#and why is ink giving them medicine anyway???

[moccasins]

i realized i don't always have to use blog this for art..

so last night i had a dream where all the "godlike" aus, fanon or canon, were all created in a white void. the ones i could see were life, reaper, ink, error, dream, and nightmare. my dream was from the pov of error, but he didn't have his strings.

the dream started with them appearing in what looked like the anti-void, confused. none of the other aus were created yet, but us creators had made these gods to start the balance that would eventually form the aus. most of the ones there were excited at the idea, but error wasn't. he didn't know why he was there and what was happening, but as he watched from a few feet away he heard a voice calling to him from somewhere in the void. curious, he followed it.

after only a little bit of walking he met a figure, idk who it was, and they were the source of the voice. they told him that they could help him find his place among the other gods if they made a deal with him and, after a little bit of convincing, he agreed.

almost immediately some weird symbol was burned into his forehead and the sides of his eyes where his tear tracks would go, they kinda reminded me of a circuit board? or some kind of celtic symbol?? idk. he was on the ground in pain when the other gods found him. ink tried to figure out what was happening but error wouldn't respond, the voice in his head was so much louder now and he just wanted it to stop.

my dream ended with error touching the marks near his eyes and the strings came out of them and he, and all the other gods, were horrified.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Crush Gossip

*slides in with a grin* I am here and we are here for a special installment. @spotaus get in here friend!

Blue centered drabble :D

Just as promised :3

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Blue moves the cleaned plates towards the cabinet before returning to the sink. He puts the whiskey glasses in and starts washing them carefully. He really enjoyed the night and their little gyftmas celebration.

Even if some aspects could have gone better. Or not happened at all.

Blue loves Dream. He really loves his best friend. But Dream needs to stop trying to help him by getting Ink to notice him.

It is fine.

A yawn and Blue doesn’t look away from the water “You are up early.”

His brother yawns as he joins his side “You are up early.” He sounds grumpy “You are already finished cleaning?”

Blue nods as he takes care to wash the smaller glasses “Of course. I know how to handle my liquor.” And he shoots Stretch a grin before frowning “Don’t you want to sleep in? Alphys will oversleep today so not notice you skipping work for a bit and Chara isn’t meant to arrive until a few days.”

Stretch huffs unhappily “Yeah yeah I know.” he yawns again as he leans against the counter as he ignores what Blue said to ask his own question “Dream and Ink out already?”

Blue shrugs “Yeah. Dream had to go again or Core would locate him again… and Ink… Well I am pretty sure Ink left midway through the party.” Blue saw how ink had checked his phone before quickly tugging his phone away and packing his things and leaving.

It stung a little.

Stretch nods as he takes the towel before waiting for Blue to finish the first glass so he can dry “It was nice to have them over.”

Blue laughs and nods “It was great!” he smiles.

Stretch chuckles before toying with the first glass “sorry it didn’t… work with Ink.”

Blue pauses before shrugging “It is fine. It isn’t like it is a surprise.” Blue had already known there was no interest anyway.

Stretch frowns at him “Blue… I know you… I know you were excited to have Ink over. You are allowed to feel disappointed.”

Blue sighs as he gives the next glass over “It isn’t a big deal” he rushes to wash the other glasses.

Stretch frowns at him “I disagree… Blue you-”

Blue pushes the last glass into his hands “There! All clean! If you can finish that up I will go to quickly fix our puzzles!”

Stretch doesn’t make a move to dry the glasses “You just said Alphys will sleep in anyway and not notice.”

Blue nods as he puffs his chest “Doesn’t mean I have to skip too! You enjoy your morning! Make sure to drink a lot of water and you know where the medicine is and-” and Blue gets stopped by magic by the front door.

Damnit he is blue now.

Stretch speaks calmly “Blue. I want to talk about this. Now.”

Blue sighs but doesn’t fight the magic and let it guide him to the couch. Stretch puts the glasse son the drying rack and joins him.

Stretch leans back against the couch “So… the mistletoe… Did Dream tell you he was planning that?”

Blue groans and shakes his skull “No… I didn’t even realise Dream added that with decorating… I found out when he pushed us under it and pointed it out.” he rubs his cheek “If I had known I would have removed it.”

Stretch nods as he leans back “Why? I thought you like Ink?”

Blue sighs as he waves his hands “I do! But it is more complicated than it just being a matter of me liking him!”

Stretch nods along and waits as he looks at him expectingly.

Blue stares at him before crossing his arms “Ink blocked my number… I don’t know why.”

Stretch looks shocked “But I thought you two were friends?”

Blue rolls up more “We are… I don’t understand why… I wasn’t even asking anything out of the ordinary or weird. Just asked him how he was doing and if he wanted to hang out with Dream and me… When I didn’t get a reply for a few hours I send him another message to ask if he was busy. Only to get an automated message back stating the number I was trying to reach had me blocked.” It was a thing they all agreed on with the multiverse phones. That if you blocked someone they should be able to know. Mostly because if it is an emergency so you don’t waste your time with messaging someone who won’t ever see your messages.

Stretch frowns “Yet… he came to the party?”

Blue shrugs “Just because Dream asked…” Dream had asked for Blue but Blue wouldn’t be surprised if Ink just wanted to come because of Dream. Blue can’t really blame him for that either. Dream is a god like Ink. And Blue is… well very mortal.

Stretch leans back “huh… strange.”

Blue sighs “Not that strange. Dream can be very convincing when he wants to be.” Which is putting it mildly.

Stretch laughs and nods “I noticed… No the strange thing is that if Ink really didn’t want to be near you he wouldn’t have gone to a private Gyftmas party in your universe.” Stretch raises a brow “Sure he has a bad memory but he should know that at least.”

Blue frowns and shrugs “I guess… I just think he wanted to be near Dream.” Which he honestly isn’t mad about. Disappointed maybe but not mad. It isn’t like it is Dream’s fault and Dream is really trying to get Ink and him to hang out. It isn’t Dream’s fault if Ink prefers to be near him over Blue.

Stretch hums “I guess.” He shoots him a curious look “Why do you even like him?”

Blue groans as he searches for the words “It is hard to explain? I don’t even know when I started to feel like this. At first I just admired him I guess? He was a protector. Of the multiverse at that. It was just… He was what I wanted to be. Someone who did good and protect people. And then I learned he didn’t just protect others but also made more worlds? He was just… He was just the coolest person and I admired him and then I got the chance to travel with him and Dream and I just… those feelings got so much more when I got to know him.”

Stretch snorts “How? He almost destroyed our world… Why like him still?”

Blue frowns as he rubs his arm “I guess… I guess it made him look like just any other person… someone who can make mistakes. He felt more real to me after that. It also helps he helped clean up that mess and made sure our world came back the way it was meant to be.” Blue sighs as he rubs his hands “Him and Dream… After you they were the only ones who believed I could do this thing. That I could protect people and everything.” Blue doesn’t know when exactly he started to feel what he feels for Ink.

Stretch hums before groaning “It is just… You are so out of his league!”

Blue blinks and stares at Stretch “What do you mean? He is a god! I am me.”

Stretch nods “Exactly! He needed all those godly powers and stuff to do what he does. You don’t. You are amazing all on your own Blue. You always believe the best in people and believe everyone deserves another chance. You are willing to look past mistakes, the situation with Ink even proves that. You are always willing to help others. You don’t believe in killing anyone but will protect those who need it. Blue you are an amazing person. And I just can’t see how you could like Ink and why you are afraid you aren’t good enough for him.”

Blue feels so embarrassed. It isn’t as if Stretch never compliments him. Hell he always says he is the most amazing every other day. But that felt more like… brothers just being supportive. This feels like more. Maybe just because it is about Ink?

Blue mutters “It doesn’t matter… He hasn’t wanted to hang out with me alone for ages now…” he sighs as he crosses his arms and lays them on his legs to try and relax.

Stretch frowns as he thinks “Maybe he… remembered what he did and feels guilty?”

Blue huffs as he looks to the side “He would have to choice to feel that. He needs his paints to feel… Look I knew from the start this crush was hopeless okay?” he hugs his legs closer “And it isn’t his fault he can’t feel like normal monsters can… or that he lacks a soul… I don’t blame him for any of that. That would be stupid. I know he has no interest in me like that…” it is why Blue feels so bad about Dream trying to help set them up.

Blue laughs as he rubs his socket as he feels the itch “If he likes anyone it would be Dream as Dream used to be able to make him feel things at least a little… Now however? I don’t know.” he lays his cheek on his leg.

Stretch frowns before nudging their shoulders together “Well… We can’t know either way. They are gods. Hell if we know what their reasoning is.” He smiles “Maybe he is just busy or distracted? And he accidentally blocked your number?”

Blue shrugs but lets himself lean against his taller younger brother “I guess.”

Stretch hums as he leans his skull on top of his “My point still stands. You are allowed to be disappointed.”

Blue shrinks in on himself “It is just stupid. I knew it was never going to work… Even if he felt anything for me it wouldn’t work as he is a god and I am not.” And he doesn’t want to be an outcode. He can’t give up his world and brother. He already almost lost both once before and he can’t deal with that. “It is just…” he feels sad “I just thought maybe he wanted to send some time with me… that we could just enjoy some time together as friends. But I guess even that isn’t that important to him anymore. Maybe it never was.”

Stretch leans heavily on top of him “You don’t know what he is thinking Blue. Maybe he really is just very busy with god stuff. Don’t you always say that you can’t assume what other people are thinking?”

Blue feels embarrassed but nods “I do… It is just… hard sometimes…” It just makes him feel worse for not being able to follow his own advice.

Stretch hums “Why not tell Dream? That you appreciate his help but know it isn’t going anywhere?”

Blue sighs and mutters “Because I did but Dream doesn’t believe in anything being impossible.” Stupid gods and their meddling.

Stretch laughs “I can imagine. Why not tell him it bothers bothers you?”

Blue shrugs and mutters “I don’t want to worry him. He is already dealing with a lot and well… It isn’t like a stupid hopeless crush is that bad of a situation…”

Stretch hums “I guess…” He thinks for a moment before grinning “Wanne see if we can meet up with the others? Just the six of us to explore some unsuspecting universe?”

Blue blinks and grins at Stretch “Seriously?”

Stretch grins and shrugs “Paps and I haven’t bothered Edge into relaxing for a while. It will be good for that stick in the mud.” He grins.

Blue blinks before nodding “Yes.”

Stretch grins as he pulls out his phone and starts texting “You get dressed. I will start up the machine.” And he blinks out of view.

Blue goes to his room and gets dressed. His hands pausing on which bandana to wear. His hand hovers over the grey one with beautiful blue details. He had gotten that in a present the year before and Blue never figured out who gave it to him. He had hoped that… well it doesn’t matter now. Blue quickly grabs his normal blue bandana and rushes down to meet up with his brother.

Stretch grins as he holds up his phone “I got confirmation from everyone that everyone is down. Sans is setting up the coordinates for us already and Edge is bringing snacks.”

Blue smiles as he wiggles in place. It will be nice to just enjoy some time with his dear friends. Just to take his mind of his hopeless love life.

Hell maybe he, Edge and Paps can go clubbing! That has been a while and will be nice to relax and let go a bit.

The machine starts up and a beautiful green portal opens. Stretch and him step through to enjoy a day out.

*-------------------------*

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[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[Spoilers below cut]

oh my spaghetti gods.... they actually made the episode

Ha ha, I love that for them honestly. I figured that the Team would put out one of these after WOTFI, it would be either a regular silly episode, a "Mario Reacts", or a Remaster.

...OMG I haven't clicked on the episode and I just realized something: you know how at the end of WOTFI, Four proposed the idea of taking some of the abandoned stuff in Puzzle Park and bringing them to the Showgrounds? He can now have the teacup ride

that was slick as hell

(the following is my live reaction:)

of course, you GOTTA present the WOTFI merch

also james and luke just goofing around gives me serotonin :)

Mr Puzzles: "...Now you're 5% less disgusting to look at." :0 that has so many implications but I'm not gonna say it

ANYWAY That's-a so nice!

THE TEACUP RIDE

Alright, everybody who drew baby Four, we gotta get on it again

sorry,,, just them :)

also, Three, it was your idea dude

THE OATS "Now with less fun! :)"

just the way Four hid behind Three [*head in hands*] chat, I'm not going to make it by the end of this episode

The Star Trio (TM) everyone

...wait, does Three actually smell like peanuts or is it just for the meme? [*writes that down*]

Four: "My only suitable parental guardian!" Four, Karen's right there

I can't believe the retirement home is in America smh (like no seriously)

AY there's Old Man Hobo

this reminds me of that one scene from the "You Used to Be Cool" episode

(if you couldn't tell, Three's one of my favorite characters)

PFFT HAHAHAHA THEY KEPT THAT IN I'M DEAD DUDE

Three, why do you need medicine? you just got turned into an old man

MASTER OF DISGUISE

PINEAPPLE ON PIZZA?! MARIO WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, ITALY IS GOING TO REVOKE YOUR ITALIAN CARD

the nurse jumping out the window... [*thinks back at Mr Puzzles' Clubhouse when Max jumps out of the window*] sorry WOTFI flashbacks

anyway, they're adorable

huh i guess prison-UH I MEAN- the retirement home has a basketball court, who knew

HE DROPS THE SOAP I'M SO GLAD THEY KEPT THAT IN

...wtf is that slop?

also blue goo- [*loud airplane noises*]

Three: "Meggy? Is that you? You look uglier than usual-" DAMN well, it's good to know that you're still Three

The two frames-per-second running animation, ah a classic

BINGO NIGHT (no no Ink, bingo night was last week) (aw man)

Three, it was your idea bruh

also you're in the SMG4 universe for how many years? plot convenient devices are the norm, Three

HEY SWAG

Hal's here too!

they do be scheming

...wait [*DRAMATIC GRASP*] THE SONIC X THEME SONG!!! 🎶ROLLIN' AT THE SPEED OF SOUND (MAKE TRACKS) QUICKEST HEDGEHOG AROUND, GOT OURSELVES A SITUATION, STUCK IN A NEW LOCATION WITHOUT ANY EXPLANATION, NO TIME FOR RELAXATION-🎶 [*gets shot*]

despite everything, it's still you :)

if I had a nickel for every time an old guy says "No Mario, don't", I'd have two nickels. It isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

THE OATS CAME BACK FULL CIRCLE BABY

Frof the SnOATman :)

"On that day, the FBI learned the true meaning of Christmas: oats" SOMEONE MAKE THIS INTO A MOVIE

wait, FBI, you JUST noticed Four and the getaway car?

"dig a hole...poison the guards...KILL the the witness."

The hole, the poison, the old man being the "witness". Wow, Three's plan actually worked! Well, except for the "kill" part, the old man still lives. BUT STILL!

this part was actually emotional wtf

"Good to have you back, SMG3! ...SMG3?" aw 💙💜 (i ask for so little)

Three: "man, I think that was my dad..." Four, once again knowing they came out of USBs: "...ok"

CARNIVAL YAY you better not drop something on me bc (1) it's too soon and (2) you Team like to torture me

PFFT just putting Four's regular head on a baby body is everything

ferris wheel jumpscare

and AY james got to be credited for the writing (i mean, obviously)

And congrats to ggf0ur for having your art in the end credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Another fun and silly episode, just what I needed after school work and WOTFI. Still can't believe they made it into an actual episode haha! Having the Star Trio in an episode is always a blast! I truly enjoyed this one.

As much as I find it funny that Four needed Three as a parental guardian to be on the teacup ride, it would be a bit better if the reason for the age gun was that they never got to be actual kids, unlike the rest of the crew. Then we could've gotten baby Four and Three, oh the possibilities. Maybe that's just me idk, but I'm happy with what we got.

And the Ferris wheel in the Showgrounds again, at this point it's a sign. I have to gather my thoughts together for my "Ferris Wheel Wedding" idea.

Fun Fact: for those who are wondering, the WOTFI website is surprisingly still up! Ofc you can't put submissions in anymore but I find it hilarious.

Fun Fact 2: the guy who made the faces for Mr. Puzzles has a proper Twitter now (link)! Go and show some support to the Team! I do want to bring it up because the Team may have made some editing/animation errors (like the subtitles having SMG4 instead of SMG3) and people are getting upset about that, but it's literally not a big deal. I know the Team is trying their hardest to bring out episodes every week. Besides, mistakes could go under the radar, it simply happens.

Now, if you excuse me...

DON'T BLINK, DON'T THINK, JUST GO GO G-G-G-G-GO GO (n-n-n-n-n-na, n-n-n-n-n-na) SONIC'S ON THE RUN, SONIC'S NUMBER ONE! SONIC, HE'S COMIN' NEXT, SO WATCH OUT FOR SONIC X! GOTTA GO FAST (SONIC), GOTTA GO FAST(SONIC)! GOTTA GO FASTER FASTER FASTER FASTER FASTER- [*gets shot again*]

[recurring-polynya]

Despite absolutely despising the Disney Pinocchio film as a child (stories where characters were naughty caused me a great deal of anxiety), I watched Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio last night.

1) It also caused me a great deal of anxiety 2) I read that Guillermo del Toro made it because the Disney version also freaked him out as a child

That’s not the important part, the important part is that I am now obsessed with the four rabbit grim reapers who are voiced by Tim Blake Nelson:

At first, I was convinced that they must be a reference to the Black Rabbit of Inlé from Watership Down. I have never read or watched Watership Down. My relationship with Watership Down is that everyone I know irl who has read it was traumatized by it, and a lot of horror writers I like were inspired by it. I refuse to read it, thought, because Ursula K. LeGuin says it’s a shitty male power fantasy, and I always listen to Ursula.

I looked it up though and it turns out those rabbits are canonical to the book. What the fuck?? To be fair, I read the wikipedia synapsis of Pinocchio and Carlo Collodi was wilding. Wikipedia makes no mention of the rabbits, though, but I was able to find the part where they appear:

"Aren't you afraid of death?"

"Not a bit. I'd rather die than drink that awful medicine."

At that moment, the door of the room flew open and in came four Rabbits as black as ink, carrying a small black coffin on their shoulders.

"What do you want from me?" asked Pinocchio.

"We have come for you," said the largest Rabbit.

"For me? But I'm not dead yet!"

"No, not dead yet; but you will be in a few moments since you have refused to take the medicine which would have made you well."

"Oh, Fairy, my Fairy," the Marionette cried out, "give me that glass! Quick, please! I don't want to die! No, no, not yet--not yet!"

And holding the glass with his two hands, he swallowed the medicine at one gulp.

"Well," said the four Rabbits, "this time we have made the trip for nothing."

And turning on their heels, they marched solemnly out of the room, carrying their little black coffin and muttering and grumbling between their teeth.

In a twinkling, Pinocchio felt fine. With one leap he was out of bed and into his clothes.

The Fairy, seeing him run and jump around the room gay as a bird on wing, said to him:

"My medicine was good for you, after all, wasn't it?"

"Good indeed! It has given me new life."

"Why, then, did I have to beg you so hard to make you drink it?"

"I'm a boy, you see, and all boys hate medicine more than they do sickness."

"What a shame! Boys ought to know, after all, that medicine, taken in time, can save them from much pain and even from death."

"Next time I won't have to be begged so hard. I'll remember those black Rabbits with the black coffin on their shoulders and I'll take the glass and pouf!--down it will go!"

I found an illustration, too!!

Never in my life have I considered having some grim reaper rabbits stroll into my house in order to threaten my children into taking their medicine.

Anyway, thank you Guillermo del Toro, for never shying away from taking something weird as Hell and completely leaning into it. (I’m still incredibly pissed at Encanto for trying to turn 100 Years of Solitude into a feel-good family film)

[12-toads-in-a-trench-coat]

since river asked: here is an older infodump :)

so um basically technos this big gruff man, hardened by years of war and violence and fighting, but phil is just as rough-knuckled and like theyre on opposite ends of the spectrum, like techno is angry and mean and doesnt speak and doesnt trust anyone because of it, but phil is friendly and chirpy and hes still so full of love and he wears his emotions on his sleeves and i imagine technos voices getting to him. and its dark in his house and phil just comes over, presses their foreheads together, takes techno's fists, unfurls them and says something like "you can rest now. unclench your jaw, the war is over" in that soft voice and techno subconsciously does so, and he just silently breaks down and falls to his knees and phil just holds him and rubs circles on technos back and theyre so comfortable in each other (also i like to think wilbur comforts tommy by rubbing circles on his back because phil did to wilbur as a child)

i like to think techno was the one who thought of friendship emeralds he comes home after like, weeks of being away and its because he wanted to find the perfect emeralds and he doesn't let phil into his house while hes making them and phils frustrated cause thats a shiny thing he has to see the shiny thing and techno makes them into matching shapes, puts it onto a necklace and is very embarrassed when he gives it to phil so phil wears his on a necklace and techno has his as an earring

i like to think techno has bad proprioception(basically knowing how much force ur putting out and where your body is in time, and space, its an autistic thing most of the time) so phil noticed this because techno would always get steve to lie on him and hed have cloaks that were really really fucking heavy, so phil made techno a weighted blanket

i also think phils a cartographer so his hands are always covered in ink, glasses reflecting the flickering lamplight as he works late into the night techno coming home at an ungodly hour: u still up? why are you still up? get into bed right now and phil just being reluctant because its a really cool updated version and does techno see this massive fucking river how cool is that and techno just smiling fondly and bringing phil to bed and on sleeping sometimes i think techno would be afraid of sleeping cause he has nightmares of the wars hes been in and phil just comforting him, staying with him the entire night

techno waking up like: brooo u didnt have to say the whole night did you sleep at all? and phil just going: its fine idm techno stressing that hes depriving his friend of sleep and phil just treating it normally just like its nothing

and phil tries so hard to make a medicine that makes technos voices go away, or at least subside and techno finds him, asleep at his desk and hes so worried about his best friend he literally carries him to his bed

and techno doesnt like the potions cause they taste horrible and he doesnt like potions all that much cause he thinks they make him weak but he drinks them anyway because phil cares

oh and techno gets cold really easily like a strider from minecraft and when he sleeps hes in this cocoon yeah. i just like them. big gruff old men who are scary and traumatised but who find solace in each other <333333

no matter how cringe i become, i will always defend emduo with my entire FUCKING life EMERALD DUO MY BELOVED

[robininthelabyrinth]

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Lan Wangji does not think it’s safe to raise A-Yuan in Cloud Recesses after the Lans participated in the killing of his zhiji and the entire Burial Mounds community (or more accurately that it’s not safe while he himself is in seclusion and can’t watch over A-Yuan, at least) so he delivers A-Yuan to the one person who he knows did not stand against Wei Wuxian (and got away with it, bc this person has never stood against anything, since standing takes effort): Nie Huaisang.

Little Side Door - ao3

Nie Huaisang’s rooms in the Unclean Realm had a little side door that no one but him ever used.

They hadn’t originally. The Unclean Realm was a fortress, designed to maximize protection and defense; there was no better place for keeping things safe by locking them away. While it had its fair share of boltholes and escape routes, they were not common and universally difficult to access lest the enemy learn of them and use them to their advantage. Even the layout of their open spaces were carefully planned lest the attack come from the sky, a concern that only cultivators had, and not about how they themselves could escape – after all, weren’t they all Nie, ready to die rather than endure dishonor?

The little side door that led to Nie Huaisang’s room opened onto a small rock garden, left to grow wild with weeds rather than reveal its presence to more people. It existed only because his brother had ordered it constructed by those he trusted most, all in secret in the dark of the night. He had never explained why he had gone to such lengths to create such an unwelcome and inauspicious place, but then, he hadn’t needed to – Nie Huaisang had been there, too, when his father had descended into madness and they had been trapped in the familial quarters with no way out that did not take them through him. If his brother had been the one to brave his father’s rage directly, Nie Huaisang had been the one stuck in a small space that was only not claustrophobic because it was so painfully familiar.

Now, though his father was long dead and gone, Nie Huaisang had a little side door.

A little side door, and a little garden that almost no one knew about; in combination with the saber that his brother forced him to learn and the golden core he had so begrudgingly formed, he now had a way to reach the sky and the illusive freedom it represented – the freedom to flee and leave his home behind.

If it ever happens again – his brother had said once, the closest he had ever come to speaking of it.

He did not finish his sentence, as Nie Huaisang had thrown his plate into his face and stormed off, steaming mad and close to tears. He did not raise the subject a second time.

Nie Huaisang did not often use his little side door.

Although he enjoyed gardens, he preferred the aviary he’d constructed, or one of the myriad of well-tended gardens in the main part of the sect; even the vegetable gardens out back beside the kitchens were far more welcoming than that sparse straggle of land. He’d only ever spent time there when he was a child and in desperate need of some quiet, wanting to avoid adults with their arguments and their miseries; he’d taken some friends there because he thought it might impress them, but it hadn’t, and anyway his brother had put a stop to that soon enough.

He didn’t even think about the little side door, most days. It was just a part of the room, a small tucked away corner with nothing in it. Nothing to think about.

And then, of course, years after he’d put it out of his mind entirely, there came a terrible banging noise at that little side door, like someone was kicking at it furiously from the outside.

Nie Huaisang nearly fell over sideways in his scramble to get up, and then once again when he realized where the noise was coming from – almost no one knew about his side door and its little garden, and so no one had ever come to him through it. Who would be knocking now…?

He opened it.

Lan Wangji, white robes stained with blood and cheeks bright with fever, shoved something into his arms. “You have a child now,” he said through bitten lips. “Congratulations. He is called A-Yuan. I entrust you with his care, for my sect cannot be trusted with it.”

And then he turned and staggered away, mounting up on Bichen and flying off before Nie Huaisang could say anything – before he could even finish searching his memories and recalling that yes, in fact, Lan Wangji had been one of the friends he had shown the side door to, years and years before, and thus knew how to find it. Before he could even start processing the thousands of thoughts that had spring to life, fully formed, at all the information he’d just received: the bloody robes, the desperation, the reference to the Lan sect – the Lan sect! – being somehow untrustworthy…

He looked down at his arms.

“Congratulations,” he echoed blankly. “I have a child now.”

The child blinked up at him, and then smiled.

-

“Da-ge!” Nie Husiang howled, rushing into the sect leader’s study where his brother was doing work – luckily it wasn’t receiving hours and he wasn’t in the main hall, as that would have been unfortunate. “Da-ge, you have to help me! I have a child now!”

His brother stared at him, expression blank and mouth slightly agape. The brush in his hand dripping ink onto a now-wasted piece of paper.

“Huaisang,” he said after a moment. “What the fuck.”

Nie Huaisang nodded furiously.

“Where did you get – how – who – what did you do?!”

“I am currently unable to disclose any details,” Nie Huaisang said promptly even as his brother tossed aside the brush and got up, striding over with a storm brewing in his face. “All I can say is that I have to raise this child now. By which I mean, you have to help me raise this child now; I can’t raise children! I’m not mature enough to raise a child!”

“No kidding! Why would someone entrust – to you…” Nie Mingjue trailed off, looking down at the child with a frown that shifted from disbelieving irritation to concern. He pressed his hand to the child’s forehead. “Huaisang, this child has a high fever. We need to get him to the medical wing at once – is that blood?”

“Not his, I don’t think?”

“I don’t want to know,” his brother decided. “Move.”

Some time later, they were both sitting next to the bed in one of the spare rooms in the family quarters; Nie Huaisang thought it might even have been the same one that he’d used when he was very young. A-Yuan was sleeping, and Nie Mingjue was still holding his little hand in his own, having been clocked as the oversize comfort animal that he not-so-secretly was from the very first moment A-Yuan laid eyes on him.

The doctors had declared A-Yuan’s fever to be very severe, but they had applied plenty of medicine – the Lan sect might have more esoteric healing techniques, but there wasn’t anything like the Nie sect when it came to standard medicine for injuries and illnesses associated with the battlefield, and despite A-Yuan’s tender age Nie Huaisang would be willing to bet that his injuries were from a battlefield. They were confident that A-Yuan would make a full recovery, body and mind both intact, although they warned that his memory of the past might be impacted.

Nie Huaisang had thought about all that blood that wasn’t his, of Lan Wangji pale-faced and wild-eyed, and decided that a little bit of forgetting might not be so bad after all.

“Are you going to tell me anything more,” his brother said after a while. “Or should I just give up now?”

Nie Huaisang leaned over and patted his knee. “It’s good that you know your limitations.”

His brother rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he remarked.

“What part?” Nie Huaisang asked, curious. “The fact that we have a kid now, because obviously we’re keeping him? Or the fact that someone gave a kid to me?”

“Both,” his brother decided. “Definitely both.”

-

“His name’s A-Yuan,” Nie Huaisang said. “Apparently.”

“Well,” his brother said. “Obviously that won’t do.”

-

Nie Huaisang had the ability to be sneaky when he wanted to be. It wasn’t a matter of stealth, he had explained to his brother, but sneakiness– a completely different concept. Stealth suggested that he was doing something to conceal himself and required skills and talent, or else a lot of practice, and obviously Nie Huaisang was not going to go in for either of those.

Sneakiness, though…

He didn’t need people not to be able to see him in order to be sneaky. He just needed them not to care about him, or wonder where he was.

“Psst,” he said, knocking on the window to the rooms where Lan Wangji was purportedly practicing seclusion. “Psst! Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji had given him a child. They were definitely past the ‘Lan-er-gongzi’ stage.

“Lan Zhan!” he rapped at the window with his fan. “We need a courtesy name!”

There was some sounds from within the jingshi, mostly stumbling around. Nie Huaisang waited patiently, and after a few moments the window opened and Lan Wangji stared out at him. He was as pale as a ghost with lips as red as blood, and very clearly not in seclusion at all, but rather in the midst of healing whatever wounds had left him bloody – he probably shouldn’t have gotten out of bed to answer.

Oh, well. Too late for regret now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lan Wangji said, voice dull and eyes blank as he stared at Nie Huaisang. It was unclear if he meant in the Cloud Recesses generally, or here in particular, interrupting his ‘seclusion’.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nie Huaisang said, scowling at him. “We need a courtesy name! A courtesy name for the child, you hear me? You know, of course, that Qinghe Nie don’t use personal names, not even for children – certainlynot for children older than their first year. It’d be a complete giveaway that he’s not organically ours if we call him something like A-Yuan.”

Lan Wangji raised a hand to pinch his nose. “Please go away.”

“Courtesy name, Lan Zhan. I mean, I may be the one who’ll be raising him, but please think carefully: do you really want meto be the one naming him?”

“…call him Sizhui.”

“Sizhui,” Nie Huaisang repeated. “With the characters…?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“Uh, no,” Nie Huaisang said. “I need a bettercourtesy name. Are you joking?”

“Nie Huaisang. Go away.”

“But –”

Lan Wangji slammed the window shut.

“…fine,” Nie Huaisang said to the closed window. “Be that way, see if I care. Not like we don’t need to build up a decent coparenting relationship or anything eventually.”

He thought he heard a choking sound from behind the door and smirked.

“Don’t you think you can baby-trap me and just walk away, Lan Zhan,” he said in his best ominous tone. “If you wanted someone to raise your kid without ever consulting you again, you should’ve dropped him off in the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, who’d probably be too busy being confused to even question where he came frome – but no. You came to me. I don’t make decisions in the best of times, least of all good. I have questions. A lot of questions.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“Not about how you got him or anything like that,” he said. “I’m not stupid, I can tell a secret when I see one. But, you know, other types of questions. Parenting stuff. Are you a ‘go sit and think about what you’ve done’ sort of parent? Or more traditional discipline, with copying lines and occasionally strikes when they’re naughty? Do you want him to learn the Lan sect rules along with the Nie sect principles –”

There was a muffled sound from inside the house.

It sounded angry.

“…we can talk about it later,” Nie Huaisang decided. He might’ve pushed his luck a bit too much. “Talk later!”

-

“You have a…what?” Lan Xichen asked, his smile a little fixed and stare a little wilder than normal.

“A nephew!” Nie Mingjue gushed. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

“Nephew.”

“He’s so well behaved, too! He plays quietly by himself most of the time, drawing and even writing a little, and Huaisang’s already teaching him how to play the dizi –”

“When you say nephew, do you mean Nie Huaisang’s child?”

“Do I have other brothers?” Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him. “He’s obviously not yours. Anyway, I know Meng Yao is expecting one, too, but he wouldn’t be dressed in Nie colors if it was his, would it?”

“Yes, but…are you telling me that…that Nie Huaisang…”

“It’s a battlefield child, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said patiently. “Obviously. Someone entrusted him to Huaisang.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said, looking relieved. “Yes, that makes more sense…wait.”

Nie Mingjue waited.

“Someone entrusted him to Nie Huaisang?”

“I know, right?” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen didn’t notice how strained his grin had suddenly become, or how thoughtful his eyes were as he surveyed Lan Xichen as if trying to find an answer to a question. “I would’ve assumed they’d go for someone more responsible, like you. Guess you never know…”

“I guess you don’t,” Lan Xichen agreed, looking down at the child with a bemused expression. A battlefield child, entrusted to Nie Huaisang… “They must have been truly driven to desperation.”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, and then changed the subject to little Nie Sizhui’s accomplishments, of which he could list many at great length and very great enthusiasm. By the time he was done with that, Ln Xichen was so overwhelmed that he didn’t ask a single other question.

-

“So I’ve got an idea on how to do this whole co-parenting thing,” Nie Huaisang said, cracking nuts to eat. He was sitting next to Lan Wangji’s bedside, and dropping the shells straight on the floor, too, staring dead-eyed at Lan Wangji as if daring him to say something – which he wouldn’t, of course. “Since with Sizhui starting classes soon it’s become much more urgent, on account of me needing you to attend meetings with his teachers and discuss his progress.”

Lan Wangji looked deeply long-suffering. He’d only invited Nie Huaisang inside because Nie Huaisang had threatened to start shouting out his business loudly on account of oh but Lan Zhan, how was I to know if you could hear me in there, I just had to raise my voice just in case because I wouldn’t want you to miss any of the extremelyimportant news –

It was all Lan Wangji’s fault for being born earlier than Nie Huaisang, Nie Huaisang thought virtuously. It was merely Nie Huaisang’s lot in life to fulfill the role of annoying younger brother to everyone.

“See, it’s the music,” Nie Huaisang continued. “You do music, right?”

Lan Wangji’s ice-cold glare suggested that he did, in fact, ‘do music’.

“So your brother has been playing this song for da-ge on a regular basis,” Nie Huaisang explained, ignoring the glare entirely. “And when he’s not available, which is most of the time nowadays, he’s been sending san-ge instead. Even though, of course, poor san-ge’s so busy back at Lanling all the time…ughh, it’s so unfair, you know! Poor san-ge has to do all the work of being the heir and gets none of the benefits, and they pile even more work on him on top of that – really, he gets no respect.”

Lan Wangji’s expression suggested he didn’t care.

“And think about the inconvenience to us!” Nie Huaisang sallied forth, undeterred. “People coming and going all the time, da-ge having to interrupt his schedule of spending quality time with me and Sizhui – and sect leader work, of course, though that’s less important – in order to march over to greet them and host them and listen to them…what a pain it is!”

Lan Wangji appeared on the verge of suggesting that Nie Huaisang consider getting to the point.

“So you should come do it instead.”

Lan Wangji’s expression cracked, suggesting that Nie Huaisang had actually managed to make an impact.

“You remember,” he said, voice low and a little hoarse from all that refusing to speak he’d been doing. Really, if Nie Huaisang wasn’t around to goad him into it, he might’ve lost the voice entirely – he didn’t even have little Sizhui around to force him to speak! “That I’m in seclusion. Right?”

“You’re horribly lonely is what you are,” Nie Huisang said briskly. “You require company. Therefore, coming to take up a semi-permanent posting in the Unclean Realm to play the Song of Clarity for my brother morning, noon, and night is clearly the finest way to solve all of our problems, and for you to see little Sizhui as often as you like.”

Lan Wangji visibly wavered. “My brother,” he said, then coughed. “My brother will never believe it.”

“That’s your problem,” Nie Huaisang said. “Find a way to sell it.”

He stood, shaking the remaining shells onto the chair.

“See you in Qinghe soon, Lan Zhan..!”

Lan Wangji was trying to kill him with his mind, Nie Huaisang thought happily as he wandered off with a whistle and a vaguely silly expression. Good – he’d been inside for too long. He needed the stimulation.

-

“Truly,” Nie Mingjue remarked, strolling around their gardens without any apparent notice of the small child perched on his shoulders, giggling wildly at the feeling of being tall, “I feel far better than I did before! One can scarcely compare it – night and day, really. Your Lan sect’s Song of Clarity is a marvel, even if it does take a while before it kicks in.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said, walking slowly with his hands behind his back. He was still unsteady on his feet on account of the absolutely horrific injuries he’d incurred – but if the Lan sect’s response to everything was seclusion, seclusion, seclusion, then the Nie sect’s equivalent response was exercise. These little excursions through the gardens were the result.

Thus far, they were still only doing laps around the main gardens, but Nie Huaisang had plans to eventually force Lan Wangji to go even as far as his own little side garden. He’d made it through his side door once, after all; why not a second time..?

At any rate, Nie Huaisang still wasn’t quite sure how Lan Wangji had talked Lan Xichen into allowing him to come to the Unclean Realm, but it really did make the whole co-parenting business a lot more convenient. And his brother had had so much fun making Lan Wangji stiff and awkward over all his thanks and praise for his decision to come ‘help out’ with Nie Sizhui’s raising until finally, at last, Nie Huaisang had taken pity and revealed that Nie Mingjue knew perfectly well whose battlefield child this was.

Both in terms of who had gifted him to Nie Huaisang, and who’d adopted him originally, and of course even his original surname – The little tot’s been through enough adoptions to make anyone’s head spin, his brother had said, his voice gruff as always. There’s no point in thinking back too far, is there?

Lan Wangji had been very relieved.

“Run, bobo!” Nie Sizhui cried, pointing over at a bird. “We need to get it for Sang-gege!”

Nie Mingjue snorted like a bull but obediently quickened his feet and left the rest of them behind, heading in full charge straight at the wild pheasant that was far more likely to end up on Nie Huaisang’s plate than in his aviary. It was about even odds which one Nie Sizhui meant, anyway.

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji said, his voice low, and Nie Huaisang looked at him. “The Song of Clarity does not take time to work. These effects should have happened at once.”

Nie Huaisang opened his fan, hiding his face as he frowned. “How odd,” he said. “And after san-ge put in all that hard work.”

“Perhaps he played it wrong.”

“Odd,” Nie Huaisang said again. “When san-ge gets so very little wrong…has your brother sent any word on the Xue Yang issue?”

“…he has not.”

“He’s going to need to pick a side eventually.”

“He does not want to make things difficult for his sworn brother.”

“Does he have only the one?” Nie Huaisang asked archly, and Lan Wangji averted his gaze. “It’s awkward for us if he doesn’t back us, and is a bad look besides…truly, it’s a wonder that san-ge managed to squeeze out the time to come here.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened. “Indeed,” he said. “One would think his father might be tempted to stop him.”

“Wouldn’t you just?” Nie Huaisang said. “Wouldn’t you just…you know, maybe when you’re feeling better, we should go visit Lanling ourselves.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him, arching an eyebrow, and Nie Huaisang smiled, fanning himself casually.

“I’m not the only one with a little side door,” he said. “Let’s go knocking and see what we find, shall we?”

[twosides--samecoin]

Thank you for your ask 😊 I really enjoyed answering it. So! What are some aspects of Mac that you personally feel that the fandom overlooks/handles poorly?

The good thing is his character is really not handled all that poorly by the fandom. The game definitely handles him worse on the basis of giving him a story that couldn't actually be finished and fully explored by leaving his child back in D.C. RJ Very Good Dad Whom Do Get The Medicine And Then Stays In Boston And Does Nothing is the biggest pet peeve anyone's done to the character. Fandom-wise, I would say these are "little annoyances" - if anyone holds these headcanons dear, that's cool, I don't hate on that, but the following is decidedly not for me:

Dirtbag Trashman: Ok I know his looks sorta lend themselves easy to the comparisons to ferrets, foxes, opossums, rats and whatnot; the SkinNakedDirty texture is turned WAY up on his character model, but he is not dirty, ok?? Why do some of y'all WANT him to be the Pig-Pen in the F4 Peanuts gang??

....at least not in my game he isn't dirty...

Literacy, or Lack Thereof: This is one of those headcanons I don't like for a few reasons. There's headcanons that he "read comics" that had words that were too faded to read and he made the stories up as he looked at the pictures as a kid. Sure, fine, I'm not mad at that, comics printed on crappy paper probably don't hold ink that well 250+ years on if you can find a copy without damage anyway.

My first question is why would anyone assume he specifically can't read versus any other companion? We know Lucy got her medical knowledge from textbooks; from that we can assume there was some form of teaching happening at Little Lamplight for children to learn reading and writing.

Piper is the only one we see making a living from writing but I never see anyone making those headcanons towards other characters - would Cait have learned to read or write given her abusive childhood, existing post-war outside of the structure of our society where schools aren't necessarily attended by kids and social work basically doesn't exist as a profession? It's a fairly big assumption that anyone just has the skill to read and write in the post apocalypse, and framing illiteracy as MacCready-specific has never sat well for me. Realistically there would be a lot of adults who're unable to read or write but for me, he learned to read and write alongside Lucy in Little Lamplight. Older kids taught them and it's part of the responsibility of getting a little older in LL. He helped teach the next generation of kids. For my convenience as a writer, he needs basic literacy to send letters to Duncan, anyway.

One headcanon that didn't work for me in the opposite way was that MacCready had intellectual pursuits because he knew of Henry David Thoreau. With respects to the OP, it was gleaned from a line of dialogue near Thoreau's cabin, but it's a location where everyone has a line to say. HDT is a massive influence in my personal life + writing and while RJ can read.. he's not reading Thoreau. He's generally disdainful of pre-war people and how they handled the world, resulting in a ruined one he has to live in, so he's not seeking out philosophical texts on how some Mungo named Henry who lived 400 years before his time thought people should live. What good did that do for his world? I headcanon him (in the beginning) as deeply regretful, unable to really enjoy anything too much. What hobbies? There are none. He'd read Thoreau if it would make Duncan better and solve his problems, but reading for enjoyment would largely be a waste of time. Each time he enjoys himself or isn't doing things for Duncan, it means (to him) that he's not being a good father. Something taps him on his shoulder to say it's not his place to read a book or take time off. He exists in a state of penance, in the beginning.

However, I do very much headcanon him as being receptive to Thoreau's many wisdoms (Walden and Civil Disobedience in particular) and as some of my fave classic works in literary history, I honour those texts by having those concepts introduced to him in a future chapter. I wrote the chapter before I saw that headcanon, because I always had the intent to involve literary history/discussion, so it was funny when I saw that and I was like, yes! But not like that!

I just want my readers to know that society fuckin' sucks and we all gotta touch grass and I- *gets pulled offstage*

[15-dogs]

new hire |n.s.|

pairing: newt scamander x apothecary!reader

summary: you’re hired as the new apothecary at newt’s favorite establishment, and he finds himself attending the store more often to buy more and more ridiculous, unneeded items (all the fluff!! coffeeshop (technically apothecary) au, pining)

warnings: none

guide: (Y/N) = your name, italics = writing

word count: 3.9K

a/n: this is my take on a coffeeshop au!! i feel like newt would be more subject to visiting apothecaries than coffeeshops so i used all the basics of a coffeeshop au and changed it to an apothecary!! i hope you like it :)

Newt was positive that his Dittany was somewhere. He shook every drawer upside down, went upstairs to check his bedroom, back downstairs to turn every stone for the second time, then back upstairs to recheck his belongings before he admitted that he was out of it. 

He huffed, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he debated whether or not to pick up Dittany then. He ultimately decided that he didn’t want to risk getting into an accident where it was crucial to have on hand and come up empty so he threw on his vest and coat, making his way towards the apothecary store down the street. It was a small place disguised as a pharmacy on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. The building wouldn’t appear to muggles as it truly was, allowing for wizards to slip in and out unnoticed.

“Oliphant & Bailey’s Medicinal Supply” was painted onto a metal sign that swung outside the store, the metal sign bracket whining every time the wind would pass. Newt smiled at the familiar words before entering, being greeted with the smell of fresh herbs that were drying out on racks by the door. 

His eyes scanned the jars along the shelves, finding the Dittany hidden off to the side from everything else. He let out a content sigh as he attempted to snatch it off the shelf but it didn’t budge. Newt looked around the store with confusion and finally realized just how crowded the place was.

“Mr. Scamander!” a woman called out. Newt whipped around, finding Vancity Oliphant with a trail of boxes floating behind her, her dress robes pressed to perfection. “We haven’t seen you around here in quite some time. Where have you been?”

“Busy, mostly.” Newt shrugged, fiddling with his hands.

Vancity began to twist her wand, various potions flying onto the shelves. “Well, one thing’s for certain: we missed you. We’ve been getting an increase in business recently--” Vancity turned towards Newt, leaning in close “--the whole nonsense that that man, Lockhart, has spun has everyone panicked. He told them that if they don’t turn to holistic medicine, then there would be a greater chance that they would be attacked by a troll. Ridiculous, sure, but business has been outstanding! We even had to get a new hire!”

Newt gave her a placating nod, hoping that the conversation would be over soon. “Right, that’s fantastic-”

“Isn’t it?” Vancity rounded the counter and beckoned Newt to follow her, passing the people in the line who seemed to have been waiting for quite some time. “Anyway, how can I help you, Mr. Scamander?”

Newt nearly sighed with relief at the question finally being asked. “I tried to pick some Dittany up off the shelf, but it wouldn’t budge-”

“About that,” Vancity let out a low breath, dipping her head with disappointment. “With the uptick in sales, we’ve had an uptick in accidents. People were knocking our things off the shelves and it just took too much time to clean up and rebrew and whatnot. So we fixed everything down. Only employees can pick things off the shelf.” Vancity snatched a slip of paper, quill, and inkwell off the counter and slid them towards Newt. “We started to provide customers with these sheets so they can fill out what they need and we pick it up for them.”

Newt, knowing that the sooner it would all be over the better, simply nodded and began to fill out the form. Vancity chuckled before taking the form in her hands.

“One vial of Dittany coming right up, Mr. Scamander.” And just like that, she disappeared into the back room.

Newt glanced around the store and wondered if there was anything else he needed before he left. He spotted a few herbs off in the corner that might be of use but, as his gaze caught on the already irritated line, he decided it was in his best interest to pick them up another time.

“Mr.-...Sarmander?” a voice called out.

Newt whipped around, taken by surprise by the new face. Your face. He felt a strange sensation in his chest when he looked at you, like a sense of warmth had flooded through him. You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering why he had been staring at you for so long.

“Are you Mr. Sarmander?” you repeated, shaking the bottle of Dittany in your hand.

“Scamander,” he corrected as he approached you.

Your cheeks heated up at the mistake. “My apologies, Mr. Scamander. I just read what was off the paper but apparently I wasn’t looking closely enough.”

“I have truly terrible handwriting.” That was a lie. Newt didn’t know where it came from. “Thank you.”

“Have a lovely afternoon, Mr. Scamander!”

He would have one now.

•••

Newt was having some trouble making progress on his novel in the next few days. He had barely drafted a page of anything because he was too focused on the interaction that the two of you had only 4 days prior.

He knew you were kind. He could see it in your eyes. Even if he only spoke to you for just a moment, he knew it was true. And you had a lovely smile. One that was so lovely you must’ve flashed it at everyone and left them thinking about it as much as Newt was.

Newt shook his head, breaking himself from the trance he was in to look at his blank page. Writer’s block was not faring well with him. So he stood up and threw his jacket on, realizing he could do with the fresh air. As he was leaving his house, he stopped short in the doorway, snatching some money from his kitchen table. He might as well grab some more herbs while he was out.

No more than 15 minutes later Newt was entering Oliphant & Bailey’s. The store was empty for once, but he figured it would be for a Monday morning. Newt made his way to the counter, rocking back and forth as he awaited an attendant. To his dismay, Rita Bailey revealed herself from the back room.

“Mr. Scamander!” she cried. Rita leaned over the counter, furiously shaking his hands in hers. “How have you been?” Newt opened his mouth but she didn’t give him time to answer before she was speaking again. 

“I heard you were in here a few days ago. It’s not often that we see you in here twice a week. Are you out on something?” Rita’s eyes widened as she seemed to beat her own question in her head. She leaned unbearably close over the counter and whispered, “Is your Swooping Evil not producing? Because Vance and I have some products in the back. Stuff on the side, if you-”

Vancity, who stood in the doorway of the office, cleared her throat, calling the attention of her partner. Rita’s head whipped around, a sheepish grin plastered on her face.

“Rita,” began Vancity, her voice stern, “I need you in back to help with the budget.”

Rita stood to her full height, motioning towards Newt. “Well, who’s gonna help Scamander, then?”

Vancity leaned into her office, speaking to someone with a jerk of head towards the shop. There was a muffled reply and the sound of shoes clicking against hardwood, pacing around the back room.

Newt’s heart began to beat just a little faster. He didn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing. Then he caught himself. What was he getting his hopes up for? He wasn’t expecting anything, and he certainly didn’t care if you were there or not. It’s not like the back of his neck flushed and his cheeks started to heat up when he saw you exiting the back room.

“Mr. Scamander,” you stated. Newt let out a shaky breath; your voice was so smooth, the words sounded almost practiced as they fell from your lips. 

You brushed one hand off on the little apron that was tied around your waist and the other was used to magic a quill and inkwell onto the counter. You reached into your apron to pull out a slip of paper, dotting your quill into the ink. “How can I help you today?”

“I need some ingredients,” he shot out quickly, looking down at the counter.

You chuckled softly as you scribbled in a box, drawing his attention upwards. “What kinds of ingredients?”

Newt took in a sobering breath as you finally met his gaze. For a moment, he forgot what he came there for. “Mandrake root and Moonflower Pollen.”

You gave him a dutiful nod as you jotted the items down. You tossed the quill and paper up in the air, the quill finding its place by the inkwell and the paper rolling itself up and flying into a cupboard below your legs.

You scooted out from behind the desk, walking up past Newt towards the racks of herbs. You picked up the dried up roots of a Mandrake, holding it up at him. “This one okay, Mr. Scamander?”

“Perfect.”

You moved to another counter, freeing a small paring knife from your apron. “I have to ask you, Mr. Scamander,” you began as you chopped up the root, “you seem to be buying a lot of medicinal supplies. Are you a Healer?”

Newt chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “No, I’m a Magizoologist.”

You halted in your motions, looking up at him. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” His response was no more than a single exhale, the words barely forming as he stared into your eyes. He finally peeled himself away from your gaze to continue. “With the creatures I work with, some healing skills are of great use.”

You hummed in response. “I can imagine.” Flicking your wand, a small mortar and pestle flew to your side. With the blade of your knife, you scooped the chopped up root into the bowl and began to grind it to a fine powder. “You know, I was always interested in Care of Magical Creatures back at Hogwarts. I was never all that good at it, though. Not like I was with Herbology.”

Newt’s eyes were trained on the root being cut up, too afraid that looking would cause him to meet your occasional glance up and make a fool of himself. “I’m actually writing a book on magical creatures at the moment.”

“Really?”

“If you’d ever like to study magical creatures again, I could give you a copy.” Newt’s heart began to flutter at the way your eyes lit up.

You stopped in your motions of preparing his Mandrake Root, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “That would be wonderful.”

After packaging up the now-crushed root into a small, beat up tin and handing it to Newt, you paced around the counter with another tin in hand. You approached a glass jar full of yellow pollen in it, using the scoop inside to portion out a generous amount.

“How’s this, Mr. Scamander?” 

You tilted the tin towards him, Newt leaning in to examine the contents. Before he could answer, a quiet sneeze came from his coat. You pulled the container back, your brows furrowed as Newt became flushed. He hesitated to reach into his coat, turning to the side as he pulled Pickett, his Bowtruckle, out and scolding him just out of earshot.

“No, Pick, I didn’t forget about-...she didn’t know you were-...don’t blame this on her! She did nothing-”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted. Newt froze, cocking his head to see you practically leaning over his shoulder. “I have to ask, is that a Bowtruckle?”

Newt exchanged a glance with Pickett before popping him into his pocket, Pickett’s head resting just outside of the heavy fabric to stare you down. “Yes, he is.” You fought a giggle as you leaned down to stare at Pickett in the eyes. “He has some-”

“Attachment issues?” you finished. Newt’s eyes went wide as he gave you a nod. A smile flickered onto his lips for just a moment. You looked up at Newt from your position then stood to your full height. “I’ve heard of that being the case with Bowtruckles before.”

Newt simply nodded again, too distracted by the fact that you were just inches from his face. For just a moment he could have sworn that he saw your eyes flicker down to his lips, his breath getting caught in his throat.

“I have just the thing for your Bowtruckle,” you whispered before moving away towards another shelf.

Newt shivered and let out a sigh, his chest thundering. Finally, he realized you had moved away and followed, watching with a close eye as you broke off the tiny fruit of a strange purple herb that he couldn’t place.

“What’s his name?” you asked while you pulled the fruit into halves.

“Pickett.”

You turned around, offering a half of the fruit to Pickett. Pickett perked up, looking up at Newt for permission. You chuckled at the interaction while Newt pulled Pickett out, letting him sit on his finger.

“Well then, this is for you, Pickett.”

Pickett shared one more look with Newt before taking the fruit and gnawing on it instantly. He let out a happy squeak and jumped onto your arm, crawling up to your shoulder as he continued to snack on the fruit.

Newt let out an impressed laugh at the sight. “Pick doesn’t quite like strangers,” he explained.

You turned your head to eye the happy Bowtruckle, petting him with the pad of your index finger. “Suppose we’re not strangers anymore, are we, Pick?”

“Newt,” Newt shot out quickly. He continued to stare at his fingers while he toyed with them. “You can call me Newt.”

Newt only looked up when he saw your hand come into his field of vision, all delicate and strong. He took your extended hand and shook with careful vigor, the corner of his lips quirking upwards.

“Then consider us friends, too, Newt. I’m (Y/N).”

•••

Newt began to frequent the apothecary more often than he needed to. He always seemed to be running out of something, and he always seemed to arrive just when the rush died down. His list of items he needed appeared to grow longer and longer with each visit, but you never once gave his service to another employee.

The thought of you ran tirelessly through Newt’s head at night. His heart would beat just the slightest bit faster when he thought of that gorgeous smile you would flash him when he walked through the door, almost like you were expecting him to be there. 

Oh, Merlin, and that disarming chuckle that tumbled from your lips when he would trip over his words. It instantly calmed Newt down, his stammer fading away slowly.

Distracted from his writing again, Newt decided to pay you a visit at the apothecary. He snatched the coat of the back of his chair and ran out the door, his heart getting lighter with each step towards the store. Once he arrived, he swung the door open and looked up, only to find that you weren’t there. He frowned, but approached the counter and waited.

“Mr. Scamander!” Vancity cried as she exited the backroom. “How can I help you?”

Newt leaned over slightly, checking to see if you were in the back before the door shut behind Vancity. “Is (Y/N) here?”

Vancity let out an apologetic sigh. “Sorry, Mr. Scamander, she’s out sick.” Newt opened his mouth to speak but Vancity predicted his next question, silencing him immediately. “She doesn’t know when she’ll be back, either.”

“Oh. Right.” Newt focused on the counter, trying not to meet that horribly embarrassing sympathetic look that crowded Vancity’s face. “Will she be okay?”

“She’ll be perfectly fine. Nothing she can’t handle. It is her job to supply medicinal supplements, after all. Now, is there anything I can help you with?”

“No, actually.”

Newt wasn’t sure what Vancity said left-- his mind was too full with strange thoughts about the nature of your relationship. You were friends, weren’t you? That’s what you said to him the day you met Pickett. So if you were just friends, why was he feeling so lost without you there?

Newt took his time walking back to his house, his mind off someone else. He couldn’t help but recall the way you made him feel with your kind heart and witty humor, your soft eyes and enchanting smile. Just remembering that made his cheeks heat up.

As Newt entered his home, he walked into the basement and opened a cupboard to prepare the food for his Glow Bugs when a few tins from Oliphant & Bailey’s fell onto the counter. That’s when it hit him. He didn’t need all those herbs. He never did. So why was he going?

It was so plain. It was all there, the facts laid out in front of him: Newt Scamander had feelings for you. It was so incredibly obvious that he wondered how he didn’t notice it before. And it wasn’t a normal attraction, it was a stupid schoolboy crush; the kind where he’d go through ridiculous measures just to get your attention.

He groaned and threw his head into his hands at his epiphany. What in Merlin’s name was he supposed to do?

•••

Newt revisited the apothecary day after day, awaiting your return. After about a week of the constant rejections, he decided to let it go for the time being. It was frustrating, to say the least, to not hear how you were doing. He was more concerned about you than he was about acting on his feelings, because Merlin knows when he’d do that.

As Newt ran through the possibilities of what you had come down with, a knocking came from his front that snapped his attention to the forefront of his mind. He opened the door and stared, slightly confused at the sight before him.

“Theseus?”

“Nice to see you, too, Newt,” Theseus scoffed, embracing his younger brother into a tight hug. Newt stood quite stiff in his arms until he let go.

The younger Scamander rested an arm against the doorframe, leaning against it to make himself look much taller next to his brother who just happened to tower over him. After settling into the awkward position, Newt asked, “What brings you here?”

Theseus reached into his pocket to pull out a small notice, placing it into the hands of Newt. Newt frowned before unravelling it and scanning over its contents.

“It’s a notice from the Ministry. Next date to get your international ban removed.”

“Ah.” Newt raised the note in the air, casting a silent spell to have the paper zip itself down to his basement. “I’ll see you then, I reckon.”

Newt tried to shut the door but Theseus put his foot in it, prying it open to face Newt once more. Theseus held out a hand as the other fished through his jacket pocket to pull out a few small vials of Dittany.

“Just in case,” Theseus added sheepishly. “You always used to run out of this, and I can bet you still do.”

Newt flashed a grateful smile at his brother before his eyes caught on the label of the bottle. That same label that was plastered on every herb in his basement.

“Did you get this from Oliphant & Bailey’s?”

“I did, actually.” Theseus snorted, an amused grin on his lips. “The Apothecary there, the new one, she knew you. Recognized my face and asked if I was related to you, ‘the more handsome Scamander’. Her words, not mine.”

“When did you get these?”

“Right before I came here, why?” That familiar devious smirk grew on Theseus’ lips. “Do you fancy the girl, Newt?”

Newt lit up instantly, regardless of Theseus’s teasing. He sucked in a sharp breath and turned towards his coat rack to grab his jacket, slipping it on with great haste. Newt pushed his brother aside, casting a spell to activate the wards at his house.

Newt practically ran to the apothecary, the door swinging open to find a mass of people in line. He didn’t care. He pushed to the front, resting when he got to the counter. He scanned the store, trying to find you but came up empty.

“Newt?”

The sandy haired man whipped around, finding you walking out of the backroom, boxes in hand. Newt sighed, a warmth spreading inside of him at the sight of you. He ran up to you and alleviated the weight from your hands, resting the box on the counter.

“How are you feeling?” he asked through labored breaths.

“I’m...fine. Were you just running?”

Newt was never a good liar. He always got caught one way or another. “Yes…? I desperately need some Dittany.”

A knowing smile toyed at your lips as you raised your brows at him. “Dittany? Did your brother not give you the two vials like he said he would?”

Newt Scamander: expert in magical creatures, failure in lying.

“...right. I meant that I need some of that fruit you gave Pickett a few weeks ago.”

You snorted with laughter before pulling out the form and filling it out with the items, name, and his home address. You cut through the throng of people, snatching a tin up and preparing some of the fruit for Newt.

He began to rifle through his jacket pockets in an attempt to find some money for the treats he didn’t really need.

“How much is it-”

“It’s on the house, Newt. I’m pretty sure you’re our best customer, anyway.”

Newt looked up at you for a moment, his lips curling upwards at your kindness. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. You know,” you began as you labeled the tin, “being sick wasn’t all that bad. Kept me away from work and all. Let me take a break.” 

Newt nodded, feeling selfish for wishing you to be at work all the time just so he could see you. “Right,” was all he managed to say.

“The worst part”--you shoved the tin into Newt’s arms-- “was not seeing you.”

The tips of Newt’s ears began to heat up. He wanted to say something clever so desperately but all he managed to do was stare at you in complete shock, eyes wide and jaw slack. 

He watched as your eyes flickered down towards the tin, seemingly awaiting a reaction. Newt furrowed his brow before glancing down at the writing on there, blinking in shock. He reread it a few more times, only looking up when he heard you chuckle.

“Is this serious?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because it’s-- well it’s-- it’s me, and you’re you. You’re just...you’re you and I’m me, and I just didn’t think that you’d feel that way-”

“Newt,” you cut off, laughter spilling from your lips, “I happen to like you being you. Funny how those things work.”

Newt couldn’t process what you had just said. It was like everything in the world had tipped in his favor all at once. Just that gorgeous, encapsulating smile on your face was proof enough for him.

“Reckon I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” he finally managed to say, backing up the best he could towards the door.

“Tomorrow night,” confirmed. Newt was nearly at the door when you called out, “It’s a date!”

He slipped outside, getting a breath of fresh air for the first time in 15 minutes. He ran a hand through his hair, just then realizing that his heart was pounding out of his chest, his grin so wide that his cheeks began to ache. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t be bothered to. Newt looked down at the label one last time, chuckling at the note.

Thursday. 7 PM. Your place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

general taglist: @pandaxnienke @lunalovecroft @for-bebbanburg

[cafeinthemoon]

Madara with s/o who’s secretly developing a new (and dangerous) jutsu 🔥

And finally we have the third Grandpa with is s/o doing dangerous things under his nose haha As I said before, each Founder’s part ended up too long so I divided the request in three and I hope the anon who requested it don’t get mad at me because of this XD Anyway, if you want to read what I wrote for Hashirama and Tobirama, you can click on their names 😉

Now let’s go to see Madara’s reaction!

Fandom: Naruto | Madara Uchiha

Symbols: 💗 | ◻ | ▶▶

As you can easily imagine, things are way different when it comes to Madara in such situation

Because unlike his partners who took some time to actually go after you and find out what you’ve been up to, he does it right at the first night

Okay, you use to went out every night for your personal training and that’s not strange at all, but that time he notices little differences in the process

An extra pack of ink tub and scrolls that you decide to put on your bag, a change of clothes (something you never carry with you in normal training sessions), extra medicine, these kind of things

Everything is pointing to two possibilities: whether you’re going to stay out for longer or you’re creating/perfecting a technique, and a complex one

Madara is not only an observant man: he’s curious, and unlike the Senjus the idea of invading your privacy is not enough to stop him from following you that night

It’s how he finds out you’ve been working to create a new jutsu

But you’ve created other jutsu before. Why would you have to hide the process of this one from him?

The only way to find out is to watch you perform it and understand of kind of jutsu you’re creating

At first, he’s content in doing it. He’s interested in your technique, as well as to see how far you can get with it

But at the end of the session, he notices you’re more tired than you usually get after training

The obvious explanation is in the jutsu: it is not finished yet, so the amount of chakra it demands is yet to be defined. But he’s confident that you’ll soon find a way to fix this

He’s careful enough to go back home before you so you don’t notice he was out

When you cross the door, he comes to help you since you’re exhausted. He does the basic stuff to take care of you: runs you a bath, washes your hair, change your clothes, bring you some food and take you to bed

He has done this before after you came back from difficult missions

He also avoids questioning you, so you never get suspicions

And things stay like this for the next days

However, Madara sees that your tiredness is increasing at each night, and contrary to what he thought, you don’t do anything to fix the problem of chakra control

Is it possible that you’re unaware of the problem? No, it can’t be. You’re smarter than this

And because he refuses to see that you are in fact unaware of it, he doesn’t interfere, and your bruises and waste of chakra get worse as time passes

(Still, the jutsu is progressing in its other aspects, so you’re hopeful about completing it in the next days)

One night, he finally acknowledges your failure and decided to intervene

And thank God he does that in time

Now the jutsu is almost complete, you are almost at the final stage of your work and making the final moves, but the possibility of this being your death is real and Madara can’t let this happen while he’s watching

When he leaves his spot and grabs you in his arms, stopping you from completing the hand seals, you are frightened

You weren’t expecting to have company, and once you look in his eyes you understand everything

He has been watching you all this time, and maybe in the previous nights, ready to take action in case things get out of control

But things are under control right now, so why did he do that?, you ask yourself right before passing out with exhaustion

When you wake up, you notice you are back in your room. Each part of your body hurts and the morning light enters through the window. You can’t even think clearly

Only then you realize that the amount of chakra consumed by your jutsu was something abnormal (and that you should have paid more attention to that)

After falling asleep and waking up again, you finally manage to remember what happened that night: you were about to do something really irresponsible, but lucky you, Madara was there and stopped you

You look around and spot him entering the door with some medicine

At the exact moment your looks meet, he leaves the medicine aside and approaches you

He sits by your side and puts his palm on your forehead

“Fortunately, y/n, the fever diminished during the night. It is probably the effect of the treatment I’ve been applying to your bruises”

You don’t reply. You just nod with the energy you got

“Some of them will heal soon. Others are more serious”

How serious?, you want to ask

“Serious enough to keep you on this bed for the next days and not even think of performing any jutsu during this period” he says as if he just read your thoughts

There are many things you want to say, you want to ask, but you sense this is not the time

You two just exchange a look that says everything: you will talk about what happened when you’re recovered

Madara is a practical and organized man when he needs to be

He chooses a good medical ninja to examine you as the first measure and makes sure their instructions are being followed

However he prefers to do everything by himself

Not that you find it bad, though: he knows you better than anyone, so he knows how to take care of you

If you need to leave the bed for a moment (because lying all the day can be tiring too), he takes you out of the room at the right time. If you just want to stay quiet and alone in bed, he leaves you there

He seems to sense any minor discomfort you have and act to diminish it: a massage to cease the tiredness in your muscles, a lotion to the bruises that are still burning, stuff like this

Finally you are fully capable of leaving the bed and the house without help

You’re not getting back to work yet, but now you’re able to have the conversation about the incident

You tell him everything from the start: how the idea of the jutsu came out, your reasons to take it ahead, your measures to protect yourself and why you didn’t give up despite the risk of the technique

You also explain that no, you never noticed the failure responsible for the unbalanced chakra consumption that almost killed you. You only noticed that when you were under the treatment, and were willing to tell this to him

Madara listens to you without interrupting. Indeed, he seems interested in everything you have to tell about this jutsu

At the end of your explanation, you understand why

He says he has been observing your progress with the jutsu since the first night, when he found out about your project, and that he quickly noticed the failure in it

However, he didn’t want to interfere and were hoping that you would fix the failure soon, which you didn’t. And that’s why he stopped you from finishing the technique

Here you see the difference etween being with Madara and being with anyone else: somehow you’re not surprised to know that you’ve been followed, nor angry that he waited to stop you in a crucial point. Instead, you’re willing to know what he has in mind. You never think of the present; it’s always about the future

“Y/n, at first I was just moved by curiosity about your secret project, but the more I learned from it, the more I wanted to know. Now that you revealed the ideology behind it, not only I find this jutsu of yours impressive, but I believe it would be a mistake not to finish it”

You hold your breath. But you almost died because of this jutsu ???

He smiles, guessing your thoughts

“I will help you to fix the failure. And then you will try the jutsu on me”

He states that though he can understand the theory behind the jutsu, there are some details he can only check if he experiences it on himself

You can’t help smiling

Yes, it’s a practical solution for a big problem, but it also points out Madara’s level of self confidence and enthusiasm. The proposal sounds like something only he would do, and this is so funny

Yet it’s your only chance to save your technique and make all your hard work pay off, so you accept it and immediately start to make plans

Of course it will take some days until you can go to the first session because you’re still weak

But once you get better, you will start to work

When the day finally comes, you are nervous, but determined

The first thing Madara asks you is to perform the technique and be prepared, because he will stop it at the moment when the failure shows

He wants to understand where exactly is the problem

You do this a few times until he finds it

You make a pause and he explains the situation. You say you noticed the nature of the failure too, but couldn’t find a counteraction for it

Well, Madara has an idea, and he tells it to you

It involves changing one or two hand seals and alter the way you manage your chakra at same moment

You try again following these instructions. It’s not that easy, but you do your best

And to your joy, it works

You try other times, and soon your body memorizes the procedure

You write down new notes on your scroll and revise them with Madara

At the end of the day, you are tired, but feeling rewarded. You also apologize for not asking for his help before, even though you already told him you wanted to prove your own value by doing everything by yourself

He says you don’t need to apologize now that the jutsu is finally completed, and makes you promise that you will always try your new techniques on him from now on

You laugh hard at this and do your promise

[lapinlunaire-games]

(ʃƪ〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃) fake out make out scenarios with the ros? (or just Ailbhe ( ´ω｀*) )

escandalo! here goes (the rest of H&H companions are under the cut, Ailbhe just goes on top because they were ✨ requested ✨

Ailbhe: would have to happen in an established (but perhaps not publicly official) relationship for them not to Freak Out (bad). You visit Ailbhe's sister Flora at her clinic to gather a few magical ingredients, and accidentally walk in on a heated argument between them regarding Flora's ~ wild child ~ ways (yes Ailbhe suffers from eldest kid syndrome yes i am only a little bit sorry). Flora goes into the back to get your order and Ailbhe turns their agitation to courage and asks you to help them give Flora a taste of her own medicine. It works out pretty well, though you're slightly less enthused when Flora drops your entire order on the floor in shock thanks to walking in on you and Ailbhe making out on her counter. You never let them live it down that they'd rather engage in PDA than let their little sister get one over on them.

A: You're staking out a gala for a case and in the middle of sneaking into the host's study in search of clues, nearly get caught. You hastily pull A into a shadowy corner of the hall and commence immediate, frantic canoodling in order to throw off any suspicion. They practically melt into you, and it's a mutually drawn conclusion that no one in history has ever kissed so tenderly in the name of subterfuge. (Once the host leaves, however....you and A may or may not continue to take advantage of that nice, isolated, shadowy corner.)

Catherine: HHNGH there is a setup that would be so perfect for this but it is a SPOILER aslkd;fjds so ANYWAYS: at one of their usual post-performance afterparties, you're in the middle of a dandy little conversation about the merits of imitation pearls when Catherine glances over your shoulder. "Ugh, not him again!" She pulls you in close, smelling of violets and musk, and asks urgently, "Could you do me a favour? This ink-sniffer's been hounding me for quotes all evening - I think he's a member of Cecilia's fanclub, honestly, and I really don't want to talk to him again. It'll be painless, I promise, just a bit of enthusiastic public affection."

You agree, rather bewildered, and the next thing you know, Catherine is kissing you very enthusiastically indeed. You never did see that fan of Cecilia's again, though Catherine will occasionally claim to spot him on the high street and insist that making out at that very moment is the only way to escape.

Imric: "Why, detective, I thought you'd never ask." Imric is all for a bit of cheeky fun between friends frenemies, so when you point out a nearby alley and your plan to get rid of the person tailing you both, he's more than happy to oblige. What he isn't expecting is for you to push him up against the wall and kiss him like you're after the very air in his lungs (all so that you can use his coat lapels as additional coverage, naturally). He is by no means opposed to this, though he makes a mental note to return the favor the next chance he gets.

Mina: The newspaper that's been giving her work has been raising hellfire in red tape about the legality of her extended stay in England, so you agree to be Mina's pretend spouse, just to get them off her back. Trouble is, they won't take either your or her word for it when you find yourself called into their office with Mina in order to prove that your marriage is real, despite the multiple (admittedly, forged) documents certifying your matrimonial union. So Mina takes matters into her own hands, grabs your face (gently) with both hands, all but shouts, "Would an unmarried couple do this?!" and kisses you so thoroughly you wonder if you've died and gone to heaven. She tries to buy you a drink as an apology after wards, her lips still red and slightly swollen from yours, but you wave the offer away.

Rosalind: (with a mutual crush) You come home one day to find Rosalind pouting. When you ask her what's wrong, she hems and haws before admitting that she's upset because she never got to find out if she was a good kisser while she was alive. Well, what's a good flatmate with a huge crush to do but offer to help her out? After several extended sessions (to make sure your data is objective), you reassure Rosalind that she is indeed, a very good kisser. It isn't until a a few days later that you remember the story she always tells about her hair being cut off by a former lover who chopped it off in spite. Don't worry, she makes it up to you with very high-quality apology kisses (and good communication, bc we stan that in this house).

Sam: You visit his family's home in Wales for the holidays and all is well and merry until a rowdy group of Londoners turn up in the local pub, spewing stories about the Horrific Wolfman Murderer that's been all over the news. You make to leave, but they're blocking the door and only getting more agitated. Still, you aren't too worried until one of them starts waving around the criminal sketch of Sam from the papers; to hide his face, you pull him into a dark corner table with either him on your lap or you on his, depending on who's taller, and make sure your mouth doesn't leave his for a solid two minutes. For safety. When the Londoners finally clear out, Sam's face is bright red, he's slightly out of breath, and he has to down half his ale before he can look you in the eye again.

[luminous-shifting-vibes]

actual fucking quotes from the shiftblr coffeehouse discord server

out of context of course, what do you take me for? a sane person?

"they made lightning mcqueen hot"

"inch resting"

"Nix: Cars (2006) several people are typing..."

"im evaporating"

"enjoy precipitation"

"tow mater is more attractive than lightning mcqueen/hj"

"lightning mcqueen looks like he would call me a slur"

"why did I come back to a discussion regarding the attractiveness of vehicles"

"lark is the braincell of shiftblr tbh"

"you all need some grass in your life"

"me over here simping for block men and now literal cars"

"didn't nick wilde commit fraud canonically"

"i have no strong opinions on whether or not nick wilde is attractive"

"I AM AROMANTIC AND I AM NOT IMMUNE TO NICK WILDE"

"I am bisexual and I. Am not into Nick Wilde based on a simple fact he looks like he will drink all my pepsi and call me names"

"What is shiftbkr but not a bunch of simps"

"cries in Bianca Monroe"

"listen i have a folder called gayass

it is mostly pictures of kyoka jiro and virgil sanders"

"Nick Wilde x Reader where he steals your car 📷 carjacker to lovers AU 📷"

"he says "mama i like to step on keyboard""

"MY MOM JUST WALKED IN AND I HAD TO TELL HER I WAS LOOKING AT LIGHTING MC QUEEN HUMAN FANART"

"crab walks away"

""Y/N..." Nick whispered into your ear. "Your car...is a Honda Civic, right?" You looked up at Nick with a baffled expression. "Nick, my beloved? Whatever are you talking about?" "Just asking..." He said as he let you out of his embrace. "Hey, wanna see a magic trick, babe?" Your eyes sparkled. "Really, Nick? Of course!" Nick smiled. "Ok, close your eyes!" You giggled and closed your eyes, waiting for Nick to tell you to open up. Instead, you heard the loud rumble of a car starting up, and you open your eyes. Nick has stolen your car, and he has driven off into the sunset..."

"did y'all know his name used to be canonically Montgomery--he changed it to lightning mcqueen to get rid of his past"

"That is my exit number"

"cars trauma arc"

"wait do y'all know about car jesus" "as if jesus wasn't a ford focus in the bible"

"oh yall do not want to know about the trauma in my cars dr lmao"

"Dewit tau style babey make Lightning McQueen outlive everyone and stalk their reincarnations"

"Do they baptize other cars in like gasoline then"

"there is a pope car in the cars universe which means car jesus died for cars sins"

"NOT THE BOOMER MEMES"

"-lays facedown on the floor while caramelldansen plays-"

"like im serious how many of you guys endorse me falling face down on my floor" (NOT THE SAME PERSON AS PREVIOUS QUOTE)

"I will be Tall and no one can stop me"

"is a soft floor?"

"stop I thought faceplant meant like a succulent in the shape of a face instead of falling onto your noggin for a solid 10 seconds"

"Touch some grass??? What about eating grass"

"what if for every employee of the month i just printed out really horrible boomer memes"

"what ab smoking grass /j"

"Can the grassdirt smoothie be a special in the cafe"

"PLEASE IM ROLLING ON THE FLOOR REWRITINH THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE WHIKE SPEEDRUNINT MINECRAFT"

"you have to get good dirt from like the middle of a pennsylvanian forest for it to taste good though"

"I ate a four leaf clover as a kid cause i thought it would make me lucky"

"guys how do i see the mee6 leaderboard"

"I used to think i was half dragon and I ate plants out of sidewalk cracks"

"i think i punched someone"

"my parents told me to stop doing that so I looked at them and ate a flower"

"I ate grass when I was 9 bc I read warrior cats and thought I was a medicine cat ....................."

"bees are just spicy flies"

"I had a mental breakdown when I was three cause I didn’t know how to turn off a phone"

"My mom drank a bee once"

"when I was a baby I kinned ink sans."

"bro who here find the yellow hat man from curious george fine as heck 📷📷📷"

"mY LUNGSSSSSS"

"no one topping Him"

"I like em big"

"I think Moto Moto has no game like move over hunky boy I could beat you 1v1 Roblox Arsenal 📷📷📷"

"If you didnt have a crush on springtrap, jeff the killer, or Underfell/Gaster/Error sans don't talk to me /j"

"LOOK THEY'RE BOTH DILFS WITH ABS THAT WOULD FIGHT GOD"

"ZORO IS BANNED"

"Guys please help I found my old fnaf fanart from when I was 8 I'm in literal tears"

"OH NO BOT MY FIFTH GRADE HAMILTON PHASE"

"The worst attraction ive ever had has to be Sombra Overwatch"

"My family is like "save all ur art so I can sell it when you're famous" I literally could not sell this if I tried"

"screaming puppet"

"I just remembered Ive drawn overwatch/hamilton crossover fanart"

"my hermit crabs ate each other again"

"we're cannibals ????"

"having me here is a curse you have inflicted on yourselves and I for one am glad for it <3" "scitters around like a crab in anticipation"

"CARB DAY"

"WE NEED TO HAVE A WATCH OARTY"

"hey y'all ill be right back i have to throw away a crab carcass"

"if I watch cars I'm going to start laughing in the middle of it nonstop just because the word cars is funny and also cars are funny like how do you move silly little metal box with rubber circles"

"Lark asleep post catboy pitbul"

"Mwista Wowldwide! Nya!" "hermit crab 2: electric boogaloo"

"Is that why your name is chaos"

"manifest the crab power!!"

"cool dex fact: i can't read 📷"

"sighs adds to worship these entities list"

"with a knife <3"

"yeah and if he betrays me I could probably throw him across the atlantic ocean"

"give me his eyes"

"my good citizen i am a- wait no im nonbinary nvm"

"it worked on a fish idk what to tell you"

"what is gender??? Is that a board game?? If so can I be apples to apples that one's my favorite"

"CHUTES AND LADDERS"

"anyways actually my gender is Candyland"

"Oh god romes the destroyer of friendships/j"

"i am a simple gay i see math i run in the opposite direction survival instincts 101"

"math my beloathed"

"algebra makes me want to rip open a bag of swedish fish and swallow them whole"

"cackles in they're au characters and this will be very fun"

"pog !!!! me too ksajgks one of my drs is a sanders sides au"

"Is that bipper"

"tumblr sexyman"

"Good because he’ll fuck u up if u hurt a child"

"I want a wing-suit"

"looks like a bean would poison someone"

"my hermit crabs are cannibals what can i say"

"sonic the hedgehog kinnie"

"get yourself a man who is capable of the most ungodly actions but won't do them because of their morality owo"

"tell him he can steal my wallet"

"eyes"

"idk about y'all but I need blueberry sweet tea to live"

"y'know the red souls from soul eater i really want to eat those"

"but like only respectable crimes like stealing from elon musk"

"You can go cultbashing with he!"

"He acts like a flamboyant gay man, but if a flamboyant gay man was straight."

"Simp Satan 📷"

"definitely arson"

"They look like they enjoy lemon squares and other lemon desserts"

"Satan is all-powerful but he spends most of his time building honeymoon locations because he is convinced that the protag loves him"

"bc shes the reincarnation of his dead wife or something i guess"

annd here's a quote from our very own dream (@shiftingwastaken) that sums this post up:

"shiftblr but context makes it worse"

[fandomscombine]

Exploding Stink Bomb

Platonic!Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: Chaos ensues when the twins steal your latest prank invention. How much worse could it be when innocent people are caught in the mess?

WC:1744

Entry for @feetoffthetable​ 's 500 writing challenge. A week late I know-sorry! Cause I lost the initial draft. (Note: Do NOT trust auto save that much) So I had to rewrite it.

The prompts are taken from Random Prompts List No. 4 and No.11. (Are in bold in the text)

4. “…Are they dead?” “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!”

11. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.” “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Y/n L/n, also known as 'The Pranksters Trio' of modern day Hogwarts.

It is the winter of senior year, and your stress levels are increasing by the day. NEWTS are to be held in a couple of months and you have managed to procrastinate completing your mock papers. At this rate, you would get a passing grade but in all honesty you know that wouldn’t cut it, you know your abilities. If you actually put effort in your subjects you can bump a level up.

You've made a deal with your parents that if you had completed your practice papers, you could spend the last week of the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys.

Which you are; 3 days in, 4 days left till school.

'What your parents don't know won't hurt them...' You mumble to yourself as you stir the bubbling green mixture clockwise.

See you haven't finished the potions assignment yet. Your parents thought you did last week, but in reality what you were working on was a little fantastic smelling concoction that could contribute to the twins' upcoming new joke shop merchandise lineup!

During the journey to King’s Cross, Fred had come up to you and asked if you could help brainstorm a new product that would blow people's minds away. Of course you agreed, a multitude of ideas already brewing, you would do anything to help out your friends.

That night, it was all you could think about. Naturally you are itching to get started, before the thought flies away. Pushing your potions textbook aside, you got to work. It took 18 hours of no sleep but it paid off. The product was now in your hands.

A shiny burgundy shimmering marble-like sphere. The final product was smaller than the blueprint- the amount of ingredients you had on hand in your muggle household were limited- you do a mental note on raiding the potions supply closet once back in school for dragon hide.

But when you do finally have all the resources, the sphere should be the size of a baseball.

For now, at 30% of the ideal size, this mini test sphere could stink up a small bedroom. Which is enough to do damage but also has a small enough impact that you fix if anything were to go wrong.

BAM! You knew the quiet was too good to last.

“y/n/n, my dear!” Greeted Fred, waltzing into Ginny’s room.

“Are you--” George placed his hand on the door, stopping it from slamming back to his face. “Oi! Why’d you have to kick the door so hard? You could have ruined my handsome face!” He shouted to his twin.

Dropping your quill back into the ink bottle you sighed. “Nooo, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ll be finished when I’m finished. Most likely tomorrow, the earliest.”

“Why can’t you just let US test it though?” voiced George.

“Because I came up with it and it’s the only one we’ve got!” You reasoned. “I wanna see it when it explodes!”

Right then, the boys’ eyes lit up.

“IT EXPLODES?!?!?” They exclaimed in union.

“SHIT!” It was too late to cover it up. The secret is out.

The twins shared a look, you don’t really believe in twin telepathy but in the case of your 2 best friends and mischief, they almost always are on the same page.

You are sent flying sideways off your chair and hit the air mattress. “Offph! George! Let….me….go!” With all your might, you try to push George off you but to no avail. The muscles built up during quidditch training are to his advantage.

In the other side of the room, Fred is rummaging through your trunk, eagerly looking for the mysterious and highly sought after invention.

Although he may not know what it looks like, Fred is still one of your accomplices in sneaking prank items to school, meaning he and Geroge know all the secret compartments in your trunk. As do you with their trunks.

This setup made sense, it was a precautionary method devised so that in a matter of incoming danger or when suspected of something, the others could easily get rid of any incriminating evidence.

The system is perfect! Well expect now when it backfired on you.

“AHA GOT IT!”

Your face snaps to the direction of the voice. Cursing internally, right there, raised high above Fred’s head is the prized Exploding Stink Bomb.

“WICKED!” cried George. While the twins are reveling in their success, you took the chance to push George off you and launch towards Fred.

While George was caught off guard, Fred had the few seconds in which you got up to process what was happening and sprinted towards the door.

“IMMA GET YOU FRED!”

“LET’S SEE THAT SMALL LEGS!”

“GOT YA! AHHHHH--” One moment you had your hand on Fred’s shoulder, next you felt a tug on your waist. “GEORGE LET. ME. GO”

“No can do y/n/n.”

His hold wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was certainly tighter. “Learned from your earlier mistake eh” You teased.

“Just caught me off guard” George reasoned.

Fred walking backwards, bids his farewell. “See you Suckers!” He shouted, taking a bow. With that he disappears round the corner.

A THUD.

“Ginny!”

You and George shared a look of confusion, what was going on?

Arriving at the scene, you are not surprised to see a sneering Ginny.

“That’s what you get for going in my room!”

What you’re more surprised to see is a frantic Fred. You knew that Ginny is fully capable of being terrifying but this was all in good fun right?

Slowly George walked up to his brother. “Freddie what’s wrong?”

“The ball… it slipped”

Eyes wide, your heart starts to beat faster. “Where…?”

You barely had gotten the question out, the answer is given.

As if on cue, you hear shouts coming from your right, Ron’s room.

Ginny being the closest, beats all of you to the door. When it opened, you catch the faint bit of purple smoke before it completely clears away, no other evidence of the stink ball in sight-you smile at the result, hard work does pay off.

‘Now is not a time to be happy y/n’ you told yourself. Your gaze reached the unconscious bodies on the two beds. “Well that’s…..uhh... new...”

Here are 4 guilty looking teenagers looking at the scene of the crime.

Ginny gingerly poked Ron’s side, keeping a fair distance away just in case he jolts back. “…Are they dead?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!” George paused his pacing to point his finger at both you and Fred.

“Hey! I am not the one you had thrown the stink bomb into the room!” You said defensively. “Besides I told you to test it when I’m ready! BUT NOOOO… you two wanted it now WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING IT’S FULL CAPACITY AND RESTRICTIONS!”

“I…..I…” When George couldn’t come up with a come back, he changed tactics. Turning to Fred he challenges. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.”

Fred, who was still standing rooted at the entryway, replied. “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

“What the heck happened anyway?” asked Ginny.

“Yea, I thought it was just a stink bomb that could explode!” added George.

“It is just an exploding stink bomb!”

“Then why are they unconscious?” George’s panic becomes more evident as in addition to his pacing, his voice is now an octave higher.

“I think that the stink bomb was too powerful for such a small room.” Sighing, you gestured to the closed windows. “There’s no adequate ventilation too. Must have cause them to inhale a larger concentration”

“How long will they be out?”

“I don’t know Ginny…really.” You shrug. “It could be hours, one to two at best.”

“TWO HOURS?!?” The twins say in union despite one clearly in utter distress while the other scarily unmoving.

Fred gripped his hair, placed his head in between his thighs and let out a scream that could rival a lion.

George now having lost hope of his brother functioning, took charge. “Mum is gonna be back any second now. What are we gonna do?”

“Well, first…we’re gonna check the boy’s condition again for progress” You suggest, dragging Ginny to check on hair while you check on Ron.

“Then..we’re gonna say..”

“GOT YA!” You 4 shout, finger guns at the ready.

“Wait.. WHAT?!!?? WHAT’S HAPPENING?” George looks at Harry and Ron- who are surprisingly alright and laughing their heads off, to you and GInny looking very smug.

Fred tilts his red face up to the commotion.

“YOU JUST GOT PRANKED! SAY CHESSE!” You announced, indicating to Ginny with the camera.

“Cheeseee” murmured the twins in defeat.

~

“How’d you do it?”

You knew that they would be back with questions. You keep them on the edge as you finish up your potions essay.

"You lot are predictable."

"Predictable?" George scoffed.

Tidying up the study table you continue "Mhhhmmm hmmm. Predicted that you would test it out on Ron, knew that you would try to steal it from me cause you both are very impatient- especially you Fred."

"Heyy!"

"But how did you wake up Harry and Ron?" Piped George. "We shook them but they were still unconscious!"

"Ah George ever the curious. It's simple really." You lay on the bed with hands behind your head, enjoying this moment of outsmarted the boys. "Your siblings were all very tired of been pranked so when we saw an opportunity to have you taste of your own medicine we grab them chance."

You glance at them.

"The time of you setting off the stink bomb is unknown but we were ready. I've made a nose blocker chewing gum while I was tinkering with the foul smell of the stink bomb."

"No sense of smell, no effect." stated Fred.

"Exactly, the rest I'd just improv and acting! The boys weren't actually unconscious, just a temporary numbing spell which Ginny and I reversed when we checked on them."

Sitting back up, you continued.

"What I didn't predict was how crazy you with react. I've never seen you two gone off the rails scared shirtless like that before." You admitted. "Priceless."

"And now you have a photo of it" grumbled George.

"And video too!"

"WHAT?"

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

[twst-bs]

Hi, there! I'm new! I would like to request a scenario in which Leona suddenly became blind from a injury after a fight with a monster and his fem! s/o takes care of him until he gets better. Fluff/angst combo, please, if you can? Thanks a bunch!

Hiya!! Thanks for the request!! I'm not usually one for angst, so I hope this turned out to your liking!!

-----

"Stop moving, Leona."

The lion huffed, glaring at his mate. Well. Attempting to, anyway. Kind of hard when he couldn't see where she was.

"It's not like that stuff is pleasant," he grumbled, leaning backwards. The weird witch's brew was supposed to help his eyes, but it was presenting a full-frontal assault on his nose.

"I know, but Crewel says it will clear the magical gunk out of your eyes, so you're going to have to suck it up." He felt the bed dip next to him, and the earthy, sickly-sweet smell of the potion grew stronger. There was a pop, probably her removing the stopper from the vial.

It was frustrating, not being able to see entirely. He had grown used to the slight fuzziness that had accompanied his scar, but being completely sightless was disorienting.

"I'm going to put the medicine on now," the bed squeaked as she moved. She had taken to telegraphing her movements, so as not to sneak up on him by accident. His sight may be gone but his claws and fangs were still very much present. "...Open your eyes."

Leona obviously couldn't tell what his eyes looked like. She refused to describe them, and Ruggie's vague description of "white, instead of green" didn't give him a whole lot to go on. But whatever she saw in his eyes upset her.

She blamed herself, he knew. She was the type to take the blame for everything, even if he knew damn well what he was doing when he pushed her behind him.

No one knew for certain why the monster crawled its way onto the campus, but the prevailing theory is that it was attracted to the excessive amount of Blot. Regardless of the why, that ugly mass of tentacles and eyeballs had decided to pay NRC a visit, and, just like every other bit of trouble, it made its way directly towards the Ramshackle Prefect.

The two of them had been lounging under a tree, him dozing and her working on homework, when they heard the commotion. It was enough to rouse Leona from his sleep - students yelling, pounding footsteps, and that awful, blood-chilling screech. The two of them had just enough time to stand before the monster came barreling into the courtyard, spreading ink and taking down trees. Within seconds, the monster's multitude of eyes zeroed in on the Prefect, and, with another shriek like bone scraping against bone, it lunged.

As quick as the monster was, Leona was quicker. In one fluid motion he had shoved the Prefect behind him and faced the monster with a roar loud enough to rival the creature's own. Nothing was getting to his mate while he was still breathing.

Students were gathering around, tossing magic at the beast to hold it at bay until the teachers could arrive. Night Raven College students were no strangers to chaos, after all. Leona had been confident that they would subdue the monster, maybe even without the teachers. Savanaclaw students were there, after all.

But all it took was a second. Just a brief glance over his shoulder to make sure his mate was okay. The monster keened and spat a glob of ink at him. It splattered against his face, and he roared, flinging a blast of nature magic in retaliation.

At first, it had merely been a sting to his pride. But, after a few minutes. The goop across his face began to itch, then burned. As loathe as he was to admit it, he may have actually blacked out from the pain.

He woke up a day later in the infirmary, eyes bandaged, with his mate at his bedside.

The damage was severe, Crewel had told him, but not permanent. He would heal, but it wouldn't be a quick and easy process. Without hesitation, the Prefect declared that she would take care of him.

And there they were.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, Leona opened his eyes. "Make it quick, herbivore. The less I have to smell that stuff, the better."

She hesitated, and he almost growled at her impatiently until a new smell joined the scent of the potion.

Her tears.

She was crying. He could hear her barely suppressed sobs, could feel the tremors running through her body since she was so close to him. She was trying to hide it, but even without his sight he could tell.

"...Hey," he spoke softly, softer than he ever thought he would be able to. "Stop crying."

"I-I'm sorry," she sniffles. "It's just -"

"This isn't your fault," he interrupted. "I jumped in front of that slimy bastard to protect you. And I would do it again."

She hiccupped, and he heard the rustling of clothes as she wiped at her face. She had borrowed one of his shirts to sleep in, and the puff of her scent mixed with his own satisfied something primal within him. His mate was safe.

He wasn't one for overt displays of affection, but this was a special case. Sighing through his nose, he opened his arms. "Come here."

With another little sob, she fit herself against his torso, and he leaned down to rub the sides of their faces together.

"I don't want the first thing I see in a month is you crying," he murmured. "So quit it and help me put this stupid medicine on so I can see you smile."

[slytherinsnekxvii]

this isn't my best work, but it's still pretty good for something i wrote when i was 15 after having a half a year of writer's block. anyways, ahem, presenting the fic in which severus says fuck it after the lake incident and just doesn't go back to hogwarts but potentially gets dragged into the war anyway despite living in the muggle world for like,, three years, part 1 (aka the only chapter i wrote bc my writer's block came back oops):

It starts simply, like most things do. It starts with a few words, tossed out without care and full of childish conviction. It escalates to brawls in the corridors and duels in the dungeons--if you could even call them that when it was four-on-one and most encounters left him reeling. It continues until he's twitchy and hypervigilant and awkward, always on the lookout for an attack, ready to bite before anyone could bite him.

It ends much the same. The events leading up to this are a production fit for the theatre, if the crowd is anything to by, but the ending itself is quite simple. Gasping for air near the shore of the Black Lake and battling a headache that hurts almost as much as the sharp press of his heart at the thought of what he'd done to Lily, he simply gives up. He picks himself up, tells himself this is the end of it and goes about collecting his belongings.

His wand comes to his hand easily enough with a mumbled Accio. His bag does, as well. Its contents, on the other hand, have to be collected by hand. His textbooks and ink are strewn beneath the tree, mostly, but the loose parchment and his quill are lost to the wind. He snatches up what he can find before someone gets it into their head to come further humiliate him and turns to head back into into the castle. Only to be smacked in the face by a bound sheaf of parchment and a quill. It's suspicious, and he's tempted to burn it then and there. It's his, but they were definitely scattered about the grounds two seconds ago. He doesn't burn it. He hesitates, puts it in his bag and returns to the castle, intent on making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

The apology doesn't go well. Lily isn't interested, refuses to hear it. He returns to the Slytherin dorms, drops into his bed and thanks Merlin that they'll be going home soon. Cokeworth is God-awful, but at least there's only one man trying to kill him there and only one woman for him to disappoint.

So, he waits it out. Spends his final classes looking over his shoulder and staring blankly at his parchment every time he remembers that they tried to kill him and they humiliated him and they got away with both. He shrinks into himself, avoiding the corridors at all costs, skipping meals to avoid being in the Great Hall and spends as much time as possible in the Library and the dusty old Potions Lab on the Fourth Floor that no one knows about, losing himself in research so he doesn't have to interact with his Housemates. He sits alone at the Leaving Feast, refuses to touch his plate until Evan Rosier falls into the seat next to him and bothers him into eating. The Headmaster dismisses them, says that they'll see each other come September and lets them filter out onto the train.

He ends up sharing a compartment with Mulciber, Avery and Rosier even though he's barely spoken to any of them since the incident. Evan needles him about everything and nothing the whole way to King's Cross, and when they get there, Evan claps him on shoulder and that's goodbye.

He gathers up his things, goes to meet his mother so they can Apparate home and not waste what little money they have on transport. Eileen's cheeks are sunken, her arms rail thin, her dress loose-fitting. He'd still rather see her than anyone even loosely affiliated with Hogwarts. She nods at him, he nods back. They go home.

He spends his summer making himself useful. He does odd jobs for the neighbours, is grudgingly polite to his father, takes care of his mother. By the time term rolls around, people are talking about that Snape boy. Strange, and quiet, too, but he works well, doesn't he? September first dawns bright and early, and Severus doesn't go back to Hogwarts.

He studies at home instead, nose buried in his mum's old books. He plants the few ingredients he has hidden away in his trunk at the back of the house and uses what grows to brew medicines and weedkillers and anything he can think of after experimenting a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith down the street both swear up and down he's working magic on their little garden and their old bones.

He feeds cats, delivers packages for the grocer, takes tables and nightstands home to cast Reparo on. Someone tells the pub owner about him, and the next thing he knows, he's frying chips and learning how to mix drinks even though the most complicated thing anyone ever orders is a pint of the beer that they have on tap.

It's not a bad existence. Eventually, slowly, his mother starts coming back to herself. She takes over the brewing when he isn't around. Annotates his annotations and even makes a trip to Diagon Alley for more ingredients to add to their garden when Severus forgets to write Narcissa to ask her to send a few more.

Severus is old enough now to drag his father home from the pub behind him when he's done working. One evening, they come home and Tobias nearly trips over the end table that Severus is meant to be fixing for Mr. Williams three houses up. Severus works his wand out of his boot and goes to cast a spell, but Tobias grumbles and bats his hand away. Drunk as he is, he still digs out his toolbox and gets to work. The job turns out almost decent.

By December, Severus is at the pub, feeding cats on his break and making deliveries when he has the time. Eileen is brewing and Tobias is doing carpenter's work fixing and building wardrobes, cupboards, cabinets and everything else. It keeps him busy enough that some days he doesn't see a drink at all. It's not much, but there's a little food on the table at the end of each day, and Severus thinks that he's probably better off than he would have been at Hogwarts.

Sometime around Christmas, his mother talks him into getting a Muggle education and writing his NEWTs. He writes the O-Levels for his Muggle exams in January. They're a breeze, given how well-read he is. He sees Petunia at the store shortly after, and she sneers vaguely in his direction. He hears her condescending voice in the back of his head and decides to sit the A-Levels in May out of spite.

His birthday comes and goes, the NEWTs come right after and he aces each and every one of the written exams. The practicals are spread out across the following weeks, and he's leaving the Ministry after his last exam to find that the date coincides with that of a field trip for the Sixth Years at Hogwarts.

He watches them a little, tearing his gaze away after he catches sight of a tanned arm draped over a shoulder touched by a red braid. The students mill near the doors for a while and so, Severus looks around for escape routes, eyes skipping hurriedly from door to door until they rest on a Ravenclaw who'd also taken the January NEWTs. All kinds of people had been there, adults who hadn't passed when they were younger and needed to retake the exams to get jobs, teenagers who had family fortunes waiting for them whose parents wanted them to at least look like they were competent, and overachievers--like Severus assumed the Ravenclaw was--who wanted to know where they stood before the actual exam. He jerks his chin toward another door, this one proclaiming to lead to the "Apparition Division". Severus nods once at him and makes his way toward it.

There's a one-day course for Apparition, apparently. The woman at the receptionist desk doesn't even bother looking at him, just points him in the direction of the Training Room with her nail file. He stays for nearly the rest of the day, until they're finally done. He gets his license and is quietly pleased to see that the building is nearly devoid of life when he leaves. He goes home.

May and June come around and bring with them the A-Levels. He finds them only marginally more challenging than his O-Levels and returns to his routine. It's a nice routine, which takes him all the way through to July of the next year when Lily starts coming in with Black and Potter and Pettigrew and Lupin. The first time it happens, he leaves the counter so fast that the patron he'd just given a glass of water to is convinced he teleported. He's already taken his regular break to go feed Mrs. Jones' cats, so he steps into the kitchen and tells Jimmy he's taking a smoke break. Jimmy snorts and reminds him that he doesn't smoke.

He fidgets, trying to think up a way to avoid going back out, when the ruckus they're making makes Jimmy look through the little window and see the lot of them crowded around a little table. He gets a peculiar look on face for a bit, before he asks Severus if they have something to do with why he doesn't go to his fancy school anymore. He doesn't need an answer, just tells him to keep an eye on the food and steps out to man the counter. Severus stays late, frying chips and washing dishes until the early hours of the morning when Jimmy pats him on the back and kicks him out.

It keeps up until September comes around, and by then, Severus has taken so many smoke breaks that he's actually started smoking. He keeps smoking long after they're gone.

He goes back to his routine until it's broken again by a letter that comes by owl. It's a short letter, coming from a Potions Master whose apprentice had been overseeing the exams. It claims that his work was the best either of them had seen in years and after asking around, they'd found that he was unbound to any Master and was highly recommended by the Malfoys. It ends with an offer. Severus would think himself foolish not to accept, so, he does. After that, two days a week are dedicated to Flooing to Master Diogene's laboratory to fulfil the requirements of his apprenticeship. It finds its own little nook in his routine and so he continues until June of 1980.

He's preparing to go to the pub when there's a knock at the door. It's not so uncommon anymore, so he thinks nothing of it, only that he hopes it doesn't take too long. His shift starts in half an hour. He pushes his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, where they perpetually are these days, and decides he'll roll them up properly later. He opens the door.

"Good afternoon," a very pregnant Lily says, and standing next to her is the Ravenclaw from the Ministry, back straight, arms clasped behind his back, his entire being alert.

"Good afternoon," he replies, awkward. After a long moment of silence, he asks, "Can I help you?"

"Depends on whether or not you let us in," she says.

Wordlessly, he steps aside, sliding the three pairs of shoes nearer to the wall in order to let them pass. "Do you want tea?"

"No," she says, at the exact same time her Auror friend says, "Thank you."

He gestures them into the little kitchen, where they sit at the little table where he and his mother and his father take their meals. He tugs his wand out of his boot, flicks it so that the cauldron bubbling away on the stove scoots aside but doesn't spill. The burner beneath lights on its own. He puts the kettle, already full, on to boil. "So," he begins, absentmindedly rolling up his sleeves. "Is there something you need from me?"

Lily smiles, strained. "Can't I just visit an old friend?"

"Sure," he says, quietly. "You made it very clear that you would prefer if we weren't, though."

Her expression twists. "And with good reason," she grits.

He says nothing. The kettle whistles. He searches for the boxes of tea, sets about mixing two cups of mint. He puts them both on a tray with milk and sugar, as well as the small container of honey kept for special occasions. He puts it on the table.

"I'm sorry."

She doesn't say anything, just watches him with bright, green eyes aflame with old anger. She picks up one of the teacups and starts doctoring it to her liking. Her Auror friend follows suit. It really is obvious, Severus thinks, watching the man scan the room from top to bottom, corner to corner. He sighs. "Why are you here, Lily?"

She glares at her tea. The Auror shifts uncomfortably. Severus sighs again. "You know, when people visit old friends, they usually don't bring Aurors with them."

"Trainee, actually. This is my last year." He grins sheepishly. "That obvious?"

Severus nods.

He leans over the table, stretches out a hand. His right, Severus notices. He leans over and shakes with his left.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," the Auror trainee introduces himself.

"Severus Snape, but you already knew that."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

Lily continues to glare at her tea. Shacklebolt fidgets. Severus stares, adjusts the heat on the burner below the cauldron. Silence prevails. The door creaks open, just then, and Eileen comes in, stirring rod in hand. "You'll be late if--oh," she says, noticing their guests. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," the other three respond with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Well, if it isn't Lily Evans. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? You look well," Eileen says, nudging her son out of the way so she can poke at the mixture in the cauldron.

"You as well," Lily mumbles. "And it's, ah, it's Potter now, actually. Lily Evans Potter."

"Ah, I see. My mistake. Congratulations are in order, then, Mrs. Potter."

"Congratulations," Severus echoes.

"And you're a Shacklebolt, yes?" Eileen continues, her hands methodically sprinkling ground lavender into the cauldron. "Elodie's son, I should think. You resemble her quite a bit."

"Yes, ma'am," the trainee replies. "Grandmother says I'm nearly a carbon copy."

Eileen hums, lowers the heat under the cauldron. She takes out the stirring rod, examining the clinging lavender paste before wiping it off and placing it on the counter. "I suppose I'll leave you it, though Doris just passed, and she said that Jimmy has a full house, so, do try to hurry. It's already nearly four."

"Yes, Mam."

She leaves, and once more, silence settles over the small kitchen. Severus looks at the clock on the wall, sees that it does, indeed, say that it's minutes to four. Eleven minutes, to be exact, and it's a ten minute walk to the pub. He starts gathering the tea things, has just taken Shacklebolt's empty teacup when Lily clears her throat.

"Are you a Death Eater?" she asks.

"No," Severus tells her, and takes her teacup. Ten minutes to four.

"Prove it," she says, glaring.

Severus sets down the tray and leans across the table, arms outstretched, palms up, forearms exposed. The skin on either arm is pale, smooth and utterly unmarked, save and except for the scars one is bound to get when their preferred work involves knives and hot cauldrons.

"You keep regular contact with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, as well as Regulus Black and Evan Rosier, all of whom are suspected Death Eaters. Why?"

Severus' eyes narrow. "Lucius is sponsoring my Potions Mastery. Narcissa, for whatever reason, enjoys my conversation. Regulus and Evan both seem to think that I'll drop dead if I don't speak to them at least once a week and I haven't been able to disabuse them of the notion--though, not for lack of trying."

"So, you aren't planning to become a Death Eater?" Seven minutes to four.

"I'm not," Severus says, biting down on something rising in his chest. He returns the tea things to their proper places, washes the cups and sets them to dry. When he looks at them again, Lily's glare has softened into an unwavering stare.

"Are you certain?" she asks, and Severus grits his teeth.

"Oh, no, not at all. I only left the Wizarding World to live in a Muggle neighbourhood with my Muggle father, work for a Muggle and feed old ladies' cats and fix their husbands' cabinets because I thought it would make it easier for me when I decided I wanted to murder them all. Obviously," he snaps, throat closing around the words as soon they've been forced out of his mouth. His jaw clamps shut. Three minutes to four.

"You're being an a—" she starts, but then she bites her tongue. "Why... why did you leave?"

He stands silent for a moment. "Reasons I don't believe we have time to discuss. It appears that I'm late for work, I'm afraid." The clock reads three fifty-nine. By the time, he reaches the front door, it will be four o' clock. He starts walking.

"But–" Lily begins, standing.

He gestures them onto the porch while he shoves his feet into his boots. "Terribly sorry to leave in a hurry like this, but duty calls. Things to do, people to see. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Potter. Auror Trainee Shacklebolt." Four o' clock.

"Really–"

"Until next time, Mr. Snape," Shacklebolt interjects, and with a stiff nod, he and Lily make their way towards the Apparition Point they'd used and Severus is walking down the street. He exhales, slowly, carefully at the quiet, telltale crack of Disapparition off in the distance. He picks up the pace and hopes that'll be the end of it. He knows it won't, though. Until next time, Shacklebolt said.

It isn't the end, of course. It never is. There's a knock at the door just before he's ready to leave the next afternoon, and he contemplates just not answering the door and staying at home for the foreseeable future. There's enough food to last at least a week, and he could always just tell Mrs. Havisham that he wasn't feeling well. The news would make it around the town and back within the day. The knock sounds again. He sighs and gets up to go answer it. "Can I help you?"

"Only if you want to. May I come in?" Shacklebolt asks.

Against his better judgement, Severus lets him in.

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #13

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

[AO3]

((edited because I figured out to add some more history facts that I think are important))

~POV Sinbad~

"The Kou Empire, huh?"

"That is going to make things risky."

With all of the Generals caught up with what happened in Balbadd, they needed to start planning for King Sinbad's trip to the Kou Empire, as well as catching him up with everything that had happened in Sindria while he was gone.

"LadY YamuRAI H AA AA A" A yell came from the hallway accompanied by the sounds of running.

((Sinbad is hidden on the left. There's a hint of him poking out.))

A panting magician gave apologies for disturbing their meeting and ran to the head of Sindria's magicians. "I wish I knew you were here so I didn't search the tower first~" Then he started explaining about some magical proof. Most of his words sounded like gibberish to the rest, but it was clear that he had made some kind of break though.

Yam jumped out of her seat. "How did you finally figure it out?! Who figured it out?!" She whipped her head to her King, "Sorry your majesty," and then looked back to the other magician.

"It was the work of the Prophet!” the magician answered. "We were talking about her illness and she pulled out scrolls that- you just have to read them for yourself!”

Mori had said that she had written other scrolls before she started coping down Fate. This must have been what she was working on.

Both magicians bowed out to go test out this new information. Before they could leave, Sinbad ended the meeting; there was no way he was going to wait to learn what other information Mori had blessed them with. Ja'far followed as did a few of the other Generals.

When they got into the court yard, the doctors that had been sent to take care of Mori were already pushing their supply cart back to their main building. The magician that had stayed behind spotted them and raised two scrolls up triumphantly. "She let me take the scrolls!"

---

News of the scrolls written by a Prophet spread throughout the Black Libra Tower within an hour. Yamuraiha and the doctors explained their significance to King Sinbad.

If even a fraction of the theories in the scrolls proved true it would completely changed their understanding of how illnesses work. If Mori wasn't sick she would undoubtedly be swarmed with questions and demands for proof. According to the magicians, nothing in the scrolls went against any known information. Instead, they gave explanations to why certain things that had been attempted in the past had failed. What she wrote about 'cells' was what really caught the eyes of the white magicians and doctors. As an example, according to Mori's writing there were blood types and most couldn't mix; that would explain why most past attempts at blood transfusions had failed.

The 2nd scroll showed a break down of even smaller particles, and how the structures of different particles made up everything. This was going to bring alchemic magic to a whole new era. Sure, such things would most likely be limited to high magicians, group efforts, and the Magi, but it looked possible now. A lot of common magic of the current day took extreme amounts of magoi in the past because they hadn't found the right formula yet. Mori's writing -if true- could easily be used as a guide to finding the right order of commands for many spells.

And even more than that, Mori had said that she had even more information to share; she had just ran out of scrolls and ink.

Mori's presence in Sindria, and everything that went with it were Fate and the Rukh's guidance. King Sinbad could see it -the future he wanted.

---

~POV Mori~

In Sindria's Palace there is a Great Bell. It is rung during celebrations, and to signify the King returning home like it did earlier that day, but it's main use was to ring every 2 hours to tell everyone the time since clocks weren't invented yet. So even though I was a sick person trying to rest during the day, I was woken up by the Great Bell every 2 hours... which of course is also situated right on top of the guest tower.

For obvious reasons, I was awake again.

I wish I knew how the others responded to the scrolls. I really wanted to know Yam's opinion most. Those scrolls basically gave away the secret to Yunan's signature alchemy magic.

I still had the first scroll I had worked on -the one on the science behind blimps-, and the last science scroll I had started. That one was on DNA, and reproductive systems. It was the last one I started in Balbadd. I hadn't started working on it until sunrise on my 2nd sleepless night and it showed; there were missing words everywhere, many incomplete sentences, and I couldn't stay in topic.

These mistakes were too great to fix with an ink knife. Editing was going be super annoying and time consuming since I couldn't work digitally. I'd have to physically cut up the first draft to put everything in the right order before making the next one.

Wait- Did this world have scissors???

Back home the first evolution of shears that could be labeled as scissors was in Roman barber shops in the last hundred years or so before Rome fell. China would spontaneous also create something akin to scissors not long after. Reim and the Kou Empire seemed to line up with Rome and ancient China for the most part, so I tend to use them to place the time period, but the dress Princess Dunya wears is centuries off and throws all historical accuracy questions out the window. Rome was long gone by the time boning was added to women's undergarments, and that dress had all the signs of boned corsetry.

Fuck it. I'll ask for scissors and if they don't have them I'll just invent them myself. I had been drafting professionally for the past 4 years. That may have been for microelectronics, but it uses all the same skills; I could do this. I needed to get a ruler -or at least a straight edge- and a drafting compass which they probably have based on the look of maps in the series, and pencils, or at least colored inks if they had them. I probably needed to reinvent the French curve(stencil tool used in art & drafting)...

Since I was struggling to fall back asleep I moved to the table and pulled out my test scroll. It was full of random marks and some of my early drawing attempts that I used to practice with the dip pen -it's also where I wrote down the dreams from the Rukh. I'd write the list of things I needed, rip the section out of the scroll, and pass the list to someone who could get me what I was asking for. I added some living necessities too like sleep wear and a comb.

The maids that came to give me dinner, and next dose of medicine were not pleased that I wasn't in bed -I was an important guest who was sick after all. And I wasn't pleased to have to drink more of that bitter medicine, but we can't have nice things all the time, now can we?

My voices was strained but I managed to communicate enough. I gave them my list, and laundry (the clothes I wore on the boat) before they left. They'd get me the things the next day. I was instructed to sleep until someone brings me breakfast the next day... which is what I was going to do anyway since the sun was practically gone. I might be a bit of a workaholic but I'm not going to let myself pull an accidental all-nighter when I know I'm still sick. I'm far more self aware than that.

And besides, the Great Bell didn't ring at night.

---

Maids brought my breakfast (& meds) the next morning and let me know that my clothes would be cleaned and dry by the end of the day. I guess they didn't use magic for everything.

They also gave me all of the drafting and inking supplies I asked for except for scissors. In one of the omakes Sinbad was shown cutting his hair with a knife as a part of his normal grooming. I had hoped he was just old fashioned.

For the greater good and the future of my own hair care, I drafted up detailed designs for a few different types of basic scissors. They wouldn't look fancy, but hopefully I had put enough of a detailed explanation on everything for the smith to figure out what I was asking. Steel wasn't developed until the middle ages and some of the counties of this world matched that so I hoped

that God and anime were on my side. I really wanted scissors that would be a good quality.

And if that didn't work I'd just have to get used to using knives and bladed rollers like a regular person.

The Great Bell rung for 10 am. There were at least another 2 hours before someone would show up, to give lunch, that I could ask to take my draft for the scissors to a black Smith.

I should be resting as a sick person. I should be more exhausted and in pain as a sick person. What was making me recover this quickly?

I still didn't feel like laying back down, so I decided to start drafting up the materials and equipment for proving everything I had written in the scrolls I gave the previous day.

Globally, micro-organisms, viruses, and bacteria were not really accept or proved until the late 1800's. Since Magi seems to take place some time around our 100AD-1300, and Yunan hinting at chemical compounds was seen as shocking by Yam, I knew that my bio scrolls were probably causing an uproar in the Black Libra Tower. I refused to use actual people or wait for an outbreak to prove it like how it happened in history -like how John Snow proved it when finding the cause of cholera outbreaks in 1848 and 1854 England. No, I needed to show how to prove these things in a lab, and to do that I was going to need to explain how to keep samples and invent a way to see microorganisms.

First was for a glass petri dish and other containers for samples. I'd need at least 3 -preferably more. I know glass works have been around since BC, and that this world had glass windows in some scenes, but I worried about the quality of the glass contaminating the experiments. I was going to have to boil them beforehand to sterilize them anyway.

Gosh I wish I had access to nonporous, air tight containers, and a temperature controlled environment. The heat and humidity of Sindria could easily mess everything up.

Wait... I suddenly remembered a scene from the Magnostadt arc when they showed how a sample was being stored. They already had good enough glass. I knew there were magic bio experiments but I had no idea how they worked.

With the realization that I was getting ahead myself, I switched to writing about how to use the scientific method to test for germs. It was basically the bread in a bag test to teach young children about germs but with petri dishes. I also wrote about how to analyze samples with a microscope to see micro organisms so I was going to have to figure that out next.

Lunch came as the perfect break.

Just thinking about reinventing this thing made me nervous. I knew magnifying glasses existed in ancient Rome, but they would be nothing like what I was used to. I had to explain how light moves and made multiple diagrams showing how concave and convex lenses affect light as well as the material of the lens. I ended up also showing how to make a telescope even though I knew Yam already had one.

Magicians were the only ones shown with glasses. Maybe now the rest of the world could have them too.

4 o'clock came and so did 3 doctors and a magician. It was less than yesterday, but still more than necessary to treat or analyze one person. I only recognized one of the doctors from the previous day. All of the new faces looked nervous. None of them looked young by any measure, so I really doubted this was their first time treating someone.

They weren't happy to see me at the table and made me return to my bed -their loss.

The doctor from the previous day was the one doing most of the talking. "Your recovery is amazing. You will most likely be better in another 3 days at this rate if not sooner. It's practically a miracle."

I smiled. "It's pretty shocking for me too." As long as I spoke quietly and kept my comments short, I found I could talk again for a bit.

The doctor was silent for a moment before changing the subject. "I know you need rest, but would you be willing to answer a few questions about those scrolls from yesterday?

The 3 other men looked expectant. This was why they were here.

"I don't mind as long as you don't make me talk too much."

Then came the question I was expecting since I had first made the scrolls. "I know you are a Prophet and the information came from your visions but is there any way you can prove what you wrote?"

I pointed to the table with the scroll I had started earlier. "I can't prove it with the current equipment I have, so I've been drafting up the needed equipment and processes for proving it."

They all turned to look at where I was pointing.

I added, "It's not done, but you're welcome to read what I have so far."

I was thanked as they went to the table they had called me away from when they entered.

'He called it 'visions?' Really?' I had to ask Sinbad later what he was telling his people about me so I could keep the story straight.

The magician confirmed for the others what I wrote about light bending. There was magic to do that, but not everyone is a magician. I had just invented a way for non-magicians to bend light.

Just wait until I show them a prism that can split light into colors. Or teach them how light is perceived in the eye. Or even better, show them the double slit experiment that proves that light is a particle not just a wave... Did they know light was a wave yet?

"Lady Prophet."

I was pulled out of my thoughts.

"You said this isn't finished and there is plenty of space in this scroll for more, but would you let us take this back to the tower so we can get started?"

I wanted to say 'no.' I was still coming up with things to add to it, but I also knew that holding things back because I wanted to save paper was a fool's game. Besides, I could always add more to it later.

I nodded and they thanked me before making me promise not to leave my bed. They were grateful for this new scroll but not at the expense of my health -they were doctors after all.

And then they left.

It was probably about 5pm if my internal clock was on schedule, so I had about an hour before the next ring of the Bell.

Even if I wasn't a man of my word, I would have lost the motivation to work with my current project taken from me while I was still in the middle of making it.

So, I did the thing I grew up doing when I was bedridden from illness: I looked out the window. From the bed I could only see the tops of the buildings on the other side of the courtyard. The Tower that was just poking in from the left had to be the Black Libra Tower.

The waves in Sindria were calmer yet stronger than those in Balbadd. It was probably due to Sinbad's influence. He brought stability and security to his people. I could understand why so many chose to follow him or ally with him. But I knew where all this would lead. As he obtains more power and influence he will stop being able to see himself from the pedestal that he and everyone else put him on; his greed will make him blind to the wants and needs of others, and like a middle aged parent that isn't ready for their child to leave the nest he will take out his frustration on the world that was moving on without him. When Sinbad dies at the end of the manga, Drakon realizes that they all put too much on Sinbad's shoulders.

To change Fate, I was going to have to make sure I never put him on that pedestal nor rely on him for much. And I was going to have to convince the 8 Generals to do the same -or at least to start pulling more of the weight.

The 6 o'clock Bell came faster than I expected, as well as my dinner not long after. They brought my clean laundry, a sleeping gown, and some other common clothes and things for my convenience.

I would have preferred something much shorter for the night gown since I hate having a lot of extra fabric around my legs when I already have blankets. I was not going to risk being walked in on by doctors or whoever when sleeping naked, so I would make do for now.

There was no way King Sinbad wasn't going to reward me for those scrolls. If it was some kind of treasure I'd sell it and buy a new wardrobe for myself that actually suited me, and if the reward was a request then I would ask that he pay for everything directly.

The light coming in my windows changed, and I watched my 2nd sunset in Sindria.

When Sinbad found this island 10 years ago, he completely terraformed it. He didn't get rid of all of the vegetation that was here, but he did break down one of the sides to allow for easier access by boat. The side he carved out faced northish towards all of the other known countries, so no boat would have a reason to circle the island. It was a decision that would benefit the merchants and make it easier to defend.

It also meant that my windows faced west, so I could watch the Sun set every day. I couldn't help but see that as a blessing and a curse. Sure not getting the sunrise meant I'd need to put more effort into

waking up in the morning but that wasn't the part I was worried about.

See- The thing is... I have synesthesia (having 2 or more senses overlapping). I see sounds, letters, and numbers as colors and textures. I have it mild enough that I can normally block it out so it's not too distracting (thank God because music is a main stim), but sometimes I'll hear something and get overwhelmed by how it looks.

Each letter and number is a color. So every voice can make every color, but language, pitch, tone, and accent all affect the colors and textures I see from a person's voice like a filter. There have definitely been some people that I struggled to give my full attention to when I first met them because I was entranced by how their voice looked. The more I hear a person's voice the more I'm able to move its visuals to the background so I can focus -desensitizing myself to it.

Luckily, Sinbad's voice is normally not so distracting that I stop paying attention. Since it's like a merger of every voice actor I've heard play him (All the characters I had met so far were like this.) I'm already desensitized. The similarities across all of the VAs meant that his voice looked like a sunset -full of deep purples and magentas, and bright reds, peach, and gold, and with a smooth and flowing texture like painting in acrylic with a wet brush -like a painting of the last moments of a sunset.

His voice was as pretty as he was.

I hadn't actually gotten to see or hear him for a whole day. But I'd get to look at his voice's equivalent every day while living under his protection.

It was frustrating to admit -I barely knew him as a real person- yet I couldn't deny that I missed him. I feel asleep watching the sun set.

((I wasn't going to write about my synesthesia, but this is my fanfic and I thought it might be fun to reference the colors peoples voices make when the characters talk. I'm not going to paint every VA and head cannon, but I will describe them as I go. Ja'far's Japanese and English VAs have voices that look very different so finding the middle ground is proving tricky.

Also, anyone who noticed that the purple I see in Sinbad's voice is the same as the purple I've been using for the illustrations and comics is super smart and cool.))

[ljstlr]

LIFETIME.

genre: angst, heavy angst

words: 1911

choi minho x reader

———————————————————————————————————————

“Will you marry me?” Minho watched from the corner of the garden your soon-to-be-fiancé rented out just for this event – to propose to you. And as you answered yes, the atmosphere was filled with cheers, clapping, and even crying. Minho was about to let out a cheer when he felt an itching sensation on his throat, so he stepped out of the garden to the parking space to soothe his throat.

After what felt like an unending amount of coughing, he stood frozen in his spot. He couldn’t keep his eye off his hand. A daffodil laid gently on his hand and he would usually call the flower beautiful if it just didn’t come from his throat and had droplets of his blood on it. Minho silently cursed.

A single daffodil symbolizes an unrequited love. Minho read silently on his phone as he took his seat next to your other set of friends. As he read through the website, he couldn’t help but feel the uneasiness in his lungs and he knows exactly what was going on in his organ.

Is he scared? Fuck yes. He was just about to enter his 30s and he suddenly developed a disease that has no cure. Well, actually, it does. But he didn’t have the cure.

“Hey! Hyunjae told me you were a part of this, why didn’t you tell me?” He was disrupted from his thoughts when he heard your voice lingering on his right shoulder. He quickly shut off his phone as he flashed you a smile.

“That would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it now?” Minho chuckled as he watched you pout and playfully slap him on the arm. The two of you shared a conversation up until you had to leave because your family wanted a portrait to be taken with your fiancé.

And he just had to be the one to take the photo. He bitterly counted down as he watched the genuine smile on your face through the phone screen – why couldn’t he make you smile like that?

He bowed down to your mother as he gave her back the phone. He quickly excused himself because he felt the itching feeling again and he didn’t want to cause a scene. Minho watched the sink fill with daffodil and his blood. He sighed as he used his arms to support himself on the sink.

This wasn’t the way he imagined his death to be.

As days gone by, Minho was definitely not getting any better. His apartment was starting to fill with flowers and the floors were smeared with blood. It looked pretty much like a crime scene but he didn’t care anymore. He was bound to die anyways.

But he was taken back when he heard knocks on his apartment door. He knew it was you – you were the only one who always came unannounced. He mentally cursed as he tried to get rid of the daffodils on the floor but being the impatient person you were, you opened the door yourself with the keys he lent you.

“Minho...?” He knows you were holding back yours tears and that caused Minho to immediately soften up. He walked towards you and wrapped you in a hug which caused your tears to overflow.

You stayed like that for a while until you pulled away and looked at Minho straight in his face. He gulped and felt a sting on his throat with the action he has just done.

“Why did you keep this from me?” You asked.

“I didn’t want you to stress about me, (y/n). You’re getting married.” Minho responded with a fake smile and but he knows you didn’t know that.

“Minho, are you dying?”

“No, I’m not. I’ll get better.” A lie. A bittersweet lie just to keep you from feeling pain. He was dying, but even so, all he wanted was for you to be safe and happy.

He watched as your face slowly lit up and your frown become a smile and it was like a medicine for him. Watching that unfold right in front of his eyes made him feel better – despite the rough and uncomfortable feeling of the flowers invading his lungs and throat.

“You better not die,” Minho was about to answer but you cut him off.

“Cause my baby better meet his Uncle.” And once again, Minho felt a crack on his heart. He was feeling other things as well, but he pushed those down because he didn’t want you to worry.

“Y-you’re pregnant?” Minho forcefully spoke and you nodded with a smile.

The feeling he was trying to push down got the best of him and he started coughing violently in front of you. You panicked as you see Minho struggle to cough and wheeze as a yellow flower came out of his mouth.

A yellow carnation symbolizes disdain, rejection, or disappointment. This lingered on and on in your head as you slowly pick up the flowers on the floor and throw them in the garbage bin. You look down on your hands to see scatters of blood everywhere. You let out a sad sigh before washing it away.

You opened the door to Minho’s door to see him coughing out even more carnations into his bed.

“You told me you weren’t dying.” She spoke coldly which made Minho pause from his fits of coughing. He didn’t know which one hurted more – the expression on your face or the feeling of suffocation from all the growing flowers.

“I won’t die.” Lie.

“Let me help you, Minho. I don’t want to lose you.” He smiled through the pain.

He wiped off the tears flowing down from your eyes as you beg him to not die. He hated seeing you like this. He didn’t want to leave you in a state like this when he dies.

“Hey. Calm down, (y/n). Stress is bad for your baby.” He felt a thorn stab through his lung as he spoke, but he hid away the pain from you.

She eventually calmed down and begged Minho to talk it out with the whoever it is that’s making him go through all the pain of the disease. He listened to her go on and on about getting well even though he knows there is no longer any more hope to hold on to.

And as she bid her goodbye and walked out the apartment door, Minho prayed. He has forgotten his religion long before, but he begged God to keep him alive just for you. Just so he can take away the pain that his giving you, he’d rather see you happy.

But he knows God once again failed to listen to his prayers as he felt another thorn stab him.

Anemone. He slowly read the word that matches the new flower that came out of his mouth today.

It indicates fading hope and a feeling of having been forsaken. He wanted to let out a bitter laugh, but the flowers and thorns constrained him from doing so.

He brushed off the yellow and purple flowers off his sofa to get a hold of the invitation you just sent him. A wedding invitation.

Minho hasn’t seen you ever since the carnation flowers, but he appreciated the hourly texts he got from you asking how he’s been. He’s glad that your communication only relied through technology, because he looked like shit. He would hate it if anyone saw him like this.

He couldn’t speak. It’s been a day or two since his vocal cord got fucked up from the thorns. He couldn’t sleep. I mean, how could he? Every damn minute is like an hour episode of coughing out flowers. He’s pale and skinny. Of course, he would be, considering the amount of blood he loss and not being able to digest any sort of food for the past weeks.

It was a miracle that he made it this far.

But he knows it’s over. As another fit of coughing attacked him, he felt a stabbing pain in his trachea. He started to lose the ability to breath, but he was able to reach the letter on his coffee table and held it close to his chest. It’s a letter he has been saving solely for this day.

He took one last deep breath before he laid lifeless on his sofa floor.

Be happy for me, (y/n).

You were in disbelief. You can’t believe your standing right in front of your Minho’s grave. Tears fell from your right eye as you gripped harshly on the letter his mom gave you before they all left the cemetery. You were the only one left and you refused to leave.

You sat down beside his grave and gathered the strength you have left to unfold the letter he left you.

“Hey,

If you’re reading this, firstly, I would like to give you my sincerest apologies, (y/n). I know I told you I would survive, but I didn’t have a cure. God knows how desperate I was with all my prayers to Him on how much I wanted to stay alive for you, but even He can’t find a way for me to live anymore.

I wish you a happy life. I have known you since the day you decided to hang out with the loner in high school – which was me of course. You deserve the galaxy and all of its stars for making my short stay in this life wonderful and memorable. Anyone would agree that I short-lived this lifetime, but maybe that’s the way it was meant to be.

Cause I couldn’t bear watching the love of my life be happy with someone else. Fuck, I can’t believe that I’m that much of a coward to only confess my undying affection for you now that I’m dead. But I was never the selfish type. I didn’t want you to suffer just because you couldn’t love me back.

You were and are happy, (y/n). I couldn’t take that away from you, so I kept all the pain to myself. And I would do it again and again if it’s for you. You wanted me to find a cure, but now we both know why that’s impossible. Because the cure for me is to be loved back by you, and that will never be a case now, wouldn’t be?

Maybe, just maybe, in another lifetime, I would be the one you spend your entire life with. Get married, have kids, buy a house, a car, all of that rom-com shit. But this lifetime isn’t ours, (y/n).

In this lifetime, I’m Minho. Your high school best friend, your college roommate, your co-worker, your ‘best man’, and now your guardian angel from above.

I couldn’t be the one you love, so let me just be your angel for now.

Until the next time we meet,

Love, Minho.”

Your heart broke as you finished reading Minho’s letter. You couldn’t breathe from all of the sobs you let out as you run your fingers through the ballpen ink and scatters of blood.

You gripped the letter and held it close to your chest. As you cried, you felt an itch on your throat. You thought it was just a cough that you needed to let out from all the sobbing, but you were wrong. And so was Minho.

Cause he could’ve survived, and this lifetime could’ve been theirs.

Because you just coughed out an Anemone flower.