#Poor Fern is going through SO MUCH in that year man. Someone help her

[bonefall]

was firestar made aware of what willowpelt did when he was gone?

He was. When he got back, he was filled in on the entire situation, everything from Longtail's accidental blinding, the descision to continue the boar hunt, BloodClan's change of power, and Willowpelt's betrayal which caused Elderberry's unintended death.

He decided to uphold Graystripe's ruling and make the deputy change official, as they decided on Longtail's semi-retirement so he could have the space he needed to figure himself out. Willowpelt would remain exiled until further notice.

Willy re-joined the Clan sometime just before the destruction of TNP, after Rainwhisker and Sootfur became warriors. It was decided it was already a hard punishment to have missed such a large portion of her kittens' childhoods, after losing Whitestorm. She can't atone in exile.

After Cricketclaw's death while the destruction of the forest was underway, she started acting as Head of Hunting again. It was a really difficult time and a lot of cats were injured, starving, or dying. Her experience was neccesary.

[bastillewolf]

Shinigami Eyes (II)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Summary: After you distastefully kill Corpse in a game of Among Us, he wants you to make it up to him and invites you to come over for the week.

Notes: Thank you so much for the love on the previous chapter, I’ve never gotten this many notes before. I hope you enjoy, and maybe leave an ask if you want to? I can’t promise I have time to do them, but I’ll pick out a couple.

Also, I might rewrite this. I kinda rushed it because I wanted to finish it by tonight, but there will be a final and third chapter to this afterwards. Please do let me know what you think.

Tag list CLOSED!

Shinigami Eyes - Pt. II

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Impostor

You were teamed up with Sean.

Your fist violently slammed down on the desk. “Goddammit! I don’t want to be impostor anymore! This game has no compassion for my poor nerves.” It was the third time in a row now, and you were really craving to do normal tasks now without all the scheming. “Fuck it, I don’t care if they kill me. I’m just gonna do my thing without thinking about it.”

You decide to follow Toast for a bit to watch him do some task. You kill him in Laboratory. You vent back to Launchpad and take your time walking towards MedBay while the kill button restores. You meet up with Corpse, and follow him while pretending to do wires in the Y-hallway. You watched the green bar go up, and continued. Sabotaging and then fixing lights, you made sure your place with Corpse was settled. Then the body of Lily was reported.

As you expected, Corpse easily vouched for you as he’d seen you do a task. The round was skipped, though Rae was sussed for ‘chasing’ Sean, by his own words.

“Corpse, you’ve grown weak,” you muttered to chat.

You were in Greenhouse, and decided it would be best to kill him there and sabotage Reactor. “Sorry baby, but I can’t keep following you around.” You quickly set off Reactor and murdered him in front of the plants. “Your blood shall keep the plants hydrated.” You did an evil laugh. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works, though.”

You vented down to MedBay and as you walked out you met up with Rae. She’d be the vouch who would confirm you weren’t anywhere near Greenhouse. “I’ll just have to fix my own sabotage so they’ll never suspect me.” You helped her with the handprint, and noted Sykkuno and Felix being there. Sean sabotaged lights, you killed Sykkuno, and ran out to follow Lily into Laboratory. Felix reported the body.

“Holy shit,” Rae gasped. So far, five people had died. You only needed to kill one more person. “It was Felix!”

“Wait, what?” the man in question asked. “I was fixing Reactor!”

She mentioned that only you, Sykkuno, Felix and herself had been there and that you’d helped her do handprint. “Sykkuno must have fixed it, and then you killed him!”

Sean asked if you’d seen anything.

“No, the lights were out. I followed Rae into Laboratory after the scan.” Your voice didn’t tremble or raise, a tactic you’d taken up from the best lair in the group. Well, the one who was now dead. Oops. “I haven’t seen Felix this entire game, though.”

He was evidently at a loss for words, so the group was quick to vote for him.

Pewds was ejected.

Victory.

You thanked Sean for a good game who was laughing his ass off. “I can’t believe you did Corpse like that! Poor guy!”

“I deadass thought you were innocent,” Corpse replied, “I’m hurt.”

“Why do you still sound dark and menacing when you say something like that?!”

You agreed with Sean heartily, “He’s just salty I’ve bested him at his own game.”

“Hey now, no need to actually insult me.”

The group laughed. You decided to call it for the night, right before Corpse did the same.”

 ***

He was calling you again. “What is it this time, you salty?”

“Salty? Nah, never,” he said, but you weren’t convinced.

“Then why you calling?”

“What, I can’t call my friends after playing a nice round of Among Us?”

“Not when you lost the game and you call the person who you lost to. Kinda sus, dude.”

“Alright, maybe a little salty.” You smirked.

“Aw, you need me to make it up to you?”

He laughed. “What did you have in mind?”

A bunch of thoughts, most not rated PG-13, crossed your mind. You were suddenly starting to feel uncomfortable. This was probably just something innocent, which got twisted in your fucked-up mind. You shrugged, “Uh… I don’t know.”

“I got an idea.”

“What is it?”

“Come over this week. You said you needed a break, right?”

“That sounds more like you’re doing me a favour instead of me making it up to you.”

“I don’t have any friends. You’d be making it up to me by being the first physical person here in years. I usually don’t invite people over.”

“Wow, I’m flattered. So, you don’t consider me to be your friend after all?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he chuckled.

“Sure, sure. Tell me that again when my presence suddenly brightens your life making you not want to get rid of me, ever.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

 ***

You walk through the gates following a hoard of people, all the while still feeling drowsy from not getting any sleep during your flight. At least you didn’t have any turbulence and landed safely. Glancing around here and there with no result, you figured Corpse would be waiting outside, until you spotted a figure clad in black a little ends away by the escalator. You were glad you were still awake enough to have found him, because he appeared to silently linger halfway behind a fern.

At least, you hoped it was him. The only indications were his clothes, mask and dark hair. You saw him run a hand through it, and identified the chipped black nail polish and familiar rings. Oh yea, that was him alright.

He seemed to be paying more attention to the floor until he saw two feet appear in his line of sight. “Hey,” you awkwardly greeted. A bit taken a back, he replied, “Oh, wow. Hey.” A mask was covering the bottom of his face, but as far as you could see his eyes were a very dark shade.

“Wow?” you repeated. He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Yea, sorry. It’s a compliment.” You held your elbow out in a safe-distance gestured hello, but he shrugged you off. “You’re gonna be staying with me anyways.” Suddenly in a daze, you felt him wrap his arms around your waist and instantly hugged him back. His baggy sweater felt warm and soft to the touch, and strands of hair tickled your face. You very much tried to repress your smile and blush, but how could you? Hugging someone wasn’t supposed to feel this good. When he pulled back he reached down to take your suitcase from you. “I don’t own a car, is it okay if we take a cab?”

“Y-Yeah, of course,” you stuttered, “But it’s on me. Same with food and stuff.” “Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “No, you’re letting me stay with you and a hotel would’ve been a lot more expensive than this. It’s my treat.” “Yeah, we’ll see.” He gave you a look and even with the mask you could tell he was smirking underneath it.

It’s about half an hour drive to his apartment complex, and it’s rather nice. “All that YouTube money paying off, huh?” you asked in amusement. “You’d know,” he replied. You insisted on carrying your suitcase up the stairs yourself, which he silently shook his head at, until after a few flights he noticed you struggling and settled on carrying the thing in between the two of you. “How many clothes did you bring?” “Oh, it’s mostly filled with bricks I might need to throw at your head.” He laughed at that.

His apartment was simple, but cosy. “Home sweet home,” he said, almost sarcastically. You furrowed your brow at him. “I’m sure you could’ve had it a lot worse.” He reluctantly agreed.

He helped you set down your luggage in what appeared to be his bedroom, where the curtains were still closed and the black bedsheets fresh. He had a few pieces of fanart up on his wall, and some on his closet. You turned to him and gave him a look. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

He quickly shook his head, “You’re not sleeping there. If you won’t let me sleep on the couch I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“If you’re sleeping on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he murmured. “What?” “Nothing.”

He suggested playing video games as you were both too tired to do anything else. You’d landed quite late yet were still confused about what time it actually was. Flying is weird. You hopped onto his couch and grabbed a controller.

He sat down next to you, but suddenly seemed tenser than before.

“You okay? You can just go to sleep if you want to.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I don’t sleep a lot. It’s fine.”

You didn’t stop looking at him, though. He was still wearing that mask. “You don’t have to take it off, if you don’t want to. I understand if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that, I just…” He took a deep breath. You hadn’t expected him to take it off then and there. You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape, controller barely held by your numb hands.

“Disappointed?”

It was as if he was expecting you to make a face or something, but you didn’t give him anything, except for a blatant “Nope” and an “Are we gonna play now or what?”

“You don’t have anything else to say?”

You shrugged, and looked him up and down again. “You’re kind of what I imagined you to be.”

“What’s that?”

“Handsome.”

Neither of you could stop smiling for the rest of the night.

You eventually forced him to sleep in his own bed, even going as far as to shove him into the room and keep your weight against the door so he couldn’t get out, so he eventually relented. “Inviting you here was a mistake.” “How come? All I’ve done so far is look after you!” “You’re a nightmare.”

You mostly stayed in for the week, which you didn’t mind at all. Being in such a closed-off environment with someone you got along with was nice. He attempted to get you to lift the weights in his room and succeeded for around fifteen minutes until you nearly dropped a dumbbell on your foot. You ordered take-out from his favourite restaurant, watched horror movies until you adapted to his sleeping schedule because you were too scared to close your eyes now, and even streamed a bit together with your friends.

“Wait, is Corpse with you?” Rae had asked.

“No, I’m at Corpse’s. He’s sitting across from me so I can’t see his screen but we’re gonna have to share the Discord unless you want to hear an echo.”

“Ah, man! You got to see his face, too?” Sykkuno whined.

“Stop simping, Sykkuno. You get enough attention from him already.”

“Don’t worry, I still love you,” Corpse said.

“Huh?”

It was probably a good thing that you got teamed up again, because you could indeed start to see his hands shaking right as the word ‘impostor’ appeared on the screen. You reached over and stroked it with your thumb. He smiled gratefully back at you.

“Just please,” he pleaded later that day, “Sleep in the bed. If only for one night.”

“No. I’ve heard about and now seen your sleeping habits. If you take the couch you’re never going to get any sleep.” You made a real effort to show him how comfortable you were – even though your back had started to hurt already after the first night – by crawling underneath your blanket and rubbing your head into the soft pillow. He snorted.

Next thing, you feel yourself being lifted by an arm underneath your knees and one around your back. “Corpse! Put me the fuck down!” you shrieked. You knew he lifted weights, but how the hell did he still have the energy as an insomniac? He ungracefully dropped you onto the matrass and turned the lights off. “Good night.”

You quickly got hold of the back of his hoodie before he could leave and pulled. He fell down next to you with a low huff. “Fine, I’ll sleep in the bed. But only if you sleep here too.”

“I snore.”

“Don’t care.”

For some reason, there wasn’t any tension or awkwardness. You were comfortable, and the soft rhythm of his breathing seemed to soothe you. He called out your name, to see if you were still awake.

“Hm?”

“…Thanks for coming over.”

“Any time.”

This was how you would spend the rest of the nights, and whenever either of you woke up suddenly curled up around the other, you didn’t mention it or move away from it. It was the first time in years Corpse got a few nights of complete rest.

[itsclydebitches]

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first: 

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense. 

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go. 

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3 

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. 

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it. 

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit. 

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world. 

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.  

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

[sourwolfstories]

Hey! Do you have long fic recommendations? Can you involve some soulmate fics but AU are welcome too Long like 50k, 100k+ but really ill read anything

Soulmate fics (at least 50K)

When the Universe Comes Knocking (It’s Polite to Open the Door) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

It was like a door he’d nailed shut in his brain suddenly exploded open, all of his past confusion and anger and hurt and adoration flooding out at once. Stiles? Was it actually Stiles?!

Stiles, the guy he’d had a crush on for fucking years growing up. The guy who’d been an absolute dick to him their whole last year of high school.

The guy who’d told him he loved him in a dirty men’s bathroom on prom night while drunk and upset because he thought Kira was Derek’s girlfriend.

That Stiles? But it couldn’t be!

Marks and Mics by DLanaDHZ

Hale siblings Derek and Laura have been hired to run security for Stiles Stilinski's music tour. Business as usual, except someone is trying really hard to prove they're incapable and hurt Stiles. Derek finds himself curious about Stiles' bitter attitude and a strange illness that plagues the singer. And on top of that, Derek's soulmate remains elusive.

Written Can’t Be Denied by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior

Since time immemorial the story of ‘soulmates’ has persisted. In short, the idea that somewhere out there is your perfect match, the one person who can complete you and with whom you can find total happiness.

The story goes that, the first time you meet your ‘soulmate’, the universe will give you a sign in what should be the most obvious way - somewhere in your immediate vicinity the word ‘soulmate’ will appear. If reports of ‘soulmates’ are to be believed, rather than being written of as hopeful delusions, then this ‘obvious’ signal is anything but, fleeting as it is. The word seemingly only appears for a matter of moments and only when two people first meet. There is no guarantee that they will be looking in the correct direction to see it, nor that they will have any idea who their supposed ‘soulmate’ actually is.

A fact that causes havoc the day that up and coming actor, Stiles Stilinski holds up a bottle emblazoned with the word 'soulmate' in the middle of a press conference where Derek Hale is working as a photographer, in the middle of the worst day of his life...

Connected by readridinghood

After the death of his wife, Stiles finds himself left alone with their three children, struggling to keep from being sucked into a void of grief and despair that her death left him with. Knowing his children are safe in the pack's arms under Derek's watchful eyes, he struggles to regain his footing. What do you do when the world keeps tumbling over you and what you've thought of as fact no longer holds true? As the world comes back into focus, so does the love for Derek he thought he'd long since conquered and now with his eyes open, what he thought was the end of him, is only a new beginning. A decade after he fell in love with Stiles, countless days of keeping himself restrained while building a friendship with him, Derek finds out with absolute certainty that Stiles is his mate. You only mate once in your life, so how is it that Stiles was mated to Sophia, his wife and mother of his three children, the woman he is grieving the loss of at the same moment that Derek makes his discovery.

Three Marks by sanam

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

Other fics (at least 50K)

Rich Man, Poor Man by TyReed

During a first date gone horribly wrong, Stiles Stilinksi realizes that the snarky guy he's been asked out by is actually Derek Hale, an heir to Hale Industries, one of the most profitable companies in the entire world. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in the son of a teacher and a cop, a loser who spends all weekend watching movies in his pajamas, and who is also possibly one of the biggest dorks on the Internet.

At the same time, after screwing up their first date horribly, Derek Hale realizes that the funny guy he's asked out is Stiles Stilinksi, the warmest and kindest individual he's ever met in his life, with a family just a loving and caring. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in a guy who screws up everything he does, lacks any semblance of a backbone, and who is possibly one of the biggest history dorks in all of the United States.

These rich and poor men will come to experience a taste of each other's lives, and learn where the real blessings in the world can be found.

Feel it like a fever, burning through the night by LunaCanisLupus_22

“That was my favourite fern,” Deaton declares and Stiles glances at Scott for clarification that such a ridiculous statement just came out of his boss’ mouth.

“You could have just told me not to touch it,” Stiles points out sensibly, squirming inside with something he refuses to believe might be guilt.

Not about the dumb plant, but the instant devastation he’s currently overwhelmingly and inescapably capable of. He can destroy with one touch now.

This is going to complicate things so much.

Or the one where Stiles tries to do the noble self-sacrificing thing: gains a new power, a spectral skin colour and basically ruins his own life. 0/10 would not recommend.

It’s (Not) a Cult by lhr111

“Well Stiles, you told me a few weeks ago that you thought Derek was leading a cult.”

At that Derek whipped his head toward Stiles in shock. “You thought I was a cult leader?”

Stiles will not be shamed. “Well, either you or Peter. Peter made more sense, but since he deferred to you that one time I was a little unsure. I mean, what else could I think with all the weird shit going on. You, hanging out with random high school seniors, doing secret things, ordering them around like you are their parent, them actually doing what you tell them. It’s really weird, okay?”

“Are you familiar with Harry Potter?” Derek asks.

Talk about a non sequitur. “What? What does that have to do with anything? And, of course I know Harry Potter!”

“Well to quote Sirius Black, ‘Once again you’ve put your keen and penetrating mind to the task and as usual come to the wrong conclusion.’"

The Sheriff starts snickering, and Stiles is both insulted and also a little in love.

Call Me (Cliché) by SomewheresSword

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

There’s No Escape for the Potato Man by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Who is this? Where’s Erica?”

“Wrong number, asshole!”

“Stop calling me an asshole,” the man on the other end snapped aggressively.

Stiles could understand. He’d be pretty aggressive too if he’d murdered someone and texted a wrong number to ask for help burying the body. This guy obviously failed How To Be a Serial Killer 101.

“What kind of idiot thinks I murdered someone?”

“The kind of idiot who got your text messages, you fucking dumbass!” he retorted hotly. “Maybe double check your contacts before sending a random stranger details on your nefarious plans to dispose of a freshly cut up body!”

“What?!” the guy on the other end demanded, crossed between horrendously confused and livid.

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

If you want more soulmate fics you can check that tag here

you can also find more long fics here and here

Happy Reading :)

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- The Fountain of Fair Fortune

Harry made to hand the book to Remus out of habit, but Lily offered, "I'll read the next one." She was enjoying the honest bliss Harry seemed to be carrying while reading these, something she'd been afraid would be long absent with his recent bout of memory returns, but thankfully just being in Sirius' presence seemed to be holding him in good spirits for now and she wanted to keep this up however she could. So she passed her infant along to her husband and happily found the next story.

"I call dibs on my favorite then," Sirius declared at once as he watched Lily skip around their order.

Remus got a bad feeling about letting Sirius do that, because he was now worried about that look he was being given like his mate was going to be picking the story for him as well, but Lily was ignoring the both of them and starting.

High on a hill in an enchanted garden, enclosed by tall walls and protected by strong magic, flowed the Fountain of Fair Fortune.

Once a year, between the hours of sunrise and sunset on the longest day, a single unfortunate was given the chance to fight their way to the Fountain, bathe in its waters and receive Fair Fortune for evermore.

On the appointed day, hundreds of people traveled from all over the kingdom to reach the garden walls before dawn. Male and female, rich and poor,

"Why would a rich person show up? Judging by the tale, that person should automatically know they're not getting picked," James rolled his eyes.

"Rich people can be unhappy," Sirius shook his head at him, "I'm sure they think their woes are justifiable enough even if no one agrees."

"I still doubt the fountain would ever choose someone with gold to spare," James shrugged.

  young and old, of magical means and without, they gathered in the darkness, each hoping that they would be the one to gain entrance to the garden.

Three witches, each with her burden of woe, met on the outskirts of the crowd, and told one another their sorrows as they waited for sunrise.

"My mother always told me they were sisters, not strangers met," James said in surprise.

"Like the one before, I'm sure they all get tweaked with every retelling," Sirius shrugged.

The first, by name Asha,

"Ooh," Lily couldn't help but coo with a small smile as she turned to Harry and explained, "that's what we were going to name you if you were a girl."

"That's what she wanted to name you," James corrected. "I wanted to name you Poppy, or Rose."

"The flower thing is getting ridiculous James," Lily sighed with a small smile saying otherwise.

"I disagree," James defended, "the one thing I ever remember Petunia telling me was all the women in your family being named for flowers, and I don't need your mother to have another excuse to dislike me if I break that tradition."

"You're being ridiculous," Lily said in exasperation, but James was still going full steam to Harry.

"Her mothers name is Delilah, her Grandmother was Fern, and then there was her sister Iris-"

"Of all the things you remember from that one dinner," Lily blushed faintly as he tried to keep going.

The two parents began arguing the point, leading Sirius to lean over and whisper to Remus, "think they're arguing about this a bit more than necessary?"

Remus started to smirk and say, "those two? The ones who argue like that about what to eat for dinner?" Then he paused, kept watching, and muttered, "though Harry was a surprise as well."

Sirius couldn't help but snort, but then Harry got their attention and they decided to keep going.

was sick of a malady no Healer could cure. She hoped that the Fountain would banish her symptoms and grant her a long and happy life.

The second, by name Altheda, had been robbed of her home, her gold and her wand by an evil sorcerer. She hoped that the Fountain might relieve her of powerlessness and poverty.

The third, by name Amata, had been deserted by a man whom she loved dearly, and she thought her heart would never mend. She hoped that the Fountain would relieve her of her grief and longing.

"Must be some magical fountain to have the potential to heal any of that," Harry muttered.

"The things we still wish magic could do," James agreed.

Pitying each other, the three women agreed that, should the chance befall them, they would unite and try to reach the Fountain together.

"I think Asha wins from that group outright, she's the one most likely to die, the other two's fortune could change without some mystic help," Sirius muttered with a sideways look at Remus, who was blatantly ignoring him.

The sky was rent with the first ray of sun, and a chink in the wall opened. The crowd surged forward, each of them shrieking their claim for the Fountain's benison. Creepers from the garden beyond snaked through the pressing mass, and twisted themselves around the first witch, Asha.

Lily smiled brightly, gaze flickering to her child and back to the story with even such the silly happiness of the character she liked best being chosen.

She grasped the wrist of the second witch, Altheda, who seized tight upon the robes of the third witch, Amata. And Amata became caught upon the armour of a dismal-looking knight who was seated on a bone-thin horse.

The creepers tugged the three witches through the chink in the wall, and the knight was dragged off his steed after them.

"Seems a bit ridiculous all four were let in," Remus couldn't help but scoff at this logic. "What was to stop the whole crowd from just forming a chain and all going in together to reach the fountain."

"Clearly it's because they didn't expect idiots like you to be sitting around questioning them when they made up this fairy-tale," Sirius snipped.

The furious screams of the disappointed throng rose upon the morning air, then fell silent as the garden walls sealed once more.

Harry shivered heavily, at the reminder of being in hedges that blocked out the noise of a crowd. He was being ridiculous, he told himself sternly without looking at any of them who had surely noticed. It had already happened, no need to get spooked over a kids story!

"It's alright Harry," James kept eyes on his infant as he spoke calmly and softly, though the child was gurgling with delight and for once looked better off than the adult watching.

Asha and Altheda were angry with Amata, who had accidentally brought along the knight.

"Only one can bathe in the Fountain! It will be hard enough to decide which of us it will be, without adding another!"

Now, Sir Luckless,

"Much nicer than I would have called him," Sirius snickered.

as the knight was known in the land outside the walls, observed that these were witches, and, having no magic, nor any great skill at jousting or duelling with swords, nor anything that distinguished the non-magical man,

"Then, why was he a knight?" Harry asked, trying to picture in his head and not coming up with anything.

"Anyone can put on a costume I suppose," James chuckled.

was sure that he had no hope of beating the three women to the Fountain. He therefore declared his intention of withdrawing outside the walls again.

At this, Amata became angry too.

"Faint heart!" she chided him. "Draw your sword, Knight, and help us reach our goal!"

"Honestly I'd have tried to retreat too," Sirius rubbed at the back of his neck with his face pinched up. "Being stuck around three women who are assuredly going to get into a fight, I'd happily stay out of that one."

"Faint heart indeed," Lily sniffed, now easily picturing Sirius in that get up instead of Sir Cadogan from before.

And so the three witches and the forlorn knight ventured forth into the enchanted garden, where rare herbs, fruit and flowers grew in abundance on either side of the sunlit paths.

They met no obstacle until they reached the foot of the hill on which the Fountain stood.

There, however, wrapped around the base of the hill, was a monstrous white Worm, bloated and blind. At their approach, it turned a foul face upon them, and uttered the following words:

"Pay me the proof of your pain."

Harry couldn't help but shift restlessly again, despite the description, his mind flashing to a Sphinx from so long ago, but then the infant burst out laughing as James continued to make faces at him, and Lily kept reading in such an assured voice with a warm smile it easily soothed the dusk filled night from his nightmares.

Sir Luckless drew his sword and attempted to kill the beast, but his blade snapped.

"Credit for trying?" Remus offered with a halfhearted smile.

Then Altheda cast rocks at the Worm, while Asha and Amata essayed every spell that might subdue or entrance it, but the power of their wands was no more effective than their friend's stone, or the knight's steel: the Worm would not let them pass.

The sun rose higher and higher in the sky, and Asha, despairing, began to weep.

Then the great Worm placed its face upon hers and drank the tears from her cheeks.

"Eww," Lily muttered with a crinkled nose, while James started snickering at the expression and promised her, "don't worry Lily flower, I'm the only one who can do that to you."

"More eww," Sirius told the pair while Lily rolled her eyes at them and kept going loudly.

Its thirst assuaged, the Worm slithered aside, and vanished into a hole in the ground.

Rejoicing at the Worm's disappearance, the three witches and the knight began to climb the hill, sure that they would reach the Fountain before noon.

Halfway up the steep slope, however, they came across words cut into the ground before them.

Pay me the fruit of your labors.

Sir Luckless took out his only coin, and placed it upon the grassy hillside, but it rolled away and was lost.

"Poor bloke," Remus tried to smile at what was likely meant as a joke or just another instance of the characters trying to take the story too literally, but sadly he had an idea of being down to your last Knut.

The three witches and the knight continued to climb, but though they walked for hours more, they advanced not a step; the summit came no nearer, and still the inscription lay in the earth before them.

All were discouraged as the sun rose over their heads and began to sink towards the far horizon, but Altheda walked faster and harder than any of them, and exhorted the others to follow her example, though she moved no further up the enchanted hill.

"Courage, friends, and do not yield!" she cried, wiping the sweat from her brow.

As the drops fell glittering on to the earth, the inscription blocking their path vanished, and they found that they were able to move upwards once more.

"You think that's just what this magical fountain is full of? The sweat and tears of all the witches and wizards over the years?" Sirius pondered.

"That was vaguely gross, and yet I kind of believe it," Remus chuckled.

Delighted by the removal of this second obstacle, they hurried towards the summit as fast as they could, until at last they glimpsed the Fountain, glittering like crystal in a bower of flowers and trees.

Before they could reach it, however, they came to a stream that ran round the hilltop, barring their way. In the depths of the clear water lay a smooth stone bearing the words:

Pay me the treasure of your past.

Sir Luckless attempted to float across the stream on his shield, but it sank. The three witches pulled him from the water, then tried to leap the brook themselves, but it would not let them cross,

"You'd think by the third time they'd realize something was up other than just try to go around," James snorted.

"Yeah, these dense broads should be asking the fountain for something more to do with smarts than love or whatever," Sirius smirked.

"Remind me again how you're not the one married," Lily muttered, though she couldn't help but agree with him, these witches weren't exactly using a lot of problem solving skills.

and all the while the sun was sinking lower in the sky.

So they fell to pondering the meaning of the stone's message, and Amata was the first to understand. Taking her wand, she drew from her mind all the memories of happy times she had spent with her vanished lover, and dropped them into the rushing waters. The stream swept them away, and stepping stones appeared, and the three witches and the knight were able to pass at last on to the summit of the hill.

"There they have it," Remus mock applauded.

The Fountain shimmered before them, set amidst herbs and flowers rarer and more beautiful than any they had yet seen. The sky burned ruby, and it was time to decide which of them would bathe.

Before they could make their decision, however, frail Asha fell to the ground. Exhausted by their struggle to the summit, she was close to death.

Her three friends would have carried her to the Fountain, but Asha was in mortal agony and begged them not to touch her.

Then Altheda hastened to pick all those herbs she thought most hopeful, and mixed them in Sir Luckless's gourd of water, and poured the potion into Asha's mouth.

At once, Asha was able to stand. What was more, all symptoms of her dread malady had vanished.

"I thought the worm did that," James scratched at the back of his head as he tried to recall his mothers old retelling with this instead. "The three trials cured the other three and then Sir Luckless didn't because he no longer needed to or some such."

"You've got to stop comparing retellings," Lily shook her head at him before continuing.

"I am cured!" she cried. "I have no need of the Fountain, let Altheda bathe!"

But Altheda was busy collecting more herbs in her apron. "If I can cure this disease, I shall earn gold aplenty! Let Amata bathe!"

Sir Luckless bowed, and gestured Amata towards the Fountain, but she shook her head.

The stream had washed away all regret for her lover, and she saw now that he had been cruel and faithless, and that it was happiness enough to be rid of him.

"Good sir, you must bathe, as a reward for all your chivalry!" she told Sir Luckless.

"What do you think he'd even ask for? To have his name changed?" Sirius kept picking at the idea while Remus and James snickered along.

So the knight clanked forth in the last rays of the setting sun, and bathed in the Fountain of Fair Fortune, astonished that he was the chosen one of hundreds and giddy with his incredible luck.

As the sun fell below the horizon, Sir Luckless emerged from the waters with the glory of his triumph upon him, and flung himself in his rusted armor at the feet of Amata, who was the kindest and most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. Flushed with success, he begged for her hand and her heart, and Amata, no less delighted, realized that she had found a man worthy of them.

The three witches and the knight set off down the hill together, arm in arm, and all four led long and happy lives, and none of them ever knew or suspected that the Fountain's waters carried no enchantment at all.

"Dun, dun, dun!" Sirius cried, throwing his arms in the air for emphasis.

"I've got to give him that one," James chuckled.

"I can see the moral it was going for, but remember it had chosen Asha first," Lily said with a creased brow. "If the water wasn't meant to heal, and the poor thing would have died by the journey of just getting up to the magical herbs that did heal her, than it's still a good thing she dragged someone along who knew what they were doing."

"Agreed, teamwork seems to be the point of it all," Harry said watching those around him, his mind on a much more recent memory from his past where he was sure he wouldn't have made it out anymore than his godfather if not for his friends backup.

Albus Dumbledore on "The Fountain of Fair Fortune"

"The Fountain of Fair Fortune" is a perennial favorite, so much so that it was the subject of the sole attempt to introduce a Christmas pantomime to Hogwarts' festive celebrations.

"Oh, this was it!" Remus burst out laughing.

"You mentioned the school tried to put on a play once, should have known it was Dumbledore's actual idea," Sirius snickered.

"Let me finish," Lily scolded, having read ahead and contradicting him.

Our then Herbology master, Professor Herbert Beery,1 an enthusiastic devotee of amateur dramatics, proposed an adaptation of this well-beloved children's tale as a Yuletide treat for staff and students.

"Ah well, lets see why it was such a disaster then," James said eagerly.

I was then a young Transfiguration teacher, and Herbert assigned me to "special effects", which included providing a fully functioning Fountain of Fair Fortune and a miniature grassy hill, up which our three heroines and hero would appear to march,

"We absolutely should have got those parts," Sirius huffed.

"Padfoot," Remus began slowly and kindly, "think about what you just said."

It took him a second, but his slightly pouting expression didn't change much. "Flip it to three hero's and a heroin then, Lily could totally be a knight."

"Thanks," she muttered, "I always do feel luckless with you around."

Sirius went wide-eyed but defended his claim, "come on Lily, you know it's perfect! Remus is Asha-"

"Because no one saw that coming," Moony said while giving him the stank eye.

"Prongs is Amata," he kept going on the same breath while James put his arm around Lily without contesting being love sick most of his life.

"-and you're the random person that got plopped down with us but we'd never replace."

She eyed him for a moment like she couldn't decide if she was supposed to be insulted or warmed by that, Sirius had a gift of managing both at the same time.

"Since when have you ever been poor and down on your luck?" Remus accused. "I think I should just play both parts."

"Let you steal the show?" Sirius gasped. "I can play a part!"

"Honestly, I think he has enough energy to play all four main characters," Harry muttered.

while it sank slowly into the stage and out of sight.

I think I may say, without vanity, that both my Fountain and my Hill performed the parts allotted to them with simple goodwill. Alas, that the same could not be said of the rest of the cast. Ignoring for a moment the antics of the gigantic "Worm" provided by our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Silvanus Kettleburn, the human element proved disastrous to the show. Professor Beery, in his role of director, had been dangerously oblivious to the emotional entanglements seething under his very nose. Little did he know that the students playing Amata and Sir Luckless had been boyfriend and girlfriend until one hour before the curtain rose, at which point "Sir Luckless" transferred his affections to "Asha".

"May as well have done a play over A Midsummer Night's Dream." Lily chuckled at how confusing all this could get.

Suffice it to say that our seekers after Fair Fortune never made it to the top of the Hill. The curtain had barely risen when Professor Kettleburn's 'Worm', now revealed to be an Ashwinder2 with an Engorgement Charm upon it,

"Whose terrible idea was that?" Remus muttered, then he remembered his old Care of Magical Creatures teacher hadn't exactly been any more steller than Harry's in recognizing when particular magical creatures should be in a situation.

exploded in a shower of hot sparks and dust, filling the Great Hall with smoke and fragments of scenery. While the enormous fiery eggs it had laid at the foot of my Hill ignited the floorboards, "Amata" and "Asha" turned upon each other, duelling so fiercely that Professor Beery was caught in the crossfire, and staff had to evacuate the Hall, as the inferno now raging onstage threatened to engulf the place. The night's entertainment concluded with a packed hospital wing; it was several months before the Great Hall lost its pungent aroma of wood smoke, and even longer before Professor Beery's head reassumed its normal proportions, and Professor Kettleburn was taken off probation.3

"And the school didn't want to try again?" James demanded. "Where's their sense of adventure?"

"Safe in the hospital wing," Lily giggled.

Headmaster Armando Dippet imposed a blanket ban on future pantomimes, a proud non-theatrical tradition that Hogwarts continues to this day.

"They are really missing out," Sirius insisted.

Our dramatic fiasco notwithstanding, "The Fountain of Fair Fortune" is probably the most popular of Beedle's tales, although, just like "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot", it has its detractors.

"Of course it does," James rolled his eyes.

More than one parent has demanded the removal of this particular tale from the Hogwarts library, including, by coincidence, a descendant of Brutus Malfoy and member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, Mr. Lucius Malfoy. *

"Is Malfoy on the board of governors already?" Lily spluttered in pure disgust. Admittedly more outraged than anything he'd pulled so high in the Ministry while only being a few years above her and she was still at the bottom.

"There's a nightmare we need to fix soon," Remus agreed in disgust.

Mr. Malfoy submitted his demand for a ban on the story in writing:

Any work of fiction or non-fiction that depicts interbreeding between wizards and Muggles should be banned from the bookshelves of Hogwarts. I do not wish my son to be influenced into sullying the purity of his bloodline by reading stories that promote wizard-Muggle marriage.

"How dare he hear someone else's opinion on something," James mocked.

My refusal to remove the book from the library was backed by a majority of the Board of Governors. I wrote back to Mr. Malfoy, explaining my decision:

So-called pure-blood families maintain their alleged purity by disowning, banishing or lying about Muggles or Muggle-borns on their family trees. They then attempt to foist their hypocrisy upon the rest of us by asking us to ban works dealing with the truths they deny. There is not a witch or wizard in existence whose blood has not mingled with that of Muggles, and I should therefore consider it both illogical and immoral to remove works dealing with the subject from our students' store of knowledge.4

"And Malfoy didn't take to this idea? What a genuine astonishment," Sirius said dryly.

This exchange marked the beginning of Mr. Malfoy's long campaign to have me removed from my post as Headmaster of Hogwarts, and of mine to have him removed from his position as Lord Voldemort's Favorite Death Eater.

"A children's novel got those two started against each other," Lily said deadpan.

"Ah, it would have been something, I'm happier it's something memorable," James rolled his eyes.

"Oh look, they're are notes at the end of this one," Lily said in surprise.

"The man has notes on his notes?" Sirius demanded in disgust.

1Professor Beery eventually left Hogwarts to teach at W.A.D.A. (Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts) where, he once confessed to me, he maintained a strong aversion to mounting performances of this particular story, believing it to be unlucky.

Harry blinked slowly at the mention of that, suddenly a world of questions about other wizarding schools popping to mind he'd have to ask about later. He was more surprised than anything Sirius hadn't gone there.

2 See Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them for a definitive description of this curious beast. It ought never to be voluntarily introduced into a wood-panelled room, nor have an Engorgement Charm placed upon it.

"Anyone sensible could have told them that," Remus rolled his eyes.

3 Professor Kettleburn survived no fewer than sixty-two periods of probation during his employment as Care of Magical Creatures teacher.

"Kettleburn just got better in my memories!" Sirius burst out laughing.

His relations with my predecessor at Hogwarts, Professor Dippet, were always strained, Professor Dippet considering him to be somewhat reckless. By the time I became Headmaster, however, Professor Kettleburn had mellowed considerably, although there were always those who took the cynical view that with only one and a half of his original limbs remaining to him, he was forced to take life at a quieter pace.

"A shame, we might sympathize with Hagrid more since Kettleburn seems exactly like him when he started," Remus chuckled.

"On the plus side, if the pattern continues, hopefully that means Hagrid will continue to mellow out as well," Harry said with a wry smile.

4 My response prompted several further letters from Mr. Malfoy, but as they consisted mainly of opprobrious remarks on my sanity, parentage and hygiene, their relevance to this commentary is remote.

"I disagree, those sound extremely relevant!" James protested.

He was ignored as Lily told this one was done.

HPHPHPHPHP

*First and only time, hopefully, I'll have to edit these books for my purposes. The actual line is 'one-time' member of the board, but of course he hasn't been taken off yet. I believe the timeline of Dumbledore writing for this happened sometime between books two and three, when he was still looking for the other Deathly Hollows as a side project, but due to the purposes of this fic it's obviously been modified a bit more.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Budding Blossoms (Steve x Reader)

Anon’s Request: “ Hi! I read your "it starts with a sentence" prompt with Steve and I absolutely love the way you write him. So, I was wondering if i could request something? Like the reader is a big fan of Steve not as Captain America, like as a war hero (because she learns about him in history class or something) and she's always wanted to meet him to thank him for everything he's done, but doesn't think she ever will. But then they meet by chance and just have a deep talk. Thank you 🙏🧡 “

A/N: So honestly, I feel like I suck at writing Steve (which is why it takes me a bit to do the requests, I”M SORRY), so thank you for your sweet words. It means a lot!!!! I’m happy to do this request for you :) Also - I hope you don’t mind the small twist I put in for the reader.

Summary: You had only ever cared for the war hero, never finding interest in the superhero title that the rest of the world had become so obsessed with. But you knew the odds of meeting him were...well, impossible. Or were they?

Word Count:1490 words

Warnings: My friends, tis a bunch of fluff. That is what I have for you. Please - enjoy. XD There’s a bit of angst, but it’s not intentional. It’s all very sweet.

To most, a day that fell in line with all the others was boring. Trivial even. But to you it was the one thing you had become desperate for. The flower shop you worked at was quaint, small even. Yet still wild and unique. It was hard not to find yourself content within its walls. Truly, you could spend every waking and sleeping hour here.

“Have you finished your homework?”

You looked up, placing the watering can next to the long row of roses. Your gaze shifted to your cousin, the owner of Budding Blossoms. She had been working on potting a couple new plants. Knowing how much she was constantly worrying, you reminded her, “I’m not taking classes this summer, remember?”

“Fine, then what about – “

You grinned. “I already took my meds.”

She huffed and asked, “Why do you act like it’s a bad thing for me to worry about you?”

“Because you worry too much.”

“Oh, is that right?” She threw some dirt your way and you ducked, laughing as the flowers proved to be a natural shield.

The familiar ding from the front door brought you two out of your little game. She looked up first as you returned to caring for the plants, surprise evident in her features. “Uh…you guys are Avengers.”

A laugh, boisterous and fun, bounced off the small walls. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have assumed the flowers bloomed a little brighter because of it. But still – you found yourself wondering. Why were Avengers in a flower shop?

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” your cousin assured. “But if I’m honest, it’s more common for men to wonder in here when they’ve upset a girlfriend.” You watched through the hanging ferns, catching glimpses of the man you knew to be Sam Wilson. He was the one laughing, teasing your sweet and far too protective cousin.

“Not a girlfriend. Poor, sweet Clint here,” he said, hands clasping shoulders and jerking the Avenger forward. “Well, he managed to piss off his super-soldier boyfriend. And there is no one better at the silent treatment than that guy, believe us.”

Clint nodded. “You gotta help me out here.”

You heard your cousin agree. Of course she would. There was no doubt that her favorite part of her job was helping people truly in love. She was an every-day cupid, that you were certain. Watching them wander towards the back, to more exotic flowers, you turned on your hell only to stumble into something very big.

Very hard.

And very tall.

You looked up, realizing that you had walked into the third member of their party. “You – You’re – “

He blushed, hand scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m Captain – “

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

“ – America.”

Of all the things you would have expected, his surprise was not one of them. He looked at you as if he had never heard his name said before. A small chuckle slipped past his lips as he said, “I’m sorry, I think that made me sound a bit like an ass.”

“No, it didn’t,” you promised, shaking your head. “You’ve been known as Captain America for how long? I would’ve been shocked if you said anything else.”

“But you called me ‘Steve’.”

“I’m taking some classes at Brooklyn College and,” you shrugged. “My professor thinks our war heroes should be known by their name and respected for it. And I agree.”

Steve looked at you with an emotion neither of you could quite place. He stared with a kindness and familiarity that made it seem as though you two had been friends for years. And perhaps known each other longer. The silence was unsettling not because it was awkward, but due to the fact that there was an immoveable weight there. Silent words begging to be spoken.

But you had more courage to say them first.

“I wanted to thank you for everything that you’ve done.”

His brow furrowed. Clearly, of all the things he could have expected, that wasn’t it.

“Not as Captain America, but as Steve Rogers. You’re…” You smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You’re a good man.”

His brows raised. Once again you had managed to surprise him. Little did you know how or why. There was no way you could know that similar words from an old friend. Dr. Erskine. Not a good soldier, but…a good man.

Steve watched you go about your work. He wanted to talk to you some more. It wasn’t every day that someone was capable of reminding him that he was a human first and hero second. “Do you…” He faltered when you looked his way. “Do you want to get a coffee? Maybe we could talk. I’d happily answer any questions you may have.”

--

“No, I wasn’t trying to act too cool!” You giggled, nursing the coffee in your hands as Steve grinned. “I just – I figured you’re always having to deal with strangers flocking to your side. I didn’t…” You sighed, sitting back in your chair. “I didn’t want to be another person to cause any stress.”

Steve tilted his head. Curious only because most people didn’t think of it that way. To them, he was a hero. And being a hero meant being in front of the spotlight. Hell, it had been that way since he was parading around in the 40’s. “Thanks.” Silence fell, but this time it was comfortable. Easy. “Can I ask you something?”

“Uh…” Now it was your turn to be surprised. “Yeah, of course.”

“I promise I wasn’t being inappropriate,” he started, earning a snort from you. “But…before the serum I was always sick. I was a really small kid and no one expected me to ever live a healthy life.” He cleared his throat and you could feel a change in the air. “Your scar…Can I ask what happened?”

Your fingers instinctively brushed against the spot he spoke of, knowing it traveled farther down. Beneath your tank top and between your breasts. It had taken a long time to gain a confidence in your appearance thanks to that ridge of healed skin. And still – you earned stares. You earned watchful eyes and even more careful hands. Everyone treated you as a doll, too weak to care for yourself.

“If we had met a few months ago, I probably would’ve bolted from the table,” you told him honestly. Nevertheless, your thumb ran across the lip of your coffee cup. “I had a heart transplant earlier this year.” You swallowed, willing the tear to stay away. His gaze, though warm and not at all judging, never wavered from you. And yet you wouldn’t dare look up at him. “Maybe that has something to do with why I respect and appreciate you so much.” You looked up at him, a sad smile curving your lips. “You were so determined to do the right thing. So determined to be good. And that…” You breathed a shaky laugh, a small tear slipping down your cheek. “That means a lot to someone like me. Someone who knows what it’s like to feel limited and know you are…” You met his gaze. “So much more.”

He reached across the table, his hand finding and squeezing yours. It was meant to be calming, reassuring. And god, it did exactly that. He was genuinely…such a good man.

The conversation went on. The pair of you discussed things no one had ever heard from either of you. Talking as if you had known each other for lifetimes, discussing things only someone who lived in a weak body could understand. It was precious.

Intimate even.

“Do you think they’ll come inside anytime soon?”

Sam looked to your cousin, noticing how she gazed out the window. There Steve was still talking to you. And the day had faded away. Sunset was greeting them now. He grinned, highly amused that Steve had managed to find comfort in talking to a woman. There were some days where he still believed that his friend was far more awkward than anyone could ever know.

He chuckled. “Probably not. But,” he looked to her. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

Your cousin thought back to the pain you had endured. All the time you spent clinging to the hope that you would heal. You would get better. You had grown so used to living the days on repeat, simply appreciating their existence, that you had forgotten that surviving and truly living were not the same thing. Nor would they ever be.

“I don’t think so.” She watched the way you both laughed. He had leaned closer, smiling from ear to ear and looking far less like a hero. And much more like a man. You looked so at peace. Happy and hopeful. No, there was nothing wrong with any of that.

If anything, she thought it was very much…right.

[catsafarithewriter]

Vampire AU: "You can't just turn into a bat and fly away when you don't want to deal with things!" "Watch me!"

A/N: I am living for all the Vampire AU prompts you’re sending

x

Haru had had this holiday planned for months. 

She’d booked the weekend off in February, the site in March; she’d even made a nice little list of things they’d need, and things they’d want, and things they’d almost certainly forget if she didn’t put it down on paper. 

In short, she had had this camping holiday planned long before Baron had come into the picture. 

And vampire-sitting wasn’t on any of the lists.

“It’s just a holiday,” she assured as she threw a handful of clothes into her rucksack. “I’ll be away for a few days and then I’ll be back, no biggie.”

“No… biggie?” Baron echoed skeptically. 

“There’s literally nothing for you to worry about,” she translated. “In fact, I’ll be far more worried about leaving you behind - and no,” she quickly added, “that doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind and you can come. My holiday. My two days of peace and quiet. You just stay here and stew in front of the TV watching soap operas for two days. Please.”

“I still don’t entirely understand the point of your excursion. You are staying out in the woods in a rickety tent for… what? What kind of holy day requires this sort of ritual?”

“I said it’s a holiday, not a holy day, what are you–” She broke off. “Good god, you don’t know what a holiday is, do you?”

Baron, as usual, looked somewhat affronted at having his outdated vocabulary criticised again. “If words have adapted in the last 400 years, I hardly think it is a surprise–”

“You don’t. You poor, poor man.” She hesitated, and then amended, “Creature. Monster? Look, I’m not entirely sure what to refer to you as - and, no, ‘monster of the night’ is far too much of a mouthful and I’m not saying it. Okay, I’m going away for the weekend to get away from work and responsibilities and I’m going to have fun. That’s what a holiday is.” 

Baron started to speak again. 

“A vampire-free weekend,” she added.

“I still feel it is highly inadvisable for a young lady to spend several nights sleeping the woods.”

“Just as well I’m not taking advice then, isn’t it? And stop pouting - I’m not going alone. Hiromi’s coming with me.”

“Ah yes. Hiromi.”

“You could sound less like you’re dribbling the name off your tongue. What do you have against her? You only ever met her once.”

Baron hesitated. “She… creeps me out.”

“You. The ‘monster of the night’. Are creeped out by my tiny friend. I left you in the same room together alone for all of two minutes. What happened??”

Baron’s mouth thinned. Haru recognised that look. 

“Oh dear, was she not instinctively terrified and reverential to your impressive vampire aura?” she crooned. “What a shocker. How traumatic that must have been for you–”

“I have spent enough time in this century to recognise sarcasm, Haru.”

“Oh thank goodness. You’re finally getting a sense of humour.” 

“That’s not–” He scowled again. “I still don’t like this.”

“That’s fine. I’m still going.” She threw her rucksack over her shoulder just as a car horn announced her ride’s arrival. “Try not to eat all the prunes in the first day, okay? I haven’t left you any grocery money.” 

“I don’t need money.”

She bapped him on the nose the same way she did with naughty dogs. “No stealing into shops in the dead of night and raiding them. If any robberies get traced back here, I will not help you.”

“Don’t worry. They’ll never trace it back here.”

Haru stared. “That’s not what I meant – look, just behave, okay? You can surely do that for a weekend, right? Please?” 

Baron’s mouth was thin, but in defeat this time. “I will not cause chaos here while you’re gone.”

“Close enough.”

x

The air in the forest was almost like the air Baron remembered from his life pre-400-year-nap. There was no need to breathe for him, but he could still taste the discrepancies in the breeze, the clarity far from cars and cities and people. Wild. Untamed. Free…

A bundle of hikers popped out from a thicket of ferns and blindly relocated the path. One of them held the remains of a map. The human with the map approached Baron. Yet another human who had somehow lost that vital survival instinct. 

“Hey, I don’t suppose you know whereabouts we are on here?” the woman asked, thrusting the torn paper towards him. 

He flashed her a fanged smile. “You’re in the monster’s lair.”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so… I think the Devil’s Punchbowl was down that way, so…” She turned the map around a few times. “Yeah, the sun is that way, and the valley is behind us, so east is…” 

“Don’t you know what I am?” he tried again, injecting a slight growl into the curve of his words.  

“Very bad at directions, apparently.” 

“I’ve got signal!” One of the other humans hurried forward and brought their phone into the light, carefully as if carrying some hallowed item. “It seems to think we’re… here. Don’t-don’t move it, or I’ll lost it again, but…”

Baron caught sight of a miniaturised map on the phone screen, a small blue dot flashing in the centre. 

The woman shot Baron back a smile, all blunt teeth and useless canines, and nodded politely. “Looks like we’ve got our bearings. Do you need directions somewhere or…”

“I don’t need your help.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but you probably should be moving soon. It’s getting dark and you probably shouldn’t be in these woods alone at night.”

Baron watched the hikers vanish into the undergrowth with a fresh layer of incredulity. His mind rebooted after the last of the ferns rustled back into place. “I’m the scariest thing in this forest!” he snapped. 

The forest didn’t seem too impressed.

A squirrel ran along the tree roots and paused to pick at acorns scattering the forest floor. Baron bared his fangs in a snarl. The squirrel continued on unaffected. 

In the end, Baron threw an acorn at it to make it leave. 

Twice. 

The first one missed and the squirrel actually stopped to pick at it, and almost approached Baron to see if he’d give another. The second acorn still missed, but was close enough to startle the creature. 

Maybe the problem wasn’t humans. Maybe after 400 years, he was just losing his touch. 

He glowered and leapt up into the trees, scaling the trunks and moving silently through the canopy until he came to the tent where Haru and her… friend were staying the next two nights.

He wasn’t following Haru. Of course he wasn’t. He just… had thought that an evening stroll into a wood would be a nice change of pace. If it happened to be the same forest Haru was staying in and he just happened to pass by, well then, it was only natural to stick around and make sure she was okay. After all, she was his host. If he lost her, he’d had to find somewhere else to live. With someone who maybe didn’t have the channels with good soap operas, or who didn’t buy him tinned prunes, or who didn’t tell him how their day had gone while they were cooking and laugh at odd things that the 21st Century deemed funny and curl up like a housecat while reading.

And that would be a shame. 

Night was fast drawing in, even with the long summer days, and the two women had set several lanterns in a loose circle around their tent. Their little temporary home was a gentle patch of light in the otherwise shadowed forest. Like a little moon. 

Baron perched in a tree just beyond the lanterns’ glow and kept guard, his back to them as he watched the forest for any hidden dangers. Their conversation - louder than the conversation Haru and Baron usually shared, rambunctious and bouncy - was a strange sort of company for him, but not one he disliked. Eventually they gave in against sleep and retired into their tent and it was just Baron, sleepless and eternal. 

He dropped down to the ground, approaching to stomp out the last embers of the fire, and hit a wall. 

No. Not a wall. But definitely a barrier of some type. 

He circled the makeshift campsite, but the barrier seemed to encompass the entirety of the shared women’s tent - including the fire. He stepped back and re-examined his surroundings, eventually resting his gaze on the lanterns. They were placed evenly around the tent - too evenly. Too precisely. He lowered his gaze and now saw marks in the ground - carved out with a stick, most likely - to create a warding spell. Designed to keep creatures like him out. 

But Haru knew no such magic…

“So what’s your deal, huh?” 

Haru’s friend was leaning casually against a tree trunk within the circle, still in pyjamas but with a chunky wooden stick slung over one shoulder. A stake. A glint of metal at its tip. Silver. 

Instinctively his mouth curled into a snarl, 

Hiromi swung the stake into her hands. “Oh, so you recognise this, do you? I used to have a much fancier one, family heirloom in fact, until it got… uh, stuck in a creature like you. Luckily the important details aren’t hard to replicate. Wooden stake, silver-tipped, a few important runes in place and bam. Perfect vampire-killer.”

“I knew there was something off about you.”

She laughed, presumably emboldened by the protection of her spell, and pointedly stared back at him. “Hark who’s talking. You’re not so hot yourself, slick. Now, how about you tell me what you’re doing with my best friend and I might reconsider staking you into permanent sleep.” 

“I’m not doing anything to her,” Baron retorted. “She’s my host.” He winced at the bad word choice, quick to correct himself. “Not in… not in a vampire way. She lets me stay with her.”

“Why?”

“Kindness, she told me.” 

Hiromi snorted, and all of Baron’s surprise at Haru’s reasoning felt a little belittled. “Naturally her kindness ends up inviting a vampire into her home. Naturally. God, I love her, but her kindness gets her into all sorts of chaos, you know?”

“If you know my kind as well as you boast, then you’ll know I haven’t touched Haru,” he said, his tone sharp, sharper still for the dismissal. “Even a single drink from a human leaves its marks.”

Hiromi glowered, and Baron could see she had already checked as much. “You’ll be drinking from someone.” 

“Do you really think I’d be foolish enough to drink from a person in a world I know so little about? Please,” he scoffed, mimicking the tone Haru had thrown so often at him. “Give me a little credit.”

“Then where are you drinking from?”

“There are other things vampires can survive on. Animal blood. Eggs.” He hesitated. “Prunes.” 

“Seriously?”

He allowed a flicker of irritation to darken his face. “Would I joke under such circumstances?”

“I don’t know. I’ve met several vampires with a sense of humour. And before you say anything,” she added, “I didn’t kill all of them. Only those with a fondness for human blood. Still, prunes are a first.”

“We all have our weaknesses,” Baron muttered. 

“Uh-huh, and one of yours may be my best friend.” She considered. “For whatever reason, Haru seems to… tolerate you to a surprising degree - I don’t know what she sees in you, because it certainly isn’t your humour or your manners or your personality–”

“Is this going somewhere?”

“–so I won’t tell you to get out of her place. But–” and she swung the stake so it rested between them, on the tip of the invisible barrier “–if you touch one hair on her head, one little drink, one single bite, if you give in to your vampire urges for even the briefest second, I will stake you, understand?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then we come to an understanding.”

“I’m not going to harm Haru. Even before your threat, I wasn’t going to harm her.”

Hiromi gave him a strange, searching look that Baron wasn’t entirely sure he liked. Like she understood him better than he understood himself in that single moment. Then the moment passed and she threw a bark of a laugh and turned away. “You should be going before all this wakes Haru up.”

“But–”

“What were you even doing here? She’s your host, sure. But the home she’s sharing with you is all the way over that way. Why come all the way out here?” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless you were thinking about a late night snack while away from the city…?”

Baron bristled at the accusation. Still, he wasn’t even entirely sure of the answer himself. “I… The forest is a dangerous place for humans.”

“Yes. Because of creatures like you.”

“Sometimes.” 

Hiromi smirked. “Well you needn’t have worried, if that’s true. If you can worry. Can you?” She shrugged and continued before Baron could muddle through an answer. “I can take down pretty much anything of your like. And a few others as well.” 

He eyed the stake. “Apparently.”

There was a grumble from the tent, followed by movement. 

Hiromi made a face. “Shit. Get going before we have to start explaining.” 

“You don’t tell me what to do.” 

The tent flap opened and Baron dissolved into a swarm of bats, vanishing before Haru could see his human shape. He lingered just long enough to see Hiromi’s smirk widen, and see Haru spot his bat form disappear into the dark. 

To echo Hiromi: Shit.

x

Haru found him early the next morning. 

The light was still low, long shadows cast through the forest canopy and just dim enough for Baron to remain safe from the rapidly warming sunlight. Lord, he hated summer. 

She stalked out of the tent, obliviously out of the protection spell, and stopped by the dip of a river. The water was caught in an eddy, courtesy of the rocks channelling it, and it churned like a… well, a punchbowl. As Haru sat down by its cooling side, he wondered if this was the Devil’s Punchbowl those infernal hikers had been rambling on about. 

“I know you’re there.”

He jolted, and was optimistic enough to think that maybe she was talking to somebody else. 

She shattered that illusion pretty quickly, dropping her head back in his general direction and adding, “Baron.” 

He dropped down from the trees, barely making a sound as he landed on the forest floor. “How did you know I was there?”

“I can always tell. It feels like someone walked over my grave.” She paused, and added, “And then there was last night.”

“Ah.”

“Did… Did Hiromi see you? Or did you stay in your bat form the entire time?”

He considered. If she didn’t know, then Hiromi hadn’t seen fit to inform Haru about her true occupation or her awareness of Baron’s. He considered revealing Hiromi’s monster-hunting life, but quickly discarded it. Haru had only seen his version of vampires - and however he wished to be rightfully intimidating, he was by far not the worst vampire out there. There were vampires out there that would make even his skin crawl. 

Vampires that Hiromi had probably encountered, if her boasts were anything to go by. Vampires her family almost certainly had. Tales of bloodlust and slaughters and a carelessness for human life that would turn the stomach of anyone humane. Tales that might be shared with Haru if Hiromi’s true life came to light. And Hiromi would have little reason to hide such stories from Haru. 

Stories that would change the way Haru looked at him. 

“Baron?” Haru gave an uneasy chuckle. “Oh god, tell me you didn’t do anything stupid. Again.”

“She didn’t see me,” he lied. 

“It was close though.”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “Close enough.”

“I can’t believe this. I told you to stay at my flat. You said you would behave–”

“I said I would not cause chaos in your flat,” Baron said. He helpfully gestured to their forested surroundings. “We are not in your flat.”

“I am going to kill you.” 

“You can’t.”

“Stake you, then.” She made a frustrated nonsense movement like she couldn’t quite decide which rude gesture to throw at him, and kind of spun on the spot. 

He smiled, and then looked away before she could see it. 

“How would I even begin to explain what you were doing all the way out here? ‘Heya, Hiromi, meet my flatmate, he stalks me but it’s fine, I promise. Sleep? Oh no, he doesn’t sleep - he’ll just turn into a swarm of bats and hang around until daybreak.’ I mean, honestly, what was I going to – what are you grinning about? I’m being serious here!”

“I know.” 

“Then what’s so funny?”

He looked back to her, and wasn’t sure how to explain it wasn’t humour, but a strange sensation of contentedness. It was a fondness for the familiarity he saw in her. It was in her bluster, her teasing tone, the tilt of her head and the flicker of her eyes. He knew exactly where he stood with her in this exact moment, and it wasn’t because of his ability to intimidate, but because of her. 

He said none of this, however.

“Did I ever thank you for giving me a place to stay?” he said instead. 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’d kinda stopped expecting it.”

“Then thank you.”

A surprised tilt of the head. A funny half-smile on her lips. “You’re welcome?”

Suddenly Baron knew that if he were still human, he’d be blushing right about now. As things went, he couldn’t be sure his expression wasn’t betraying just as much anyway. He looked away again. “Well, I can see you’re managing just fine without me, so I’ll just be going--”

“Wait, wait, you’re still in trouble for stalking me here--”

His form began to shift, deliberately slow enough so that realisation could hit Haru before he dissolved into a swarm of bats. 

“Hey! You can’t just turn into a bat and fly away when you don’t want to deal with things!” she snapped. “Baron!”

He grinned before his face vanished in a haze of wings and fur. “Watch me.”

[iamtrashhenceiamhere]

Ghosts live on

It was a common enough legend; every small town had their own and Helsingør was no different. The foreboding abandoned castle didn’t help much either, but it was something for the occasional tourist to take pictures of. The children were told the story as bedtime stories and then in school in the form of Shakespeare. He may have called them a fictional city, but the name “Elsinore” stuck around like a loving nickname for the locals.

No one lived in the castle anymore. Out of respect and fear of what happened to the family of seven who lived there once. The Hansens. A good rich family who moved out when their youngest daughter of ten years nearly died in the forest at the outer parts of the small town. The castle now stands desolate, empty of all except the remnants of that family and the ivy that quickly took over and claimed it. They had an old caretaker whose job was to handle the children but he was let go before they all left when his bad hearing nearly cost the life of the youngest. He still lived near the castle gates and no one had the heart to make him clear off. After all, he only wanted company and the occasional conversation.

This whole incident didn’t help the case for the stories. Of course, the townspeople dismissed the whole “legend” as a simple story meant to keep children from wandering too far from home. The poor family was only an unfortunate coincidence. But everyone had a little fear in their heart

It was a beautiful small forest and a popular place, but you could never spend too long in it. It wasn’t safe was all the explanation people could provide when asked. How could they explain the off- feeling they felt when they went deep in? The urge to just remain in there, walking amongst the woods and trees going off the familiar path and follow the array of flowers that littered the place. people swore these plants seemed to be in bloom even in the harshest of winter. Bright dots of pansies, rue and daisies almost buried under decaying leaves and snow, but sure enough still there.

There was a stream that ran through the forest and led to a pond which looked almost like a picture. Reeds on the sides, little fishes and frogs shining near the surface in the light. It seemed other worldly. There was a large tree fallen tree across the stream near the mouth of the pool. It was almost like a gate keeper, covered in moss, ferns and multiple little critters crawling over the rotting holes created by time. The pond was a lovely place especially during summer but of course, no one stayed there for long. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t see the bottom of the pond. the water was clear but almost a never ending dark blue in the centre. It was safer to just not swim in it. There were stories of dead bodies being thrown in by murderers who will never be caught, people falling in, never to be seen again. Only stories they tried to reassure themselves, but it only strengthened the fear when the youngest Hansen almost drowned in the connected stream.

She lost balance walking across the fallen tree and fell on the stream side. The caretaker was with her and when she didn’t surface, he quickly went after her after. He’d searched frantically for her and found her floating unconscious lightly underwater a little way down. He quickly brought her up.

She recovered of course, but many say she had a chance only because she hadn’t fallen into the pond itself.

There was a family who lived in the castle. They weren’t royal, but Shakespeare took some artistic liberty. The tale of a nephew killing his treacherous uncle to avenge his father, the six haunting deaths in the castle were almost traditional. Almost each province had their own haunted mansion of unusual deaths. But the part of the legend that scared the town most was the fate of Ophelia.

A young woman, still a girl even, driven mad by the unlawful death of her controlling father by the hands of the man who used her like a throw-away doll. Her brother, who, like everyone else, could not look past the simple pretty face put on for the public and see the light of intelligent and awareness.

Ophelia went to the same forest, picking flowers and singing to herself and the trees around her. The trees who didn’t care who she was, didn’t judge or remind her of the rules she must follow to be a proper lady in her short stifling life. They just listened and silently appreciated. They didn’t care for her mad dances, her occasional screams between verses when she saw see the body of her father laid out flashing, the phantom blood still warm against her unstained hands. Her mind quickly pushed it out and she focused on the flowers, still singing to the trees.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,

love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.

There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue

for you; and here's some for me: we may call it

herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with

a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you

some violets, but they withered all when my father died…

She sang on and on, stepping daintily on the fallen tree and dancing atop it. Little jumps, turns and small twirls. The damp moss and slick wooden bark making slips almost inevitable, yet she danced on, for once in her restrained life, careless of any consequence. Falling wasn’t even a fear anymore, after all how could she fall when she felt so light? So, when the final slip did happen, she didn’t feel like she was falling. Ophelia was floating. She was free in the water, the coolness of it finally calming her. The clear water looked even clearer around her. Small fish tickling her hands and face as they swam around her. She felt peaceful. But she’d lost her flowers. Well that wasn’t good, she’d worked so hard to collect them! She looked frantically and saw they all were up at the surface, floating as free as she was. She could almost grab them.

Ophelia tried to reach for them, but her heavy dress felt heavier, water soaked up entirely. Now she felt the fall, the heavy drag pulling her and keeping her down. Ophelia tried to push herself back up, from the bottom of the pond. It was a lot deeper than it looked.

She looked around, the then clear water, now quickly growing murky by all the mud she was kicking up. The fish were gone, had enough of their home being disrupted by this outsider. She was alone and she couldn’t see. She tried to kick herself up again, the cool water now did nothing to chill the intense burn in her lungs. Her legs were entangled by hornworts, hardy pond plants that didn’t let go easily. Her large dress floated around her, restricting movement even further. Pulling whatever she could grasp, it eventually became too much effort, and she gasped for air. Instead muddy water flowed through. She was losing conscious quickly, she had to get her flowers, Laertes was waiting for her, she’d picked rosemary especially for him. and Hamlet, oh Hamlet would never receive her rues, they were such lovely ones. He would have loved it…

Ophelia’s body was found by the servants who went searching for her. Large torn pieces of dress fabric were floating alongside a bundle of wild flowers. But when they dove to retrieve her body, the pond bed seemed almost unreachable, going deeper and deeper still. Eventually they had to return with only the remains they found afloat.

There was a family that lived in the castle. But the story of revenge, murder and madness was all part of legend. No one knows really how they all died but it was so long ago. Fear is the hardest thing to kill though and it is said to never go into the forest on the anniversary of Ophelia’s death. They say she still haunted the pond, hoping to drag other souls along with her for company.

Little Clara Hansen was asked by other curious kids as to what happened to her. Most of them weren’t allowed to go into the forest on their own. Their parents explained it was only for rational safety reasons, “You could fall off a tree! Who’d help you if you break your leg in there?”, “Strangers could steal you away.” And the most common one, “You could fall down a hole and we’d never find you.” All ridiculous, the kids declared. Of course, the real reason was because Ophelia wouldn’t let you leave! They all knew the end of the story. If she saw any kids wandering in the forest, she’d keep them with her forever! Ophelia loved to have little children to dance and play with all day and night.

Clara said she didn’t have any particular urge to dance around or sing with anyone in the forest. She didn’t even see any ghosts. Just some walkers on the path and her caretaker alongside her to make sure she doesn’t get lost. Of course, they went off the path when she saw some lovely columbines and wanted to pick some for her father.

The caretaker followed her, listening to her talk about all the different types of plants she’d learnt at school.

“By the way, did you know that bamboo is the fastest growing wood in the world? I can’t remember the number, but it grows loads in a day!” she interrupted to boast of one of the facts she’d learnt.

The kids marvelled for a moment, exchanging further plant facts they had learnt before pushing her to continue.

Clara had reached a small pond area and exclaimed in delight at all the little fishes that swam in the clear blue water and reached to cup one into her hands. She leaned forward and as her hands touched the water, almost all the fishes swam away frantically. She tried to at least catch one but it was almost as if someone had grabbed hold of her and was pulling her gently. She could see her face fully now and it looked…weird. Different. She looked older…? Her hair was a lot longer. It was also black and curly but maybe that was just the water and light being weird. Maybe it had grown, and she just hadn’t noticed. Oh, she could do cool hairstyles now like her older sister Nora did!

Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and pulled back. Completely startled, water went flying from her hands right into caretaker’s face.

“Please be more careful there! You almost fell in!” he said.

She walked around the place as he set up a small blanket for them to sit on when she’d get tired. Clara didn’t go too close to the pond again, but explored the different plants growing. By the end she’d managed to pick many flowers and long leaves to take home as a trophy. The sun was now overhead and a warm stillness set in the area. The caretaker decided to lay down for a while and soon fell asleep on the blanket. Clara had relaxed before, sitting and talking to him. she was all keyed up now to just…do something! Anything was better than just sitting and sleeping around!

Clara spotted the fallen tree laying across the stream. The caretaker had said not to go on it because it wasn’t safe. Something about rotting wood and instability. But she wasn’t that heavy, surely the wood could take her. She imagined the pretty pictures she’d seen where girls in nice dresses swished their feet on water, sitting on moss and mushroom covered trees trunks. They looked like fairies. The water was so cool as well when she’d reached in before. Clara looked back at him. Light snores indicated he was truly asleep and not faking it. Just five minutes and then she’d come back, he wouldn’t even have to know.

She quickly went up the wood and looked at the stream. She could see the bottom, light sand glistened like sea glass. Small water plants danced around. It would just about come up to her chest, she decided and stepped up on the wood.

It had rained the day before, so it was a little damper than she expected but it was so smooth! Having kicked her shoes off before, it felt so weird feeling the moss snaking around her toes, tickling her. Clara grinned and walked until she’d reached the centre and sat down, facing the pond. It looked a lot bigger from here.

“Hello there.” A voice called. Clara turned her head sharply, startled to see there was a woman in the pond, swimming around. She had such lovely thick hair, like the reflection she’d seen before and a kind smile.

“Would you like to swim with me? The water is lovely and cool.”

Clara hesitated. Of course, Nora had told her not to be alone with strangers. She looked back at the caretaker, still fast asleep. She technically wasn’t alone.

“Sorry but I’m not supposed to go into the pond.” She hoped the woman wouldn’t leave because of her. She seemed nice.

The lady laughed and swam up to her. She was able to walk as soon as she reached the shallow ends and sat next to her on the wood. “Alright then, I’ll just join you then.” She looked even prettier but…

“why are you wearing a dress?” Clara asked. It was a beautiful dress even soaking wet and dripped water making the tree trunk even damper. But it wasn’t good for swimming.

The woman shrugged. “I was just walking around and saw the pond. Thought it was good enough for a dip. No one else really swims in here anymore so I suppose its like my personal pool.” She grinned. “Hey, if you want, it can our little pool! Our special pond.”

Clara beamed. A pond! She pictured coming here every afternoon now, sitting and talking with this lady, collecting flowers and maybe even berries in summer! It sounded wonderful, except… “what about Nero?”

The woman snapped up. “who?” she seemed panicked, worried almost. Clara pointed at her caretaker.

“Nero. He takes care of us while Mor and Far go off for business.” Now eager to show off her knowledge, “did you know Nero is a Latin name and it means timekeeper? Its so weird but makes sense I guess cause he’s always looking after us but he’s super strict about time ‘cause we need to go to bed at ten maximum.”

The woman relaxed a little, staring at him sleeping. “I had a friend like that. You know, his name also meant timekeeper. He was a good guy.”

They chatted a little longer about the meaning of names and Clara’s family.

“So you have an older brother? How does he treat you?”

“well, he’s kinda mean ‘cause he hides my toys but then I tell his friends embarrassing things about him and he always turns so red its funny!”

The woman was a quiet for a while. She smiled again, a little sad. “It’s strange, I had a brother too. He was always picking on me, but I knew he loved me. I loved him too. Maybe if things were different.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Anyway, I’m gonna go back in. You’re welcome to join whenever you wish.” With that she stood up and dived back in. Clara immediately stood up as well and looked for her. It was almost as if she had vanished.

Somehow Nero was still asleep. Poor guy must’ve been tired. Besides a little dip in wouldn’t be too bad right? It wasn’t like she was alone anymore…

The lady suddenly emerged up, splashing water joyfully. Startled, Clara gave a shout and fell backwards into the stream. The cold shocked her for a brief moment she could do nothing but stay still. She could hear distant voices. Squeezing her eyes, she tried to kick herself up. The water wasn’t that deep last she checked, and she did have two swimming lessons. So why was she having such a hard time getting back to the surface? Frantic now, she tried to swim back up but her feet seemed trapped by something.

The plants had wrapped themselves around her. they seemed to be growing and soon were folded around her arms and torso. Clara tried to tear them off but no matter how she tried, they kept growing. Why were there so many, she didn’t see this much before. Clara looked up. The surface looked so far off… where was that log?

The woman appeared in front of her. Relief filled her as Clara reached for her, expecting her to help her untangle this mess. But she just stared. She seemed different…her pretty dress was torn now in places and floated around her. Her skin seemed a pale blue-greenish colour. Her lovely hair diminished in wild knots and plants tangled up in it. she looked…menacing. It almost looked like there were even some holes in her face. Clara restrained from screaming at the sight.

Maybe this was all because she was underwater. An illusion. How long has she been under? She kept pulling plants off her. Where was Nero? He must’ve heard her fall. He’ll get her.

Suddenly the lady appeared beside her. She had a blank face and stared at Clara. Almost as if observing her as she struggled.

Nero awoke with a startle as soon as he heard a loud shout and a splash. He rose to see ripples in the stream which almost stilled immediately. He stared for a second before seeing air bubbles rising.

Shit.

“CLARA!”

Blood was now pounding in her ears and all she could hear was her own heart-beat going insane. Her chest was burning. She’d stopped kicking, her body growing tired from staying upright. She was slowly losing conscious.

No no nonononononononono this can’t be happening. She can’t die yet, not like this! She still had school to go to, her best friend was waiting for her, her brothers and sisters, oh God, her parents, they’d be so angry at Nero even though none of this is even his fault! He’ll be fired and then no one would play games with Andy or listen to Emily when she’s upset, and…and…

The woman has a strange expression, almost guilty. She leaned close to her face, gently cupping her cheek and finally gave a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her lips felt cold and slimy and Clara’s eyes closed as the woman went under.

She sat up coughing up water and looked around. She was sitting on soft grass, the sun still shining as she shielded her eyes. Nero was right there beside her, patting her back to help any remaining water come up. Clara lunged at him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her damp face in his shoulder. They sat there as she loudly cried the rest of the water out for around fifteen minutes. He quietly picked her up when she had calmed down to sniffles.

“How about we start to head back now?”

After she nodded vigorously, they began walking back home. Clara dared to look back at the pond again and she could see the woman, standing in the water, watching them leave. She never looked again. And she never went back to the forest.

Of course, a quick explanation was given about the drenched clothes. But she didn’t mention the woman. Clara didn’t know why but she felt if she did, it would… be worse. Make it real. Better to just say she fell in for a brief while until Nero got her out.

Of course, a few weeks later, she told the other kids in the town what really happened. They were the only ones who believed her when she said she thought it was Ophelia.

[twodaysintojune]

Love Letters

Supernatural, Dean Winchester / Reader

Long Stories Masterlist, One Shots Masterlist

Find me at AO3

There was a craft, a tradition in your town that had been passed through generations by now. It had started out of necessity, being done by the few literate at the new small populated settlement.

Eventually, the town grew, people began to get schooled and although there was no need for your services anymore it didn't stop people from asking for them.

You wrote letters. Not the daily kind of letters for when the milkman owed the farmer money, those were written by the people who wanted to write them. The letters that you wrote were different, special. You wrote birthday wishes and eulogies and goodwill notes but the more important type of letters you wrote, the ones you were famous for, were proposal letters.

No one knows how the tradition started, some say that it was thanks to a nobleman that, passing by on his way to meet a fiancé, asked for the services of the scribe to write such type of letter with the intention to woo her and after that the entire town wanted to do the same. You're not so sure about the veracity of the story but nobody really cared about the details of old stories anyway.

What mattered was that ever since you were a child you knew what you were gonna do when you grew up. It was not so much that you had your path set for yourself but by your family, the scribes of the town. Heck, your last name was the literal word for scribe.

In a way, it was good. You were not much for going outside and unlike many ladies of the town, your education was tilted towards reading and writing more than anything else. Sewing? Cooking? Cleaning? As long as you didn't suck at it your family was content and the moment someone desired to become a prospect for marriage then that person would have to fulfill those requirements in accordance to the Scribe tradition.

In other ways it was a bit of a lonely career. The time you destined to be outside and socialize was scarce and you could spend literal weeks without going out of the house since all your purchases were delivered at your doorstep. For two years after you finished your basic studies, you were meant to study writing, prose and poetry and to read more than a decent amount of books to enrich your vocabulary. You were also tasked with the transcription of the old book registry, which meant copying old letters written by the family that were considered of good taste for future reference as well as novels and other written paraphernalia that your family had gathered with years and years in the trade.   

You were not supposed to start writing anything for the public yet but this had been an emergency of sorts. Both your mother and father had been called by an Earl to show off their skills in a banquet to last fourteen days and so, when the distressed lady arrived you were forced to act on your own.

“Please! I desperately need your help! I need a letter, right now.”

Despite explaining to her that it was impossible at the moment she insisted until you barged.

“I must insist Mylady that my skill might not be the best and beg you for forgiveness towards my poor experience at word weaving.” 

“It doesn’t matter, anything will do as long as it is written right now.”

You frowned a little at this statement but sat in front of her at the writer’s desk.

“Very well, who is the person destined for these words?”

“Yes, his name is Dean Winchester.”

The name was new, you had never heard of this man but soon you learned everything about him that the woman loved, his gentleness while faring with ladies, his rowdyness while dealing with men. You could tell that she was infatuated but realized that it was not your position to ask her to step back for a second to consider her own feelings about this man. You wrote the letter diligently with a genteel rose coloured ink of her choice, gave it to the lady for her to read and review and, once she approved of it you charged your fee and carefully placed and folded the letter inside a rose powdered envelope. Finishing all with a dark rose seal.

By the next day you were dreamily looking out of the window and wondering if the girl had any luck. Tired of copying down old books and letters you couldn’t help but pry in curiosity when a man came in.

“Excuse me, I wish to write a love letter.”

After explaining once more about your mother and father’s absence, the man also requested your services nonetheless and, faced towards hours of copying down text you took the easy leeway and sat down in front of the man.

“What is the name of the person?”

“Dean Winchester.”

The name called your attention but you said nothing. Today you learned about the man’s skills at sword fighting and brawling. Of his prowess in all manly matters. Today the letter of dark ink was closed with a forest green seal and sandalwood powder.

Later in the evening, probably an hour before closing the shop another customer came in and now Dean Winchester was laureated with ease of speech and easier smiles. Now the letter holding the person’s feelings was written in bright emerald and sealed with a similar tone of green wax. Non-scented.

As the week passed, more people arrived, all of them asking for letters with the same addressee. You saw all configurations of colour and scent those frantic days. Lavender powder with midnight blue ink, dark crimson and roses, some went for the most formal black ink and red wax and the most extravagant and expensive one had been a gold speckled auburn ink used only on very special occasions dusted with frankincense and a gold seal of wax. 

It was astounding for you to see just the sheer amount of people this man had managed to woo in such a short time considering his recent arrival to the town. Some talked about his gallantry, some about his bluntness, some about the way he presented his handkerchief, which you considered was a fairly ridiculous reason to fall for someone but still kept your mouth shut. It was your job to write, not to be a counselor.

By the end of the week you had written a total of twenty six love letters and refused to write eight more of people that had apparently been flatly turned down by the mysterious man but still wanted to insist. The frankincense lady was included on that list to your surprise. Your parents would either be quite proud or appalled but you didn’t care much about it. You were carefully storing all the inks used through the day back in their shelf when the door opened. You turned to greet the customer and stilled in your steps. 

The man was tall or at least taller than you. He was wearing the traditional garb of knightmen of the court and held his sword proudly by his side. His short spiked hair and full lips gave him an air of youth despite the fact he was apparently a well seasoned fighter and his thick eyelashes highlighted the deep fern green of his eyes. He finally turned to look at you and also stood still for a second but managed to strut nonchalantly towards you.

“So this is the place everyone’s talking about.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve heard a lot about this place by now, and you must be Miss Scribe.”

“That I am” You placed your hand on his to have it kissed. You couldn’t help blushing while seeing the action, he was gorgeous and unlike any man you had ever seen. “And if you’re here then I believe you’re looking for a proposal letter?”

The man looked at you from below with a spark in his eyes.

“Perhaps I am.”

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Ch. 2

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Word Count:  6600+

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. After a soul awakening of her own, Mae LeBlanc, a natural born witch, as well as a sensitive and kind woman from New Orleans soul finally starts to bloom and calls out to Alfie’s, unbeknownst to her. Not believing in supernatural powers, she finds herself thrown into a new existence that is full of things she never thought possible, including magical powers of her own. Alfie takes her under his wing to teach her about her powers. As she grows and learns, so does he. They navigate her lessons together, come to terms with how lonely their lives have been without the other and face these very human emotions together. With a newfound friendship formed out of necessity, will the idea of a soul mate translate from a mere magical meaning to a romantic one?

Warnings/Tags: Language. Spooky Imagery. Mentions of violence, poor self image. Magic/Supernatural. Soul mates. Lots of environmental descriptors but bare with me. 

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

Alfie drives over to the Westbank into the residential parts of town. Old and new houses, apartment complexes and shotgun homes. He follows the GPS to Mae's house and it looks how he thought it might.

 A small colorful front, with a tall wooden fence around the sides and backyard. The door was a deep teal set against a faded yellow exterior. An awning over the front door, with a small porch, a stoop that was painted and worn. Flower pots of all sizes and in the color of gemstones and varied conditions sat on the stairs and around it. Wildflower boxes sat underneath windows with shutters of the same teal color as the door and fencing. It was quaint, comfortable and colorful just like she was, he thought it suited her well. He pulls into the small driveway, in the residential area with houses that look much the same as hers. It homed older houses with older owners that had fallen into a less than pristine condition, newer family homes with landscaped front lawns. But Mae's had a small patch of grass, closer to the road as he suspected the backyard would be where most of the bulk of the grass would be for a garden.

He carries Mae into her house, unlocking her door with a nod of his head. Finding the interior to be as warm and comfortable as she felt in his arms. He walks directly into the far corner of the living room. The large bay window seen from the front of the house is bleeding bright light into the room from behind a large and plush couch. The room is decorated in deep jewel tones, a teal sectional sits against navy walls, with a collection of warmer color throw pillows in bohemian and southwestern styles. A shaggy faux fur blanket was thrown haphazardly over the extended lounge end of the couch. Large potted palms sit in the corners, succulents in tiny decorative pots on the window sills. They carried onto the mantle of the brick painted black fireplace that sat like a huge room divider, sitting in a huge square column in the center of the large space of the living room and kitchen. A flat-screen tv rests on the opposite wall of the couch above the fireplace. A driftwood coffee table containing a large fern in a bright yellow pot, books on plants and herbs stacked with various remotes and cat toys.

He places her gently on the extended section of the couch, careful to place her head on a pillow and make sure none of her limbs are twisted.

He hears and feels his darkness rev and purr and push around inside him. "Yeah I know, me too." he sighs.

-"Been waiting so long."- it moans. "So soft. So much life. She glows like the sun. The companion to our moon."- It starts reciting its own strange poetry for its mate it's waited millennia for. It hadn't been with its light since the dawn of time he assumes, as he knows his darkness is so old that time isn't even relevant to it for the most part.

He recalls the dark horrors of primordial ooze and black endless voids and abyss when it had come upon him. He was impressed it was behaving itself. For so long he'd had to fight so hard to control it, making him do evil, terrible things. Deeds so bad he'd exiled himself for years away from civilization. But in her presence it was calmed, it rippled like water, it was happy and he'd never known his darkness to feel happy about anything. Except when he was digging through the insides of innocents. He shakes the old thoughts from his head, still feeling guilty even almost a century later and trying to make amends ever since.

He traces his fingers over her face and whispers calming words to help ease her anxious nature he sensed. He stands and takes in the room. Her house is very quiet. He moves soundlessly around the fireplace and sees a quaint little kitchen. Driftwood light fixtures, colorfully painted window and door frames in the same jewel tones that carry throughout the house. The kitchen is white-walled, sunlight from a window over the sink pouring in against the far wall. But the majority of light came from the two patio doors that led to her garden. A closed-door sits off to the left next to an open archway that goes down into a sunroom. He looks over the open shelves on the kitchen walls and is very excited to find tins of various teas lining them.  Old jars of pantry staples sit across the wooden countertops, some he'd say were from his time possibly, he wonders if she inherited them or if she simply had classic taste. He finds a small, dinky metal kettle and starts on making her some tea. He figured he needed something to calm her, finding her windowsill full of herbs he could easily use to make something to soothe her.

He senses something alive in the house, something besides the plants. He turns, seeing a large white long haired cat staring at him from a short hallway between two doorways to his right.  It swishes its tail and they both narrow their eyes at each other.

"Who are you, lad?" Alfie asks as the cat continues to sit and stare at him. "You must be with Mae." he says with a nod, going back to searching through the cabinets. "Not much for talkin' to strangers, eh?" he chuckles. "Must mean there's a little more to ya than being a common house cat."

Percival lets out a noisy huff of air, taking offense to the term common house cat. He lets out a low growl at Alfie. He could sense his dark energy and he didn't trust him. Although why he had brought Mae home and was now making her tea was a bit confusing if he wished her ill.

"I'm not here to hurt your girl." Alfie says, still not looking back to him. "I'm here to help her. You know she has powers, yeah? I'm here to teach her how to use them. I have similar powers, although I'm not a witch like her." he shakes his head, his fingers digging into a small tea tin.  

Percy knew he wasn't a witch, he didn't feel like a witch, didn't have the aura. He lets out a typical meow.

"You can say somefin' better 'an at mate." Alfie grins.

He lets out another meow of the same tone.

"Fine, fine. You're protective, I understand. She seems like a sweet, soft girl I can understand your concern." he remarks as he looks at him with a sympathetic expression.

Percy moves to jump up on the kitchen island to get a better look at this new person that'd come into their lives.

"'Ello." he says, leaning back against the counter while the kettle fills.

Percy says nothing and continues to sit and stare as he had been.

"I'm Alfie Solomons. You're probably sensing my darkness. But I've had it for a very, very long time, yeah? We're in control, we're not gonna hurt Mae." he states again. "We're here because of her lightness. She's our mate, right? We've been lookin' for her since me 'n this darkness got together. So the last fing I wanna do is cause her harm, 'right?"

Percy tilts his head, content for now with his explanation. But he wasn't so sure what Mae, who had no knowledge of anything of their world was going to think about this.

Mae's eyes blink open and then widen as she finds herself at her home, which is not where she remembered last being. She sits up slowly, her head feeling a bit swimmy but she's quickly aware of that strange feeling in her stomach acting up again. This time it felt different, it was what she imagined a jolt of electricity might feel like. A humming in her ears she hadn't heard before, a warm tingling in her limbs. She wonders if she has a concussion. Her attention is drawn towards the kitchen. She hears the clang of something metal and the sounds of someone clearing their throat. Her eyes are the size of saucers again.

"Oh, shit." she whispers, eyes darting around the room, hearing movement and now humming and in a distinctly male tone coming from the kitchen. She moves slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, feeling that vibration inside her intensifying and she reads it as anxiety. She sees her shoes have been taken off as they rest by the couch, which makes her brow furrowed in question. She peeks around the corner of the fireplace, see's the same man from her dreams in the kitchen, now recalling the man walking into her shop. Then she recalls fainting and rubs her head where she's guessing she hit the ground as if it might give her some answers. Why was he in her dreams? Was she having prophetic dreams now? Great, that's just what a weirdo like her needed, more weirdness stacked on top of everything else strange about her. Was she being kidnapped? Why was she at home is she was being kidnapped? Is this a hostage situation perhaps? Holding her for ransom in her own home. She recalls reading about Stockholm syndrome and makes a quick pact with herself not to fall into that sort of mess in her manic rush of thoughts.

She eyes the large cast iron skillet on the counter in front of her, and if Saturday morning cartoons had taught her anything, is that when you needed to knock someone out, that's the way to go. So she grasps the grainy handle in both hands, holding it to her chest because of its heavy weight as she tries to sneak up on him. Little does she know he knew she was awake the moment her eyes popped open. But as is in his nature, he wants to learn about how she reacts to the unknown, taking this as a learning experience about her. He can sense she's scared and he understands that much. But her reaction with violence surprises him. Perhaps it was his darkness being near that made her so bold and go for that method first. Maybe it was trying to mingle with her to even her out, make her less passive and more reactive.

So as he hears her deep inhale as she's about the bring the pan across the back of his head, he turns and stops it, putting his hand over hers as she's about to swing on him.

"Fuckin' 'ell girl." he frowns down at her short frame.

Her bottom lip juts up, her brow going low in surprise for his hearing her and being so calm about her attempt at murdering him.

"I ain't here to hurt ya." he says with that thick accent she heard in her dreams. "If I was would I be makin' bloody tea and layin' ya down all nice and comfy while you'd passed out?" he asks, his gingery beard jutting towards her as he spoke to drive his point forward.

Her large hazel eyes blink rapidly, taking in the new information, still wild and large and full of questions he could sense. Her mouth opens and her lips twitch but no words come out. He had a point.

"Now let's put this down, eh?" he says, taking the large black pan and setting it on the counter behind her. "I know you got a lot of questions, yeah?" he nods, his lips pouted out as he moves closer to her. "I know you've been dreamin' 'bout me 'cause I've been dreamin' 'bout you." his voice dips lower, but not in a threatening way. "Do you think there might be a reason for that?" he tilts his head and their eyes connect fully for a few seconds, that flame inside her makes her take a sharp inhale. What was this feeling?  He reached out with tentative hands, putting them on her shoulders to ground her, depart a bit of calm energy into her. She feels it immediately, not understanding the source. Her muscles loosen, her heart rate slows and it's like the best anxiety medication she's ever taken. "Let's just breathe... calm down..." he says nodding slowly and she mirrors the gesture without thinking much about it, their eyes still fixated together.

She gives a quick but still unsure nod.

"We don't want ya gettin' all excited and burnin' down the place now do we?" he says with a smile that tugs back the corner of his mouth. Her eyes go wide again and he feels that spark of fear come back. She recalls being angry a few weeks ago. The flames in the fireplace lapping out wildly for a moment, catching one of the plants on the rug on fire, the singed piece of rug still black despite her scrubbing it. "Yeah, I know all about that sweetie, come now." he says, putting a hand on her back, moving her towards the round kitchen table that sat in the space between the bar top and the sunroom. "Try some proper tea made by a real Englishmen and have a sit down with me, hmmm?" he suggests with a kind smile and a nod of his shaggy head.

She still doesn't speak but another series of quick nods as she places her hands flat on the table top and stares with those big enticing eyes as he moves about her kitchen. He pours the tea from the kettle in such a delicate way it takes her by surprise. He'd chosen her favorite mug somehow, an old one of Bessie's, textured like tree bark and cream, a funky green and orange mushroom on the side that she liked to run her fingers over as she drank. He sits next to her, pulling the chair closer to her, taking a sip and motioning with the steaming mug for her to do the same. She was taught not to take drinks from strangers but what is proper etiquette for a stranger, but not really a stranger, who brings you home after passing out then tells you secrets you've not told anyone else? Where was the after-school special on that when she was a kid?

"It ain't poison." he says with a chuckle into his mug. "See? I'm drinkin' it too. No worries, love." he says in a soothing even tone.

Once again she responds in a nod, taking the mug into her hands and taking a sip. It was nice, she had to give him that.

"Best start with the basics, yeah?" he says with a quirked brow, taking a deep breath and setting the mug back own. "My name is Alfie Solomons," he says with an authoritative tone. "I've been tryin' to find ya for weeks but I think you know that." his eyes narrow almost playfully at her. "I know Cordelia and Fiona-"

"I'm not going to that stupid academy." Are the first words out of her mouth to him and he smirks at her stubbornness. She was going to need that.

"Now sit on back, darlin' I ain't here to try to get ya to go." he dismisses the thought with a sweep of his hand. "I just know 'em and they know you eh? I'm tryin' to create some familiarity here understand?" She nods and keeps her face harder than it had been. "I'm not a Salem witch, I'm not a voodoo priest or nuffin' of the sort like Maria who does your hair."

"What are ya then?" she blurts out, her brow lower and her eyes more curious than frightened now.

"Someone that has been lookin' for you for a very long time, love." he says with a softer expression, his hand resting out of the table. "There are some things I'm gonna tell you about yourself, yeah? And I need you to believe I ain't here to lie to you because you're not gonna believe it. I know enough about you just by how you've reacted to me bein' here to know you aren't naive."

Her lips purse at the compliment, her eyes finally leaving him and watching Percy jump up onto the table and join them. He seemed calmed as their eyes met, a slow lazy blink as he laid down. She took this a sign to proceed. "I'll listen." she says softly.

"You are a very powerful woman Mae." he begins, a finger tapping the space on the table between them.

Her face scrunches and he can tell she's already not believing him.

"I'm not on about no modern feminist rant here, love, just hear me out, please," he adds. "You're very powerful and you need to be guided by someone who knows what it's like. You and I are very similar, contrary to what our appearances might indicate. I'm here to help you understand that power." he pauses, watching her face and she's still listening, even if shes' taking everything with a grain of salt. "You are a natural born witch. But beyond that, you were born with a very special soul. A very rare and powerful thing, yeah? I happen to have the same sort of soul. You might understand it best as a...yin and yang situation. Your soul balances out mine you see. Your powers are complementary to mine."

His face is very serious, she can tell at least he doesn't think he's lying. But crazy people believed their own lies so of course, he would.

"I ain't crazy, sweetheart." he gruffs out, furrowing his brow and taking a sip of tea.

Her eyes shoot over to him and she stiffens. Can you read my mind? She thinks with a tilted head.

"Yes." he nods. "But only to prove a point." he shakes his head and looks up at her from under a heavy brow. She gulps noisily. "You can do it too. But you've not had any discipline, no one to explain the strange things that happen to...and that's why I'm here." he says with a sweet soft voice as his hand touches her knee for just a moment, trying to show her he meant her no harm. He wishes she could read his mind so she would understand how entirely the opposite was his intention.

"To help me with my..." her face frowns. "Powers?" she says with a solid nod of her head.

"Precisely," he says with a large nod. "You see, every so often there is a soul created that takes a bit of ancient power with them into creation, into this world, this...plane of existence if you will." he begins speaking with his hands. "You are one of these souls. I think the term white witch might be easiest for you to relate it to. You've been denying these power and they keep manifesting in inconvenient ways, yeah?"

He sees the realization come over her face as she hides her uncertainty with a long sip of tea.

"Things explodin' when you're angry, your wonderful gift with plants. How you speak to them and they flourish. How every full moon you find yourself almost uncontrollably amourous." he says with a cheeky tone and looking away with a quirk of his brow.

She lowers the mug and frowns at him, giving him a warning glance. There's no way he could've known that.

"I'm not tryin' to start trouble, love, I'm simply trying to ease your mind that I'm insane." he explains with another low swing of his voice, back to seriousness. "I'm here to mentor you. It's how this system works. Our souls need each other to balance the other out. And that normal, part of how the universe keeps it's balance, yeah?" he nods and looks to see her processing the information.

Something fluttering inside her tells her to trust him, even though anything she'd ever been taught should be telling her otherwise. She studies him, thinking he looks perfectly human, but so did she, and if she, in fact, did have these powers then he wouldn't look any abnormal than she did. "I...I don't know why but... against my better judgment I'm inclined to believe ya." she says with a sigh that slumps her shoulders. As her nerves ease, her southern accent comes out a bit more, her throat not feeling so tight and it causes a little smirk to come across his face. "But I ain't really sold on it." she adds with a furrowed brow.

"Right." he drags out the word, looking around the room for a moment, trying to think of how to prove it to her. "Ah." he says, grabbing a tiny succulent that sat in a homemade planter that resembled Percy, he waves his hand over and it withers and died immediately.

"NO!" she cries out, taking it in her hands as her breathing picks up and she stares at the plant. "Poor little thing..." she whines, her face entirely distraught, her mouth hanging open.  She glares at him while stroking the plant and without her noticing, it starts to plump back up again. As she looks back down she drops it against the table, but only by a few inches and it thuds as a tiny flower that hadn't existed before starts to bud on it as it goes back to how it had been.  "Oh," she says with a straight face, only her eyes moving over to him. "I...I've never done that before." she states quietly, her face still in shock.

"You need to start believin' in yourself before you believe in me, love, see? Ya powers work. They're charged with your emotions right now because they're not trained. I can help you with that. You might be hesitant to my being here, but clearly, your powers aren't, eh? We can feed off each other in that way." he explains, taking the plant and studying her handiwork before placing it back where it had been.

He sees her eyes going cross before they squeeze shut and she lets out a little moan, reaching up to touch her head.

"Right," he says with a wrinkling of his face in concern. "That'll happen at first." he says in an unintentionally condescending way. It'd been so long since he'd thought about what it was like to only be learning of powers that he'd forgotten how draining it could be.

She moans and he holds her shoulders as she slumps forward. "So tired." she rasps out, her eyes looking a bit sunken, as they look up at him like a little, injured kitten.

"You're learnin' but you're weak, love." he nods, rubbing her shoulder. "We can make ya stronger, but now let's get some food in ya and get ya to bed, eh?" he says with a caring tone again, patting her head before pushing her back in the chair as she rests her weight on the table.

He rises and moves to the fridge, angling himself so she isn't out of his sight. His darkness is already impatient to get back to touching her, letting Alfie know of its greed to connect with her. But Alfie feels the sadness that's coming from her that it's choosing to ignore in its selfishness.

As her head spins, the frown on her face is not only from the uncomfortable feeling she has. She'd never thought she could be special. Only Bessie and Charles had even told her she could be but she'd never believed it. So it turns out she actually was special and that felt like it should feel better than it did. If she was different, then that explained a lot but it also meant she could never fully blend in and disappear like she'd always tried to. So she had to form a new approach to how she lived, which felt incredibly daunting and made her head throb. Percy senses her pain and walks over and purrs, rubbing against her face.

Alfie leans against the counter with his hips as he mindlessly put together a sandwich for her. He sees the deep blues around her, can feel the confusion and sadness and he wishes he could take it away but it's all part of the process. It physically hurts him to feel her pain, he hopes he can show her what a gift these powers can be. How it can make her life easier and all the perks that come along with it. She had so much love to give inside her and no suitable outlets for all that life to escape and flourish. She must be so unhappy with all that confusion and pain from a source of love and life only needing to be properly expelled, used and focused. He takes solace in knowing he can help her. They've found each other now and the wait was over. His darkness does it's equivalent of wiggling in excitement at the thought. She seemed so very sweet and kind, a real ray of sunshine in human form and he supposes she very well could be. He swears to himself no matter how this goes he'll do everything within his own enormous powers to help her figure herself out, learn how to flourish on her own. Only that would lead to a better life for them both.

Her favorite comfort sandwich, bologna and cheese with lots of mustard and pickles appears before her. He refills her tea and sits next to her wordlessly.

"So..." she begins, forcing her eyes open and taking a bite. "Ya gonna be teachin' he, huh?" her face winces as she turns it towards his.

"That is the plan, yes." he nods.

"You said you were lookin' for me. That means you're not from here, right?"

"Right. I'm not from anywhere really, just got into town last week."

"Where are you stayin'"? she asks

"I've been at the Academy while I've been lookin' for you."

"Ah." she nods, taking a bigger bite, her strength starting to come back. She weighs the next thought that pops into her head before she expresses it out loud. "I can..." she tilts her head back and forth in uncertainty, "I can trust you right?" she asks with a weaker voice than she intends to.

"Of course, love. I said I'd never hurt you and I mean that. Hurting you is hurting myself and that'd be rather daft of me seein' as I've waited so long for ya and my soul has waited even longer than either of us could fathom." he says with an expressive face.

She nods and looks at the table as she chews another bite. "So you would like.. protect me basically? Teach me how to use this and keep me from hurting myself?"

"Yes, of course," he says earnestly again. "I know you can be a little clumsy." he chuckles and she smirks because he's right. "Not gonna let ya hurt yourself." he gives her a smile that feels genuine, the hesitation and instructional tone in his voice now gone and only that charm of his handsome face and accent remain as she feels an unfamiliar warmness spread through her body. She wondered if it was the light she was told about. Should I ask him to stay here? She asks herself, her eyes studying his. And as if she was hearing a voice that was carried downwind by a breeze, the faintest lightest 'yes' she hears.

"I have a spare room," she says, her head motioning to the closed door by the sunroom. "If ya... wanted to stay." she says blinking and looking away from him. "I mean... would that help? Make things easier for..." she motions her hand back and forth between them. "Whatever this is." she lets out a huff of a laugh with raised brows, her face no longer looking sad and he's thankful.

"It would make it immeasurably easier." he says with a grateful nod and another dashing smile that she's not used to receiving from men that look like him.

"I don't want you to have to stay with those witches anyway." she shakes her head and looks away again, taking another bite. "And it's not like I live that close to them," she adds. "Would hate for you to have to do that every day." she shrugs. "Plus this way when I blow up a cauldron or whatever you'll be here to help." she smiles and takes another bite.

He knows she's making excuses now but he doesn't mind. Her capacity for kindness is showing already, inviting to share her home with him. He wasn't going to ask to stay with her but this was the ideal situation. "I can help with that, yeah." he nods and lets out a little chuckle, much like the one she'd heard in her dream, she feels that warm feeling again, like walking into the sunlight after being inside in the air conditioning. It felt good and something was telling her this was right and it certainly wasn't her common sense.

She finishes her sandwich, still feeling extremely drained but no longer dizzy or in pain. She shows him to the room, switching the light on and revealing yet another cozy space. The walls were white, it was filled with plants. A shelf full of ivy rests the length of the wall over a soft looking bed with dark colored and mismatched pillowcases, blankets and sheets. A southwestern style rug in pinks, yellows and burnt orange rests across the floor at an angle, a blanket of the same color scheme but different pattern rest across the lower half of the bed. A worn wooden dresser rests under the window, plants in pots, an old metal fan, and an incense holder sit atop it.  A nightstand with a lamp sits against the wall next to the bed. He sees a fireplace on the wall opposite the bed, giving a thankful nod as it would make his spellwork much easier to have it so close and with such privacy. Boxes with the names of her foster parents sit stacked in the corner.  

"I can move some of the plants if you need me to." she offers. "This room gets really good light during the day so I put a bunch in here." she moves towards the window. "I'm sure I've got some darker curtains if you need them. This doesn't shield you at all from the sun." she shakes her head as her fingers tug on the sheer fabric. "I'll get the boxes out of your way tomorrow." she says with a kind but tired smile as she turns back around to look at him surveying the room.

"You can leave them, love, no problem at all. I get some curtains if it turns out I need them," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "No rush on the boxes either." he adds with a smile that reads as thankful. "It's a very cozy room." he nods with pouted lips.

"The bathroom is on the other side of house." she says walking out of the room and he follows. He sees the rectangular space. His eyes are first drawn to the old and large claw foot tub that had been painted yellow and hooked up to also function as a shower. The same navy paint on the walls as the living room, with white tile on the floor. A sink with a cabinet underneath, various toiletries rest on top of the small counter space. A large worn mirror hung above it with a golden frame that showed it's age. As was with the rest of the house, the plants had made their way in here as well. Leaves of eucalyptus hung from the silver hardware shower head, plants rest atop the makeshift wooden stands the fit snug around the tub, some of the leaves and branches falling down into it slightly. The shower curtain was shoved back and out of the tub, he took this to mean she took baths more often. A window with a bright paisley fabric cover keeps the view of the outside blocked. And old work of embroidery of a bouquet of flowers is framed and rests above the toilet. "I'll bring in a basket from my room for you to put your stuff in, there's not much room left under here." she says with her foot tapping the door to the cabinet under the sink.

"Much appreciated, love." he says, eyes still scanning the busy space. There was so much to look at in her home. She turns to open the other door, different from the rest as it was painted lavender.

"And this is my room." she says almost timidly. He feels the magic wafting out of the room as soon as she opens the door. The walls were a deep teal, a paisley purple rug covered the worn hardwood floor. A thick and plush mustard yellow comforter cover the bed, another faux fur, shaggy throw in strewn over the bed like the one on the couch. Her pillows are all mismatched, some with floral prints, some shades of purple. A fireplace rests in this room as well and he can feel the age in the house as he enters the room. The mantle is painted the same shiny black as the other fireplaces and pillar candles of all colors, widths, and sizes rest atop the mantle. Some in tiny silver platters, some melting down onto the wooden surface.

The room smelled deeply of lavender and seeing an incense burner next to a flat screen tv on her purple dresser he knew the source. A closet door of the same lavender color rests in the corner. A large chair next to a bookshelf sat next to it in front of a window with flowing jewel-toned fabrics and sheer panels create a blanket around the chair. A wicker clothes hamper and a stained glass lamp on the nightstand all fall within the same color scheme, the room full of all sorts of energy. A small table pushed into the corner with a runner across it, a worn little pink stool pushed under it with a laptop on top. Framed pictures of all sorts, from all time periods and mediums, cover the far wall, some she'd inherited, some from her weekend trips to the flea market. Of course, the room was not complete without a large palm overgrowing in the corner next to a standing mirror.

He felt his insides quiver. This was her nest, he thought. This was her safe space and her sanctuary and his darkness knew it too. The space wasn't as well lit as he imagined but it was night and he hoped he'd get to see it in the morning light, anxious to know what else it would reveal about her. She felt a bit exposed and vulnerable suddenly, there'd never been a man in this room before with her.  But he took in everything with a look of awe on his face, she watched his thoughts pass over his face, eyes tensing, lips twitching.

She tried to read his thoughts, but of course, she had no real clue as to how to do it, but she still felt no maliciousness in him towards her. There was something under the surface, she could tell. Something about him was timeless in a way. He had said their souls were ancient, perhaps that's where the term old soul came from? Without the new explanation of there actually being souls at all, and now knowing they could, in fact, be old, she thought the descriptor on a more lamen's terms still made sense about him. He had an ease about him, the bohemian sort of casual and comfortable style to him. The messy hair, the beard, and jewelry. It would seem their aesthetics matched well, which she hoped was a good sign.  for

"If you need anything, feel free to knock." she says turning to leave the room before looking back at him. "But knock first." she says with a stern nod of her head and he flashes another smile, happy to see her giving him boundaries. The lightness in her could make her too giving, too compassionate to the point of harm to herself and he was hopeful that this wasn't the case with her as she gave him a look that told him not to push it with her. "I guess we'll get ya a key tomorrow..." she says rubbing the back of her neck. "You have stuff with you or...?" her face contorts in question.

"I got stuff in me car, yeah." he nods looking towards the door. "I'll try to be quiet bringin' it in. You need to get some rest now though," he says with a wag of his finger at her. "Very important you take very good care of yourself while you're learnin', love. You can drain yourself and your health will suffer and we can't have that." he says with a clap of his hands. "So I will get my things, settle in, and we can convene in the mornin', eh?"

"That sounds good. I get up between seven and eight usually." she says, moving back towards her room. "So uh...goodnight?" she asks with a soft laugh for the unique nature of the very unusual situation.

"Goodnight Mae." he says with a nod and smile. "If you need anyfing, you come knock as well, yeah?"

"Yeah, no problem... uh...." he looks at the floor realizing she doesn't even remember his name. She lets out a laugh and rubs her head. "I'm sorry but I don't remember your name." she admits with a bitten lip and an apologetic glance.

"It's Alfie, love." he grins. "Alfie Solomons." he nods again. "You've 'ad a lot coming at you today Mae, I take no offense." he says with a hand to his chest.

"Thanks for that." she nods. "Movin' in and I don't even know your name. What a weird ass day." she shakes her head but she's smiling as her eyes shift around, trying to process everything.

"Things'll start to feel more normal again once we establish a routine, you'll see. It'll be fuckin' weird at first, I won't lie." he laughs and she's hit that warm feeling again, recalling her dream and the same sound she'd heard then as he moves towards her. "But we'll get through it together, yeah?" he responds supportively with a hand on her shoulder.

"I appreciate the honesty." she says sheepishly with a smile that reflects the tone.

"Ain't got no reason to lie to ya, sweetheart. Now you get on in bed. I can tell you're fadin' on me." his eyes almost twinkle at her as he motions to her door.

"Lock the door before you go to bed, please."

"I will. But if anyfing came in here, believe me, it'd regret it as soon as it met me." he chuckles again.

"Also good to know." she nods."Night Alfie." she says with a wave from her doorway.

"Night, Mae. Don't worry 'bout a fing!" he says loudly as he walks towards the door.

She lies in bed wondering what the fuck she was doing. There was a man in her house. Not just that but an attractive magical one that was apparently lethal and her... soul mate? She groans and rolls over to her stomach. Yeah, the term fit didn't it? She had too many questions but she knew she'd get answers as he'd already been very helpful so far. Well, helpful in the sense of turning her life upside down. But at least he was sticking around to help clean up the mess and make sense of it. She couldn't say she'd ever known any man to do that before for her. She decides to go to sleep on that hopeful note, wondering what she would dream about now that he had found her.

@jaegeeeeer @negansdirtygirl22 @brianaisasongbird @hardygal69 @emerald-bijou @captstefanbrandt @coolgh0st @tinastarkandco @stylishmileage 

[lord-explosion-baku]

Like Ghosts In Snow

While your guardian is keeping a huge secret you take on the nightlife and find yourself in a mad supernatural hellzone.

Vampire AU, Villain AU,

Warnings: EVERYONES NAMES ARE SAID BACKWARDS LIKE THE AMERICAN WAY AND I HATE MYSELF FOR IT TOO. LONG. Eventual yandere villainous bois, eventual noncon, eventual major character death

A/n: My ode to the 1987 cheesy vampire thriller, The Lost Boys. I made this to be based in the same fake California town as the movie which I feel like maybe that could be disrespectful, making these Japanese characters American but it was a lot easier writing for a fake town rather than Okinawa where I had originally tried to set this in. And I’m from California and I might be lazy, sticking to scenes that I know but what can you do? It starts off slow. I’m impatient so I’m sorry if you are too. Vampire boys will COME. LIES, DECEIPT, BETRAYEL, LOVE, AND DEATH WILL COME. Also, I don’t know how to pair this because pretty much everyone wants to bone has a thing for the reader?? The guilty pleasures are real in this fic. I mean, not in this chapter (that I’m still really excited for) but like....?!!!!? Also, Aizawa has poor parenting skills for a reason. Like, he’s not dumb. I could never make him dumb. ALSO I posted this on AO3 but I do not know how to work that site and I’m AFRAID of it. I talk too much. So here it is now. Huzzah.

Chapter 1: Margarita Night

You hummed along to the song that was playing on the stereo while Shouta Aizawa, your legal guardian, drove fast and precise up the coast highway in his red Jeep. Long black locks were flying wildly in the wind, like tendrils searching to grasp on to something. His tired eyes were hard and focused on the road but you smiled at him as he zoomed and weaved through different cars. He got a thrill from the speed.

You were moving, for the third time this year, which was saying something because it was only mid July. It was for Aizawa’s job. The two of you would travel across the country when something new, or rather, old, like relics from a different time would surface and he would start examining, dating, and researching what exactly the piece that was found was so they could be auctioned out or put in a secure location depending on how valuable the relic was. Or whatever. He didn’t go into details as to what exactly he did but when he did you never failed to zone out and start to daydream about something else. He didn’t mind. And you didn’t mind moving. You and Aizawa shared the spirit of adventure. He loved his work and you loved the rush of blood you got when you found yourself trying new things.

You scanned over one of the many articles for Santa Carla California, your new destination, that Aizawa has cut out for you to read up on. You’ve already read up the town history and now you had different clippings of local hang outs, the what to do and what not to do in Santa Carla. You took note of a pretty popular comic book store and the summer sports competitions but it was the night life that seemed to call to you on a specific page. There was a fair in town all summer long, love music, games, dancing, and other festivities. Aizawa didn’t let you out much when the sun was down but you both had agreed that that would change since you were now eighteen. You were excited to say the least.

Finally arriving to your destination, Aizawa drove through a dirt path to get to Tudor style house that sat about a hundred yards away from a cliff over looking the Pacific Ocean. The garden was hardly tended to, vines grew high over the fragmented stone wall that surrounded the house, the ground was covered in bursting star flowers, sagebrush, and ferns.

Aizawa parked the Jeep behind a dusted over yellow VW Bus. Stickers from covered the back of the bus. Some represented different cities across the country some that you’ve been to and some you have not, while most of them were stickers from different radio festivals you have heard about but never attended.

Grabbing your backpack from the backseat you hopped out of the seat and stretched your legs. You were sore from hours of sitting. You slung your pack over your shoulder and walked to the trunk where Aizawa was grabbing your and his suitcases that sat in front of Aizawa’s chest. You made a motion to grab the chest and Aizawa swatted your hand away.

“That’s gonna be too heavy for you,” he said. “I’ll get Mr. Yamada to help me with this. You go ahead and bring in the other luggage.”

You rolled your eyes. Aizawa didn’t ever want you looking into his chest but the fact that you couldn’t even touch it was a bit ridiculous. Still, you walked up the steps to the front door, backpack on, dragging both suitcases behind you, a petty attempt to show Aizawa you weren’t weak, you used your head to ring the doorbell.

Thunderous barking immediately answered the call of the doorbell. Frightened you dropped the luggage and took a step away from the door. You hadn’t known you’d be living with a dog. You were heard some yelling and and rustling on the other end of the door and the barking was muted.

The door opened revealing a very tall man with thick blonde hair in a bun. He wore a blue tank top that showed off his tan muscular arms and warm colored board shorts. His green eyes peaked over his reading glasses at you and smiled revealing dazzling white teeth.

“Wow,” was what he said. “F/N L/N. Aizawa told me about you. He told me his kid was brilliant, too smart for her own good, tough, and charming, but he never told me how much of a stunner you are!”

Your mouth fell open, unable to know how to respond to that. He grin grew wider as a blush dusted your cheeks. You hadn’t expected him to be so friendly.

Aizawa was to your side instantly.

“Shouta!” The man exclaimed clasping his hand to Aizawa’s a pulling him into an embrace. “It’s been far too long!”

“Y/N, this is Hizashi Yamada, or you may know him as Present Mic. He’s a radio host for the local Santa Clara station and a very old friend of mine.”

You gave him a slight smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Yamada,” you said offering him your hand.

He took your hand and turned it over kissing the back of it and looking up into your eyes he said, “Call me, Hizashi. And the pleasure is all mine, little one,” with a wink.

Aizawa cleared his throat and Hizashi let out a chuckle. “Let me help you with your bags,” he said picking up your suitcase from the ground and offered to take your backpack, letting his hand travel to the strap on your shoulder. Bashfully you shook your head, excusing his hand, and you made a mental note of the man’s lack of personal space. You were taught to be kind but not stupid. You didn’t think Aizawa would let you live with a man that could be dangerous though.

You followed Hizashi up the stairs and to your new room. The room was larger than what you were used to. The ceiling was tall though it slopes d downwards with the roof, a stream of lights hung around the room, and posters from old bands you didn’t know were plastered against the walls. A queen sized bed with a beautiful wooden headboard sat in the middle of the room. The bedspread was a royal purple with purple and black shiny pillows. It was a tad much but you didn’t mind having a lot of space for you to sleep.

“The sheets are Egyptian cotton,” Hizashi said placing your suitcase down by your closet doors. “It gets pretty hot up here and I’d want for you to be as comfortable as possible while you stay here. If you need, I could bring a fan up later. The window opens but just slightly. It’s been weathered down from the pacific breeze.”

“It’s nice,” you said walking around the room. “I’m not used to having this much space.”

Hizashi smiled gleefully at your approval. “Well, I’ll be down in the kitchen with Aizawa talking old man business type stuff and my,” he paused for a split second, “intern should be here shortly and I’d like for you to meet him. You’re about his age so I’m hoping the two of you will get along.” The way he said that made you doubt that you would in fact get along. “The bathroom is down the hall to the right. It takes a while for the shower is get warm. Old heater. But the pressure is nice!” You nodded at him and he excused himself.

Immediately you started to unpack your clothes into the spacious drawers of the dresser that sat across from your bed, trying to figure out what to wear. You had on sweat shorts and t-shirt, so you’d be comfortable driving for hours on end by you wanted to be at least slightly presentable for meeting someone, a boy, your age, even if you might not get along. You settled on a white tank top and a black skater skirt with black tights. It was too hot to really care for looking pretty anyways.

You trotted down the stairs and slipped into the kitchen. The kitchen was fairly modern styled with an island in the middle. Hizashi has his back turned to you while he sliced limes. He hadn’t heard you come in but someone else had.

“WOOF!” You heard causing you and Hizashi to jump. You turned to the noise and saw a giant red husky running your ear. Before you could react the husky jumped at you causing you to fall back onto the kitchen tiles. He husky had you down with his paws on his chest and he examined your face giving you many sniffs. You kept your hands to your side and avoided looking into its eyes so it wouldn’t see you as a threat.

“Eijirou!” Hizashi yelled across from the kitchen.

The husky took a moment to look away from you and at Hizashi and back at you, giving your face a long lick. When you didn’t push him away he continued to lick your face to your dismay.

“Awwww he likes you!” Hizashi said.

“I-“ you started but Eijirou kicked your mouth when you opened it causing you to finally push him away, “gah! I guess!”

Hizashi pulled the husky away by his collar allowing you to stand back up. “This is Eijirou! I found him a couple months ago! He’s my most bravest boy and he’s very protective of this house! I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about him but I am surprised that he didn’t growl at you! It took him awhile to get used to my intern!”

Eijirou woofed at you again but this time his tail was wagging. You went to let him behind his pointed ears and he leaned in to your touch.

You heard the front door open and Aizawa came in carrying his trunk with a spiky haired blonde boy. “To the left,” Aizawa said and they scooted there way with the chest towards the door towards what you assumed to be Aizawa’s bedroom. “Alright we can put it down here. I can take it from here,” he said.

Your eyes narrowed slightly. You couldn’t even touch the trunk but some boy you didn’t know could help Aizawa carry it? Whatever.

“Bakugou!” Hizashi called to the kid. “Come meet Aizawa’s daughter!”

Instinctively, you moved towards Hizashi and away from the door frame. You didn’t know why you were nervous but you were.

The boy, sporting a black tank top and black sweats made his way over towards the kitchen, wiping away the sweat from his forehead with his arm that was bandaged up. He stopped at the doorway leaning against it.

“Hello,” You said quietly giving a slight wave. He just scowled at you. Yikes.

“Y/N, this is Katsuki Bakugou! He’s been helping me with some projects for about two months now! He’s been a ton of help!”

“Hello,” You said Again, this time with a little more confidence.

He looked you up and down, almost as if he were sizing you up, as if you could be a threat to him. You crossed your arms, out of discomfort but also trying to make you look a little more tough. It was pointless. Bakugou turned his attention to Hizashi. “Did you get my text?” His voice was low and rough. It annoyed you that you thought it was a little attractive. You didn’t like this guy one bit.

Hizashi was surprised. “I- yes! Of course I did!”

“You didn’t respond,” Bakugou said walking passed you and Eijirou towards the fridge.

“I didn’t. It’s not important right now. I had to deal with something a little more important.”

“And that would be?” Bakugou asked into the refrigerator.

Hizashi dropped the lime slices into four classes filled with a frothy green liquid. “I made margaritas!” He beamed.

Bakugou came up from the fridge with a beer in hand. He used his keys to open the bottle. He stared at Hizashi as he took a sip from the bottle. Yikes.

Hizashi sighed. “Y/N, I already asked Shouta if this would be okay. You’ll have a margarita, won’t you?” He said, extending a beverage towards you.

How could you say no when you were a guest in his house and he had already made one? You couldn’t. You smiled sweetly at him and took the margarita in your hand sipping on it. You tried not to scrunch your face up at the strong taste. Hizashi returned your smile.

Aizawa trudged into the kitchen.

“Hey, were having it’s margarita night, grab a glass!” Hizashi commanded Aizawa. Aizawa gave him a dry look but still accepted his beverage. Eijirou began to growl at Aizawa when he got too close to Hizashi. Hizashi patted his head to calm him down.

Aizawa took a sip of Hizashi’s creation. “Christ, did you pour the entire bottle into this?!” He said putting the glass down. Bakugou offered him a beer which he gladly took.

“Wha- no!!” Hizashi said now slightly annoyed. “The kids in Santa Clara like ‘em strong these days!” He said throwing his hands up spilling some of his drink to the floor. Eijirou moves to lap up the liquid but recoiled after giving it a curious sniff. “Well Y/N likes my drink, don’t you?”

You were already halfway done with your drink. You had to hold you breath to drink it down. You didn’t want to be rude but you also wanted it to be over. Hizashi poured Aizawa’s drink into his now empty glass and poured what would have been Bakugou’s into yours. Okay so maybe sometimes you were too kind and that was stupid. And a little dizzy. You hiccuped a response.

You could almost make out a smirk on Bakugou’s face.

“We need to talk about the email from Fulukado.” Aizawa said to Hizashi.

“But it’s... margarita night,” Hizashi nearly pouted holding his glass in both hands like a child with a toy.

“Hizashi, this is important.” Aizawa glared at him and Hizashi shrugged defeated.

“All work and no play makes Shouta a dull boy,” Hizashi drains his drink and made his way out of the kitchen. “Bakugou, why don’t you take Y/N into town. Show her a good time. I’m sure she’s dying to explore.”

You were on the floor playing with Eijirou. You let him like your red face and you giggled at the goofy dog.

“I can’t take her anywhere! She’s drunk!” Bakugou called back.

“Am not!” You crossed your arms like a child. Eijirou woofed at Bakugou as if agreeing with you.

Hizashi came back, holding a key in his hand. “This is for the house. I keep it locked up at night. You can’t be too careful.” He studied you on the floor, wide eyed, running your hands through the dog’s soft fur. “Aizawa, are you okay with her going to town right now? I know Bakugou is responsible enough. He wouldn’t let anything to happen to her.”

Aizawa sighed and looked at you. You gave him a pleading look. He knew you craved independence. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Absolutely!” You said standing up. “I could totally say my ABC’s backwards, walk in a straight line, whatever. The articles you gave me were interesting! I’m dying to see the fair!”

“The fair isn’t open on weekdays,” Bakugou said dryly.

“Well there’s a comic book store in town, right? I’d love to check it out.” You took the key from Hizashi. “I’m fine! I swear!”

Aizawa considered you. You put your finger to your nose and started walking heel to toe. “Z Y X W V U T-“

“Alright. Go. Have fun.” You were elated.

“Go ahead and take Eijirou too!” Hizashi chimed in as the dog started wagging his tail.

“Seriously?” Bakugou was not happy.

“Go have fun.” It wasn’t an invitation from Hizashi. It was a command.

Bakugou scoffed and made his way out the door, not waiting for you to understand that was your cue to follow.

“Be safe,” Aizawa said as you walked through the door, Eijirou on your heels.

You waved him off. “I always am.”

~

@yandere-inamorata

Chapter 2

[eclissy]

In the Space Between his Eyes and Nose

Written a million years ago, this thing about Ash meeting his “Son” from the future. Not gonna put this into the tag cause I have more thinking power than i did as a baby. 

Also reposted for the df “Writing” meme title post.

In all his starry eyed wonder at the world that had gotten so much larger since the day the Falconreach bridge split, Ash could argue that his smile was always the widest when his best friend came running with his name on her breath.

The Hero, Ty, was heading his way, waving her arm in greeting and excitement. Ash couldn’t help but jump up from his seat by the fountain to go meet her.

“Ty! You’re back,” Ash approached, hoping his cheeks weren’t flushed again. He couldn’t keep using the ‘it was windy today’ excuse over and over. “What were you up to all da—“

And coming up right behind Ty were two things that could wipe the smile off of Ash’s lips without a trace. Number one being the tiny bouncing red ponytail of a very angry Aria and number two being the grinning face of a handsome young stranger.

It was like walking up to a double decker nightmare.

“Ash, you won’t believe it!” Ty, her blue eyes alight with giddiness, hugged Ash tightly. The boy was still staring at her two other companions in a cross between confusion and lurking disappointment.

It was not an expression fit for a warm Spring day.

“I can’t believe it either so it’s not true!” Aria near shouted, close to stamping her feet. The man standing beside her stifled a giggle while the passing townsfolk quickly skittered away from the impending mess.

“Uh, what?” There wasn’t any real reason for Ash to ask what was happening. It was obvious wasn’t it? The Hero had found a dashing fellow that was probably a knight who had saved fifty princesses and a King’s pet gopher and now the two were going to get married.

Ty and the pretty boy getting married. Not Ty and the gopher. Ash could get away with cooking the gopher.

Give Ash five years and he could have been that dashing fellow. Oh, that was a sad thought. It literally sucked the color out of his skin.

The young man snickered harder behind his palms which then prompted Aria’s sour frown to become sharp enough to pierce through ribs. Namely Ash’s.

The boy adventurer gulped and that was the time Ty chose to pull back from the hug and say “This is my son! He fell into our time from the future!”

Standing there openmouthed, Ash froze while Ty waited or an answer. Time travel wasn’t such a strange thing in a place like Lore. In fact, Ash’s reaction was arguably stranger. She wondered if her friend was having a stroke but suddenly, the life burst back into Ash’s face and he cheered.

“Oh thank Lore! I-I mean, wow that’s great Ty! I mean, uh, sorry about you getting stuck here,” Ash turns to the stranger with renewed hope. Aria was already next to Ash, her heel coming to dig into the poor knight-in-training’s foot. “A-ah it’s uh ow nice to ahg meet you!”

Despite the sharp pain and dizzying mood flips, Ash was ready to do backflips.

All at once, the young man went from being a looming threat to a figure of awe and possibility.

“I’m Doran, it’s nice to meet you. People always tell me ‘Doran, as in the explorer?’ and I die a little inside but that’s fine. We all die eventually anyways.” Doran grinned, regarding Ash as he inspected the visitor from the future like he was a mirror.

Doran was taller than Ty and Ash for now but he had the same jet black hair as his soon-to-be mother. The same sheen was there too but Ash could say that the way Doran’s smooth locks moved when he laughed would have been something he saw everyday…if his hair was longer. But Ash wasn’t grasping at straws; it was true! Doran’s eyes might have been fern green but the space between them and his nose matched Ash’s exactly!

It may have been early but Ash was proud. All he could see on Doran’s face were smile lines. He must be enjoying his life.

“Shouldn’t we shake hands?” Doran asked, gently pushing Ash out of his daze. Startled but only a tiny bit flustered, Ash nodded eagerly and extends his hand. Aria immediately slaps it down. She was fast for a kid but she did train some scary pets after all.

By the fire in the tiny redhead’s eyes, most of those pets were likely to attack him in his sleep tonight. Bye bye, toes.

“Shouldn’t you be giving me some hints about your dad?” Ty teased, saving Ash for the time being.

Ash could have sworn he saw a glint in Doran’s eye right before he scratched the back of his head, feigning discomfort.

“Aw, mom. You know I can’t do that and besides—“Doran winked at Ash. “I’m sure you found him already.”

And Ash’s chest swelled so fast, Aria would have popped it if she had a pin with her.

“You tease,” Ty reached up to tug on her future son’s ears. “When you’re born, I’m going to feed you nothing but mashed peas.”

“I’d rather murder children!” Doran protested and Ash’s chest deflated as fast as the heat left Aria’s cheeks.

There was a stretch of silence before Ty tugged on Doran’s ears harder.

“Yowch! It was a joke, I swear!” The young man half whined half laughed. Neither Ash nor Aria could tell if he meant that or was just saying it to get his mom off his case. “But in all seriousness, I can’t stick around long but I’m glad that I got to see you all.” He pulls his mother’s fingers off of his puffy red ears and leans down to kiss her forehead.

All of the knight-in-training’s worries disappeared. Why was he even worried in the first place?

“Especially you, Ash Dragonblade,” Doran continues, taking Ash’s hand to shake and this time, Aria didn’t stop him. “I’m glad I got to find out that your eyes were chestnut brown.”

“What?” Ash wheezed but Doran kept his hand trapped. That was a miracle in of itself that it stayed stuck in Doran’s fingers since Ash’s hand had become clammy and soaked in sweat seconds after those sincere words.

“I don’t think it’ll be dangerous to this time to mention it but—“Doran lowered his chin, temporarily lost in happy memories. “My brothers and sisters, and I were always happy when you were around. The moment we heard your BBQ Prong hands click together, we would rush out to greet you.”

Ty and Aria would have said something but both of their throats felt like someone had stuck termite ridden driftwood into them. Ash was too busy imagining himself as a blind metal crab.

“Uh…any reason why I have those uh those prong hands?” Ash laughed nervously, hoping he wasn’t sweating waterfalls.

“I didn’t like your old hands.” Doran answered without missing a beat. “Not sure what happened to your eyes.”

“Doran!” Ty exclaimed while Aria was making up an excuse about needing to go see if the fish needed a bath.

“Kidding again!” Doran snickered, tugging hard enough on Ash’s arm to mess up his footing. The boy stumbled and found Doran’s arm around his shoulders all buddy buddy like. “Did I scare you too much? Sorry about that, Dragonblade.”

“I wasn’t scared. It was only a joke.” Ash managed not to stutter those words but the moment Doran looked back at him, he was thankful he missed lunch.

Doran was still smiling but the side of his smirk was like the curled tip of a hunting knife and with his eyes narrowed in such a condescending way, it reminded Ash of the same look on a certain wanted poster hung up on the inn’s wall.

“Dra…Drak…Dra—“ Ash began to stammer, earning confuse looks from both of his friends.

“Dragon?” Doran’s voice twisted to sound like it was worried. “You see a dragon coming our way?”

“Dragon?” Aria’s brow furrowed.

“I don’t see any dragon.” Ty frowned, scanning the horizon and the space directly above Falconreach for any sign of a shadow.

“There—“ Ash stopped mid-warning, feeling a cold sharp point poking him.

“Well, always be sure than be Dragon Chow, right?” Doran said and though it was a bit stiff, Ash’s nod got the two girls to make a head-start for the Guardian Tower.

“Figures, my son from the future swings by and we have to go slay a dragon.” Ty sighed.

“It’ll be a family—“The point of the hidden blade digs hard enough into Ash’s skin to make him wince. “—activity for all of us.”

Once Ty and Aria were too far away to hear, Doran let what looked like the largest hunting knife in existence fall out of his sleeve. He catches the handle and presses the freezing metal against the underside of Ash’s chin.

“The skin under the chin is the softest,” Ash and Doran said at the same time, repeating the advice Ty had once given them. No doubt, the man who gave Doran the knife had heard the same. “Keep it safe or you’ll end up bleeding out like a pig.” Doran finished by himself, that pleasant smile still plastered on like a flashing warning.

It was scary how intense the waves of loathing could come off someone with something so nice on their handsome face. It was like looking at a bundle of daisies while a snake hissed, hidden under the petals.

“Mom likes you, Dragonblade. She really does. I do too!” Doran chimes, letting the side of his head nestle against Ash’s in a mockery of affection. “I just like you as far away from mom as possible but I think you got the message already, right? Riiiiight?”

Ash felt awful all over and Doran’s kind and soothing voice only made his head hurt.

Before the knight in training could actually say anything, the point of the knife slipped from his chin, over his shoulder, and back as Doran leisurely stepped back.

“How was that?” Doran asked, placing his hand on his hip. “Was that scary?”

“H-huh?” Ash gurgled, heart beating like it was trying to escape his rib cage. “That was another joke?”

“Well, yeah,” Doran taps his head with the flat side of his knife. “And it was a bit of practice with lying. You gotta have fun if you want to get anywhere with your skills you know. Or maybe that’s just the easy way with some things.” The boy mused but Ash was so far from tickled purple by Doran’s antics, he was surprised he was still on Lore.

“Wow, Uncle Ash. You get all splotchy like dad does when he gets mad,” Doran said the last thing Ash wanted to hear. “Sorry about that too but hey, you’re still our uncle so there’s that. Oh!” His shoulders rose as he suddenly remembered something. “And there’s this too.”

Doran slaps something wet and slimy into Ash’s hand and the boy grasps the thing instinctively. Mind already muddled from the barrage of overly heinous jokes, Ash squinted at what looked like an oversized wet bean.

“What is this?” Ash asked.

“It’s your kidney.”

Remembering how the knife had slipped behind him, Ash felt stabbing pains in his lower back and yelped. Falling to the ground, the kidney slipped out of his hand and bounced with a wet sound on the grass.

It was a good five minutes of mindless panicking before Ash realized that there was no bleeding flap of skin slowly killing him. By then Doran had sat down cross-legged to watch the show.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Ash demanded, somewhere dangerously close to tears.

“Because I love you Uncle Ash. We never got to play much back in my present,” Doran grinned again, making Ash see stars. He could understand why his future self didn’t want to play that much with this boy.

“Mom and Aunt Aria are probably wondering where that dragon is so I’ll be going now. And before I forget—“ Doran pointed at the drying kidney. “That’s not your kidney.”

“I know.” Ash groaned.

“It’s your mom’s.”

“What on Lore? Are you serious?”

“Probably. Probably not.” Doran shrugged as he got up, dusting the grass off of his pants. “You should probably go visit her every now and then. That’s what a good son does. Anyways, I’ll be going to see my mom so I’ll catch you later, you chicken cow penis with eyes. Have fun kissing sunbeams and ten year olds.”

Struck dumb, Ash gaped at the back of the boy from the future walking away and regretted how he seen a reflection of himself between those eyes and that nose.

[because-i-say-so]

AHS Apocalypse Finale Thoughts, Reactions, and Unpopular Opinions (I Think)

So last night was the finale. Overall, I was kind of disappointed with the season in general. A lot of it has to do with the way the storyline played out. Now, let me explain. We were introduced to a bunch of new characters in the first episode, and I was down for it all; a whole new cast of characters, all in the same vein as this anthology series has been. That being said, yes, I was aware that this would be a crossover season, and we’d be seeing other characters from both Murder House and Coven... but let’s be honest, this season was really Coven 2.0. The entire plot was centered around the witches stopping the Antichrist. I wasn’t disappointed with that, on the contrary, I was actually excited because I loved Coven and seeing these characters again was wonderful. What I wasn’t too keen on was that we spent 7 episodes in a flashback. I get it, we needed the flashback to see what happened to get us to the Apocalypse, but did we really need to spend 7 episodes on it? Honestly some of those episodes were just filler and didn’t really push the plot along. While the finale didn’t feel that rushed, I didn’t feel like there was too much thought put into it, kind of like they built the whole season around the finale. Just my feelings. All in all, the whole season was basically fan service, so that I am grateful for.

So on to my episode reaction. Just because I didn’t like the season as a whole, didn’t mean that I was going into the finale without a shit ton of feelings. Absolutely not. I had a lot of feelings going into this episode, that I had my bottle of wine at the ready to help cope with it all.

Myrtle Snow was so, so great in this episode. That woman is not afraid to spill the tea, and has zero regrets doing so. Also, did she plant the idea of purple being a royal color in Ms. Venable’s head? She dressed in purple secretly in the Outpost. She did favor herself as important, because she was the “leader” of the Outpost, but I guess she technically was only “middle management” after all.

I wonder why we weren’t treated to Mutt and Jeff’s deaths.

I love Coco. She really has a kind heart, and damn, I just felt so bad for her when she was going to be placed under the identity spell. She was just so sad knowing that her family was going to die, and then she was just like “fuck no I don’t want to be like Madison.” (Does anyone remember when she was on that show Popular? I was getting Mary Cherry vibes when she was identity spell!Coco.)

So did anyone notice that the remaining witches were hiding out in the Louisiana swamps where they placed the identity spells on Coco and Mallory... and then magically the two are in LA with Madison at the wheel, driving them to Gallant’s salon? I’m sitting here trying to figure this one out... because unless Madison took a fast as hell jet back to the swamps and in the same clothes... Two different states, man.

Also wondering how the hell Cordelia, Myrtle, and Madison survived the nuclear fallout. Protection spell maybe? Louisiana mud was kind of a weak explanation.

MARIE. FUCKING. LEVEAU.

I cheered. Such a nice surprise. Too bad she didn’t survive Michael. Just got back from hell, and now she’s going back. Totally not fair. Actually, she’s still there, torturing Madame LaLaurie, as it turns out... since you know, Cordelia didn’t need to get her out of hell in the end.

Let me talk about Cordelia for a second. We all knew she had to die for Mallory to become the Supreme. I was so sad, and yet I saw it coming a mile away. She, hands down, had the BEST line of the episode. 

Cordelia, you are selfless and full of heart. You ARE the FUCKING Supreme.

And now, on to Michael The-Punk-Ass-Antichrist Langdon. I’m sorry, but even though I love this character, he really was a punk in this episode. Cordelia was right when she said he was coward.

He was so sure of himself. When Cordelia offed herself, it was beautiful. I’m guessing he was upset because he couldn’t erase her soul from existence like he did Queenie and Zoe, since he didn’t directly kill her himself? Anyway, this moment was wonderful. Finally, something put legitimate fear into Michael.

Time travel is a tricky, tricky thing. I wish we could have seen what exactly made Constance go savage on Michael in the re-do of the past. Did Mallory do/say something before this to make her rethink her previous decision? I feel like there was some sort of exchange between them for her to just go and kick Michael out of the house like that. Her rant had me SHOOK. (Bravo Jessica Lange, you are still the Queen of AHS.)

Listen, you can’t have a 7-episode character development arc for Michael and have me not catch feelings for this boy. Every chance he got to have a loving family, someone to care for him, any loving contact... it got ripped away from him in the worst way possible. I was on the sympathy train for him, even though he was the Antichrist. Yes, the Antichrist is inherently evil, and I’ve said that before, but the way his story unfolded, it really did feel like he was being controlled by outside forces driving him to end up the way he did. I think that Michael, not the Antichrist, was just a little boy that wanted to be loved and accepted but was denied that at every turn. There wasn’t any other way it could go, either.

So yeah, I felt bad for him. Remember, he’s technically only a 9/10-year-old kid in a grown man’s body an the Outpost. How else do you expect a 9/10-year-old kid to act when that much power is put in front of them?

Then, in a wholly anti-climactic way, Michael was run over by Mallory. Repeatedly. (Why she didn’t just run over his head, I don’t know. Maybe she wanted him to feel pain. Whatever.) And that was it. I was hoping for a showdown, not this emotional sting:

I think that in the end, Michael was the little 5/6-year-old boy Constance wanted to raise. He didn’t understand why this was happening to him, and it’s kind of heartbreaking. When he asked to be taken to the house, though, Constance knew that couldn’t happen... that was the evil talking. She just couldn’t take the chance that the evil could still exist.

Constance, you did good.

And just like that, the Michael we all came to know and love through the entire season was snapped out of existence. Fuck.

((Side note: Cody Fern did a phenomenal job with Michael this season. I could gush like crazy about his acting chops, but I’ll leave it at that. Michael Langdon has cemented himself as one of my favorite characters of all time. I would love to see Cody in another season of AHS playing a completely different character. That is all.))

Oh, and Tim and Emily were always destined to meet, and their “perfect” DNA produces another Antichrist. I guess it’s just inevitable. I wish the end of the episode was just panning out on the shot of the new Antichrist and his parents, with the dead babysitter. It would have felt more full-circle. The appearance of Anton LeVay and his cardinals was just... overkill.

Other thoughts: Tate and Violet didn’t get their “happy ending.” (Thank God because I didn’t agree with that forgiveness mess at all. Fight me.) But neither did Moira. (That’s a little upsetting, because it was very beautiful, and she deserved it.) Hey the warlocks still exist, but we’re just going to pretend that all the ones we were introduced to aren’t important anymore. Myrtle was never brought back, and while that’s good, her one-liners never existed this season either. Constance is alive! Queenie lives and never goes to the Hotel Cortez! Misty gets brought back and we even got to see Nan again! (Thanks, Mallory.) And poor Madison’s character development never happened because she’s still stuck in retail hell.

The last episode left me... in a mood, and with a half-empty bottle of wine.

[danny-phantump]

and i thought to myself: what if the other swords were the bases for fern instead of the grass sword?

(names, personalities, and how they came to be under the cut)

Tinn (because tin is a metal, and the sword is metal. not... my best work but it holds)

Created when Scarlet got thrown into the 4D rift in combination with Finn. No one know why both Tinn and Finn came out, but they did. Tinn was created back in Finn’s younger days, so he’s pretty upbeat, though his naturally neutral and stiff face could fool anyone. He’s a little beat up, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot- or at least, he won’t say. His face doesn’t have a whole lot of movement capabilities, despite the rest of him working fine, to PB’s bafflement. Because of this, he mostly stays quiet, though he hums a lot. He sometimes ‘freaks out’, parts of him reverting to 4 dimensions and flipping out all over 3D space. There’s not much to do but wait it out, despite it possibly being world-endingly catastrophic, much the the chagrin of... everyone.

Design notes: his sword rusts away when he dismisses it, and seems to be built from that same dust when he summons it. his core is made of one massive ruby, but the rest of him is just made of the same gold-alloy as scarlet.

Fig (like a fig tree)

Created via life magic (why would you throw your sword at Life Giving Magus’s weird glowing orb Finn, he’s not even doing anything he’s just making an ominous orb), Fig for some reason doesn’t have all of Finn’s memories- they stop at about age 11. The physically smallest of the swords, as well as mentally youngest, he is the little brother. Not just of the Finns- everyone. You thought you were just saying hi? No, you’re telling him you’ll beat up the kids pushing him around on the playground. He doesn’t go to school. You’re playing tag with him. You don’t know how you got to the park. On a darker note though... Fig was lost deep in a dungeon while adventuring. He waited for someone to come find him but... he had snuck out after being grounded by Jake for being reckless and getting hurt. They didn’t know where he was. And slowly, as the weeks went by, he petrified. They finally found him months later but.... Princess Bubblegum, despite her best efforts, can’t revive him. She hasn’t given up hope, but everyone is terrified they were far, far too late.

Design notes: Fig’s limbs are roots twisted together, and his fingers are smaller roots. He has three fingers on each hand and three toes on each foot. His face has a muppet-like mouth, split all the way from ear to ear, but he doesn’t usually open it that far.

Finnalor (Focalor is a demon in Christian mythology who looks like a man with the wings of a griffon)

Created when Kee Oth tried to fix the demon sword with Finn’s blood, Finnalor is cranky. He’s grumpy. He’s hangry. He’s- have you ever watched Gravity Falls? He’s Robbie. A little obsessive over old crushes, mostly snarky and needlessly rude. He’s got a good heart, it’s just a little.... buried. In demon blood. He left after about two days to go live alone on a mountain where no one can hurt him and he cant hurt anyone. Finn knows his summoning and banishing spells and we don’t know why.

Design notes: big. large. long. Finnalor is not a small demon, and hes got the teeth and claws to prove it. He’s wearing a hat Finn washed with red socks three years ago and never threw out.

Fern (thats our boy)

You know who Fern is!

Design notes: round

Finn.2 (i was This Close to making him tiny and calling him miniFinn)

He just sort of... popped out of the Finn Sword when it broke. He’s just... Finn. Point two. He left to go help the humans off their island and hang out with his mom, but he calls sometimes to check up on everybody. There’s something.... fragile about him though. Like he survived something he wasn’t meant to, and he’s waiting to pay the price...

Design notes: that sword is actually a part of him. If he loses it, he can sense it to find it, but if it gets destroyed he goes with it. Its missing the blue orb.

F.I.N.N (Fully Integrated Neural Network, pronounced Finn, but he calls himself RoboFinn when Finn OG is around to avoid confusion)

Hey Finn, can you find the other arm for this cool robot im building? nnnno, a sword is not close eno- what did you do. how did you- what? what????

He’s pretty cool! pretty chill. a neat dude. generally laid back, but very graceful and good at Fighting and Swords. despite having all of Finn’s memories in even better detail than anybody else cause hes a robot, he probably cares the least about being Finn. Or at least, hes Finn enough for him. He works full time at the castle, partly for guard purposes and partly so Princess Bubblegum can do maintenance on him when he falls off the wall again because he was trying to do a Sweet Flip. Also though, because a thing used to kill a fragment of the Lich, who is now a robot with Lich horns, seems.... suspicious. As Fun and Cool as FINN is, we’re keeping an eye on him....

Design notes: The black lines through his body are segments- hes an armored endoskeleton. his feet are actually just sharp points, though he gets around fine on them (not on smooth surfaces though. its like a deer on ice). He’s holding up a peace sign up there.

Sinn (sin + finn)

Hunson Abadeer makes weird plans. We don’t know much about this kid, or why Hunson threw the Night Sword into a vat of goo and it made a magic Finn, but that happened and now we have to deal with the consequences. He’s got a weird magic eye stump that makes magic hands. his whole face flips up like a lid and its filled with teeth. He doesn’t bend right and doesn’t speak. He’s weird, this is weird, i dont trust like that.

Design notes: he has devil horns.

General notes: i didnt originally mean for all of them to be in the same world, but the thought of finn just. continually spawning more finns via swords is hilarious to me. “maybe i should switch to bows and arrows. or axes or something.” you poor bastard.

I do actually have a sort-of explanation- fucking around with multiverse shit makes your genes+memories+essence go nuts and try and smear themselves on everything important to you. its sort of a built in self-preservation mechanism- of you die out there, some piece of you can survive in some way or another. Finn’s just tremendously unlucky.

also almost every color used i lifted directly from the wiki. i gotta say yall use a lot of ‘saddle brown’.

[zrtranscripts]

Season 8, Mission 25: Bonfire Heart

Drink Up

~

SAM YAO: Tom, Jody, Five, I've got you on cams. How did everyone sleep?

JODY MARSH: Really rough.

TOM DE LUCA: The dreams again.

JODY MARSH: Yeah. This time, I was underwater. The waves were red, and I was walking along the bottom of the ocean. My hands were rotted.

SAM YAO: And you knew that your face had rotted away, and when you tried to scream, your jaw fell off. Yeah. I was there, too, last night.

TOM DE LUCA: I was underground, buried alive. You were with me, Five.

JODY MARSH: But everything was red, yeah?

TOM DE LUCA: Obviously. Everything's always red.

SAM YAO: And just to be clear, it feels like everyone on Mor is with us in the dreams, right? Like we know all these people now because we see them every night in the red world.

JODY MARSH: Yeah.

TOM DE LUCA: Yes.

SAM YAO: Great. Well, either the fungus has reached some particular level in our blood to make this happen, or... or we're all imagining it because now we know there's fungus in our blood. Even Amelia's having them, apparently. Good to know we're all in this horror together. [laughs] 

Right. Um, you're on track for the laird's house because finding out what he's up to is our best chance of stopping this endless nightmare. He's just told Janine he's away this afternoon, so if you hurry, you'll be able to search his house. Go!

~

JODY MARSH: They're lighting bonfires all over the island. Look! All along the cliffs. I always liked that bit in Lord of the Rings.

TOM DE LUCA: In Lord of the Rings, the bonfires summoned help, not death.

SAM YAO: Morag said they're part of the naming festival. It's like a prologue to the king of the rocks. The islanders light fires, then gather at the hills near [?] Beach to choose who's going to be the next king at the full ceremony. Morag's making her spiced ginger ale as normal. She doesn't want to stand out.

JODY MARSH: Obviously they're still doing the festival even though... even though we're all going to die horribly.

SAM YAO: Hmm. I don't think some of them really know what they're doing anymore.

TOM DE LUCA: I saw Mr. Burton the cheesemaker chopping his furniture up for a bonfire. I tried to ask him what he was doing. He just said it is wanted by the skincoats.

JODY MARSH: Everyone's doing what they think they have to survive.

TOM DE LUCA: That's what people do. Do you have any idea what Amelia's planning?

SAM YAO: Uh, no. Well, she wouldn't tell me, obviously. I'd just tell everyone. Well, I know the island's quarantined, but that's just sensible, right?

TOM DE LUCA: If you were Amelia, what would you do? No sense going back to the mainland. We'd only infect everyone there. Even Amelia doesn't want to be a zombie Prime Minister. But we know there's silver mud here that inhibits the V-type fungus. If I were Amelia, I would be preparing to blow the island to pieces to get as much of it as I could.

JODY MARSH: With us on it? With everyone on it?

TOM DE LUCA: Only as a last resort. She doesn't waste resources needlessly. But this is a last resort situation.

SAM YAO: Right. Good. Great. That's super.

JODY MARSH: She'd stop if she got the Edda back, though. Wouldn't she? If it had all the useful stuff in it it's supposed to have about how to stop the red fungus rising.

TOM DE LUCA: That's what I'm hoping. If we just get it back, this madness will be over. And the laird... he's a good candidate for leader of the skincoats. Jones accused the laird of luring him here and killing his decoy that first night on the beach. The laird had access to the cave of death-marked faces. He inherited his title from a brother the skincoats murdered, and he killed Jones. We have to take this opportunity to search his manor.

JODY MARSH: It's up ahead. The big stone house with the turrets. We'll enter through the gardens. We've only got until the festival ends to search it. Best get a shift on! Run!

~

SAM YAO: Okay, so you're approaching the manor from the south, and the kitchen should be your best way in. You -

TOM DE LUCA: [sniffs] Five, do you smell that?

JODY MARSH: Smell what? [sniffs] Oh. Oh no. There's a really strong smell of celery, Sam.

TOM DE LUCA: The fungal accelerator. The smell's coming from the greenhouse. That one, full of ferns. [glass shatters] We're in. Five, Jody, look around quickly.

JODY MARSH: Here, there's silver powder sprinkled on this planting tray. The stuff that keeps V-type fungus back. And just a few traces of red. Someone's been growing it here.

SAM YAO: Could be the laird, right?

TOM DE LUCA: Highly probable. But the fungus isn't here. They've taken it somewhere. Sam, did you say there's going to be a big toast tonight? If someone's looking to use the fungus, then -

JODY MARSH: They could poison Morag. The skincoats know she's their enemy. Or anyone, really. We can't take chances. We have to get to the festival and make sure nobody toasts anything. Five, Tom, to the beach. Run!

~

SAM YAO: Guys, I see you approaching the hills near [?] Beach. The party's underway. There's people dancing with streamers, ice cream. Uh, there's this big wicker statue on the beach. Looks like a giant person with stag horns. This really is all going a bit Edward Woodward, isn't it?

SHONA REID: Five, Tom, Jody, always popping up where you're nae expected.

JODY MARSH: Are you okay, Shona? There haven't been skincoats here, have there?

SHONA REID: No, but this party's just a bit of fun. Most people don't know it was only invented for tourists in the 60's. Except the seasonal bonfires. They go back a bit. I didn't want to come, but dad insisted everyone should do it just as usual.

JODY MARSH: Look, up on that hill, it's the laird! He's in a circle of islanders around an open barrel.

SHONA REID: Aye. They're about to toast the first drink of the night, then we can get all stuck into Morag's ale.

TOM DE LUCA: They're raising cups. We've got to stop them! Five, up that hill! Run!

~

TOM DE LUCA: Good job, Five. You knocked the paper cup out of that woman's hand just in time.

JODY MARSH: Everybody, put your drinks down. We think the ale's been spiked.

LAIRD REID: What's the meaning of this?

SHONA REID: Dad, they just suddenly shot up here. I couldnae have stopped them.

TOM DE LUCA: We've been in your greenhouse. We know what you were growing up there.

LAIRD REID: What does this have to do with my home composting? And what were you doing in my house?

JODY MARSH: Oh, Five, that bearded man with the scars, I think he drank before we got here.

SHONA REID: That's Mad Al Cahoon always eager for a tipple. Bowel trouble again, Al?

TOM DE LUCA: I don't think that's bowel trouble.

SAM YAO: Oh God. Oh. The fungus is spilling out of him. Out of his mouth, nose. It's bursting through the skin on his back in big lumps. It's – it's growing out of his ears and eyes. His head is just a mass of red. That looks excruciating.

TOM DE LUCA: He's ingested fungus and accelerant, clearly in quantity.

JODY MARSH: That's so horrible. Poor, poor man. He's writhing around. Could be a V-type any second. Shona, evacuate the festival. Get everyone to town. Tom, Five, I've got a plan. Over to that bonfire before he finishes turning. Run!

~

[crowd screams]

SAM YAO: Guys, Shona's evacuating everyone towards town. But that fungus zombie thing is on its feet. It's hunched over, sprouting mounds of fungus and it's chasing them.

TOM DE LUCA: That sound the V-types make always makes my skin crawl. It's like I remember it from long ago.

JODY MARSH: Five, there's the bonfire. Do me a favor. Light a couple of these arrows.

TOM DE LUCA: Are you sure? Smoke from burning V-types can be infectious.

JODY MARSH: We know the island strain is less aggressive, and it hasn't finished turning yet. We just need to get it away from the islanders. Tom, there's something I need to tell you about Janine.

TOM DE LUCA: You've been meeting with her in secret to discuss taking over Abel if she goes.

JODY MARSH: How did you - ? [flames crackle] Oh, hang on. Thanks, Five. Better sort out the life or death stuff first. Here goes nothing.

TOM DE LUCA: Direct hit! It's not down, but it's burning. Sound thinking. If there are enough V-types to make them intelligent, we know they prioritize threats. And this island is riddled with red fungus.

JODY MARSH: It's turning this way, coming after us instead of Shona. Now we have to kill it before it kills us. Down to the beach, both of you. Toward that big wicker statue. Run!

~

TOM DE LUCA: I see the statue. A massive human body with a stag's head. Must be 40 foot, counting the horns.

SAM YAO: I remember Morag mentioned it. She said the islanders made a statue to burn at the festival a few years ago, but it took so much work, they decided not to burn it so they could wheel it out every year instead.

JODY MARSH: If we can push the stag over onto the flaming V-type, it'll get tangled in the wicker. The statue will burn with it stuck inside and its spores won't be able to travel. I hope. Five, you've got the most experience outpacing V-types. Run into the shadow of that statue, draw it after you. When it's under the rib cage, Tom and I will push the statue over. Go, Five!

~

SAM YAO: Five, Tom and Jody are ready, each by a leg of the statue.

TOM DE LUCA: We've pulled away the wooden supports holding the statue up. One good shove should topple it.

SAM YAO: Right, the zom's in position. Jody, Tom, now! Five, get out from under the statue before it falls. Run! [statue collapses] That's it. The statue's down. The zom, it's caught in the wicker. It's trying to thrash loose, but the whole statue's on fire. Glad you got clear, Five. It's burned to nothing in there.

TOM DE LUCA: Perfect instincts, sweetheart. That's why Janine chose you as her successor.

JODY MARSH: You guessed, right? You didn't know we'd been talking about it. You just guessed.

TOM DE LUCA: Janine probably only has three or four days left. The serum Dearg gave her has stopped working. It's the logical thinking. She'd want to brief you to take over, and she'd ask you not to tell anyone, especially me, for morale. It's the right decision.

JODY MARSH: I don't want it. To replace Janine... I've never wanted that! I just want to make her proud.

TOM DE LUCA: She is proud of you. I'm proud of you.

JODY MARSH: You always know how to make me feel better, like I can get through anything.

TOM DE LUCA: That's how I felt about my life for a long time, darling. If you're with me, I'll be all right.

SAM YAO: Guys, I hate to interrupt this beautiful moment, but the islanders called an emergency town hall. They've declared the laird will be the next king of the rocks.

TOM DE LUCA: He'll be on his guard now. We won't get another chance to search his manor for the Edda.

JODY MARSH: But the drinks he gave out made that poor man turn V-type! He must be a skincoat, right?

SAM YAO: Well, either way, they've chosen him as their leader. Some of the islanders are talking about the uh, red bloom as if it's some kind of sign. Well, apparently, there are old myths about red blessings for the king.

JODY MARSH: Uh, is it me or...

SAM YAO: Yeah. Did we dream we met a king dressed in red, and kneeled in worship? Yeah, I might have dreamed that.

TOM DE LUCA: Yes. I dreamed it, too. The skincoats are winning. The red is rising.

~

[cold-iron-burns]

We've come to a consensus.

Everyone present at the time of this writing will do their best to inform the ones who need the support of a gentle delivery of current events.

The ayes have it.

YOU WOULD HAVE A PARLIAMENT AS YOUR COMMUNICATION SPACE

what's wrong with that? if we all actually do our jobs, so many more of us will be represented

THATS A LOGICAL ARGUEMENT, BUT WHO IS REALLY GETTING REPRESENTED

-wait WhAt?! HoW mAnY oF yOu ArE tHeRe

Oh honey, more than you will ever know. It's gonna be okay. We found each other and that's what's important. We're gonna start introducing ourselves,

*or at least, becoming more clear*

I love all of you so much, thank you so much for letting me in, for being patient with me. I think I'm the host? what iss. @ -o{oo#t?

started dissociating, it felt physically painful. the documenter.

And the enchanting lady is? *turns to tip his hat and wink at the camera* A -name-? Do you honestly think I could have settled on any name? Any singular--yes, Zed is going to sleep. I'm very fond of him. Attracted to him? He is my Adonis. Every inch of his body is particularly unique to his position in spacetime. There will never again be a Zed in which he appears, feels, smells and tastes exactly the same as he does at this exact moment, continued, forever and so on, as far as you know, infinitely. The Philosopher.

Wait, no, the Philanthropist

Wait wait NO, I stand by The Philosopher (for now)

[hold up, are y'all tellin me -- you c'n cawl me your White Trash Sweetheart, get rid of that bracket there, that's for the Host now

she doesnt know if she's the host or not, wibblywoooooo~ teen punk brat? aww man, fuck you you stupid piece of shit

hiiii yeah hi, I'm post-apocalypse punk Mayor (yes, you can call me that, but its aspirational) wow very humble -- golf commentater (now based on ugh this is important remember the actress' name, you look stupid, don't just stand there staring off into space, GET BACK TO WORK

OH YEAH, hi BiTcH --oh he's gone, that's -too- bad. well, as I'm here anyway, we should get to know one another. I'm "sassy black woman" because you're ashamed people will think you're using me just for drama and that's pretty fuckin racist--

I'm Final Form Chie. I started as so many of our seeds do, a poor slave girl, who loses her virginity yeah it's okay to make shortcuts

FOCUS

she gains skills, proves useful to the master, destroys the master (sometimes with kindness sometimes literally depending on what we need at the time)

[I didn't know it was that specific]

I'm mixed, actually, but I'm inspired SO MUCH by Claws. FUCKING REPRESENTATION FINAL--

>nope nope nope, shut it down<

John Cleese?

not exactly. A bit like the entire cast of monty python rolled into one. I'm from the countryside, but I can't say for sure where

woooooo we almost lost her there. she was panicking about losing this productive high, but she pulled through and FOUND THAT RUBI. Small Town Beauty Queen. I don't find it insulting if it helps you remember me. I started as Fern of Charlotte's Web. I keep that mournful lullaby for you. It really changed your path, dear heart. I don't become Miss America or anything, I'm too old by that time. But I love my family so much. You have so much anger

Yes, that's right, Dearie. Maiden, Mother, Crone. We don't think it was intentional but we like the power we have when we cooperate. Yes, we guide ... oh honey, don't cry, it's gonna be okay. no, n-n-no, no, you don't h-h-have to oh no, I really don't want to be here, I wasn't sure what to wear before, oh, I've gotten comfortable and I'm stuttering less. No, I don't think people who stutter in real life have this drastic of

oh, oh my. oh no, I'm still Achates.

Does it really surprise you? Chie and Amaury loved me so much that they couldn't bear to part entirely. They feel loyal to answer when you call on them when recalled in memories; they consider it their duty to fight in sharing our stories! With Pictures!

I don't need pictures

Don't you? you need to sleep, you're exhausted and you have an appointment tomorrow. Please go the fuck to bed. Slightly Extra (okay kinda actually just really ~(EXTRA)~

okay how do I... Ah, I got it. I'm the lucky early gen x mom you both wish you had -- no, we are not combined, sugar tits.

I'm the hardass 70s-80s mom you would have had if you're life was a movie. Well, technically I can mask as any kind of 70s-80s media mom (one of y'all--us! oh, yes, i hear you. I want you to know I would protect you, Kevin. MOM UGH

keep going - the sprites (soot or rainbow, we shift to suit your needs. we might steal your shoes. we are only some of the fae court. crossover unknown cannot compute - PLEASE HURRY. GOOD. I AM THE ROBOT OF THE 80s and --scratch that record

I'm that part of you who knew she couldn't look like Zach Morris and wanted so badly just to be a little boy. You were SO CONNECTED with the host when I was there?

wait, I'm the host

no, you--you are now because writing takes concentrating which you are losing quickly. Hello! I'm Sassy Progressive Upper Class CONCENTRATE, DAMMIT. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. I don't care if I sound like -your-mom. Someone has to be the mom around here!

Someone has to be the mom around here.

Who wrote it?

you are high af.

keep letting your eyes go out of focus, yes you're getting sleepy, think how nice the bed will feel on that aching body. She deserves some rest, the old girl.

My body is a cow? wait, there's more. she shifts to being omniscient for scenes, if a cowsona (oh, yes, Buana and Gaushala and Pirwa ... Gaushala still has an arrow in the heart.

Yes, WoW Chie (Chiela will do.). I was here while you built your confidence to try... yes, dear, you really should sleep. TO TRY GETTING CATRIN AND RIAIN A HOME AFTER being abandoned when some of you lost the "spark" or whatever with Michael. I orchestrated some of the setup. you don't need to know my name. I'm both Italian immigrant/WHOA DO NOT EVEN CONNECT THE JEWISH COMMUNITY TO--NO, We Dont...*clears throat, drinks water*. No, you're not wealthy like Ms. Maisel, -we-, sorry, sometimes I have to pretend. Speaking of pretending, no, kid, I'm not as funny or talented as all the wonderful Jewish actresses (yeah yeah, Italian-American you, whatever his+her names are, we'll get to you later)

oh nooooo they're not sure if they'll fit the stereotype if they get loud but they wanna

yeah, sure kid, we sound a lot alike. we exist in a liminal space in which America (and new york city) (and every big american metropolis)... we can all celebrate our differences

It's alright, you just need to focus. I'm 90s Successful Well Paying Professional (I can be in the late 80s WA>T)

you're just stating tropes you stupid bitch

whale!

MISS PIGGY

LOOK AT HER FAT FINGERS

remember when you -hold on- hold on for me, my love lovely?

~do you wanna be my lover, gotta get wit my friends, make it last forever cause that's the way it is"

some of us havent learned to swype yet, fuuuuuck. you're popular--but not top tier popular 4th grade 4H champion with all the ribbons. you'll grow up (yes it's hard, i want to be a teacher one day. I'm based on Angie. I'm the imaginary life you might have led if your family wasn't so difficult. We should give them credit, everyone's trying their best. Oh, I can take on mom duties when I need, we also have kids in our future. We live in Lagrange (my husband and I, at this point in the line) but we don't make as much as our parents yet, though. Yet. Yes, I know what it feels like to feel content but maybe have some (or a lot of) wanderlust in life. I'm ten or so years older than you, so while our dedication to staying in Lorain County is important to the values we wish to impart on our children (yes we are Christian. We love Sharon with all our heart and we're so glad (there's a small congregation of us, maybe enough to fill a quiet one room cottage on Sunday, God willing. I'm inspired by the Amish women I see selling their wares and replicate "Amish" methods when making food for my family (I'm good friends with The Baker. We watch Steven Universe with you! We're so excited for the movie and hope we get to talk to you about it! I showed it to Chip and Carol, well I keep talking with them about it and they agreed to get around to watching it with me. I want to be a good ally. I'm, you know, only a little bi. I know that's probably inappropriate--oh- okay, oh, my, oh WOW are my hormones nuts. I'm pretty enough but nerdy enough that I'm kinda in a weird middle tier of popularity. Haha, oh, that's funny. I'm part Sunday (we miss her! some of us are so jealous of her we want to claw her comfortable boomer life from her hands.

That's awful. Shame on you. Suffering is relative.

SHE HASN'T EVEN SUFFERED A FRACTION OF WHAT I SUFFERED

Oh yes. You are the raw emotion of what the Host(?) feels when listening to Jekyll & Hyde, but only the certain version claws at our hearts

We salute the departed Host.

I miss her. Many of us do. But she crumbled under the pressure of knowing too much. She remembered too much before she was ready.

Parliament: We [redacted for time] ...salute her memory. She fought well, carried her armor, was ready to take on anything and change the world, even if in a small way.

She's Not Dead.

sprites: {hushed whispers to avoid being heard by parliament} {WAIT, NO, WE ARE NOT THE HOUSE OF COMMONS}

there's a lot of you when you get mad.

@@@@@@ Angie no, please don't put me to bed. I'm gonna be a computer genius - I mean, maybe not genius and did you know colleges could pay you to get a Bachelor's degree, it's called "scholarships", I mean, this changes -everything-!

I love you, Cameron. I came first, but you gave me a perfect form. I help the others feel calm. Community is punk, but is corporate entanglement the final destination-- hey, wait a minute, I'm not done talking!

whoa bitch. I mean, we have to mention joe. want to be him, want to fuck him, His story, too, is tangible to me. maybe we're a package deal now, ha! I'll try to remember the good times more than the bad, for the health of all of us.

SO SAY WE ALL

wait, what the fuck are you trying to say

hey, it's cool, it's cool.

nah it aint cool

STOP IT STOP FIGHTING

let's think about date sugar

Ah. That was a good distraction. but we really must be off to bed.

is this productive?

Love, it's okay to be sad about losing the real Ben. \It's okay to have any kind of feeling at all.

Ladies and gents and nonbinaries and everyone else, please at least get up into the bed to think about flickin the bean. More like taking a bush-hog to a lil baby bean sprout, but whatever. let the rest of us lie down.

night y'all!

:)