#also I can kindly thank some choice brilliant minds that helped me form this over the years and lately

[ahmedmootaz]

Hello! I saw you request of requests, soooo. Can I request a story and it can be however long you want it to be. The sort of prompt is what you think would or want to happen in the upcoming episode “The Phantom and The Sorceress”. It’s fine even if you don’t answer this ask, thanks for all your content and theories!

Dear Anonymous,

What, did you think that just because I replied one day before the episode aired that I wouldn’t do it?...Well, I was debating it, but this was a fun one. I really hope you like it, because I spent quite a bit of effort on it.

Beware of possible spoilers, however. I mean, it is all prediction, but you never know when you’re right. So, here’s the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551864

And here is the magical Read More button, for those who need it (Note that Tumblr doesn’t copy italics, for some reason):

It was a dark, cold night in the Forest Of...whatever. Lena couldn't care less about what its name was. It was damp, awful, cold, and filled with monsters. No wonder Magica would hide here; it was basically her dream home. Maybe it was a mirror, too. She trudged with her friends, Violet and Webby, who'd oh-so-kindly volunteered to help her on this mad quest of hers. She was going mad, that's what, and they were both ready to go mad with her. She really was lucky when it came to friends.

They kept trudging in silence, not wanting to reflect on the series of what must've been unfortunate events to lead them to searching for Magica DeSpell in the dark, cold night in the middle of a swamp. An ugly swamp, too...though, now that she thought about it, there weren't really 'pretty' swamps, so it wasn't like Magica chose a bad one; they were all bad.

Despite telling herself several times how she was over this, how she had no issues whatsoever about what they were doing right now and that it was for the greater good, she found herself contemplating any other choice. Just what, exactly, led them to this point?!

...Well, they all knew. It was a rhetorical question. An angry rhetorical question. Leave it to the McDucks to be attacked by a literal video-game monster that crawled out of the screen and treating it like another boring day. Which...yeah, it kinda was for them, but she'd gotten used to the calmer household she moved in. It wasn't like that was the biggest thing that happened today, either, it was more like...the appetizer, even though that wasn't really a correct statement, since it was like eating a whole roast duck only to be told it was an appetizer.

Still, it wasn't the tentacle-monster which they took down that led to this situation. It was the fact that Gladstone...Gladner? Something along those lines, showed up. Apparently, he was the boys' uncle, which made him someone she didn't know. Not that it mattered anyway, he came in, crying about how his luck left him forever before weeping on her arm, which was conveniently next to him. Her sleeve was never going to return to regular levels of salt after this.

It took a while before Scrooge managed to calm him down. It seemed like his luck...which was a thing she didn't know about, had left him. Normally, she was told, they would've chalked it up to some paranormal mystery and had to excuse themselves and send her home, but it went further then that...Almost everyone in Duckburg was losing their abilities.

They didn't really believe it at first, but when Scrooge's monetary abilities started going blank, the alarms blared loudly enough in everyone's minds. It wasn't just him, too; Gyro was losing his intelligence, so was Huey, Mrs.Beakly lost a good portion of her Agent skills, and Dewey lost the ability to Dewey, whatever the heck he meant by that.

It only left her and the rest of Team Magic to fend for themselves and figure out what was draining their powers. There was one teeny-tiny problem, however:

How would they do that? Webby was an amazing fighter, but their enemy, a certain Phantom Blot that Violet heard about, didn't leave a trace, much less a body to fight, and despite Violet's best efforts, nothing came out of her investigations to find where he hid, which left Lena to do the job. One issue, however: She couldn't.

She was a brilliant sorceress, or so she bragged, but there was still much she needed to learn before casting detection spells. And they, she theorized, didn't have that time. Violet was an amazing step-sister and a scarily fast learner, but even she came up empty-handed when it came to learning anything about that power. That left one magic user in Duckburg she knew. Ugh.

She shivered at the memory, snapping out of her mind due to some whimpering from Gladstone. He said he needed to find his luck or else he was a goner. She thought he was exaggerating at first, but then a boat nearly fell on him. 4 Kilometres away from sea. He promised he'd do them anything if she let him accompany them on this treacherous journey while the rest of the gang tried investigating using their own ways, and the agreed. How bad could he be, anyways?

-"U-Um...Lena? I don't know how to tell you this...but I...I hate swamps. I don't think I know how to walk in them. It was always my luck helping me out. I'm cold, scared, and humiliated."...well, not too bad, but he just wouldn't shut up! And while he seemed to amuse Webby and Violet, he was just getting on her nerves.

-"Well, nobody here likes swamp, either! And you've been listing the things your luck did for you for two hours now, is there anything you can do on your own, Mr.Gladstone?", she shot back, irked.

He used to argue and bicker with her, but as his luck kept worsening throughout the day (How on earth does one get mauled by a bear, an alligator, and then receive a speeding ticket because the alligator's death-roll was too fast??), he mostly stuck to paranoia to help himself. She couldn't help but feel bad for him, despite how much he annoyed her.

-"W-Well...I used to breathe well on my own...I could also walk...I think...", he mumbled, his voice a broken mess compared to his arrogant and proud tone, or so she was told by Webby. "A-And...I think I might need to learn how to go to the bathroom in the swamp.", he added, his exhaustion overpowering his embarrassment.

-"Pffft, don't worry about it, Gladstone! The entire swamp is your bathroom! You're basically the King of the swamp!", and there it was, the perky, energetic voice that was trying to keep Gladstone away from depression this entire trip.

-"Oh, quit with the lies! I am nothing without my luck!", he cried, seeming on the verge of tears for the...seventeenth time today? Lena couldn't remember. "B-But...It wasn't my choice! My luck was always there for me! Like...Like a-a stick! Something to lean on my entire life and now it is gone!", he lamented, slouching as his footsteps got a bit slower. For the sake of all them, Lena hoped he regained any of his luck soon.

-"Well, it is true; any being born with a condition, abnormal or not, that aids him throughout his life without any major work done from the part of the being will eventually get used to this condition, which could explain why you're taking this particular misadventure hard, Mr.Gladstone.", Violet bumped in their chat, checking the notepad on which they brainstormed the possible locations of Magica. "Still, I'd advise you to remain positive, as I sense we may be able to fix these conditions.", she added, giving him a small, encouraging smile which he didn't notice.

-"Yeah, probs.", the teenage witch agreed after she felt a nudge from the Vanderquack. Anything to cheer up her friend's friends' uncle. "Hey Vi, are we close or not?", she asked, trying to ignore the eye-roll from her shorter friend.

-"Well, I don't have a particularly detailed map, though I imagine that Magica would mark her camp with a particular sign; an X on the ground, perhaps, or perhaps we must deduce it from the surrounding environment-"

-"Or she might've carved her face on the bottom of an ancient tree!", the cheerful duck happily announced as they entered a clearing with a small dirt road that led to the mouth of Magica DeSpell. A wooden carving of her, anyway.

It was just as Webby said, large, reeking of pride and arrogance, and yet...oddly well done. The details were really nice and actually looked like Magica. If she had to give her 'aunt' something, it had to be that she apparently didn't suck at something in her life. Really though, wood carving, of all things? Was she a carpenter before becoming an evil, awful witch? Is she talented? She didn't have her magic...maybe she had someone else with her.

-"Alright, so, is everyone prepared to meet my homicidal aunt?", the tallest duckling asked with fake happiness, receiving a nod form everyone but Gladstone, who emitted  something of a sniff. Webby readied the axe she brought with her, patting the kitten at the top while Violet tightened her garlic necklace, while Gladstone...he stood there, steadying his back a bit. "Mr.Gladstone?"

-"Ah, forget about it, whatever she does to me, it can't be worse than having an anvil hit me from ten-meters.", he steadied his tone, managing to make it more bitter than desperate. Well, at least he wasn't going to cry when they see her.

She looked back at the tree's base, blocking out the various memories that gave her the urge to blast the door, and knocked. Harshly. Hey, she was going to give herself something. She felt both Webby and Violet's hands on her shoulders, and she anticipated the door opening. Now or never...they were going to convince her, and somehow, she didn't think it was going to be too easy.

Her mind raced, imagining all the awful things she could be plotting right now. She heard garlic was harmful to magic users, something she didn't know too much about, but was apparently true, as she figured out when her magical powers suddenly dimmed as she touched some garlic. Still, Magica could hit them form a distance...and what about that axe? Was going physical the ideal plan? Was-

 CRASH!

The quartet of ducks yelled, jumping back before they realized the door didn't even open. It was something from the inside. Someone, to be exact. A couple of curses came through the door as a metallic sound came through as well.

-"Bloody Hell! Who comes in this hour of the night, in this swamp, to this tree?! I don't even pay bills!", the angry yelling of her not-really-aunt came through. Yep, that was about the attitude she expected. "If you're the Magical Supplies Shop, I'm sorry, but if you couldn't tell, I lost my powers after following a wonderful plan of mine. I cannot pay you in whatever things you want. Now go away before I shoot you!", she answered with a sickeningly sweet tone. Even her voice brought Lena awful memories and forced her to frown.

-"You can do this, Lena. You faced her down before. She can't do anything to you.", Violet squeezed her shoulder, giving her a determined smile. Lena shot one back, before taking a step closer to the door.

-"Hey, this is Lena...Your...", she sighed, bringing a hand to her temple. "Niece?", she finished, awaiting a sick laughter or an undignified scowl at her for attempting to break free from being a shadow. Sorry-not-sorry, Magica. For moment, there was silence. Then there was laughter. Hysterical laughter. So much laughter Lena felt scared.

-"Ooooh, good one, person-who-is-trying-to-fool-me! I don't have a niece! My brother is dead and my sister cannot keep a worm alive! Now scram before my patience runs out!", she thundered from behind the door, leaving the ducklings and Gladstone in shock.

-"She has a brother?", Lena repeated with incredulity, looking at her two friends and Gladstone.

-"I don't know! How should I know? I thought she didn't have family!", Violet answered with equal confusion, shrugging.

-"I mean, technically she doesn't have a brother anymore.", Gladstone chimed in, his voice devoid of any enthusiasm. "Who's this woman anyway? And why does she sound like she woke up on the wrong side of the bed?", he asked, raising his voice a tad too much.

-"The wrong side of the bed?!", came the war-cry from behind the door, only leaving a moment before a couple of locks unlocked and it swung outwards, revealing Magica DeSpell . With a shotgun. Oh, well this was just lovely, wasn't it? "Alright, that does it, I will put more holes than you than there is in...swiss...cheese...", her speech slurred, looking at the three ducklings in front of her house.

The silence remained for a moment, with no one doing anything. Webby brandished her weapon, Violet made a threatening expression, and Lena ignited a spark in her hand. And Gladstone stood there, trying to take all this in. That moment gave Lena enough time to admire Magica's hut; a three-room lodging, more aptly. It was basically a sink, a gas-cooker, and some drawers, a wardrobe, and a bookshelf, all locally-made, apparently. There was also a toilet and a bath in the background. It was a pretty sorry place to live in, but it seemed functional enough.

-"Hi, Aunt Magica.", Lena greeted, gritting her teeth and delivering the widest, fakest smile she could possibly give. "I almost forgot how you looked! We haven't seen each other in such a long time. What a shame.", she continued, trying her best to remain calm and to look the elder sorceress in the eyes. Said sorceress was now surveying the ducks surrounding her, measuring her chances and keeping her hands on the shotgun's trigger.

-"Get out. Now!", the cape-wearing duck yelled, looking dangerously close to a rage-fit. "All three of you. Now!"

-"Three? Hello? I may have lost my luck, but I am certainly not invisible, lady!", Gladstone announced with an undignified tone. He got a glare that shut him up. "Yeah, sure, okay, talk with the people who really matter. Why wouldn't you?", he grumbled bitterly.

-"Listen, as much as we'd love to, we can't really do that.", the younger sorceress laid her hand on her waist, looking both bored and uncaring. At least, she hoped she did. The last thing she needed was for the awful, horrible duck in front of her to sense any weakness, something she assumed she excelled at.

-"Besides, we're already outside! Your evil mind trick won't work on us!", Webby boasted, swinging her axe a bit for intimidation purposes. They didn't seem to work all too well, but at the very least, they made Magica's shotgun point at her just a tiny bit. Was that a victory?...Probably not.

-"Fine then, get away from me! From this place! The last thing I need is to spend my night with a bunch of *McDucks*.", the gun-wielder practically screamed, her veins starting to bulge from the anger. Her voice was laced with venom dripping off of every word. It was honestly both terrifying and admirable how much hate she poured into every word.

-"I told you we can't.", Lena repeated calmly, trying to avoid a fight she saw she was coming.

And then, just as she hoped things would calm down, a loud, roaring BANG! filled the swamp. Every single member of her group jumped, looking frightened as they searched around for wounded. There were none, only four ducks staring at each other. She'd tricked them. And she didn't even have her magic. Lena frowned and turned her face back to her shadow's origin. Her...uh...creator? She was her shadow, did shadows have creators? Maybe a caster was a better term? As much as she hated it, 'Aunt Magica' rolled off the tongue far better than 'Caster Magica'.

-"Are you searching for fight? Because I'm not certain your chances would be very high with the four of us.", Violet spoke for her step-sister. Her new room-mate at this point, but Lena still appreciated the gesture with all of her heart. It appeared Magica actually fired a shot, even if it was only a warning shot. Everyone tried to make good on that statement, looking as threatening as they could. Even Gladstone lifted his fists, adding a grand total of 4% to how threatening they were.

-"Maybe you are! Why can't you get away from me? What do you want? I don't have any more plans for the moment, I didn't do anything illegal for the last month, and you're taking my books from my cold, dead, hands!", the former-Sorceress Of The Shadows barked back defiantly, still pointing at them with her gun. "I don't care if you kill me! I'll take at least two of you down before I-"

-"Could you shut up?!", Lena cried out, her eye twitching and doing everything she could to not attack Magica. "We're here because...because...", she couldn't say it. She couldn't bring herself to ask her for help.

-"...You want to buy something?", her 'aunt' guessed, gun still pointing at her head, but apparently curious.

-"No."

-"You want to brag?"

-"...No.", okay, maybe they did, but they couldn't do that. Not now, anyway.

-"Are we here to rent the room?", Gladstone chimed in, scratching his head. Lena was certain Violet explained to him on the way here...but he apparently forgot.

-"I NEED YOUR HELP!", there, she spat it. She couldn't believe she said it, covering her face afterwards. She felt Violet's hand pat her and heard Webby saying something along the lines of 'There, there'.

-"...I'm sorry? Is this...Listen, it's the middle of September, the swamp is humid as all Hell and I'm trying to set up a fan, if you're just here to brag,", she said before adding 'as you McDucks do.' under her breath, "Then you can come sometime else, these garments aren't exactly fun to wear when the humidity is 85% today so-"

-"No, we need the help. But you'd better watch your back, you witch, because if you try to betray us, I'll shove this axe right down your head!", Webby warned threateningly, patting the kitten once more. Magica actually remained silent and judged what she said, and Lena decided it was time to uncover her face again.

-"And why would you need my help?", the witch repeated, lowering her weapon. Lena could just feel smugness radiating off of her, and she hated it with every molecule of her being.

-"There's a thief in town. He's stealing everyone's abilities. Everything about them. He's stealing it. He calls himself the Phantom Blot.", Violet answered, looking rather impatient with Magica, who smiled with a hum.

-"And why should that concern me?", she smugly inquired and...well, she wasn't wrong. Lena hated that she wasn't wrong.

-"The Phantom Blot hates magic and its users. He wants to eradicate the both of them and you, if I remember correctly, are a witch, yes?", the hummingbird explained, gaining a bit more of a reaction this time: A chuckle. They really couldn't find anyone else, huh?

-"Listen, Purple, if you can remember so well, then you might as well remember that Lena over there stole all of my power. I'm in no danger of this Phantom Blot.", she shot back, a taunting smile on her beak and crossing her arms.

-"Alright, listen up you freak, maybe you don't realize this, but he doesn't know that you don't have your powers. All he knows is that you were the single biggest magical spell to hit this town less than a year ago. I'd say you're still on his hit list.", not taking any more of this back-and-forth, the younger sorceress quipped, closing her hands together and trying a smirk of her own to counter the furious frown and growl her 'aunt' gave her.

-"And you're still on our hit list, you monster! So don't try to even think about doing anything funny!", Webby added, giving her best-friends a reassuring smile, though a somewhat threatening one.

-"I don't think I care about that too much."...she didn't? Oh. Well. There goes the entire base of their plans. "My family isn't here, neither is my home, I don't have my powers, I struggle to eat half-decent food, and I can't even make any new plans after that piece of-", she stopped herself, "Sorry, after Glomgold took everything I had monetarily. In other words, life isn't looking too great for me.", she finished indifferently, though a bit sad and bitter. Huh. That's...really odd. Bitter yes, but sad? Lena wouldn't have ever expected that from her.

-"Tough luck, lady. There's a great pharmacy that sells anti-depressants on the next corner. You know. If you're like me and lost all the joy your life ever had.", the former-luckiest duck in the world suggested darkly, pointing a thumb somewhere. "Look, I don't know you, you don't know me, but please just do me a favour, alright? I need your help. Magic or whatever I just...I just need my luck bad. I need my life back. Can you please help us for the good of your heart?", he got down on his knees and begged, not showing too much emotion, but just enough to almost make you forget his bitterness a moment ago. Almost.

-"...Yeah, listen, the 'good of my heart' doesn't really exist, and even if it did, then I won't be giving it to you of all people.", well...Lena couldn't say she wouldn't say something similar to some duck she barely even knew. Unlike Magica, however, she'd actually accept. Probably. "But it seems Scrooge's thinking isn't there quite yet for all of you.", she stated, almost with disappointment, as she brought two fingers to her temple. "My life at this point is in danger...but that's not really what's motivating me here. What do I have to gain?", ah, straight to the point, are we?

-"What, keeping your life isn't enough for you?", her former-shadow snarked back, utilizing the opportunity to show no respect whatsoever. Ah, that felt good. It didn't feel good to see her nemesis laugh at her, however, as if she knew something she didn't.

-"Now, I may be misunderstanding this, but you don't have much time, yes? Phantom Bolt or whatever is already striking. Both of our lives are endangered, and if it means taking you out...well, I don't need to say much, eh?", oh, how Lena hated the smugness in her voice. They'd accounted for this, but she just wanted to punch her in her stupid beak so much!

-"Fine, does this make you any more inclined?", the younger witch pulled out a purple gem, dangling it from her finger and immediately making Magica's pupils widen.

-"My Sumerian Amulet!", she yelled, throwing herself on Lena, though not with so much force the latter wasn't able to repel her. Indeed, all the younger duckling had to do was raise a hand as her 'aunt' tried grabbing the amulet that was dangling so close to her.

-"There, feeling a bit more excited now?", the intelligent, sharp voice of Violet observed. "We know how much this means to you. Maybe you could even regain your magic with it, yes? This is as much as we're going to offer, so if you don't want it..."

-"...Fine!", came the near-instant response. Magica was biting her lower beak, looking majorly conflicted. "Alright, you have some of ol' Scroogie in you. You want my help? Fine. Fine, no really. How about we seal the deal, then? I help you with whatever it is you want to beat the Phantom Blot, you give me back my Sumerian Amulet, and we all try to kill each other sometime later, affaire conclue?", she extended a fingerless-ly gloved hand, looking all-too-gleeful about all of this. Lena knew the amulet was powerful, but the way Magica accepted their offer...it gave her second thoughts about giving her the amulet.

-"It means 'deal?', Mr.Gladstone.", she heard her step-sister tell the triplets' uncle. Apparently, he wasn't too fond of Magica's new terminology...but then again, neither was Lena. "Though I must wonder how you know of French, Magica.", the short hummingbird muttered as she extended a hand alongside the other three ducks.

-"I have some Savoyard cousins. You're not the only ones with a family here.", came the dry answer.

It took a moment of hesitation, with everyone almost certain that the other side will pull out at the last second. Then, suddenly, Webby's hand went forward and shook, or rather, grabbed Magica's. Violet soon followed, and Gladstone did as they did. That only left Lena, who stared at Magica. If she shakes this hand...she'll take orders from her again. She'll give her the amulet that will make her able to hurt her again. She didn't want to do this...but she had to. Not only for herself, but for her friends. For everyone who depended on her, she took a breath and forced her hand to shake with Magica's. It was...huh. Wow. Her fingers were tiny compared to Lena. How did she never notice?

-"Lovely. Now, you're trying to go after this Phantom Whatever, yes?", the cape-drapped witch asked, looking a bit more enthusiastic. She received a nod from everyone, Gladstone included. "Very well, I can make you an elixir to poison him, though it's going to take some-"

-"Woah woah woah, we're trying to defend ourselves here! Not everyone is a murderer like you!", Lena objected, waving her arms frantically just as her 'aunt' was going to enter her hut. She earned a disapproving stare. She hated them.

-"He's going to kill you, Lena. You're being naïve if you think showing kindness is going to change someone who's bent on murdering you.", the sorceress mocked, resting her hand on her hip. "Besides, why come here in the first place if you're all such big fans of Gandhi?"

-"We want you to teach Lena spell.", Webby replied, her axe still unsheathed, though it only gained an unimpressed look as her enemy got used to it. "We can defeat the Phantom Blot without resorting to your methods, and you'll see that yourself!", she proudly continued, lifting the axe a little higher.

-"A spell?", Magica repeated, mystified. "You...You want me to teach you a spell?! To be back where I belong? To rejoin my magical destiny-", oh, come on. Couldn't she stay clam for five minutes? Why was she acting like a hyperactive child all of sudden? That wasn't how she was supposed to act!

-"Yes, yes, all of that. Now if you could just-"

-"Ooooh, it feels good to be back!", deciding that two could play at the interruptions game, she ignored her 'niece' as she wrapped her cloak around her, covering her beak and moving her fingers for dramatic effect.

-"You are exhausting to be around, you know that?", Lena quipped, glaring at the far-too-gleeful duck in front of her.

-"I try. Now, what spell do you exactly want?"

-"We were thinking about trying a spell to locate the Phantom Blot.", Violet explained, and Lena couldn't help but notice Magica tilted her head just a teeny tiny bit. "We want to know where he is, and if possible, bring him to us.", she clarified, her dignified tone not wavering.

-"You seem worried, witch. Are you worried because you're trying to play us and now you can't?", Webby interrogated with her 'detective accent', looking suspicious to Magica's current indescribable expression.

-"No, it's not that, it's just...Locating people and things is more of a Teleporter thing...", she answered, almost begrudgingly.

-"Welp, we came to the wrong person. I told you! We needed a teleporter, we have a witch. And we made a deal. This is just fan-tastic.", ever the positive one, Lena ranted as she started walking around, waving her arms, exasperated.

-"Of course it would be you to not know magic-branches, Lena.", her 'aunt' scolded, noticing Webby's sudden axe-swing and trying to ignore the obvious threat. "Teleporting is magic. Just a branch of it. I'm more talented in the spells branch and the alchemy branch, alongside shadow-manipulation, of course. Teleporting...well, I can help you. I tried learning it, after all.", she boasted, mumbling the last part to herself more than to the ducklings surrounding her.

-"Branches, huh...And how can we know you're not just messing with us? You could be saying absolute mallarcky!", the seater-wearing duck accused, earning an undignified huff from the older sorceress.

-"I said I tried learning it, and not without some success.", she claimed, hoping to satisfy Lena's questions and just get closer to getting the darn amulet. She didn't. "Listen, my brother was a pretty good Teleporter. I'll tell you what he told me, alright?", she explained further, noticeably uncomfortable with what she was saying.

-"How come I never heard of him if he's so go-"

-"Because you've never spent more than two months in Europe, you brat! Don't you dare talk about the King Of Napoli like that!", she screamed, looking more threatening by the second. A full-blown beatdown was about to ensue if it wasn't for Gladstone, of all people.

-"Hey...I remember that name...He stole my car when I was on a trip in Europe! And my newly-won crown which I won in Barbaria!", he recounted, looking far-too-happy for what he was saying.

-"Bavaria.", Violet corrected.

-"Whatever, he just teleported in my car and stole it after throwing me out! And he had someone else with him, too!", the former-luck king continued, still looking inexplicably happy. "I never thanked him for his service! Some old lady saw the accident and thought I needed help, so she gave me one of her luxury jets to console me! Told me nobody was safe from the King Of Napopi.", he finished, a smile on his face. "That was before the whole...unlucky thing...", and now he was going to be depressed again.

-"See? Now just listen to what I tell you and you should be fine!", the elder duck ordered, apparently unable to sense the internal moment of struggle Lena had before she obeyed, taking a step forward.

-"Yes...Magica.", she muttered under her breath, standing in front of her arch nemesis' cold stare. Her friends were there to protect her. There was nothing to fear. Nothing to fear at all. This was just a forced training session. She was going to get through this.

-"I'd appreciate it if you call me Miss Magica.", and yet it didn't seem like her momentary teacher was willing to make this easy for the both of them. Holding her sly smile, she straightened her back and looked at her forced-apprentice for a second. "Let your magic run through you. Teleportation is a complex art, and all its branches need a constant flow of magic through one's self. Location is no different, let the magic run through your body.", she stated, trying to throw her cloak in a dramatic way.

-"Okay so...like this?", the tallest duckling asked, holding her right arm in front of her and sensing the tingling sensation of magic as it coursed through her. She came to control it after a multitude of attempts, so this wasn't much of a trial. "Oh, and since I might as well milk you for whatever you're worth, can I change this colour? I hate this purple.", she wondered, noting that she didn't get any reply before forcing her vocal cords to add "Miss Magica?"

-"Hmm, well, I don't know, the colour of one's magic is determined by both their will and their chosen Branch of Magic, I had to go through lots of training to change my magic's colour, and since this is my magic,", she pointed at the flame-like purple shape that surrounded her 'niece', "It's going to take a lot of time for you to change it back. But it's no special technique. Some can immediately change it, others cannot. It comes eventually.", she continued indifferently, paying attention to the magic that was radiating off of Lena.

-"Don't talk to Lena like that!", the Vanderquack reaffirmed her stance on Magica as she exchanged glares with the now-dysfunctional sorceress.

-"Webs, it's fine. I can deal with her.", her best-friend answered, turning her attention back to her teacher. Oh, how she hated that she had to refer to her as that! Nevertheless, she was surprised she actually got an answer. She expected some insults and nothing else, but it seemed that once they had a deal...she worked with it. It was...unnerving.

-"When it comes to searching for something, you must see it with your blind eye. You must both wish for it, see it in your mind, and release enough magical surges to clear the way for you. Only then will you sense where what you search for lies. For example, I have a red neckerchief in my house with a raven on it in my home. Try sensing where it is.", the DeSpell explained emotionlessly, guiding Lena a bit closer to her home.

She closed her eyes, as she was told, and tried seeing the neckerchief. Red...raven...yep, pretty plain alright. And yet...she tried releasing energy as she was told, but the only thing that was getting released was a bunch of aimless magical balls that deflated on the ground. She couldn't sense anything. She had the image in her brain, but she couldn't really...get 'it', if that made any sense.

-"Not good. As expected, you cannot properly use my magic. Perhaps you need to be more emotionally motivated to feel the 'click'?", of course it would be like Magica to benefit off this situation. Of course. Well, at least she was partially right. Lena grunted as a response, not wanting to give her trainer any more satisfaction than necessary. "Then we must up the risks a bit.", the elder sorceress claimed moving a bit to where her friends stood.

-"Listen here, Magica! Lena's trying her best, and we have no need for you! If you ever- Hey! My...bow...", in an instant, there was a 'splash'. The eldest of the ducklings turned around to see Webby without her iconic bow staring into the stagnant water of the swamp, shocked and furious at the same time. "That was a gift from my grandma!", she yelled back.

-"Oh, quit it, you want to help your oh-so-precious friends, yes? Then let me teach!", the witch shot coldly, evading an axe swing with relative ease, watching as the energetic duckling gritted her beak; they had no one to trust but her. "Now, Lena, this swamp is filled with alligators and all sorts of nasty creatures. If we don't find Debby's bow in five minutes, it might as well be gone forever. If you can find where I threw it, I'll go get it myself. Sounds good?", too good. Especially that last part. In fact, only that last part, since Lena had little faith that she could succeed.

When everyone around her went silent, the young witch turned her head to Webby. She looked distraught. Closing her eyes once more, she faced the swamp and tried sensing for the bow. Pink, small, and plain. It was a rather noticeable part of Webby. Something that clearly meant a lot for her. If she could find it...Then she'd have helped her friends. She saw it...she willed it...and she started releasing magical sparks. For a moment, just like last time, they merely deflated.

Then, all of a sudden...she felt 'it'. A guiding feeling...like an arm on her shoulders. It made her open her eyes, but she could still see the bow. She saw it. She felt it. It was pulsing...the pulsing pushed her to where it came from:...Away from the water? It was behind her. But the only thing behind her was...she turned around to look at Magica, who had a detestably smug expression on her face as she showed Lena her fingerless-ly gloved left hand. The glove had a small bulge near the wrist.

-"Seems as if I was correct.", was all she said. Lena didn't growl or frown this time. She had no reason to. It slightly angered her to agree with her 'aunt', but as far as correctness went, there wasn't much to critique here. "I learnt this little trick as a little girl. It can help you in a tough spot.", she added as she removed it from under her glove, throwing it into her student's hand. "There, I made good on my promise, right?"

...She did?...Well, yes, she did teach her. Lena thought that she didn't mention some things, such as the formula or how much energy one should dedicate, but in the end, those details were all discovered by her apprentice with no need for more external help. She, should she follow the instructions correctly, was now technically able to find the Phantom Blot.

Then why did she feel something wrong? She felt as if something wasn't quite...right, to put it simply. She expected a bigger fight with Magica. Harsher treatment. Little to no emotions, but it was just...meh. Nothing too big. She stared again the the elder witch. She was smiling. It was a smug smile alright, but it was a smile. It wasn't something she expected to see of Magica. Perhaps as a result of her disdain for her 'aunt' she, too, came to see her as incapable of being a person.

-"I guess so...", she murmured, knowing exactly where her former-teacher at this point was going. She prepared her amulet, not wishing to give it away. "Her name is Webby, by the way.", she added, not getting a response

-"I told you my brother was a good teacher.", her fifteen-minute trainer mumbled, more to herself than to anyone else, and Lena felt awkward. She stared back at her friends.

-"I...uh. Sorry about him. Dying. I guess.", she whispered but it caught the attention of Magica, and she looked positively shocked. "Don't look so shocked. Respect the dead and all that.", that came out wrong. So wrong. If she meant to disrespect him, she couldn't have done worse.

-"Heh...listen, sometimes faking death is a bit easier with magic on your side. If you're willing to share a bit more than the amulet, then maybe I can tell you about him.", she smiled again, though this was one of her more typical smiles, if still an actual smile. Huh. Curious

But just as the newly trained sorceress was about to say something, a 'zap' echoed in the swamp. There was light for a moment, and Magica had to jump to avoid the bolt that zapped a part of her hair and neck. Everyone turned in a split second to see a black-clothed figure with green eyes and a metallic glove on his right hand.

-"And I was just about to pick this four-leaved clover, too...", was the only sentence uttered for a solid minute. And by Gladstone of all people.

The Phantom Blot looked menacing. Pure, undiluted, unadulterated intimidation radiated off of his clothed figure. From afar, you wouldn't be blamed if you thought he was a medieval executioner. The metallic glove on his hand looked more electronic than medieval on closer inspection, but that didn't matter too much. His eyes, fully green by some method, conveyed little emotions, but there's something Lena sensed from him: Hatred.

-"Finally...", his clunky, distorted and terrifying voice announced, his footsteps calculated and his eyes focused. "It seems my searching has led me to the most vile of beings, at last.", he added, closing his fist.

-"The most vile of beings? Listen, I heard some nasty things about ducks, but come on man-", Gladstone tried countering, only to receive a bolt that knocked him over, making him grunt.

-"Not you, you imbecile! These WITCHES!", he cried, hatred drenching his words as he advanced. He most certainly had an accent...But Lena couldn't just pin-point it...though she thought she heard it sometime in the past...

-"These what now?", Magica repeated, apparently offended.

-"WITCHES!", he repeated, not slowing his advance as the group of ducks slowly backed off. "You come in with your magic, destroy cities with your undeserved power, and you...you're never satisfied! You always want more! You never leave something to the people who work for their power!", he ranted shooting a couple of bolts that forced the group the yell and retreat further to Magica's hut.

-"Oh. Witches. I think I still hate you, but a little less than when I thought you said-"

-"It would just be like you to show up now, huh?!", back to interrupting Magica, it was Lena who couldn't keep it in her head anymore. "I spend an hour with Magica to learn how to find you and you just show up like that?! Couldn't you have came in a little early?! Do you have any idea what kind of deal we made?!", she complained, ranting at him, and forcing him to do a double take on her words.

-"Not only are you a witch, but you are a sore loser. I could make my nonna's pasta with that much salt!", he mocked, doing a small laugh that almost sounded dead...like, the whole laughing part was there, but there was no spirit behind it. Just a sick, twisted glee.

-"Hey, hold it there for a minute, you're italian?", Magica asked, flabbergasted. Ah. Right. Sometimes Magica lost control of her British accent in front of Lena. Now she remembered. But really? This was the thing she asked about? Why would that matt-

-"Indeed, and my heart shall always remain there! It is why I find great pleasure and cleaning Napoli of your filth!", he growled, firing another shot which she barely avoided but backing her into the tree where her hut was located.

-"Oooh, you're digging your own grave here, you Blot! I am a proud Neapolitan, and the mere name is much more than wherever you're from!", she challenged, pointing an accusing finger as the other ducks stared at each other. They didn't know what exactly was unfolding in front of them, but it couldn't have been anything good.

-"Don't you dare insult Genova, you wretch!", he shot back, almost losing his nerves for a second before calming down. "No. I am much better than losing my nerves to a fiend like you! Prepare for justice!", he suddenly declared, and the speed of it made Magica unable to dodge the bolt he fired, punching her into Gladstone, who tried hiding behind her, and throwing the both of them into the trunk of her tree. She fell down with a hard 'crack', leaving Gladstone in a duck-shaped impression.

-"Wh-Why me...?!", he lamented before falling. The sorceress tried getting up but she limped.

-"Magica!", Lena yelled. Why did she yell? Why could she possibly yell?...Because if she dies, he's going after them. Definitely. She ran, trying to raise a shield to protect her from another, more frightening zap that would've hit her. Heck, even then, it shattered Lena's shield. Crud, this guy really isn't messing around anymore. But then a pink figure shined behind the Phantom. Yes! Webby was doing it!

-"How's this for justice!", she cried from behind him as she jumped, but he was good. Too good. He managed to spin his entire figure, raise his mechanical weapon and take a fighting pose at once, stopping his assailant's hit. Oh. This guy wasn't going to be any fun, was he?

-"You...Hah! It wasn't enough!", he bragged, pulling the battle-axe from his glove as his previous wielder suffered from the vibrations of hitting a metal. One powerful grab and swing from his glove sent Webby back to her friends, face in the dirt, and with no weapon.

-"What kind of justice are you hoping to achieve?!", cried Violet, hoping to buy them some time. It didn't work, and he only accelerated his assault, firing multiple electrical charges or whatever these were, forcing the ducks to separate.

-"Justice is not my primary concern, hummingbird. I am a criminal, after all, but if I can do my job and rid the world of this evil, then I shall take the initiative!", he calmly replied, not paying any attention to the fact that most of them were getting zapped or were running in terror. "But enough playing around, I do not wish to fail now!", he stopped, preparing what seemed to be a worse, more powerful form of his weapon.

-"Lena, do you think we can take him on?", Violet asked, trying to get them regroup.

-"Nope."

-"Webby, do you have any more weapons?", she turned to the Vanderquack, trying to assume to role of the leader.

-"Don't really think they're going to affect him.", she answered pulling out a few knives that looked like toothpicks comapred to her axe.

-"Mr.Gladstone-"

-"Don't have my luck; can't do anything.", came the reply.

-"...Magica?", she asked her voice a bit desperate.

-"My shotgun has one more round in it.", she declared, pointing it at their attacker, who finished upgrading himself and was about to shoot once again. "We're going to die, aren't we?"

-"Probably.", Lena answered her, watching the black-wearing man as he began shooting at them again.

Well. Nothing else to do but to face the music, as they say. Whoever 'they' is. And whatever that meant. And whatever that had to do with their situation. Oh, give her a break. She didn't have time to think about this fight of theirs. Magic versus one very wronged, apparently, and angry man and his technology. The fight of the century.

The Phantom versus The Sorceress. Time to see how long they can stay alive.

[rem289]

Q: Why are you writing this post?

A: Because during the Christmas holidays I started to receive attention from the Zootopia fandom which led me to re-discover some concepts that I thought I had made clear, and since this didn’t turn out to be true, I am forced to reiterate them.

Q: What happened?

A: I discovered that someone had reposted, obviously without my consent, an old comic of Aoimotion and mine on reddit, a site I don't like and on which I had already said not to publish my actually and old contents. This repost "reminded" this fandom of my existence, and after this event some people came to ask us questions such as "when Nick and Judy would reappear in our work?" and the like.

You can imagine how much it bothered me, so I went to reddit and wrote to immediately delete the content. Unfortunately, doing this I couldn’t help but notice how the post had become a place to waste insinuations and insults aimed at me and Aoimotion. In particular, the comments of three users stood out: @ggctuk , @owningsuperset7​ and @hammytotherescue

Q: Why did these users get your attention?

A: ggctuk, which I have no idea who they are, have proclaimed themselves as the narrative voice of the events that have taken place between us and the fandom, providing a lot of incomplete and, in the worst case, completely wrong information, about why we left the fandom and about the alleged "abusive behaviors" we had against translators.

Owningsuperset7 spoke about us (like he does every time the occasion presents itself to him), defining us ungrateful towards the fandom "that had fed us". But "fed" in what sense? It seems to me that we have been those who have definitely "eaten" very little… or likes can be monetized, just like the views on youtube, and I didn't know it? Did they break the keyboard in order to put those likes on our works? If it’s so, I'm sorry, but I certainly wasn't the one who pointed the gun at their head to follow my work. Always remember that paying attention to a work is always and only a reader’s choice. No creator has power over these phenomena, we just create and publish, the rest is always an unknown factor. So expressing yourself as a seduced and abandoned lover on an old and free work doesn’t make you a victim, it only makes you ridiculous. Anyway, I know the subject, who had already decided in the past to talk on DeviantArt before I blocked him, and I decided not to tell him anything in that moment, also because, what can you say to a person who clearly has problems that go beyond fandom? Sometimes ignoring is the kindest choice you can make.

Hammytotherescue instead claimed that he and I were friends in the past, before the duo formed by me and aoimotion became toxic. Since I had no memory of this person and I hate when someone alludes to relationships with me that don't exist, I wrote to him privately on Tumblr asking him if he could kindly refresh my memory about this "friendship" he was bragging about.

Q: How did it end?

A: The conversation, which I report below because I, unlike him, have nothing to be ashamed of, is as follows:

As you can see, Hammy never replied to my last message . But in reality the story was not over. A few days ago, in fact, I discover that the user in question "vented" in the post of reddit, not under my comment (so that I received notification of his reply) but in response to another comment that had been left to me. Showing, as always, the incredible maturity of these people.

After reading this comment, I decided to act by reporting the user on reddit, but the answer I received can be summarized as: "since you are a content creator, you deserve insults regardless." In short, a response as useful and smart as the people who gave it to me. So don’t worry Hammy, you won't be banned from reddit because the only braincell shared by you users agrees that defining a toxic and manipulative person is, to quote one of the wise moderators I talked to, "a fairly typical level of criticism". All is well that ends well.

Q: You mentioned "concepts to reiterate". What would they be?

A: Let's start by denying what ggctuk wrote in that reddit's post, given how much popularity his comments have gained.

My split from this fandom started because I simply lost interest in Nick and Judy and preferred to do something else, something of my own. Black Jack gave us the opportunity to invent many original characters and they was those I wanted to work on. We have never worked for ulterior motives other than having fun together. When we recognized that we no longer have anything to give to this universe, we declared it openly and closed this chapter of our "artistic life". This split could take place in a peaceful and calm way, I would have taken my own path and you yours, since it was obvious, since BJ times, that you had very little interest in our original contents. You also reiterated this between the lines of these last comments, so really, I make a terrible effort to understand your logic of contents belonging to your fandom. It's not your fault, don't worry. You have been spoiled by this entrenched habit of creating any anthropomorphic animal and attributing it to your precious and super-nutritive fandom. Once you labeled this attitude at heresy, now everything is fine as long as it helps you keeping this universe going, honestly, I just pity you. However it seems that your obsession with me prevents you from accepting the fact that my life would have continued even without this fandom and that I would have lived very well even without the amount of likes that fanarts could give me. Indeed my life would be even more beautiful if I didn't have to waste time like I am doing now.

Both me and aoimotion together gave you a lot, and in the end we simply got it back. Jack is a prime example: yes, he is a character born from the scratches of Zootopia's artwork, but thanks to our work he has evolved to the point of becoming a completely original character. This fandom has not been able to accept it and until the end has tried to claim him as its own, and even now it can’t accept that we have instead taken him back, and even less can you bear that we are successfully using him in our original works, which is why you insist so much on his "Disney" origin, as if this defines his identity, and for months you have made fun of us saying that we were claiming something that belongs to Disney as our own. Unfortunately, beyond a doodle and a hint of a hypothetical background, Disney has absolutely nothing. Whatever weight you have attributed to "Jack Savage" is only thanks to our work, Disney has nothing to do with your mania and it has nothing to do with everything we've built up over the years. Still, you took our job and stuck it over the "Disney" label, and that was even when Black Jack was long gone, so don’t use that excuse anymore. You even tried to attribute Cynthia to the Disney universe by calling her "Skye", since you are so desperate to keep your fantasies going, and when you had nothing more to say, you said that my art style was "clearly inspired by Disney". Did you think I could condone such an attitude? I suppose these statements derive above all from the certainly very poor culture that you have of the world outside the fandom (or fandoms), however there are artists who WORKED for Disney, who TEACHED drawing techniques at the Disney Academy and who work at own productions with that style, without anyone attributing anything to the major. If you don't believe me, try using the web for something constructive, like doing some in-depth research on the subject.

As for the matter of our alleged abuses on translators, I will only say two things: the translations started because of my naivety, and we prohibited them because the translators abused their role and went out of control, acting as if the comics belonged to them and / or as if there was a special relationship of complicity between me and them. I'm sorry I gave false hopes to these people, unfortunately I didn't have time to realize the misunderstandings that were being created and how our work was being used. There is a clear difference between the fan content and the original content, so now more than even, less our work passes into the hands of others, the better it is for us.

Now let’s analyzing the brilliant messages of Hammy, both on Tumblr and on reddit:

In both cases, what I see is a desperate need to cling to Rem's "pretty" facade while simultaneously demolishing the person behind Aoimotion. These insinuations suggest that the only possible Rem to conceive for your narrow minds is the kind and lovely one, and everything I say and do that does not fall within this definition is the work of aoimotion.

I will never go into detail about the dynamics between me and her, because frankly it’s not your business and I don’t want to give you further ground to cultivate your absurd speculations and your degenerated ideas. If you have decided to treat us as two two-dimensional characters of some fourth category fan fiction born from your fragile minds and then feel disappointed or offended by my attitude or a severe response I can give you, you cannot help but blame yourself and not who is my friend .

But you have to get it into your heads that when you talk about us in a personal way, you refer only on the basis of two web profiles. You don't know us personally and above all you don't know me. Being an extremely reserved person, I always decided to use social networks to share my artistic side or my interests related to entertainment, nothing more, nothing less. "Rem289" has always been only a blog, a showcase on the web, I’ve never attributed a real emotional and above all personal value to it, even before Zootopia. For the rest I prefer to live my personal life off the web. Unfortunately, you have been so careless as to decide to hit my personal sphere, my friendships and my affections. So no, Aoi didn’t take over between you and me, but the person behind Rem289 took over and you paid the consequences.

Still on the subject of aoimotion, it seems that the moment this comment was written on DA has remained particularly impressed: https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/765376682/4647911119

This great insult, which among other things is attributed to her as if I didn’t think the same (if not worse) about you, has become the new reason why aoimotion is ugly and bad and is the reason why she deserves to be insulted and disparaged at the slightest opportunity, even during a conversation with me in which she’s not involved in any way.

Now, since this term seems to me rather dated to be used as a matter of indignation during your debates, and since I still find it rather ”soft” to use to outline my intolerance towards you, in order to give you another thing to think over, I will give you an attribute which seems more correct to me: you are sick. Confronting you is like talking to someone who has been brainwashed. You are a broken record that always says the same things over and over again. I can't even feel sorry for you, what I feel is just a great sense of unease. (Of course there are people that still participate in this fandom and are perfectly normal, but those are exceptions and they already know we think good of them.)

And it’s precisely your illness that prompted me to dissociate myself so violently from the fandom. Not aoimotion, as you have been saying for months between an insult and another that you address to her because perhaps you are too afraid of me to address them directly to me, which is rather contradictory since I should be the sweet and pretty one of the duo. After all, it's better to treat me like a poor brainless fool who lets herself be manipulated rather than admit that I also have my own ideas and that, you don’t say, you don't like them.

Q: In any case, you have no right to deprive your fans of old content they love so much, you just want to be spiteful! Why did all your old WildeHopps comics disappear from the web?

A: The decision to delete the contents created by me relating to the fandom from my web platforms or those shared with my partner was not born in the least out of spite or "punishment" towards the members of the fandom. It was a decision made to dissociate my name and my current work from fandom, because unfortunately it created difficulties for my image and real difficulties for readers to understand (you can go on and say that if people think your work is still Zootopia-related is not a big deal, but I assure you it is). All that came after, are only and exclusively speculations built on purpose to find the most sinister reasons of why it happened. Publishing content is only an accessory part of the job itself, a percentage of the process. Deciding to publish, not publish or cancel a publication is at the pure expense of the author, and no consumer has the right to impose his will on the creator. I understand that they are perhaps too complex concepts for you, since it’s clear that you are used to measuring the value of things based on the likes they receive, but this current of thought also exists and I hope it will be useful to you someday, in the remote possibility that decide to take moments of deep reflection (which would be more and more useful than tapping your fingers on the keyboard).

(Little curiosity: in the last few weeks we have forwarded about twenty reports to various sites to remove our old contents posted there without our permission. Not only all twenty reports have been accepted, but the contents have all been removed in less than 12 hours from the date of reporting. This is to remind you that if we don’t want our content on the web, we have them removed and it’s the reposters who pay for it, not us.)

Q: Well, however you can't force us not to talk badly about you or aoimotion, in fact, you can't stop us from believing that she's been manipulating you for years. Almost certainly it’s she who is writing this post without your knowledge, isn't it?

A: The people of the web are notoriously lazy and are therefore often uninformed and constipated in developing their own concepts. They spit sentences without even knowing what they’re talking about, they choose "comfortable" truths, such as the fact of attributing to aoimotion every not nice word that comes from me, and when this phenomenon is reflected on real persons, unfortunately it’s quite difficult to manage.

We are attributed with labels, words, concepts, faults, relationships that don’t belong to us and that are difficult to get away from. A simple comment or a wrong statement towards a person can spread like wildfire and end up marking them for life. Needless to say, these conditions often prevent these same people from continuing with their activities, which instead are healthy, in a serene and peaceful way. Even now, instead of drawing, I’m writing this latest post to defend me and my partner from your sick slanders. Those who allow themselves the luxury of damaging the "active personalities" of the web are people who fully enjoy anonymity behind a screen, and often people who have the matter of regulating them (like the reddits moderators, who are a joke at best) limit themselves to considering certain behaviors "ordinary” in the creator / consumer relationship. The mere fact of normalizing certain behaviors doesn’t smooth out the rules of civilized life, makes these "authorities" complicit and therefore only adds a problem. It’s more than evident that some people are not yet able to distinguish the boundary that exists between objective opinion and direct and personal insult, but from people who lose sleep at night because they have been defined as “lunatic” I don’t expect anything less. Who knows what you will do now that I have called you sick.

I conclude with a message to the interested party:

@hammytotherescue​: I don't know how old you are, however, judging by what you write and how you write it and how you act, I deduce that you should not be more than 14-15 years old. Unfortunately I regret to tell you that the fact you are a minor doesn’t mean that you don’t have to take responsibility for your actions, and if you still have doubts about understanding where you have gone wrong I advise you to ask your parents for advice. I gave you the opportunity to confront me but you ran away to cry on a public platform. Hasn't anyone taught you that real life doesn't work like that? If, on the other hand, you are an adult, I sincerely feel sorry for you, I say this from the bottom of my heart.

I know how comfortable it is to hide behind a group or in this case a fandom to vent one's dislikes towards the individual. This time you and your friends have received the same treatment, you have not caught generic appellations addressed to the fandom but I decided to speak to you personally. My only advice is to use this experience to learn how it behaves on the web, and when you have learned it, you could teach it to all your friends, perhaps starting with @owningsuperset7​.

For @ggctuk: I hope you will appreciate my effort in writing this long post, as so the next time you talk about us again, you can use it as a reference to explain how things went 🤗

[fangirlhani]

His Love Can Heal

This is a one shot I wrote a LOOONG time ago, probably after the Sherlock special but I never posted it. Dedicating to @writingwife-83  who not only practically chided me for not posting this but also hugely helped with some much needed tweaking on her own. All the awards to you, my friend. WE MADE IT! lol Would love if you folks consider it for nominating for SAMFAs if you’re at all moved. Thanks. Enjoy!

Molly settled the bundle of papers at the table, grasping the edges firmly when a severe head rush took over her. She took a seat nearby as she slowly proceeded to put her coat on. The staff room was very cozy and warm but she was still feeling cold. Luckily, today she was feeling better than last week and she was visiting the university despite the protests of her colleagues.

She had thought it to be a regular illness. The weather was, of course, changing and slight coughing was nothing to worry about, despite the fact that it was increasingly becoming regular. It wasn’t till that one late night hour when she was going through Margie’s assignment when she had an abnormally persistent coughing fit and soon after that a faint pang inside her stomach started bubbling.

“Miss Hooper, what you are suffering from is a type of cancer that runs within your family,” her doctor had said to her. “The tumor isn’t spread over a wide area but that doesn’t mean there are no complications. There’s still hope for you. Many people don’t even come to know about cancer till it’s in its final stage. You are very lucky that we came to know about it so early.”

It felt as if someone had pulled the ground beneath her feet. But slowly, as the days went by, she had made peace with the fact that she’s going to die the same death as her father, sooner or later. Molly was at peace with that. It was a severe blow, yes. But it wasn’t as hard for her to endure as the one she had received nine years ago. Living a life in which there wasn’t a man named Sherlock Holmes was a pain she was unhappily living with for past nine years.

“I’m much better now,” she would kindly repeat to all who asked. But she knew that did not convince them. And why wouldn’t they care? Molly was one of the best Pathology professors the university had. She was an experienced and expert doctor and she had gained a brilliant reputation within the first few months of her job. She had been associated with the university for years now and everyone was convinced that the woman not only has the brain of a scientist but also the heart of a saint. It was, therefore, a shock for everyone who knew Professor Molly Hooper. The news of her illness had spread like a forest fire among students, and of course to her confidant.

“How many times..?” He paced in front of her, hands on his hips. “How many times do I have to ask you? Hm?”

“Oh for God’s sake, Mycroft!” she was protesting for what seemed like a hundredth time. “I.am.fine.”

He huffed at her stubbornness, watching her sink deep under the blanket.

“That’s enough, Molly Hooper!” Mycroft’s eyes flared with irritation. She looked away. "I had done everything you asked for, had I not? I stood with your every decision. I lied, I deceived for you Molly. I faked your marriage for you. Look at me.”

He sat in front of her and turned her head to make her face him. “I’ve loved you, Molly. Do you realize how painful this is for me?” He glanced at her with the vulnerability that was only reserved for Molly.  “I’ve lied to Sherlock, to everyone. Because that was what you wished but this… this is different. You can’t fight this illness alone. Are you even listening to me?”

He begged her once more, hoping that maybe this time she’d change her mind. May be this time his visit wouldn’t prove as fruitless as the last three. “Come back, Molly. Please, come back with me.”

She stared at him, tears forming inside her now slightly wrinkled eyes. He dropped his head with frustration when she opened her mouth to speak.

“I can’t.” A tear slide down her cheek. “Y..you know that I c…can’t.”

Mycroft sighed helplessly. Sadness crept over his features when he peered into the eyes of the troubled woman in front of him. The one he loved as his own sister. Silently he flung his arms around her shoulder in helpless defeat.

“After all this time, Mycroft…” She was sobbing over his shoulder like she once did nine years ago.

“I’m sorry, Molly but I see no other way but to break my promise and let him know the truth.” Mycroft finally said when he stepped out of Molly’s grasp.

“Professor Hooper?” A man poked his head inside the staff room after an hour later.

“Yes?” she asked without looking up from her work.

“Dr Gallus has asked for you in his office.”

“No."

"What do you mean, no?”

“My answer is no, Mycroft. After all these years… that was the whole point of keeping away from…” Sherlock’s voice trailed off. “Look, all I know is that she’s happy with her life. She’s oka -.”

“ She’s not OKAY.”

The cab was accelerating swiftly along the road. Everything around him was quite and calm. But the same could not be said about Sherlock. He was absent mindedly staring out the window, into the chilly winter night while Mycroft’s words were still buzzed inside his head.

“Only you can bring her back, Sherlock. She wouldn’t say no to you, I’m sure of it. She needs it, now more than ever.”

Sherlock had returned from a long and tiresome case abroad and was surprised to see Mycroft already waiting for him at his flat. For the past few years, such cases had become frequent for the consulting detective. And for some strange reasons, he hadn’t refused the British government every time a situation was raised that needed his expertise. Instead, he always welcomed every chance that could get him away from London for a brief time. In the struggle to continue the facade that his life was the same without her, the man had worn himself out over the years. The slight grey of his curls were the proof of it.

“She needs you.”

“Stop the cab,” he demanded suddenly. Without saying another word, Sherlock paid the cabbie and exited the cab. He was only a few blocks away from 221B, and he wanted to walk alone. His mind was racing when he walked down the footpath.

What had he not done to stop himself from remembering her? Really what had he not tried? Most days he’d worked sixteen to eighteen hours to keep his mind busy with his work. Not one day had he slept more than three to four hours. The constant activity had given him a bit of normalcy in those first few years. But when that too seemed to fail, he started taking cases aboard. All this was simply because he didn’t want to ruin the chance of what he thought was her happiness.

He had indeed tried everything except for one. He didn’t go to meet Molly. Nine years ago, when she had made a decision to move on, he had respected it. He had given her the best chance to be happy, but it was not with him and he simply accepted that fact when he let her walked away. Not a soul knew about the green velvet box clenched inside his hand when he stood in Bart’s lab with hands buried in his coat when she announced her decision to him. Not a soul knew when he slowly slipped away from wedding, he now know was fake, before its completion. Except for the woman who he thought was then someone else’s.

Sherlock yanked his scarf away and tossed his coat aside as soon as he had entered his flat. Everything played in front of his eyes, every second of it. He let his mind be deceived by the illusion of her as he dropped himself tirelessly in his chair. It had been years but he remembered it all too well.

He knew that was a mistake, a terrible mistake. He shouldn’t have kissed her like that. Shouldn’t have swept her off her feet like that but somehow that was what he felt craving for the moment they brought him back from the four minute exile. There was desperation and yearning in the act. He had known how she had felt for him. And yet, he had consumed her lips with his like this was the only thing he wished to do in all their years of association. Unintentionally so, but his secret revealed.

“ I’ll always want you, Sherlock,” he remembered how she had whispered in his ear when his lips left a trail of intense kisses down her neck.

This was when everything went wrong. That look in her eyes…it hadn’t let him sleep for nine years. That look…

The hurt building inside her eyes when he immediately stepped away from her as if she were a sickness without a cure.

If only he had known that he had stepped away from their only chance to be together…oh how he wished he had known. He had been afraid of his sentiment. Typical!

And then, she moved on. And why wouldn’t she, he had been telling himself all these years. What choice had he given her? He had never given her anything to hope for. He wasted the time when he could go to her for an explanation. In those five weeks after that incident, he had an eternity really. But then, he kept pushing his sentiments away, and pushing her away. Pushing away the truth that he simply had to finally allow himself to act on those long repressed emotions and release the passion that was so often bubbling beneath the surface between them. Was it truly a surprise to him when she voiced the message his intimate expression had conveyed? Was she truly the one to blame?

Regret! Regret is like lava, it eats you from inside and no amount of time can completely pacify its burns. That, Sherlock Holmes, had learned when his consequences had finally separated him from his best part nine years ago. The part that used to humanize him; and it was called Molly Hooper.

And now, after nine long years, he was being given a second chance.

Molly softly knocked at the door before pushing it open. She could hear Dr Gallus, the Dean, conversing with someone.

“Ah, there she is. Professor Hooper!” he said enthusiastically. “We were starting to wonder you didn’t get the message, didn’t we Mycroft?”

“Indeed.” Mycroft rose from his seat and spun to face Molly, who seemed to be in one of her moods. “I just happened to be here for some official business and Charles told me about you.”

Yeah, right. Molly huffed. She nodded but said nothing.

“Well, I won’t take anymore of your time, Charles. We should be moving.”

Dr Gallus nodded to his friend with a smile. “Of course, Mycroft. No pressure about the work, Professor,” he added to Molly. “You can return whenever you are feeling well. We can always transfer you to London if you wish a permanent position there. No problem at all,” he assured Molly who frowned and then it clicked.

“Mycroft! What do you think you are doing?” Molly whispered angrily to the man standing closely to her. “I thought we had already agreed to the point th-”

Molly froze like a statue. Words died at her lips. Something caught her breath inside her body when her eyes shifted to what was behind where Mycroft stood, and she realized for the first time that there was a fourth presence in the room. It was a sight that sucked the life out of her lungs or maybe pulled the life back inside her body, she wasn’t sure. Time, it seemed, had flown back to her in that very moment. Memories. Had it really been so many years since she saw him last?

If it wasn’t for the shock of gray at his temple and a peppering of the same color throughout the curls she would not have believed the fact that it really had been years. She saw him swallowing thickly when he slowly rose from his place and walked towards them so very slowly.

She looked up at Mycroft with shock, who simply nodded and whispered. “I had to tell him, Molly. You needed it.” She stared at him, unable to control the tears that formed inside her eyes.

“Come,” was all Sherlock’s twisted lips uttered and Molly was shocked by her own feet when they moved forward, as if she hardly had any choice in the matter.

The journey back to London was a quiet one. Sherlock didn’t speak a word during the entire ride. It was Mycroft who briefed Molly about her temporary accommodation. She looked almost afraid when he informed her that she’d be spending the night at Baker street. Afraid of her own sentiments and of…Sherlock’s. Now that he knows everything… The cab stopped at Baker St and Mycroft helped Molly out. Sherlock purposefully lagged behind. He could hear a joyous cry of Mrs. Hudson erupting from the doorway no sooner the door opened and he couldn’t stop from smiling slowly.

Mycroft glanced at his watch before getting up with some difficulty. He was, after all, not as young as he used to be and the journey had in fact made him tired. And sitting in the chair that faced Sherlock, when he looked across at Molly he could deduce her weariness too.

“I should get going now, Molly,” he accounted, which made Molly’s heart race wildly.

“Forgive the lack of conformable arrangements. I’ll take care of it in the morning. Don’t you worry,” he whispered when approaching her, and kissed her forehead with brotherly affection that was only reserved for that woman.. “Or we can simply leave things be, if you would prefer.” He didn’t wait for her reply, and merely smiled down at her when he straightened up. “You look tired. Have some dinner and some rest,” he instructed. He then turned to his brother who wordlessly followed him downstairs. When they finally stepped out on the pavement, Mycroft slowly spun to address Sherlock.

“I’ll send for Anthea in the morning.”

“There’s no need for that. If you doubt that I’ve changed my mind then I can assure you that it’s not the case. Molly is staying here, Mycroft. At Baker street…with me.” The concealed pledge in Sherlock’s tone didn’t surprise his brother. “I would personally like to take care of all her. I would attend her medical needs and make sure she doesn’t tire herself or ignore her health situation.” He looked at him expectantly before slowly adding.

“That is, of course, if she wishes to stay here.” Mycroft stared at him, pursing his lips.

Finally, he puffed the air out as if released from a very long mental torment. Picking the sides had honestly worn him out over the years because he was losing either way.

“But is it what you want too, Sherlock?” He asked him like he had asked Molly nine years ago.

When Sherlock returned, he hastened to order them some take away from Molly’s old favorite Chinese place nearby. She tried to insist she wasn’t terribly hungry but he got her regular order anyway, arguing that she could always enjoy the leftovers the next day.

They sat together at his kitchen table, ate in mostly silence, and then Molly made the move to gather their plates to clear. Before she could get up though, Sherlock stopped her with a question that she’d been expecting since they left the university.

“Are you going to be ok?”

She exhaled slowly, letting go of the plates she’d been ready to move before meeting his gaze.

“For now it seems I will be,” she answered simply.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to read between the lines and deduce what ‘for now’ really meant.

"The treatment is gone well so far,” Molly continued. “I’m relatively young and the prognosis is pretty good. Of course I’ll basically never be rid of it- the chance of it being a problem again, I mean. Especially considering it’s hereditary. It could still be that eventually this will be what kills-“

“Don’t say that.”

His request was unapologetically firm, but also naturally a bit heartwarming for her to hear. Though, it gave her pause. Apparently the idea of her life being at risk was painful, even for him to think about. Her heart ached at the thought that he might suffer emotionally because of her illness. Things looked pretty good now, but...what if?

She picked up the plates and carried them to the sink, speaking with her back turned.

“I’ll um, eventually want my position back at the university,” she stated as evenly as possible. “So don’t worry, I won’t be back here in London forever.”

“That wasn’t worrying me,” he replied, and she could hear that he’d gotten up from his seat.

“Though of course, if that’s what you want, I won’t stop you from returning to your life there. Only when you’re well enough of course.”

Molly was pretty sure she could hear him quietly advancing toward the sink and she felt her heart beating a little faster as she tried not to think about why he’d be coming closer. She finished washing the two plates and set them aside with hands trembling a tiny bit now.

She was quietly washing her hands when a deep baritone voice rumbled intensely behind her. "Do you have any idea…how many days, weeks and months there are in nine years, Molly Hooper?"

There was a coolness in his voice now that set fire to her body. The way he softly uttered her name drove such uncontrollable thrill through her veins that was almost making her daze. Biting her lip, Molly screwed the tap off. He was standing behind her. So very closely that if she had tried turning, Molly would definitely bump into his chest. She didn't dare to turn, now feeling his soft low breaths against the back of her neck.

He was now waiting for a reply that she didn’t have. Holding the edges of the sink, Molly kept staring at the last drops of water that fell from the tap.

"Have you never, for once, thought about me? About Sherlock Holmes?"

His questions were getting difficult, too difficult for her to answer. Once again she remained silent.

"I've seen you everywhere in this flat...” he continued in that dreamy voice. “For so many times that now when you're finally here, finally in front of me, my mind refuses to believe it." He paused for a moment. Not knowing what else to do to stop the tremor of her hands, Molly gripped at the edges of the sink with a firmness that was turning her knuckles white.

"It’s as if I'm dreaming.” He whispered. “If I opened my eyes..." He stopped. Molly closed her tearful eyes. "Then everything would be here…everything except you. I feel… I feel that even If I would close my eyes again ...I wouldn't be able to return to this dream. You wouldn't be there anymore.” Molly couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, so she let them fall freely. “I'm afraid of touching you, Molly. I fear that if I... if I reach out, everything will disappear, dissolve...like a reflection in water."

He was standing so close to her that if he had bent just for a fraction of centimeter, his lips would surely kiss her hair but he didn't want to touch them…unsure and afraid that he might still be dreaming about this whole thing.

"Who are you, Molly Hooper? An illusion? My dream... or a reality? Should I tell you... should I tell you that… that I..." His voice trailed off as he tried to say those words.

He fell silent. The tears falling from Molly's eyes dripped down her chin as they damped her face. Oh how long she waited for him and to hear him say that? She did not know why he stopped. But she never before in her life had she felt silence so unwelcoming. He remained silent for long. For long enough that she was compelled to turn around and as she did so, Molly finally realized why he was silent. Sherlock's face too was also tear soaked, just like hers. His gaze locked with hers for the first time.

Standing so near, they were seeing each other for the first time in their lives. Really seeing. So near that they could see each other's reflection in each other’s eyes. Then Sherlock averted his gaze, stole his eyes from her. He lowered his head as to clean his face with his one hand.

"You and I, Sherlock…what could we hide from each other? Don't we know everything about each other already," Molly said in a low whisper, her voice a bit choked. Sherlock stopped his hand at this and lifted his head.

"I'm not hiding anything, Molly." He looked at her face intensely, as if trying hard to make himself believe that she was indeed there. "I'm clearing my eyes so that you’re no longer wrapped up in mist anymore."

He glanced down and looked at her hand. The fake ornament he had seen there years ago was now gone. "I've never thought I'd be standing so close to you again, talking to you...like this." He smiled slowly but with wet eyes. Molly stood there watching as the smile gave his cheekbones an adorable lift when he did so. His smiles had always caused this effect and this used to attract Molly in a strange way many years ago and she blushed at the thought that it still hadn't lost its charm. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that Molly's heart skipped a beat when he lightly brushed his finger around her now ring less finger.

"I never thought I'd be touching your hand like this and you..." He was now lightly lacing his fingers through hers but seemed hesitant from completely intervening them. His eyes left their hands and met her eyes again. "…and you wouldn't just slap me."

For a moment there Molly looked up at the dead serious detective in disbelief. There was no hint of smile on his face. The next moment she was laughing uncontrollably, her wet face turning red because of laughing. Sherlock looked confused. "You still remember those slaps? She managed to say between her laugh.

“It was just an angry knee jerk reaction, Sherlock."

Molly was now wiping her face with the back of her free hand. He chuckled once more. The cheekbones lifted again. Molly saw his shoulders relaxed after that and felt her own racing pulse slowly returning back to normal. A moment of humor considerably dissolved the tension in the air between them. Very slowly, he slid his fingers up through Molly's and their hands finally connected. A contented sign escaped Sherlock's lips as their palms meet. They stayed like that for a moment when Molly spoke again.

"Do you want to know where I've been all these years? What I've been doing? Anything about me?" Molly asked, now desperately wanting to give him something, sooth him somehow.

He shook his head while taking her both hands and settling them upon his chest.

"I don't want to. I don't need to know anything. It's enough for me that you're here in front of me. Here with me, Molly. What more do I need to know?"

Molly's hands were buried under Sherlock's on his chest. The water had chilled her hands. She knew why he was resting her hands on his chest. Unconsciously, he was trying to warm them. Standing there, with her hands on his chest she could feel his heart beneath his jacket. It was unsteady...fast...excited...saying something...trying to say something. That was when she realized she had indeed reached his heart, and there was no doubting it now.

This man loved her…why? There was no answer to that question. The man in front of her himself would be unable to tell her why he loved her. Nor did she even ask him that question. Sherlock's eyes were peacefully closed but she could no longer see...feel the hesitation in those eyes even if they were opened. His eyes not only held what they were missing nine years ago, but they had also lost what stood in the way of his and Molly’s happiness. Hesitation.

So very slowly, Molly withdraw her hands from his grasp. Sherlock immediately opened his eyes at this. She can recognize the emotion that appeared in his eyes in that split second. Worry…restlessness...fear... Something from the three, or the mixture of them all.

“Molly…” he said with a bit shaky voice.

Molly looked at his face for a moment and then her gaze travelled downward and she saw the turned down collar of his Belstaff. Without saying anything, she reached for the heavy fabric around his neck. Sherlock looked at her in confusion. Slowly she turned his collar up.

“There! I like my detective being all mysterious.” His eyes never left her face as she did this. Molly then circled her arms around his torso and rested her head at his chest as she closed her eyes, slowly inhaling his scent.

Sherlock froze at his spot, momentarily unable to process the flames that had begun burning anew inside him. But then slowly, he responded by gathering her into his arms. He leaned down and slowly kissed her closed eyes. "Welcome home." Molly heard him whisper as he dove down, and finally the desperate lips were reunited in a melodious harmony. When Sherlock lifted her up in his arms and carried her down the hallway, all while never breaking their kiss, Molly was convinced that this was about to become the best night of their existence.

[topbeautifulwomens]

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Modifying your drop/wintertime pores and skincare regime.

(I really wished to create regarding this bestic before I wrote about createup, belead to even the most gorgeous fall make-up can seem negative on dry, un-exfoliated skin. The subsequent time I write, it’ll be entire of fun fall makeup ideas and wonderful clean merchandise, but if your skin is in bad form, it ain’t gonna matter what ya do with your makeup, so read through up!)

The coming of fall is unmistakably in the air. With its wonderful crispness, beautiful foliage, and relaxed nights by the fireplace, it’s challenging not to uncover a million and one stuff to really like about this time. Nevertheless, as the air dries out, the winds pick up, and the sunshine commences to established before, its critical to adjust your skin care routine appropriately.

After the air loses its summer time humidity, the epidermis, or top layer of your skin is impacted. It begins to lose h2o/humidity. In contributeition to that, your residence’s central warmth technique, room warmers, fireplaces, and so on, also have a drying impact on your skin. To preserve your skin healthier and beautiful, its important to make alterations to your skincare routine to counteract any negative effect the modifying environmental motives have on it.

1 of the most straightforward, most low-cost, and healthiest remedies to the dry air identified inside of is to add a humidifier in which you shell out most of your time. I use one in me mattressroom when I rest, and I are not able to notify you how much it will help.

For outdoors ingredients, some of the most tried out and true options nonetheless work the very best. Regardless of whether you use prescription skincare products, products towards your skin doctor, or products from the drugstore, they all will have to meet up with some of the identical requirements. Protect your encounter in the course of the working day, replenish and correct even though you sleep, and exfoliate useless skin mobiles. I am going to be chatting about the previous 2 observed, considering that there really are way too a lot of wonderful daytime moisturizers with SPF to title. I will say though, that if you are on a funds for your daytime moisturizer, head immediately for Oil of Olay’s Regenerist UV Safety Regenerating Lotion, offered in SPF fifteen and fifty. Question any dermatologist you see about that line, and they are going to say that Olay’s Regenerist line is very easily the best product for the benefit on the industry.

Exfoliate! The explanation of facial skin exfoliation is to remove the boring layer of dead skin cells from the area of your skin. This helps to minimize dryness and flakiness, and also his encourages skin cell switch over. There are many approaches to exfoliate your skin dependent on what it reacts to best.

Exfoliate your skin after a 7 days to remove dead or flaking skin.

My suggestions for weekly exfoliators:

Philosophy’s The Microdelivery Exfoliating Clean, or Clinique’s Exfoliating Scrub. I’ve tried possibly of these products and entirely love them for once a week exfoliations. There are plenty to select from, but I really consider both of these products are two of the best, no-are unsuccessful products on the market.

If your skin is fragile like mine is, you might want to attempt lighter exfoliations, a couple of moments a week.

Yet another choice (here’s what I swear by for my skin): Clinique’s 7 Date Scrub Product. It really is created to be delicate ample to use every single day, one hundred% perfume cost-free, and allergy examined. I use it about 3 times a week, focutilizing on the drier locations on my face. Here is with out a doubt one of my very own top 5 should-have skincare products.

(**Clinique’s 7 Day Scrub is also what I recommend to all of my brides to get started using a couple months before their large day because it is gentle enough to never cause any kind of breakout, over-drying, and so on.)

One other product that I can individually recommend is Oil of Olay’s Pro-X Innovative Detoxification Formulation. If you’ve got often wanted to buy a Clarisonic Skin Cleansing System, but have not been able to swenable the near $two hundred price tag, the Pro-X is a great way to go. With two distinct speeds, I love it, and I also love the exfoliation product scrub that it will come with. Just yet another option for ya all!

Bear in mind, the skin on your face is the same skin you get pedicures on! Treat it kindly and exfoliate carefully, and it will be very content. If you haven’t exfoliated much before, start on the protected side, and view your skin’s reaction. It’s going to tell you what kind of exfoliation performs best for you.

Moisturize!! Exfoliating solely works so well if not adopted up by a amazing moisturizer. Even though you will find no person rule or product adjustment that works per person, swaping to a heavier, prosperouser moisturizer in the fall and winter months is quite much as shut as we can get. Although some of us will still need to switch our daytime moisturizers over the fall and winter months to heavier, far more hydrating products, shelling out in a fabulous night time cream may allow you to proceed using the same daytime cream.

(**One quick but important note about your daytime moisturizer: The most important thing is to continue using one with an SPF in it (for most of us, the most affordable number we should visit for our daytime moisturizer is SPF 15.)

As the seasons substitute, spoil your face a little bit by making positive your nighttime routine involves a rich, hydrating, large-top quality product. Even though you sleep is the PERFECT time to pamper and re-hydrate your clean, makeup-free skin.

Our production is really privileged that we’ve so many high-quality products to choose from at ALL price details. I am sure many of you have your go-to products that you love, and usually are not seeking to change these every time before long. However if you haven’t found the proper products nevertheless, I can most absolutely make some wonderful directions.

For Dry to Very Dry Skin: Very first Support Splendor’s Extremely Restore Cream is with out a doubt a wonder product. If you may not need this intensive of a cream yet, keep it in head for ski season… it will be your skin’s savior!

For Natural to Dry Skin: Korres Wild Rose 24-Hour Moisturizing and Brightening Cream For Normal/Oily or Oily Skin: Korres Yogurt Cream. For Mixture or Oily Skin (works great for Normal skin in the summer!): Clinique’s Humidity Surge Prolonged Thirst Aid.

On a budget? Your go-to line is without a doubt Oil of Olay’s Regenerist. Regenerist Deep Hydration Regenerating Cream for nighttime, and Regenerist UV Defense Regenerating Lotion with SPF 15 (also comes in SPF 50) for daytime are two wonderful products to try.

For lips: Smith’s Rosebud Salve. I have one next to my bed, one in my car, and one in my makeup bag…indeed, I’m somewhat obsessed. At Sephora, you can find this product in the little pattern sized containers near where you hesitate in line.

A few more personal extremely-hydrating favorites:

Josie Maran’s Argan Oil Moisturizing Adhere. This product is a hydrating, multipurpose wonder. You may fall in love at 1st use.

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For hair/scalp: Moroccan Oil’s The Authentic Moroccan Oil Method. I LOVE this product! And, for males who experience a dry or flaking scalp during the drier months, Moroccan Oil’s Dry-No-Far more Scalp Treatment is exactly what you are looking for.

For entire body: I know you are heading to read Jergen’s Skin Crème and think, is she nuts? Jergen’s has tons of different moisturizers and names for them. The one that I use everyday and am so happy that I found is Jergen’s Shea Butter Deep Conditioning Moisturizer. Will not try any other Jergen’s lotion but the Shea Butter one. It is the best budget body moisturizer EVER!

(Don’t giggle at this one, its true!) Foolish, but they work…Kleenex Tissues with Moisture Lotion. One of the minimum utilized but best ways to not have a brilliant red nose thanks allergy symptoms or colds.

One fun idea that I love and do all the time…when you are cooking, don’t clean the olive oil off your arms, rub it in!

All of the skincare lines mentioned in this report offer you wonderful, high-quality products that I personally love and recommend. Nonetheless, it is hard to know what will work best for your face/skin without currently being able to try the real product first.

My guidance? ASK FOR SAMPLES! Occasionally we neglect that nearly every cosmetic counter and manufacturer internet site, has tons and tons of sample dimensions of their products for us to try. Consider gain of them! In opposition to now on, every time you go to the shopping mall, make it a point of inquiring for two or 3 samples of products you are curious about or wants to try. It receives you in the routine of understanding that you can test out products before committing to a big buy.

If any of you have other tried-and-true products that you swear by, please listing them in the remark part so other folks can try them out!

If there are any concerns that I can’t response, please don’t be scared touch your dermatologist for a more custom fall/winter skincare regiment recommendation. They love what they do too!:)

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