfortable silence, enjoying their rapidly-melting ice cream and Marcy's Owl City playlist. Marcy resumed telling the other girl bird facts as soon as she finished eating, and Sasha laid back on her elbows and listened.

Eventually though, one of the birds apparently grew tired of granola and strutted over to the two of them. It ducked and bobbed its head, eyeing them curiously.

Sasha grinned and propped herself up. "Hey Mar-mar, I think your friend wants something."

Marcy's smile was radiant. She leaned forward, slowly offering her hand to the bird like she would to a shy cat. "Hey there, friend," she cooed. "S'okay, I'm not gonna hurt ya!"

The sleek animal croaked at her in response. Beady black eyes regarded her a moment longer, then with a smooth flap of its wings, it hopped upwards to perch on Marcy's outstretched wrist. Temporarily stunned, Marcy's arm dipped from the sudden unexpected weight, but she quickly recovered and sat rigidly still.

Both girls stared, open-mouthed. After a few moments, though, Marcy broke the silence by releasing a sound that was very obviously a suppressed squeal.

"Sasha!" she hissed. "Sash, are you seeing this?!"

Sasha broke out of her shock just enough to think to hit record. "Oh, yeah. Sure am."

She plunged her hand into her pocket and whipped out her phone just in time to record Marcy's avian friend pecking at the drawstring of her Saint James hoodie and trying to pull the plastic tip off, Marcy giggling uncontrollably the entire time.

Oh, she was definitely sending this to Anne later. If it was even possible, the grin on her face grew even wider.

Yeah, park day had definitely been a good idea.

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

Hello, it's me, that one Anon who asked about your thoughts on the trans headcanons for Hunter and the Calamity Trio that one time. How ya doin'?

Anyway, I'm here to say that, the other day, I made a design for Anne in my own OC Universe (with plans to also make designs for Sasha and Marcy in the same setting later on) and wanted to show it to you, so here it is.

I hope you like it. :3

(Left is normal appearance, Right is Calamity Form.) (Also, image has a link to a profile on DeviantArt where more info is explained. Features some small mentions of OC X Canon stuff in a couple places, tho, so I'm warning you about that now in case that rubs ya the wrong way. ^^;) (I also most likely won't show ya those designs for Sasha and Marcy I mentioned, just to prevent myself from being annoying, unless you WANT to see them.)

def see the Omniverse influence.

Tho' Idk if Anne can modify her work shirt like that. A pin is one thing but a whole patch is another. This of course is coming from someone who has a fairly lax work dress-code. The closest I've seen like that is Masha's Non-binary fingernails, plus Anne works in Cali and it'd be in the 2030s so maybe that'd be fine, officially. Other than that, the cracks glowing is a cool effect (so does Sasha and Marcy not have their Calamity powers since this is God-Anne's colors which needs all three gems to activate)

[cute-as-buttons]

Unfinished Wip

so i started this back in like. july and never ended up finishing. but i do wanna show it, so here it is, spam me w questions about this au i miss it</3

TW: alcohol and blood

~

20th May 2019

New York, USA

Spring, to Marcy, has always seemed like the seasons were walking a tightrope, trying to strike a perfect balance between the damp, chill wind that kissed your cheeks as it blew past you and the humid, heavy atmosphere, almost enough to be suffocating, but not quite. She knew the scales would tip soon enough, that the humidity would overpower the chill and pass into summer, but for now, she simply enjoyed the weather as she strolled down the street, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

A few strides later, she stood in front of a bookstore that had come to be her favourite place in the past few months. 

The Dream House wasn't anything special, in fact, it was quite underwhelming. It was a small bookstore, sequestered in the middle of two other buildings and aside from the hand-painted sign that alluded to the store's existence, it was plain enough that it could go completely unnoticed.

The bell gave a short, shrill ring as she opened the door, smiling, ready to find her way to the counter, trying to sneak up on Anne. She never succeeded, but that didn't mean she couldn't try. But she stopped in her tracks when she noticed that one of the beanbags was occupied today. 

The blonde seated on it - or rather, sinking into it, a book open in her lap - stared at her, eyes narrowed, more in confusion than anything else. Sasha Waybright pursed her lips as she sat up a little straighter. 

"Have I seen you before?" Sasha asked, waving her hand around before muttering,"  déjà vu ." 

Marcy smiled. Just because she got lucky once didn't mean she'd get lucky every time. Besides, she was used to this song and dance, and so was Anne.

"Marcy Wu," she said, bowing a little. She didn't think she imagined the pleasant flush that coloured her cheeks. "At your service."

"Marcy Wu?" Sasha echoed, her eyes snapping to Anne, who was lost in the sea of shelves, placing books on them. "Is this-"

"Yup," Anne nodded, smiling. Marcy couldn't count how many times Anne had introduced Marcy as her girlfriend, partner, but her eyes always lit up the same way. 

Sasha's composure changed as she stood up and walked up to Marcy, stopping mere steps away from her. She looked her up and down and then smiled, not quite sincere, but it was enough for Marcy. 

"Nice to meet you, Marcy," Sasha said and then turned to Anne. "About time."

Anne simply shook her head and continued arranging the books on their shelves. 

"Well, I'll be on my way," Sasha said, turning away fast, book in hand, waving to Anne, before turning to Marcy with a sweet, slightly unnerving smile. 

"Don't be a stranger, Marcy."

Not likely, thought Marcy, knowing that the moment she'd walk out that door, she wouldn't remember Marcy. She remembered when that had been like a sharp pain every time like spikes were digging into her. Now it was a dull ache, the kind you never really got used to but one you just had to live with. 

"Not a library!" Anne called, poking her head out, and snorted as she received a particularly rude middle finger in the air as she flung the door open and left. Anne sighed, though Marcy saw a smile tugging at her lips. 

"One day," Marcy said, crossing over to Anne. "One day, I'll get her to like me." 

"Best of luck," Anne said, doing her best to hold back a grin as she reached for Marcy's hand. Marcy frowned. 

"You're supposed to be on my side," Marcy said, pouting but smiling a second later as Anne laughed. 

"Always am," said Anne, squeezing her hand. 

"So, where are we off to today?" Marcy asked.

Anne grinned. 

Over the years, she'd learnt to read smiles. Some were for the sake of show, vanishing the second they were sure no one could see them. There were the sad smiles that were like weak streams of sunlight breaking through a cloudy day. And then there were the wild grins, the wide smiles, that covered your whole face and reached your eyes, crinkling the skin beneath them. 

Anne's was the third one.

"It's a surprise," she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Marcy couldn't wait to find out what it was.

21st May 1719

Hsinchu, Taiwan

Bad days warrant rainy, cloudy skies. They warrant horrible weather that should reflect the hollowness Marceline feels, that reflects that the world has turned upside down.

But nature does not seem to care for her nor her days, and carries on, the trees murmuring amongst themselves, dancing as the wind snakes through them, almost mischievous. The sky is clear save for a few puffy white clouds and the blazing sun.

It's a perfect day.

It should have been a perfect day.

And on what should have been a perfect day, she runs.

She runs as far as her legs will take her, ignoring that it's not far enough, it'll probably never be because her legs are beginning to tire.

Not yet,  she pleads.  Please, just a little longer.

She's a liar, and her biggest victim is herself.

How many more lies?

When she can't run anymore, when she falls to the ground, she heaves as she rests her forehead against the hard ground, the gravel and soil digging into her skin. There on the ground, she prays.

Prays to whatever god is listening.

"Please," she whispers. "Please, help me."

She doesn't know who listens, but she does know none of them answer.

She doesn't notice the sun dip in the distance. She doesn't notice the clouds turn pink, then orange, then grey as the stars come out, shining above her like tiny little embers of fire.

She doesn't notice when it gets dark.

She just keeps begging.

"Please."

"My dear," a voice says, and she bites her tongue to keep herself from screaming. "Begging is not a credit to one such as you."

She looked up, trying to get back as she did.

"Whatever you do," Andrias' voice rang in her ears. "Don't pray to the gods who answer after dark."

Shit.

Darkness swirls around her and, at her shock, makes a sound that sounds an awful lot like laughter. Laughter that glitches and echoes.

"Would you prefer a form you'd recognise better?"

She feels a searing pain in her forehead and shuts her eyes, and a moment later she hears that voice again.

"Is this adequate?"

Through her blurry vision, she registers what she thinks is her... ma?

She's almost certain that it's Olivia, but before she can confirm, the darkness changes again. 

"How about this?"

Mom?

But Yunan disappears in another gust of wind, and when it settles back down, Marceline's mind is screaming at her, to run, to do anything.

"Ah! I think I like this one."

A woman stands in front of her, and Marceline gapes at her and swallows a metallic taste in her mouth. Did she bite her tongue that hard?

The woman, she...it can't-

But whatever lie Marceline tries to tell herself, it falls flat against the obvious truth in front of her. The woman looks exactly like the woman Marceline has seen in her dreams, the one she draws over and over and over again. 

The woman smiles, slow and sweet, and for a moment, Marceline is lost in it, lost in the dream of what she's longed for for so long. The same curly brown hair, the same warm brown eyes.

"You called on me," the woman says. "Why?" 

Marceline swallows hard. 

"I-I need your help." 

"Help? I'm a god, Marceline Wu, not someone running a charity organization." The woman sneers, ignoring the way Marceline flinches at her name. "I deal in kind, not in "please"s. Everything has a price. And what is it that  you  want?"

"I want to be free," Marceline said, relieved at the easy answer. "Free to learn, free to read, free to explore without any constraints, without anything holding me back." She held up her ring, still tied around her neck." In exchange for this." 

The ring was wooden, carved by her mom, Yunan. It had been a wedding gift to her ma, but when Marceline had been born, her ma had strung it on a chain and placed it around her neck. 

The carvings on it were of flowers she didn't recognise but she was familiar with the carvings on the underside of it. 

Thi gong thia gong lang. 

God loves stupid people. 

She remembered frowning when she'd first read it and asked her parents. Her mom had laughed until she'd gotten a belly ache, but her ma had explained. 

"Never take proverbs at face value," she'd told her. "They never mean what they seem to. And neither does this one. It means that God loves people the same way a mother loves her child."

And now, she held it forward, the last possession she had. She flinched when the woman laughed, her voice reverberating through Marceline's bones.

"I must say, Marceline, I expected more than this dull request and meaningless trinkets. If that is all you want, I say no."

She casts the ring aside and turns to smoke. 

Marceline almost falls forward as she tries to catch at the hem of the woman's dress, her hands catching at nothing but shadows slipping from her.

"Wait," she calls out. "What- what will you have of me to grant me my request?"

The darkness circles back to her, surrounding her.

"What will I have of you?" It hisses, all the sweetness gone, metallic again. "I am the night, I am darkness itself, and I've always dealt in just one currency. What I will have of you is your soul."

"No," Marceline says, standing up. Her legs feel like they're on fire. "You don't want just my soul, do you?"

It's a shot in the dark, but when the darkness shakily transforms back into the woman, she knows she's hit the mark.

"What do you mean?"

Marceline almost smiles.

"I mean that you can't really sustain a physical form for too long, can you? It takes a lot of energy, almost too much and in the end, for hours, maybe even days, you're a wisp of nothing but shadow and smoke. What you want is a body you can use."

Its edges bristle, and now, she does smile and continues.

"And if you grant my wish. You can have my body when I don't want it anymore."

The woman smiles and pulls Marceline close, into a hug, and for a moment she thinks it's a tender gesture until she feels a pain in her back, running the course of her spine. 

"You drive an interesting bargain, Marceline. I accept."

The last thing she feels before she falls deep into unconsciousness is the ground beneath her as she falls.

21st June, 2018

New York, USA

In the dark, as the sky is enveloped with wind and rain, a girl with a broken heart walks down the street, hand bleeding from the bottle that accidentally cut her hand, the make-shift bandage that was a strip torn from her shirt she'd used to wrap it almost soaked. 

Anne can feel the numbness set in, but it does nothing to ease the pain. If anything, it makes it worse.

God, maybe she isn't drunk enough yet. She shouldn't have left, especially when the bartender had taken one look at her and declared that drinks were on him. She should have been suspicious, but she didn't care enough to.

She fumbles with the lock as she reaches her apartment door, shoving it open and slamming it shut as she throws the keys away. 

She enters the bathroom, forcing down the bile she feels rising in her throat. She opens the tap, letting her palm soak through before she realises that she should probably take the cloth off. She does, and a dull, distant part of her brain registers the sting in her palm. She takes a bottle of antiseptic - or maybe it is sanitiser - and applies it to the wound.  

When she glances up, her eyes fall on her reflection, and everything in her seems to recoil at the sight of her own face.

You're not enough. 

That's what everyone has told her her entire life, just in different ways. 

You can do better, sweetie.

We're still proud of you.

(Still...No you're not.)

Not you. 

(Not me?) 

There’s just something missing. 

(Missing…) 

It’s just … 

(Who you are.)

I just don’t see us ending up together. 

I’m sorry. 

We’re not in the same place. 

We can’t help who we fall in love with. 

(And who we don’t.) 

You deserve better. 

(No, I don't.)

Let’s stay friends. 

I don’t want to lose you. 

It’s not you. 

I’m sorry. 

Sorry.

Sorry.

It's too much. It's just too much, always has been. Ever since she was younger, it's always been too much, and she's been labelled emotional, sensitive, a fool, immature, but she knows none of those words fit. She knows something is wrong, and that's not it.

Anne steps back and digs her hand into the bottle, but the next second she lets out a scream as she hurls the bottle at the mirror. Her reflection fractures as the mirror transforms into a rainfall of tiny glass shards, many of which launch towards her, leaving faint scratches. 

She heaves for a moment before she drops to the floor, water still flowing, as she curls into herself, hiding her face among her knees.

26 and still no direction.

She'd counted and asked herself to take a drink.

Take a drink if you're not the right fit. 

Not the right focus. 

Not the right child. 

Not the right time. 

Not the right job. 

Not the right past. 

Not the right present. 

Not the right future. 

Not the right you.

Not you.

She knows,  damn it.

She knows she's not enough.

"What do you want?"

She doesn't even bother flinching, convinced that she's hallucinating. A woman stands in front of her, smiling at her, like Anne's entire world doesn't feel like it's fracturing right in front of her. 

"What do you want?" she repeats. "In this moment, right now?"

"To be happy," Anne mumbles, more to herself than the woman and doesn't think the woman has heard her, but she smiles.

"Only you can give yourself that," she says. Anger rises in Anne, bubbling over all the misery. She steadies herself up, slightly swaying.

"You asked what I want, not what I can give myself," she growls. "I can't give myself  anything,  because I know I'll never get it." She's shouting now, and she should stop, but she can't, can't stop the flood of words that rush out now that the damn has finally broken. "I don't know what they fucking want from me, I try to be enough, be happy, but it's never enough, and," her voice breaks. "I'm just so tired of falling short. I'm so tired."

She slumps against the wall.

"It hurts."

"Anne," the woman says, stepping a little closer. "Look at me."

Anne almost hisses at her, but she's too tired, so when the woman lifts her chin with her hand, she lets her.

"You're perfect."

And Anne has to laugh at that, despite the soft silky voice.

"You'd think people would be better at lying."

The woman shakes her head.

"Pain can be beautiful-"

"Like hell, it can."

"-and," she says as if Anne hasn't spoken. "It can transform, create."

"I don't want to be in pain," Anne croaks, all the energy drained from her. "I just..."

"You want to be loved."

"Yes," she whispers. 

"I can give you that."

"It's that easy?"

"If you're willing to pay, yes."

"I hate to tell you, but I'm pretty broke right now."

A grin, like it's been slashed open with a knife.

"Not that kind of payment. The one thing every human has, what every hero trades to the devil."

"My-my soul? I don't even believe in-"

"Then you have nothing to lose."

She stands there, staring for a long, long time, maybe it was minutes, maybe hours, maybe even days. She doesn't know.

All she knows is in the end, there is just one thing to say. One, simple word.

"Yes."

20th May, 2019

New York, USA

What Marcy'd always loved most about cities was that they never go quiet. The noise dampened in the night, but it never really went quiet the way it does in the rural areas. If she was being honest with herself, she liked it because it reminded her of home.

She glanced at the time as she nestled herself in blankets. It was too hot for it, but it was comfortable. Really, she was allowed this, at least. 

She reached for Anne's hand as she rested her head, yelping as she drowned in the pillows for a moment. She heard Anne laugh and pull her closer. Marcy smiled and let her eyes wander back to the time.

11:56. 20th May.

Her insides twisted as she felt fear claw at her stomach. The world seemed to fade away, and somewhere far off, she heard the clock fall from her hand.

Somewhere far off, she heard Anne ask, "Hey, Marce, you okay?"

Calm down. They haven't shown their face in 40 years.

They're not going to unless you call on them.

Her hand went to her neck, the wooden ring safely nestled on her clavicle. She was both bitter and grateful for it.

"Marcy."

Her head snapped towards Anne, tousled hair and a worried face. Marcy shook her head and pulled Anne in, burying her head in Anne's shoulders.

"What's up, dude?"

The only words Marcy managed to choke out were, "Anniversary tomorrow."

Anne's hands tightened around her, and she rested her chin on Marcy's head. A new panic seized Marcy. They couldn't find out about Anne. 

She couldn't let them take the one good thing she still had, the only good thing.

"We won't-"

"You have to leave," Marcy said, pulling back. Hurt registered on Anne's face before she schooled it back to worry. "I can't- they can't-"

"I know," Anne said, taking Marcy's hands in her own. "But they're a creature of the night, right? We have until then." Marcy opened her mouth to protest but couldn't find the words. "Listen, if you want me to, I won't follow, I'll leave, but just for the day, as long as the sun is up, let me be with you."

Marcy felt herself nod.

Anne smiled and pulled Marcy down onto the bed. She kissed her forehead and muttered.

"Sleep."

But she stayed awake the entire night, letting Anne's snores and the noises outside distract her. 

Only when the sun came up did she feel herself drift off.

22nd June, 2018

New York, USA

Anne wakes up, and her first instinct is to wince at the sudden pain in her hand. When she looks at it, there is a clean bandage neatly tied around her palm, and a watch she could've sworn isn't hers. 

She unclips it and studies it. It looks ancient, something her mom might've worn, silver and gold-flecked. Underneath the dial, were two words. 

Live well.

She snorted. 

Sure, why not?

She massages her head and puffs out a breath. God, maybe she shouldn't have drunk that much. And that weird fever dream after...

She leaves the watch on her nightstand and makes her way to the kitchen, but stops when she hears the doorbell ring. 

She frowns, opening it and almost being thrown to the ground as Sprig and Polly hug her. 

"Guys, what-"

"We heard about Sasha," Polly says, squeezing her tight until Anne has to flail her arms to gesture that she does, in fact, need to breathe. 

When they let go, apologising, the weight of what they've said settles in.

"What happened with Sasha." 

She hates how it still makes her stomach turn. She'd known that what they had wasn't right, it wasn't good for both of them, not as they were. What she hadn't known was how much it would hurt being told that. 

Maybe it would've hurt less if Sasha had screamed, and made a scene. But all she'd done was do her best not to cry and tell Anne that they should end things. 

That they are and will always be friends. 

"I still love you, just not. I just can't love you like that." 

It had felt like someone had been squeezing her heart.

[seabreeze2022]

2023 Bahama Cruise, Part 14. April. 1. Thompson Bay, Grey’s Bight, Long Island.

Dinner party on “Time Out”. Above left to right: Capt. of “Sea Breeze” Dana, Capt. David Houston “Cheval”, Capt. and author, Paul Trammell “Water Rose”.

Jim and Laurie hosted 6 of us on their Lagoon 45 F (F for Flybridge). Big and beautiful, it is perfect for dinner parties. Plus the upper helm has great visibility for docking. “Cheval” provided fresh hogfish, which Jim cooked in a Thai soup. Nancy provided a coconut flan for desert. Rounding out a three course meal.

Jim and Laurie have traveled from the Mediterranean to Grenada and up the Carribean. Now that they are in the Bahamas, they say this is the friendliest group of cruisers they have met. Jim said in the short time they have been here, the cruiser interaction is a thousand times friendlier than in the Carribean.

The Farmers Market opens up Saturday morning early. There are 30 boats in the harbor due to the winds predicted earlier. So it was a scramble in the morning for fresh vegetables. I picked up a large piece of coconut bread for $3 Bahamian. Since they were selling local salt in small zip lock bags. I had to buy one for $2.50 Bahamian. The gentleman standing in the photo, explained how he gets the salt in the summer dry season. They bagged up 20 “fish sacks” full this last summer.

The woman in the top photo was shelling peas. She beats most of the peas out in advance. Here she is doing a final look through. Talks and shells at the same time. As she shells, she gathers up a handful of empty shells in her right hand and allows the field peas to fall to the bottom of the box. Once she gets a handful of empty husk in her hand she drops them in a cardboard box next to her. That is fed to the sheep.

This island was a large sheep herding island. We just missed the annual “mutton festival”.

We went walk about and talked to Marcie (Knowles) Fox in her parents yard about plants. They just recently were tied into the potable water system. Most houses here have a cistern. Nancy found a beautiful Sea Horse made out of sea glass.

We stopped briefly at a natural salt pond. It really reeked. Hope the salt I bought did not come from here! This island must be full of snakes. One Grey Racer was dead on the road the day before. Here we found a dead Bahama Boa. Once we got to the beach, we walked a mile down and back.

When ever my ship starts to go down, forget the EPRIP or calling MAYDAY. I am sticking close to Nancy. If she washes up on a deserted Island, she will find someone to talk to. Hopefully, they will have the means to get us back.

If you look closely at the foot prints above, the left has tread marks. The right footprint is smooth and no tread marks. Nancy talked to John on the beach. No one ever walks this beach, but Nancy found the one guy. He is an ex-pat, and was wearing a pair of “North Island Shoes”. Two different colored and aged crocks. In the North part of Long Island, if you find it washed up on the beach you wear it!

We found some wild Passion Fruit on the side of the trail. Nancy gathered up a handful of fruit. When we stopped back at the Farmers Market, she asked a local woman about them. Nancy was promising to make me some Passion Fruit creme brulee. The woman explained these were not edible and would poison me. Then she promptly threw all of them in the bushes. She saved my life!

A quick trip below ground for Nancy. I thought I had my flashlight, but it was still on the boat. So we could not go very far. There are bats further in the cave. Once back at the boat we pulled anchor. Well, actually Nancy pulled up the 45 lb. anchor while I drove. Then we headed south 4 miles. To a large Blue Hole and a secluded anchorage.

Approximately 500 ft. across at its widest. It is only 38 ft. deep but you can not see the bottom. I took the opportunity to snorkel around the edge. On the north drop off several Mangrove Snapper came up to look at me. Their were several larger Mutton Snapper along the edge. They were very skidish.

We were back at the boat and Nancy was taking her shower on the aft sugar scoop. Jumping in and getting wet. Getting out and lathering up. Jumping in to rinse off. I happened to be on deck taking some clothes out to hang up. Damn, there was a large shark parallel to the boat and moving away. “Nancy, get in the boat!”.

Why?

Don’t ask why, just get in the boat!

Is it a shark?

Yes, there is a large shark swimming by.

No worries, it is not interested in me.

Nancy, this is not a Nurse, Hammerhead or bull shark. It might be a Tiger Shark!

OKAY! OKAY!

Nancy is obviously fearless!

Plan for the morning was: Make water, go to the Blue Hole, go swim with the red shrimp, then walk to a secluded beach we found on Goggle Earth.

Water maker would not pressurize and we spent 2 hours troubleshooting it. Then gave up. Skipped the Blue Hole, and dinghied to the boat ramp. Walked a short distance to the church ruins which is where the trail to the Red Shrimp Cave starts.

This is the ruins of St. Mary the Virgin Anglican Church. Only one family of 4 was buried in the yard.

Talking to a native of the island, the graves are facing East. Again, interesting spelling of the name, “Lerlene Moree” 1918- 1958. Notice that either one or two children's graves sit to the side. Times were tough back in the day. In those day midwives delivered the babies on the island. Now when a women is 6 months pregnant she has to leave the island.

Following the well marked trail from behind the church to the cave full of red shrimp. We spent 20 minutes swimming with the shrimp. It appears to be salt water. Hundreds of red shrimp and a crab or two. A few of the shrimp came off of the bottom and swim upside down near the surface.

Nancy reaching towards a red shrimp, while another one is just below her foot.

Red shrimp at bottom of the photo swimming around. They were thick on the bottom.

After the shrimp swim, we tried to get to this secluded beach on the East side of the Island. Unfortunately there was a gate on the road.

When you walk on the road here in Long Island every single car that passes waves and or beeps their horn. Not much traffic, but always happy people.

Out here in the middle of nowhere is a small bar with a pool table, called FOXIES. Sign said “3 beers for $10, Karaoke Saturday night”. No cars the first time we walked by. But Sunday on the way back we watched a guy stop and go in. We stopped in and asked if he was open. He said sure. We ordered 3 Kaliks, and paid the 10 dollars. He gave us the fourth beer free so we would be even on the amount of drinks. Cheapest beers we ever had in the Bahamas. Foxie will be a millionaire shortly. He was off to George Town to open another bar and Vape store. That will be his fourth Vape store in the islands. Bahamas are looking at legislation to legalize marijuana and CBD. He is setting himself up on each island chain to sell the stuff.

Low tide so we stopped and walked the beach on the way back. We had spotted a Tamarind tree but we only able to pick a handful of fruit. Rain storm was creeping towards our boat so we headed back.

S/V Sea Breeze, Grey’s Bight, Long Island, Bahama.

[heart-wit-strength]

I did write a bit of a small drabble for this au once I'd be happy to share :3

Pls know this writing is from 2 years ago so it's nearly not as good lmao

~~

"We've never been in such a bind before, and I thank you for the consideration, Ms. Boonchuy, you really saved the day." Marcy said gratefully as she led the blond woman down the hallway.

"Yeah, of course. No problem." Sasha smiled at her, tucking her hands behind her back. "So...how does this work? Are you gonna pay me up front?"

"I-I don't understand." Marcy blinked.

"Oh y'know…It'd be great if you could pay me right now in cash." Sasha replied, nervously ruffling a hand through her hair.

"Don't worry. We can get to that by the end of the day."

"And when is the end of the day?"

Marcy paused in track, continuing to eye her deadpanned, which almost made Sasha fluster. "3 o'clock. Thought you'd know that."

"Do you mind if I can cut out a bit sooner? I have some other stuff to do." Sasha paused as she saw Marcy giving her a firm look. "I mean-"

"Ms. Boonchuy," Marcy stated, voice firm with authority, the gentle tone vanishing. "This is considered the best elementary school in all of Newtopia. And I hope you understand we have a reason to maintain a strict code for our reputation. I expect you to take this seriously."

Sasha blinked, unsure whether to be jittered or intrigued by her sudden change of attitude, "O-Of course I'm taking this seriously. And you don't have to worry about me, I'm a hard-ass and if a kid misbehaved I'll gladly make them fall in line," she rolled up her sleeve, only for Marcy to immediately cut in.

"Please, no. We don't do anything like that here. Ms. Boonchuy, if you have a problem with any of your students, just send them over to me, and I'll do the disciplining."

"Works for me." Sasha finger gunned with a wink.

Marcy led her into the classroom, the kids who were running around quickly rushed to take a seat at the sight of the principal. "Please take a seat everyone." She announced cheerfully.

"Miss Wu, is that our new teacher?" Ivy sat in the first row and was the first one to speak up.

"I'd like to introduce you to your new substitute teacher. Miss Boonchuy." Sasha slowly walked into the room, giving a stern gaze to each of the kids in the room, some of them looking down or away in discomfort. Marcy sensed the tension and gave them all a pleasant smile before turning to the girl. "Why don't you write your name on the board?"

"Yep, sure. Why not?" Sasha walked over to the board, grabbing a piece of chalk and began writing her name.

'M-I-S-S B-O-O-O…'

Sasha really wished she had learned better how to spell right now. She couldn't risk the embarrassment of misspelling what was supposed to be her own name in front of the principal. "Y'know what?" She erased the board. "Why don't you just call me miss. B? It's more efficient." Marcy nodded in approval and turned to the students.

"Miss. B has never taught here before so I expect y'all to be on your best behavior." She stated, getting some nods from the kids and turned back to the teacher. "That's all, are there any other questions you've got?"

Sasha stood sloppily with a foot upon the table and gazed at Marcy. "Yeah, dude. When's the lunch?"

Marcy's smile vanished into an annoyed grumble. "The kids just had their lunch." She hissed. "Anything else that you need?"

Sasha scratched the back of her neck and shrugged. "Well, I'm a teacher, all I need are minds to mold." Marcy forced a smile herself and left the room, closing the door behind her. Awkward silence filled the room before Sasha eyes the students and let out a heavy sigh. This was gonna be a handful.

So apparently I had an amphibia school of rock au long ago with Sasha being a jobless rock artist freeloading in Anne's apartment and this close to getting kicked out by the Plantars, impersonates Anne to be a substitute school teacher, falls in love with principal Marcy while teaching the kids rock music in secret