#it’ll just cause you strife in the end

[air3d3lalm3na]

The kinds of people who took and decided to trash and misuse this language are just like those who did the same with “obsessed” years ago. Obsessed has a real meaning, people literally suffer from it — whether they have OCD or some other issue — and it doesn’t mean really-really-really enjoying this new drink Star-fucks sells you. They don’t care, though, because it’s fun and everyone is using it and hehe, doesn’t it sound cute!

I gave up on correcting these selfish pieces of shit years ago. They will bully and literally socially ostracize you for standing up for yourself. They’re not going to change just because we point it out.

Now I treat misuse of language like this as a red flag — not necessarily for malice, but for committed stupid actions that someone is unwilling to change or work on. Willful negligence and ignorance can be almost as bad of a sign about someone as malicious intent. I’ve been ill-treated by both types and the result was the same in the end, whether they were consciously maneuvering to be cruel, or being a royal prick out of sheer dumbassery.

When people tell you who they are, pay attention.

That "let the intrusive thoughts win" thing pisses me off like no other. Intrusive thoughts are literally intrusive because they are harmful and unwanted they are not things you want to or should do. Intrusive and impulsive thoughts are not the same thing.

[starry-snippets]

wake up

synopsis: you’ve recently awakened a power after being injured. around the same time your husband begins filing for divorce. your only company is your daughter jolyne and the monster keeping you up at night 

tw: divorce mentions, relationship strife, angst, hurt, comfort, swearing, implied afab reader (cause jolyne is you and jotaro’s kid)

Your fingers gently take the hair clips out of Jolyne’s hair. She wanted to wear butterfly hair clips with her fishtail braid, so you happily put them in. Now that she’s back from elementary school her hair is a bit messy from playing, loose strands and broken butterfly clips on her head. 

“Did you have a good day, Jojo?” She begins to ramble about her day with a smile, her outspoken nature definitely coming more from you than Jotaro. Jolyne tells you about how she won every dodgeball game in gym class and how everyone was so impressed. “That’s amazing dear.” You say while beginning to comb out her hair, as all the clips and elastic bands are out. “Your hair is getting really long.” You comment as it falls to her mid back, and she just shrugs. 

“I kinda want a haircut.” A hum of acknowledgement accompanies Jolyne’s statement. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed. It’ll always grow back if you want it longer again.” Jolyne nods with a bounce, making you halt your brushing so she doesn’t get her hair tugged on. “Do you have any homework tonight?” 

“Just a bit! I’ll do it once you put my hair up,” she says it with a pout and you can hear it in her tone. She’s such a precious child, you think as you finish combing her hair and pin it into a loose bun. 

“Dinner will be ready for you when you’re done dear. Let me know if you need any help.” Jolyne nods with a smile and runs upstairs to her room. You watch as she races to her room, the door shutting softly behind her. Your heart stings as you head to the kitchen to begin dinner. Jotaro has been coming home long after you’ve eaten with Jolyne for the past few days. 

Shaking your head as if that’ll shake these thoughts from your mind, you look in the cupboards for your recipe book. As you rummage in the back of the shelf you see an ornate brooch in the shape of a beetle. Curious, you pick it up. It feels like a knife tears right through your palm and you drop it with a scream. Jolyne comes racing down from her room, stopping at the end of the stairs when you tell her to hastily. 

“I’m okay Jojo! Just scratched myself, you should get started on that homework.” You offer her a smile, gritting your teeth behind closed lips. Her eyebrows push together but she nods, heading back up to her room. Once the doors closed you let out a groan, watching as blood dripped down your hand and onto your tile floor. “I need to clean this up,” You calmly state while wiping the blood from your palm onto your apron you put on since entering the kitchen. 

“I’m sure this brooch is Jotaro’s, I’ll put it on his desk too.” You mutter while exiting the kitchen. In the adjacent room you find his work study and you place the brooch in a drawer full of various nick-nacks. The tchotchke was fairly cute, but you can’t help but wonder why he had it. 

Turning around to clean the kitchen, you see a looming figure. Its body has [color] accents with gold and beige, skin adorned with scales resembling a pangolin. You fall back, anxious of getting too close to this stranger. It has a long tail that’s curling into itself, angular eyes and an animalistic snout. 

“Who-what are you?” Scrambling to your feet, you watch the strange creature stare at you with those beady eyes. In the pupils you can see stars and in the iris you see your shocked expression staring back at you. You watch the monster with wide eyes, terrified that when you blink you’ll be a goner. It stares back with absent vigor, with hazy eyes like it has cataracts. “Leave me alone…” You whisper in a silent plea. You can’t let anything happen to Jolyne. 

“I’m Wake Up.” It’s voice is scratchy like you imagine those scales to be. “I’m your stand. I’ve been born from your soul’s desires.” You shake your head, entirely disbelieving this entire situation. “You’re not imagining this.” 

You just wish for this to end. Your breathing begins to shake, pupils shaking as anxiety takes a hold of you. The throbbing in your hand begins to burn when the creature places its hand on yours. It has long nails just like a rodent. The radiating pain begins to calm upon touching the scales covering it’s body. 

“This is your power. I can heal with these scales and I can harden my body. Like a pangolin my tongue is long, and my claws are nigh indestructible. If you take off these scales they’ll act like a tracking device.” You stare at the creature – you mean your stand – still shell-shocked. “I’m here to help. Not hurt.” Eventually you nod, allowing this being into your life. Still you’re scared and worried for yourself and Jolyne, but you can’t do anything at the moment. Suddenly it disappears, the creature retracting into a scaly ball before vanishing from your sights. Your breath hitches, still shaken up over the ordeal. 

You head to the kitchen with a towel anyway, quickly wiping the blood from the floor and beginning dinner. 

☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ ☆☆☆

Another night where Jolyne and you are eating dinner together. She picks at her food, upset that her father isn’t there. You’re upset too, eyebrows pushed together as you stir the ice cubes in your water. Jolyne isn’t chatty like she normally is, staring blankly at the food on her plate as she plays with it. Normally you’ll tell her to be careful to not make a mess but words are logged in your throat and no matter how much water you drink it won’t move. 

Jolyne goes to bed the earliest she has in a long time that night. It’s now nine pm and you’re laying in bed, your pangolin-esque stand sitting at the end of your shared bed with Jotaro. Jolyne was asleep last you checked on her, so you invited the mystery to appear again. 

“Do I control when you appear?” 

“Mostly,” Wake Up responds while wiggling its scaly tail. “Sometimes I won’t listen.” 

Your eyebrows react to that by lowering. “What do you mean by-” 

“Like now!” The creature vanishes as the bedroom door opens. Jotaro enters with his usual serious expression, your hands are against the sheets with a look that reads you’re not happy about your stand’s audacity. 

“Jotaro.” You greet him with a bittersweet smile, heart aching at his absence but finally feeling minimal relief at his awaited appearance. “Was work alri-” 

He cuts you off immediately by removing his top to change into pajamas along with his blunt words. “We should get a divorce.” 

Your heart sinks into your stomach. If you weren’t sitting in bed you worry the weight of what he just said would cause it to fall right through you. Like a deer in the headlights you stare at him, mind entirely frazzled by his proposition. 

“I’ve gotten all the papers ready. I need your approval.” 

Is this why he was home late every night? When you thought he was working late to make sure Jolyne had everything she could ever want and you could indulge in your hobbies – he was really just going behind your back to remove you from his life? 

Your breathing becomes erratic as you stare at the man you vowed to love all your life. His effigy is a painful reminder that you’ve honored that – through all the times he's been short with you, he’s yelled, he’s acted on whatever he needed for himself – but he hasn’t. When he said “I do” all those years ago he was lying. Your face is growing hot in anger and sorrow, tears soothing the burning of your face. Cupping your face with your hands, you try to hide all the emotions overflowing. It’s obvious despite your shaking hands hiding your tear stained face because of your loud hiccups. 

The mattress sinks a little as Jotaro gets into bed with you to be met with you turning away. You can’t see how his eyes narrow in his own sadness. You don’t know why he’s doing this, or how much he still loves you. As he watches you sob his own heart is breaking, especially with how you refuse his comfort. He wishes he could stay with you, that he could stay with Jolyne, but your safety has always been his priority. 

“I’m so sorry.” Jotaro says empathetically while your body shakes. 

“Sorry you don’t love me anymore.” You said it so quietly, your sobs and hiccups interrupting the words, but Jotaro hears it and wants this to have never happened.

☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ ☆☆☆

The divorce is underway and you can’t sleep. Jotaro comes home even later than before which fills your mind with rage and resentment. Is he actually working or is he getting the things you couldn’t give him? Is he overworking himself like you always thought or is he getting stress relief from someone in the way you thought he only got from you? 

Jolyne notices how your gentle and nurturing nature has changed. Instead of seeing the glass half full you see it empty. As you brush her hair you aren’t humming, instead you’re staring off into space and stroking and stroking and stroking it until Jolyne asks if you’re okay. 

Your dinners are less coordinated. The dishes aren’t done as you cook, now they gather at the edge of the sink and stay in the dishwasher until noon. The apples in her lunch aren’t cut to look like bunnies, the napkins don’t have sweet notes on them, and there’s no cute animal forks for her to eat her vegetables with. 

“You’re worrying Jolyne.” Wake Up ridicules while you stare into the vacant spot besides you. It’s so cold without your furnace of a husband beside you. “I know shit’s rough but Jolyne deserves a present parent. And Jotaro isn’t present for either of you.” You know their right but you still feel anger in your soul. Naturally, Wake Up knows that. “You can’t make him love you again.” 

“I know that!” You snap despite your best attempts to keep it inside. Tears flow down your face again, face heating up as you recall what Jotaro had said nights ago. “I know that,” You reiterate in a broken voice. You’re so tired of sobbing – so tired of being strong. But you know Wake Up is right. Jolyne needs you to be strong for her. 

The next morning Jolyne wakes up to the smell of pancakes. She races down the steps, seeing you humming while flipping the fluffy breakfast. There’s cut strawberries and bananas in a dish, whipped cream and syrup on the counter too. Three plates are set up which fills Jolyne with hope that her dad did come home last night. It fills you with hope too despite knowing he never came to bed. It’s false hope but it’s what you feel you need. Once the pancakes are all done you serve her, watching as she happily gets fruit and syrup to eat them with. 

“Thank you!” Jolyne has a big smile, her messy hair all over the place since you didn’t pin it up for her. 

“Of course Jojo.” You smile back while grabbing the comb, elastics, and hairclips. “Once you’re done eating I’ll help tidy up your hair.” 

☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ ☆☆☆

Waiting for the divorce to finally happen may be breaking you more than the initial conversation. It’s like living a double life, putting on a happy front for Jolyne while falling into a deep spiral every time you’re alone with the lights off. 

Tonight’s like any other as your mind races and Wake Up witnesses it while curled up into themself. Only this night the door opens, light being introduced from a distant world. You’re too preoccupied in your head to recall your stand, Jotaro’s subtly shocked expression going unnoticed by your closed eyes. 

“[Name], get back!” That voice you know better than your own shouts startled. “This must be an enemy stand!” A purple entity emerges from behind him as your stand uncoils itself. 

“No, it’s my stand.” You say with narrowed eyes. Jotaro stares at you in shock and recalls his own stand. 

“When did this happen?” 

“A week ago. I picked up the brooch you had in my recipe cupboard and it pierced me.” You extend your arm, showing him the scar along the lines of your palm. “You knew that brooch did this to people? Why did you even have it?” You stare at his blank expression and shake your head. “It’s like I don’t even know you. Like there’s this entirely different world you live in and you can’t give me access. I thought we loved each other, I thought we trusted each other.” You shake your head again before your voice can get louder. “But I realize I’m wrong about both.” 

You’re met with silence as Jotaro thinks of what to say. If he should tell you that he loves you, that he just wants to be safe, that he’s never been happy away from you? 

“I do love you-” 

“Bullshit!” You’re so upset about the whole situation that you cut him off. “Why would you want a divorce then? Am I not good enough? I’ve only ever tried my hardest! What else could I do? I fucking love you, and-and you don’t love me,” You wish you’d stop talking with how rude you’re being, but all the anger held inside of you is coming out in full. “What did I do wrong?” 

“I want to keep you and Jolyne safe. These abilities we have cause people to target us. I can’t let anything happen to you or Jolyne. I love you both too much for that to happen.” Jotaro comes closer to your figure on the bed, taking you in his arms. You think about thrashing against him, but it’s been so long without his touch and you melt completely into his body. “I love you. I love you so much.” Jotaro feels ready to cry with how much he’s hurt you in his attempts to put you out of harm. “You and Jolyne matter most to me.” 

“I have a stand now,” You begin while wrapping your arms around his neck. Holding onto him tightly, you inhale his cologne. The scent of him is nearly gone from the sheets. “I can protect myself and Jolyne. You don’t need to do this.” 

Jotaro is silent for a moment, thinking about your point. He doesn’t want to be naive in thinking that, but you may be right that your stand is enough to combat the dangerous nature of being unique. 

“I trust you [Name].” Jotaro holds you tightly, relieved himself to have you in his arms. “I’ll cancel the divorce. I need you in my life.” 

“I need you too.” 

[moongurl95]

Chapter 10 – Tomes and Tribulations

“You should smile more often, it’ll help bring a shine to those pretty eyes.”

My hands stopped mid-brush through fiery locks as I gazed back at the smiling face through the mirror, the open trust in those deep blue irises made my heart ache.

“The only one who needs to be pretty between the two of us is you, my lady.” A most improper snort was what I got for my remark, as I now started braiding her hair.

“How many times have I told you to just refer to me by my name, Beatrice?”

“Alright then, if you insist, then it’s time for bed Cassidy.” I held back the bubble of laughter that threatened to spill from me as Cassidy stood up with an indignant huff, the pout that soon showed on her face failing to make her anymore intimidating.

“Now, using my name to order me around is just not fair!”

“To be fair, Cassidy, it’s to lighten those dark circles under your eyes you’ve been complaining about these days.”

“That’s something that might take a while, but at least I’ve accomplished in lightening up your mood for now instead.” It was only then did I notice that I was smiling back at her as Cassidy beamed back at me, reaching out to hold my hands in her softer ones, “Out of all the other girls they could have assigned to care for me, I’m glad it’s you Beatrice.”

“I don’t think there’s any point in you practicing with that particular sword anymore.”

The cool sweat that covered me seemed to numb my aching limbs upon hearing the snide remark, slowly lowering the weapon I was holding against the training dummy, “Cecilia, it’s been a while.”

“You, will address me as Sister Cecilia— and most likely in a few months as Joan. Tell me, was it really worth it to throw away your esteemed rank in the Sisterhood just for that runaway, hm?”

Bristling, I kept my voice even, “We both know Ophelia’s body showed marks of abuse, she wasn’t trying to run away, she was ambushed. There’s someone picking off our girls here in Dover and that perpetrator is still out there!”

“Your partner just wasn’t prepared for the world out there, and she sold herself until she was no longer useful.” She’d scoffed at me, taking advantage of my emotional state as Cecilia swiped my sword from me, “Much like how you were only favored when your grand-aunt was alive.”

The tip of my blade she now raised was cool against my neck, I could only gaze back at her in contained contempt as I let her continue her tirade, “But the new Mother Superior was right in demoting you to a mere handmaiden now. In a few months time, you might as well contribute to our convent earning a pretty penny once you’re married off to whichever hapless fool who wouldn’t care about your upbringing— fatherless, born out of wedlock— AHH!!”

Cecilia’s shocked screech echoed around the convent’s open courtyard as she now stood drenched – the white of her veil clinging to blonde wisps of hair. My gaze then focused on the perpetrator as Cassidy dropped a wooden bucket to the cobblestoned floor, “You take that back!” She’d demanded indignantly, in all her fiery elegance.

“Why you little—!”

My body moved on its own, grasping Cecilia’s elbow just as she charged towards Cassidy, my leg hooking behind hers to make her fall to the ground. The smooth hilt of my sword now a familiar comfort back in my hand, yet it felt wrong as I pointed the gleaming tip of it at Cecilia’s vulnerable neck.

“You mustn’t forget our oath, Cecilia. We show mercy to others who don’t find it outside these walls.”

I plunged the sword beside where her head lay to put an end to this petty argument— there was no point in hanging onto sentimentality when it would only cause further strife in the Sisterhood—

“What is this commotion about?!”

Stepping in front of Cassidy to shield her from Mother Superior’s wrath, I felt her dainty hands clench onto one of my own from behind, they were shaking as I quietly observed Cecilia now slowly stand up— her contained look of contempt not directed at me but to my charge.

“It was my fault, Mother Superior.” A heavy pause surrounded the courtyard as the older woman’s gaze settled on me, “Sister Cecilia pointed out that I should no longer be in possession of the St. Catherin but knowing that it was bestowed to me by my grand-aunt— the late Mother Superior— well I… let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Well, indeed…” I felt Cecilia’s gaze now focused on me, but I spared her no glance as Mother Superior came to a decision, “I will have the Sword of St. Catherin confiscated from your care and will entrust it to Sister Cecilia until further notice, and as for your punishment for displaying such uncouth behavior— especially in the presence of your charge…”

The soft sob that came from behind me had me squeezing Cassidy’s now cold hands, silently urging her to keep quiet, if just this once—

“I understand, Mother Superior. I’ll take responsibility for my momentary lost in judgement.”

Gingerly, I sat on my bed— my arms now felt like they were burning from being outstretched out in the cool night air for long, though my knees weren’t any better as I was made to kneel on pebbled ground, all while balancing a dozen Bibles— 6 on each arm— for my punishment this late afternoon. Fortunately, I still had time to prepare my charge for bed.

Taking a steadying breath, I prepared to stand when the adjoining door that connected my room to Cassidy’s slowly opened and in she entered as she precariously balanced a tray with both hands, making me hiss at her in alarm, “Cassidy! What in heaven’s name—"

“You missed dinner.” She’d said resolutely, successfully managing to place the tray on my bedside table before she was urging me to lean back on my bed, “Let me take care of you, just this once.” She left no room for arguments as she held the spoon of what looked to be potato chowder near my lips, and so I complied, sure that the warmth I felt seeping through my chest wasn’t just because of the hearty soup.

It wasn’t until after Cassidy had also assisted in putting salve on my bruises as she helped me to bed did I grasp her slightly shaking hands in mine, “You have nothing to worry about, you’re still a daughter of a viscount, Cassidy. They wouldn’t dare harm a single strand on your hair.

“Still… When I leave this place, I want you to come with me, Beatrice.” The pleading look she gave me then still caused my heart to ache in guilt.

“Is this what you actually meant when you spoke about leaving this place?” I asked almost incredulously, though Cassidy’s sitting form had yet to meet my gaze, “A year. You were supposed to be under my protection for a year now and I am only finding out about… this???” I gestured at the secret correspondences she’d just now divulged to me as I stood to pace in the privacy of her room.

“His name is Seamus Eagan, he’s the reason why my father sent me here in the first place.” Cassidy now started speaking quietly, “Once I turn 16 in a month’s time, the viscount will marry me off me to one of his associates, despite just being a result from an affair, he still sees me as a pawn to widen his own social standing—  Please Beatrice, please understand…”

I couldn’t bear to watch the silent tears streaking down her face, focusing instead on her hands that were gently placed over her lower abdomen, “And since when was your… condition?”

“Sometime during May…”

Letting out a long breath, I tried to compose myself as I closed my eyes, my hands tugging at my braided hair while I racked my brain on what happened just over a month ago— The festival in town that Cassidy had wanted to sneak out to see, I lost sight of her then but— it doesn’t matter now, does it? This was still ultimately my fault.

“I plan to leave in a fortnight. I – just ought you to know so… you don’t have to put your own plans on hold for me…”

Taking a sharp intake of breath, I levelled Cassidy with a steady glance at what she just told me, the touch of betrayal I felt must have been evident on my face as she hurriedly reassured me, “I was never planning to tell anyone, Beatrice! You can trust me. It’s just that… I was hoping you’d leave with me – I’m certain Seamus can secure you a ticket to France after our wedding…”

She’d look up at me with such hope and vulnerability then as she worried her fingers into the lace of her day gown that I couldn’t help but grasp her hands in mine to still them, kneeling on the carpeted floor beside where she sat, surprising even myself at how my voice didn’t even quiver in reply, “As if I could even live with the thought of letting you go by yourself. You’re my charge, of course I’ll go with you.”

The embrace she’d wrapped me in thereafter had me feeling a weight being lifted off my shoulders as I let a smile grace my face. If this was the path laid out for me to dedicate hereon, then maybe France could wait, I now had no reason to feel guilty for myself.

“You’re not really going out there with just that, are you?”

I cursed under my breath, steadying Cassidy on her feet just as I assisted her off the stone ledge, before pulling her close to me as I glared up at the source of the voice.

“Cecilia.” Hoping I didn’t say out her name in spite, I felt Cassidy tense behind me as she anxiously grabbed my hand, now opting to calmy reason with her, “Please, let us go quietly—”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to stop you from leaving, I just thought you’d might need this.”

Swiftly raising my arm to catch whatever it was she might have thrown; I was surprised to feel the familiar weight of a sheathed sword, its ivory smooth hilt enough to identify it as the St. Catherin. I made it obvious how I looked back at her warily then, wondering how this could even benefit Cecilia.

“Stealing from the convent? All the more reason to give the Sisterhood grounds not to accept you back.” The sickly-sweet smile she had initially cast me turned into a scathing look, “I wouldn’t be settling being second best to you anymore.”

I holstered my sword over a shoulder, making sure it was well-hidden beneath my cloak, accepting the fall Cecilia planned for me to take, “After all these years serving under St. Margaret’s… It wasn’t my intention to make you feel that way—”

“Pride is a deadly sin, Beatrice. It’d do you well to realize how you’re always trying to… compensate for something— much like what you’re doing right now.”

Cassidy had now started tugging at my arm just as Cecilia’s gaze settled on her with an unreadable expression. There was no more time to talk, nor ask any more questions. With a final glance at the place that housed me for nearly the past four years, I turned my back away— I would have spent my 15th there in a few days’ time.

The white cliffs behind us stood like sentinels that guarded any noise we made along the shingle beach’s coast, the bay water lapping on the shore was usually enough to clear my mind, but tonight I felt tense, mainly maintaining my focus on Cassidy as she nearly braced on her toes with unbridled excitement. I watched the rowboat coming towards us as I also carefully eyed the schooner it came from in the distance, the cloudy night sky concealed any hint of identification from its sails fluttering from the two masts—

“Seamus!” Cassidy had already leapt into the arms of this unknown man before I could instinctively pull her to a proper distance, instead eyeing the other two men that accompanied him in this retrieval.

“My sweet rose, fate has finally allowed us to be together. But here I thought you would be alone?”

He’d referred to my presence then as I also got a good look at him – a trader he was, from what Cassidy had said, encountering him only after a transaction with her father fell through – I frowned at the thought that he might as well have taken advantage of her, what with him being several ages older and the recent tryst he coaxed Cassidy into.

“I mentioned Beatrice to you before, haven’t I? Asked if you had any contacts that could help her in France.”

“Is that where she wants to go? Well, that can always be arranged.” He’d stepped away from Cassidy then, pebbles crunching under his boots as he neared me, “It’s a delight to finally put a face to a name.” He’d held a hand out in a gentleman’s greeting to which I hesitantly accepted.

The clouds parted then, enough to cast moonlight upon the coast as my eye caught the glint coming from his signet ring and I felt my hand freeze near his lips upon recognizing its symbol, realization hitting me like a cold wave at what he’d said next, “You’ll surely make for quite the bidding.”

As if on cue, one of his men grabbed me from behind, about to put a cloth over my mouth but I put him off balance by pushing my weight on him to lift both my legs, kicking the second man coming close straight to his chest. Hold on me loosening as we both hit the rocky shore, I was just about to rush towards Cassidy’s now confused screaming, when her lover used her against me.

“Not another step!” Cassidy’s screaming turned into a horrified sob as he held her close in front of him, a dagger pointed dangerously close to her belly.

Gritting my teeth, I barely had time to think of my next course of action before something had harshly hit my head and everything went dark.

Beatrice still felt a phantom throbbing in her head as she stumbled out of bed earlier that morning, deciding against drinking another batch of Wiggenweld as she’d done last night. She had hoped her suddenly vivid dreams could be easily washed away by cold water as she pulled away from the sink, jolting away from the ghostly form of the Grey Lady who just so happened to occupy the otherwise empty Girls’ Bathroom this early hour.

Despite the concept of seeing ghosts in the first place still being new to Beatrice, she managed a polite nod in greeting to her House Founder’s daughter, who in turn only stared at her with that same unnerving look she’d cast after the Sorting Ceremony before the Lady then drifted away. Beatrice shook her head to make sense of the day, firstly she had to talk to Professor Fig.

The castle was still in the process of waking up as Beatrice made her way over to the D.A.D.A. Tower, curfew had ended minutes ago yet it was still a bit early for breakfast. She let her footsteps echo on the marble floors as her troubled mind wandered, too preoccupied that she’d made a lapse in decorum when she’d accidentally just let herself into Professor Fig’s office, causing her to further pause at the door’s entryway upon hearing the matter being discussed.

“You cannot be serious. Goblins working with Rookwood? Makes no sense.”

Beatrice remembered this man to be one of the professors she’d spied at the Sorting Ceremony, though she had yet to attend whatever subject he was handling.

“It is – rather unorthodox, to say the least.”

“Unorthodox? It’s inconceivable. It’s –” The other professor paused, now aware of her presence as she tensed under his scrutiny, slightly wincing as another painful throb washed over her head, “— ah, Fig. You have a visitor. I’ll see what I can find out.” With a passing disgruntled sound, the professor made his way out, the limp on his steps not going unnoticed by Beatrice as she lowered her head apologetically for having interrupted whatever discussion he was having with her mentor.

Only after having made sure that the door had properly shut closed behind her did she venture further inside, Professor Fig greeting her with a smile, though she noted it to be a weary one. She supposed she could make her confession quick, “Sir – I was able to search the Restricted Section while you were with Professor Black. It was a book we were after.”

“What? That’s – wait. You accessed the Restricted Section? But how –?” Beatrice breathed in, quite prepared to explain herself when— “Thinking on it, perhaps it’s best you spare me the details.” The older man had sighed in resignation, as if having expected her to do just that in the first place.

A small smile graced her own lips as Beatrice let out a breath in relief, for a moment she’d expected to be grossly reprimanded, “Fair enough. In fact, the book was below the Restricted Section, as it appeared on the map.”

“I want to hear everything. First, let’s have a look!”

Though she’d cursed herself inwardly once they realized the mysterious book was missing some pages – sore and left in disbelief from the unexpected fight she faced in the Athenaeum, while also being racked with worry for Sebastian last night before restless sleep could consume her – it had completely slipped Beatrice’s mind to read any of the book’s contents.

She was also more than eager to recount the memories she’d seen from the Pensieve after, feeling less alone with the knowledge that there were others like her who possessed this form of Magic in the past, she’d very much like to learn how to safely hone this supposedly ancient ability.

“I’ll have to take this book with me to London. The Headmaster has insisted that I speak directly to the Minister about George’s death.”

“What will you tell them about Mr. Osric’s death?” Beatrice solemnly asked, the vicious dragon attack sure to be one that’ll haunt her memories, it was the first time she’d seen such a gruesome death up close.

“I don’t know how much I dare say. George tried to convince the Ministry about Ranrok – but to no avail.” She sensed a wave of barely contained grief, silently observing Fig shake his head as if in afterthought, “My instinct is to follow the path we are on for the moment and keep the details to ourselves until we know more.”

“I understand. I’ll see what I can learn about the missing pages while you’re gone. Also, professor, I’ve earned a few Galleons from… helping others here. If you could have this exchanged and sent to her care?” Beatrice procured the jangling pouch of coins which she’d placed on Fig’s table.

“What did I teach you about saving and spending your Galleons on yourself?” He’d given her a stern look but quickly sighed as his expression softened, “What happened to Cassidy after that incident wasn’t your fault, dear.” Beatrice looked down then, inhaling a shaky breath as she’d felt her throat tighten.

“I’ll drop by to check how she’s doing, but the rest of this I’ll be saving alongside what your Nana left you.” Fig raised an eyebrow as he pocketed the pouch, his warm smile expressing that he wasn’t the least bit cross with her, “You have enough pocket money with you on a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I do, sir. Please don’t worry about it.” Beatrice would rather not ask anything more from the kindly old man.

“Good. Don’t neglect your studies. Your wandwork is improving by the day, and even though your Flight class is moved to tomorrow due to Kogawa being at the Department of Magical Games and Sports – you’ll want to pay attention in Herbology and Potions. There’s more to magic than spell-casting.”

“Plenty to keep me occupied while you’re gone.”

“You’ve done exceptionally well. I look forward to seeing all that you’ve accomplished when I return on Saturday’s eve, at the most. Oh – and don’t neglect your friends. You may be surprised by how much you can learn from them as well.”

She bit her lip then in hesitance, since Fig had brought up the matter of friends – “There’s actually one last thing I wanted to ask before you leave, professor… As you know, I did request a friend’s assistance in guiding me through the Restricted Section and well… I got him in trouble, sir – I heard Scribner plan to tell the Headmaster…” Beatrice trailed off, not wanting to expect the worst for Sebastian.

“Surely he’ll only get detention but pulling Mr. Sallow out of such is like asking fire not to burn – although I guess with magic that could be remedied – much like Black owes me somewhat for going on this trip quite abruptly.”

“I – hadn’t even said who it was just yet?” She’d blinked at her mentor in surprise, only being met with a knowing smile in return.

“There’s been talk in the Faculty since last night on who would ever get into detention on their first week back in Hogwarts, and with an offense of sneaking into the library’s Restricted Section no less. I can’t say it took me by surprise, though knowing you were the one to initiate it due to my otherwise preoccupation, I can say I could pull a few strings to lighten his load, so to speak.” Fig gave her a conspiratorial wink which made Beatrice’s shoulders relax as she breathed out a sigh in relief.

“Charming young man, Mr. Sallow. Little mischievous, but a talented wizard nonetheless.” He’d added in afterthought as a quill and pad of paper magically appeared at his side as Fig stood to arrange his things, “Now due to the recent attack, the Ministry deemed it unwise to send a carriage for me, instead I actually have an appointment to a Portkey that will deliver me straight there, so I need to make this Letter of Excuse quick.”

Fig proceeded to mumble some words which the quill was quickly taking note of all whilst levitating some of his things into a single suitcase, “There, I never could find the time to arrange all the books here anyhow, the Madam will also surely agree to have those books stacked by the doorway be put away too. But since I won’t be here to supervise, I may need to assign a Prefect to oversee—”

“Would it be alright if I suggested someone in mind?” Beatrice interjected before she could think it through.

“Well, that’ll surely make it easier for me. I was worried for naught you’d adjust well in Hogwarts; seems like you’ve already made friends with a varied sort of capabilities in just your first week.”

She could only grin at her mentor sheepishly, watching as the quill signed with a flourish before the paper magically folded in on itself, whizzing pass under the door. Beatrice could only hope Sebastian found this to be a better form of detention.

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The Great Hall was slowly starting to fill with students and some professors alike, since Professor Fig had insisted he’d rather take the Portkey scheduled for him at Hogsmeade Station on a lighter stomach, they’d parted ways by the Floo Flame near his classroom entrance. This left Beatrice cradling her mug of hot cocoa as her eyes scanned the opposite Slytherin table, failing to spot a familiar mop of brown hair, she found it odd how considering there weren’t that many students present at the tables yet their whispers seemed to encapsulate the Hall—

“Don’t worry about Sallow getting in trouble because of you. That lad was born in detention.”

It was a good thing the marshmallows from her cocoa buoyed her morning as Beatrice stayed her tongue at what Duncan had implied as he passed by.

“Oh, bugger off Dunkein! You’re just all talk now with that—”

“Constance that’s enough, don’t let him get to you, honestly…” Samantha let out a sigh in exasperation as she took a seat beside Beatrice, pulling her other roommate down, “Poor ol’ Sebastian has detention again. Will he ever learn to stay out of the Restricted Section?”

“Sebastian is always testing the rules. It is no wonder he got detention.” Having caught the tail end of the topic, it was Amit who then spoke up, just arriving along with Everett and Andrew.

“Aaand rumour has it, Sebastian Sallow got detention for you, though I can’t believe he’d do that.” Constance paused in spreading jam on her toast as she felt all eyes on her when she looked up, “What? No offense Beatrice, but he just strikes me as someone who wouldn’t take the fall for free. There’s got to be something in it for him.”

“You wouldn’t know anything about Sebastian getting his first detention for the year, would you?” It was Everett’s question that had their tiny group quietly curious about her answer, that was until Andrew interjected, “Yes, awful luck about Sebastian but you’re one to talk about detention, Clopton. May I remind you about the first day of class we had with Kogawa?”

Despite looking like the perfect picture of nonchalance as he poured milk into his tea, there was a teasing undertone to Andrew’s words that immediately coaxed a reaction out of the other boy, “Ack! Don’t remind me! It was just that one time in our 1st year, it’s why I think she wouldn’t even let me pass from Flying Class altogether after all these years!”

“It’s really not so bad if you think about it. Gives me a good reason to practice flying more.”

“No offense Samantha, but you’re there because you want to overcome your fear of flying, but me? It’s keeping me from signing up for Ravenclaw’s Quidditch Team! I’m a wasted potential!”

“Say it louder for Astoria to hear, Clopton!” Constance goaded with a grin, raising her mug for emphasis.

Laughter and the added ruckus already distracted the rest of their tiny group and Beatrice couldn’t help but smile as she mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ at the blond sitting in front of her, to which Andrew winked back with a smile of his own.

It was throughout breakfast that Beatrice also learned that Hobhouse was distancing himself from the group now that he had “reason” to be brave on his own, going so far as to comment about Constance being a half-blood and even antagonize his roommates, Everett and Andrew.

Whilst the latter never really cared for such jabs, it did take him and Amit to keep Everett from causing more trouble, as Clopton wouldn’t stop at just playful pranks to show the other bespectacled boy a lesson for even thinking about throwing insults to the people he once considered to be his friends. Subconsciously, this also made Beatrice wonder what Hobhouse had to say about her own questionable lineage.

By the time they were off to their own respective morning schedules, Beatrice had pulled Andrew aside to confess that she may have unwittingly “volunteered” him for a task she hadn’t even asked his permission for.

“Oh, so that was why I got the notice from the madam. Thought for a moment it was some form of punishment for being known not to return her books on time.” He sighed in relief before rubbing a finger to his chin, now looking thoughtful, “This does give me an opportunity to check out what other books Fig has in his study; always did regret never taking up his subject past 1st year…”

“I’m really sorry for having acted too familiar with you these days, Andrew— and this shouldn’t make up for anything, but as promised, I’ve already cast a great Extension Charm on this robe of yours.”

She handed him back the school robe he’d most graciously offered her yesterday morning when they were out at the rooftop. He grinned brightly upon seeing it, quickly changing into the charmed robe, “You’ve made this at the perfect time! I’ve actually been working on one that could store a whole broom in it – for Quidditch practice – though speaking of, I heard Kogawa’s still at the Ministry today. I’m sure that’s not going to stop Clopton from getting some flying done, but where will you be at?”

Beatrice glanced back again inside the Great Hall in hopes to spot Sebastian, suddenly being conscious about her free morning period quickly gave her an idea as to where else he might be at, “I – actually might need to finish a task related to Professor Hecat’s class. I’ll see you around then?”

The way Andrew seemed to search her gaze then had her almost fidgeting, but she stubbornly kept her eyes on him, catching the tiny hint of a smile as if he knew what it was she was keeping from him, “Of course, as long as you try to avoid trouble as much as possible, Beatrice.”

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This was most troubling. Beatrice tightened the grip she had on her wand as she cast a second Protego just after the first one successfully deflected a Basic Cast, though she hadn’t dodged fast enough to avoid the third that came right after, alternating to her left hand as she shook off the numbness where it had hit her on her right arm.

Of course, she just had to try her luck in taking on four opponents on her own now, didn’t she? Natty was probably in class and Sebastian was still nowhere to be found, this left the rest of the members here to gang up on her instead.

She breathed a sigh of relief how Nellie graciously accepted defeat after her barrage of Basic Cast on the Gryffindor’s previously levitated form, before Beatrice made a quick glance at the other familiar face, one who Andrew introduced her to whilst she was enroute to Hogsmeade with Sebastian just the other day. Prewett was it? He looked to be second guessing his next set of spells at the moment.

But then again, this still left her with two other opponents, with the third Gryffindor going so much as to cast Confringo her way! She’d been reluctant to use Incendio all this while, but fire was better fought with its same destructive element, and now seemed like a perfect time than any to use the latest spell combination set she had just practiced.

Levioso took him off guard before Beatrice cast a quick Protego against the Hufflepuff girl’s attack, maintaining her focus on the Gryffindor as she followed with an Accio. His wide-eyed look of trepidation had her stepping back enough to cast a non-lethal jet of Incendio, making sure the boy wasn’t burning alive as he flayed about on the ground while Lucan called him off the round. That left two more.

Adrenaline had her feeling a familiar mounting sensation she’d come to associate with Ancient Magic since her fight in the Athenaeum, barely having enough time to keep it under control as Beatrice cast an Incendio against the Hufflepuff girl’s Protego at close range, the impact causing a rebound that made the other girl fall back onto the floor. This was proving to get dangerous…

Before she could reel in the Magic though, Beatrice failed to take into account her last opponent who took advantage of her distracted state, a Basic Cast to her leg had her close to falling forward but the surge of Ancient Magic caused her to instinctively summon a nearby wooden barrel and hurl it towards Prewett, instantaneously knocking him down on his back just as she landed on her numb leg.

There was a moment of hollowed silence before claps and whistles echoed through the Clock Tower whilst Beatrice all but dragged herself towards her fellow student to make certain she hadn’t inadvertently caused serious harm with her volatile magic, “Oh gods! Are you alright?” She’d asked, kneeling beside his prone but thankfully conscious form.

His gaze still looked wobbly as Prewett sat up all too suddenly, “That. Was absolutely brilliant!” Beatrice had to wonder how much sense she’d knocked out of him— “Using Levioso, Accio and Depulso like that in a fight – I’ll have to take note of that!”

Was that how it looked like? Admittedly, she had yet to learn the wand movement for casting the Banishing Charm so she had to be extra careful where to consciously use her Ancient Magic from here on, less it attract too much unwanted attention.

“What a victory! You’ve ranked the highest in the Initiate rounds!” Lucan exuberantly came rushing in followed by Nellie and the other Gryffindor boy.

“What’d I tell you, Northcott, she can’t be beat, can she?” Prewett still looked quite out of it as he was helped to his feet by the now named Gryffindor, “ Yes, yes. Lost to a new student. Hmph. I didn’t see that coming. Now off to the Hospital Wing with you.”

Beatrice couldn’t help but wince slightly upon hearing that, hoping she hadn’t truly left any lasting damage on a schoolmate, when Nellie offered her a hand, “Shame it’s over. I was just getting started. Do you feel like seeing the Nurse as well?”

Already feeling proper motion come back to her leg and arm, she shook her head, to which Nellie just shrugged and grinned, “Leander should have seen that coming, beating around the bush he was.”

“I’m just pleased to have done as well as I did.”

“And we’re pleased to have such a gracious champion. Now, to the victor goes the prize!” Nellie gave her a parting pat on the shoulder as Lucan fumbled with the rectangular box in his hands, “And so it is my great honour to present you with this simple yet elegant token of supreme duelling accomplishment. Think of it as a welcome gift, you know, from Professor Hecat.” Lucan all but whispered the last part as he cupped a hand to the side of his mouth in secrecy.

“Oh, thank you. It’s been an honour.” Beatrice raised her brows in intrigue, glimpsing the inside of the box to spot what looked to be an outfit before she stashed it away into her robe pockets, thinking to try it out sometime later, “Also Lucan, what you said about ‘ranking the highest’, surely Sebastian still holds that honour?”

“You earned it. You are a duellist to be reckoned with, and Sebastian seems to know that as well. Said he’d rather fight alongside you than against you in our Tournament of Champions next month, and since he was the one who vouched for your entry, Sebastian’s earned the option to have you as his duelling partner until the final rounds.”

Smart boy. Beatrice kept herself from sniggering most impolitely in front of Lucan who was all just explaining this matter-of-factly before the younger had produced a brass colored thin piece of foil in front of her, “Now about your wand, Beatrice— Is it made out of Aspen Wood?”

Lucan almost looked restless for her answer as she could only nod in affirmation, “I knew it!” He kept from cheering outright by covering it with a cough before composing himself, “If you could just do me the favor of placing your wand here perhaps?”

“Could this have anything to do with another one of your exclusively secret duelling clubs, Lucan?” Beatrice smiled, though hesitant in just placing her wand on just about anywhere.

“Not directly, no. But it might give us a chance to include a Hogwarts Champion in the Silver Spears.” She blinked, hoping the younger could elaborate more as he continued, “It’s a miracle how Professor Hecat never once gave me detention with the way I badgered her about this since being given responsibility of Crossed Wands. She implicitly gave me this only after the fact I mentioned it was you who wielded an Aspen wand. I don’t want to think it was because of House-bias though...”

Upon knowing her House Head was already made aware of whatever it is Lucan was planning, Beatrice could only watch in fascination as the foil glowed golden, encasing itself around her wand before an inscription of its making appeared on its surface. It was only after the piece of foil sealed itself into a dark blue envelope did she get her wand back, watching as the parchment zipped upwards into the Clock Tower.

“Could you tell me what that ceremony entailed which required me to join this… ‘Silver Spears’ was it?”

“That was a Wand Weigher – or a portable one, from what Professor Hecat said – and the Silver Spears is an infamous – if not almost legendary duelling club. But it has been awhile since they’ve accepted any members since being established back in the 18th century, until rumour has it that one came from Beauxbatons just two decades ago! That was the last anyone’s really talked about the club, but think about it Beatrice, if you get to join the Silver Spears, you could have me as your personal duelling coordinator and that would just be absolutely amazing, don’t you think so?”

“Of course, but we best not get ahead ourselves, Lucan.” Beatrice couldn’t help but catch the younger boy’s enthusiasm, not daring to point out that her rather ‘late’ start at magic might come into consideration.

“Well, I think it’s still worth a shot at glory. And, now that we’ve definitively crowned our ranking winner for the Initiate rounds in just the first week, I suppose I should get back to my school work until the next month.” Lucan’s expression suddenly turned to worry, “Wonder how my Herbology plants are doing. I haven’t tended them in ages.”

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Speaking of plants, Beatrice took into account her dwindling supply of Wiggenweld Potion she had on hand. She’d already come to rely on the bitter green liquid, what with the previous battles she had to undergo relating to Ancient Magic, and despite also being fortunate enough to supplement it with the random stock she found in the various chests she’d encountered, Beatrice felt it too risky to bet on luck alone.

First off, she needed a Potion Station to brew more Wiggenweld, yet she’d also need to start growing her own batch of Dittany Leaves too if it meant saving more on Galleons than just buying the ingredients, then that just left the other raw produce she needed… She’d read Horklump Juice tended to hide underground – in caves, maybe? She supposed there was finally reason for her to check out what the Forbidden Forest had to offer.

Beatrice snapped her Field Guide shut just as she’d quickly read up about the Greenhouse Tree, in awe of the eternal Spring the place seemed to be enchanted in as she walked closer towards the nearest Floo Flame that was indicated in her map, the whispers growing louder – had class already started??—

“What’s that smell? Is she growing Pungous Onion again?”

Her head tilted towards the familiar voice, she’d somehow come to associate it with the very boy she’d been hoping to find for the better part of the morning, and supposing they had the same classes so far, Beatrice thought it was best to assume she’d most likely encounter Sebastian in Herbology Class.

Despite that, Beatrice was also curious if there were any magical methods when it came to growing plants in the Wizarding community – she’d considered herself to be a passable gardener during her Horticulture classes back in the convent, managing to keep her greens alive and even producing a small batch of edible ones as well.

So it was with wide-eyed wonder that she took in the vibrancy of their Greenhouse classroom, following close behind who she recognized to be Lenora before it was her turn to reach into whatever it was their professor was handing out from the basket she held.

“Ah, hello!” A look of recognition immediately crossed her professor’s features before she was cheerfully introduced, “Class, please welcome the newest rose in our garden.”

She tried to relax her shoulders, suddenly feeling somewhat embarrassed at being called attention to as she swept a steady gaze over the faces of her classmates, only before meeting a familiar pair of brown ones who also had an almost cheeky smile on his face. Beatrice felt a flutter in her chest as she sheepishly returned his smile, she did owe Sebastian an apology and a proper explanation at this point.

“We do look forward to growing together.” Professor Garlick caught her attention then, nodding towards the only unoccupied gardening table beside Sebastian. He had his arms crossed now, accompanied by a teasing look in his eyes that matched his smile, Beatrice almost felt flustered under his gaze causing her to turn away from him to focus on their professor’s words – This was after all, technically both their first day in Herbology after having been exempted from their classes yesterday.

“The prudent Herbologist is no more afraid of the Venomous Tentacula than the Bouncing Bulb.” Professor Garlick said, gracefully throwing a carrot over the plant’s way as she passed by, the resulting crunch from its maw unconsciously made Beatrice step back in slacked-jawed wonder before turning to share a glance with the boy beside her, who in turn motioned towards the potted plant they each had on their tables. Curiously, the leaves seemed to quiver on their own despite the lack of wind inside the Greenhouse. 

“Now, then. Today we will be acquainting ourselves with the mellifluous tuber known as the Mandrake Root.”

Ah, the Crying plants. Beatrice remembered reading before term about their medicinal benefits despite their ironically fatal cries, though surely the latter part was made to be hyperbolic – how deadly could a plant’s scream be anyway?

“Let’s see if we can make our fibrous friends a bit more comfortable, shall we? First, let’s protect our ears.”

Beatrice surmised the ordinary looking cottons were enchanted somehow as she struggled to hear Professor Garlick’s next instructions, “Now, everyone grip their Mandrake by the tendrils and give it a firm tug.”

Hoping she wouldn’t pull just the leaves without the Mandrake itself, Beatrice also carefully watched Sebastian’s hand placement over his own pot before he tugged. The ensuing barrage of wails almost made her knees wobble as she tried to angle her head away from the mottled plant, quite sure she heard glass breaking in the distance.

“Quickly! Place your Mandrakes in the new pot and pat down the soil!”

Struggling to wrangle the writhing mass in her one arm as she pressed her other into her ear, Beatrice all but vehemently jabbed the plant into the bigger pot of soil, her ears still positively ringing as she buried it further, only stepping away from it with a sigh of relief when she was sure everything had gone quiet – or maybe she had gone deaf after all—

“The soil should envelop the root like a warm, dirty, blanket, putting the Mandrake right at ease.”

Breathing easier now as she watched the glass overhead be repaired with a simple Reparo, Beatrice took the cotton out of her ears as she saw Sebastian do the same, seeing him about to tell her something—

“I’m very sorry about that. Yours was a bit mature, I’m afraid.” Professor Garlick said as she passed between them, cradling the pot in her arms, “Splendid work, everyone. Now, for our next task, we’ll be planting Dittany at our potting tables. You can all get started – I need to have a brief word with our new student.”

Perking up at the mention of the ingredient she’d needed, Beatrice saw Sebastian nod and silently mouth ‘later’ at her as she followed after their Herbology professor.

“I should think Professor Garlick would be more careful with her Mandrakes.”

“Come now, Ominis. Think about how beneficial it’ll be if you’d nearly gone deaf, you won’t be bothered by my snores any longer.”

“And take away the joy of stuffing your face with a pillow every now and then? I think not, old friend.”

A smile found its way to Beatrice’s features as she couldn’t help but overhear the friends’ exchange, even catching Professor Garlick’s enthusiasm at guiding her on how to properly grow her first batch of the medicinal herb. She had to frown though at seeing how quickly the seedling had germinated – was it because of magic? Had she unwittingly cast Ancient Magic on it without knowing??

Panic had almost settled in her as Beatrice tilted her head, trying to catch any strange blue glow the plant might be emitting when – “Well done. Once it can be harvested, your Dittany will be ready to use in Wiggenweld Potion. I’ll let Professor Sharp tell you about that. Now, what say we branch out? Introduce you to a different sort of flora.”

Since Professor Garlick didn’t seem at all to be a bit perturbed by her plant’s growth, Beatrice could only nod along at the fast-paced lesson she was being introduced to.

“You’ll find that some plants are better suited to uses outside of a cauldron – like the Chinese Chomping Cabbage – they do get testy without something to chew. Fortunately, I have a dummy for them to gnaw on. Be a dear and let them have a good chomping.”

She blinked, not quite sure she’d heard right as all she could muster was, “Yes, Professor.” Hopefully Beatrice wouldn’t end up being the dummy the aforementioned chomping cabbages would gnaw on.

“They’re in the other Greenhouse. It’s just at the end of the footbridge leading out of this room. Your classmate, Mr. Prewett, has kindly offered to accompany you. Come back and see me when you’re finished. Oh, and – mind your fingers. They do bite.”

By the time Beatrice had tensely made her way up the steel stairs, she was greeted by the same boy she’d just sent to the Hospital Wing just earlier from their Crossed Wands match, “Hello! We meet again.”

“Prewett – how’s the head? No lasting damage, I hope?” She bit her lower lip anxiously, waiting for his reply as he rubbed at the back of his head.

“Please, just Leander is fine – and no worries, no harm done at all.” He gave her a sheepish grin to which she felt herself relax, “I’ll be showing you the Chinese Chomping Cabbages. Up these stairs’ll take us there, but – your lead, Beatrice, right?”

Smiling as she nodded, Beatrice had just about taken the first step up when she glanced back down towards their classroom to spot Sebastian’s frowning face, seeming to have watched after them with his arms crossed.

“Nice work in Defense Against the Dark Arts, by the way.”

“Excuse me?” Her focus snapped back up to her current companion who was already waiting for her at the top of the stairwell.

“Your duel with Sebastian. And he’s good. Ha, thinks he’s really good. But you outright slaughtered him. It was brilliant.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you.” Came her stilted reply, not quite feeling that she deserved what sounded like a compliment thrown her way as she instead kept busy by taking stock of the other useful plants they’d passed by – maybe she could pilfer a stem or two from some of them…?

“I nearly put Sebastian in his place myself. I mean, I would’ve, if Hecat hadn’t stopped me.”

“Didn’t she stop that dragon skull from crushing you?” Beatrice gave a side-eyed glance towards the redhead who’d kept walking forward, not quite realizing his charge had stopped to inspect a small chest left on top of a stone bench. She ended up quickly pocketing the Dragonhide Herbologist Gloves she’d found inside, thinking it’d likely be useful on whatever sort of cabbages she’d be handling.

“Pfft, typical Slytherin trick, dropping a dragon skull on someone during a fight. We Gryffindors fight with honour. And, uh, Ravenclaws, too. At least you did.”

Beatrice bristled at the first words of that statement, not wanting to stay silent in the midst of this petty sense of House rivalry, “I may not be as honourable as you think, Leander. I am to blame for Sebastian getting detention in just the first week back this year.”

“You mean those rumours?” He just laughed off her blatant confession, “It’s only fitting that Sebastian gets detention. This isn’t the first time he’s been sneaking in the Restricted Section. Don’t blame yourself, Beatrice.”

She just about opened her mouth to come to the Slytherin boy’s defense yet again, but she was then cut off by Leander’s proud declaration, “Here we are. Home of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage.”

Carefully approaching the row of planted vegetables, Beatrice would have mistaken the greens to look just like the normal cabbages she used to harvest back in the convent’s field had the diabolical things not stretched out their leafy layers to reveal rows of sharp teeth.

“Go on – grab a few of those cabbages. Just mind your fingers – I almost lost a thumb once.” The redhead had said almost too casually which made Beatrice stall in wearing her Dragonhide gloves as she cast him a troubled look, “Don’t worry, Nurse Blainey put it back on. But trust me, you do not want to go through that.” He’d hurriedly supplied before she proceeded to pull one out from the soil, careful to balance it in both hands by cradling its underside.

“Now, see that dummy? Just toss the cabbages at it. They’ll do the rest.”

Not needing to be told twice, Beatrice could only watch in horrified fascination as the training dummy stood no chance against the rather ferocious chomping it got from a mere single cabbage – “Look at that. They’ll chomp on anything they can get their, uh – mouths? – on.”

“How do you keep it focused on, well – chomping – on a singular subject? Better yet, what’s keeping it from ‘rolling’ towards our way and attacking us instead?” She couldn’t help but ask, already finding them to be quite beneficial if worst comes to worst.

“Oh, see that hat the dummy has? The trick is to leave a somewhat similar scent of your intended target near plots where these are being grown. Mum planted some in her garden last year to keep the gnomes out. Did save her the de-gnoming, but they got too close to her other fields and left her Honking Daffodils in tatters.”

Scent? She’d have to further read up about the violent vegetables to know more on taming and storing them – conveniently in her robes – for the near future. Just in case, seeing as they were not completely invincible as the last of its leafy layers crumbled away with its last chomp.

“Vicious little bastards, aren’t they? My kind of plants – not like stupid Bubotubers and Bouncing Bulbs. The kind of plants that’d have your back in a fight.” Leander grinned her way, rubbing at the back of his head as he quickly added, “Not saying you can’t go it alone. But – well imagine that wasn’t a dummy.”

“Trust me Leander, I was imagining it the entire time.” She was sure it would decidedly be a more bloody scenario though, but kept that tactfully to herself after almost feeling the cold sweat that washed over her classmate’s demeanor.

“You were? I mean – of course. You’re, uh, not someone to be trifled with. I see that.” There must have been something uncanny with the way she agreed with him that left Leander almost grasping at his words.

“I suppose they could prove useful outside of the Greenhouse. Nothing wrong with a bit of backup. Even if it is from a cabbage.” Beatrice chose to play it down a bit after perceiving the other boy’s features pale.

“It’s chaos out there – Trolls in Hogsmeade and such – not that you haven’t faced that one yourself, but you can’t be above throwing a cruciferous vegetable if necessary. Dogweed and Deathcap has more of them, if you’re keen. Other plants too – ones your parents wouldn’t plant in the garden.” An awkward pause as he shuffled his feet, “You get the idea. Anyway, we, uh, probably ought to head back to class.” Now seeming uneasy as Beatrice’s gaze wondered over to the other remaining cabbages left in their respective plots, “Or take your time – I’ll see you back in class.”

Beatrice watched him hesitate for a split second before walking away, her eyes narrowed as she silently observed Leander shake his head as he walked away, deducing he’d clearly been unnerved by something as she quieted down against a sudden barrage of whispers. Surely the cause of his sudden discomfiture was because he’d heard it too, otherwise Beatrice would be left baffled as to why she could make out parts of his thoughts all of a sudden.

next chapter ⤜⤏

[toasted-valentine]

Analysis of the song “Choker” by Raincloud Halo

(Note: I do not own any of these characters, I am just very intense about artists I like, and my adhd is very unmedicated right now so I’m on my hyperfixation bullshit. All characters belong to @cynopter / @tobyisave, I am but a humble nerd who needs to let my energy out somehow.)

Cw suicide, strangulation, general violence, OCD, and intrusive thoughts.

Linking to the creator’s post about the characters, I’m just gonna go more in depth and speculate about specifics within the song and what each lyric could be alluding to. Again, send this dude bro all the love, motherfucker deserves it for scratching at the adhd parts of my brain and having such crunchy looking art. Anyways, if their art had a flavor it would be salty and spicy, and that’s my favorite, so go check them out.

Gonna go bit by bit, lyrics in orange, my notes in white.

“Veering off the path

With the devil on my shoulder”

Townsend went as far into the middle of nowhere as they could get to hang themself, they’re going off the already established paths to make sure no one finds them. People who kill themself will sometimes go out of the way to make sure their loved ones don’t find them. This is most likely what Townsend is doing, not realizing that it’ll trap her as a ghost. The devil line is a reference to the fact that their family and community blamed their OCD on the devil, so Townsend’s religious trauma is showing it’s hand.

“A sturdy branch that won't snap

And Baby's jacket dangling at my waist

'Cause he won't miss it when he's older”

First part is just referencing Townsend finding a branch that’ll hold their weight so that they can hang themself, the second bit is what I’m more interested in. Townsend stole her baby brother’s jacket to take with her as a reminder as to why she’s doing this, and I believe the line has a duel meaning. Townsend’s brother won’t miss the jacket when he’s older, sure, but he also won’t miss May. He’s a baby at this point, he hasn’t been hit with the consciousness beam yet, he won’t remember the older sister that died if she does it now.

“It gets really bad

I don't know why they're not scared of that

I only dream of hurting him

Now images of wringing him out”

Townsend is terrified of her intrusive thoughts, she had OCD and is suffering from violent compulsions. She wants someone to hold her accountable, to hurt her, to keep their distance so she doesn’t hurt them. It’s why she commits suicide, in her mind it’s the best possible way to keep her from hurting her brother since she loves him. She’s sort of hyping herself up in this moment, once more reminding herself as to why she’s doing this.

“No one ever tell you not to nurse the wolf pup?

Now I've gone and tied the ends off on this strife

Sorry, that's just what happens when you trust me with my life”

May sees herself as a dangerous creature, therefore is comparing her family keeping her around to keeping a wolf around. In her mind she’s just going to maul someone, so she needs to be put down for the greater good. She finishes tying the noose, apologizes one last time, and dies.

“The city

Good people passing through me everywhere I go”

May wakes up as a ghost, she’s officially the ghost at the towns end, and Townsend is figuratively born. The thing is, since she’s a ghost, no one can see her. Everyone around her seem like “good people”, better than her, and she’s stuck alone having to watch them. It’s like living in hell, seeing “normal” people just living their lives, and none of them seeing the supposed demon standing right by them. It’s why she lives in the edge of town, she can’t stand to see them.

“And I hate that you found mе

Don't want to have to say I told you so”

Enter stage left Phượng, she can see ghosts and finds Townsend. And Townsend fucking hates it, not because she necessarily dislikes Phượng, but because it means she could potentially hurt someone. As much as Phượng reassures Townsend that she’s not dangerous, she doesn’t believe it and is waiting for the “I told you so” moment. She’s anticipating the moment she snaps and hurts Phượng, and is fucking terrified of the thought.

“"Don't touch me, I'll kill you"

The devils will slip through”

Townsend is trying to keep Phượng and her brother as emotionally distant as humanly possible, it’s safer that way after all, at least it is in Townsend’s mind. Along with that she’s trying to get Phượng to lash out and exorcise her, to kill her and get it over with. It’s a fucked up way of trying to protect the two. The devils line is once again referencing Townsend’s religious upbringing and her belief that Satan himself is fucking with her brain and making her want to kill.

“But still you hold me to yourself in bed

Like it’s all in my head”

Phượng has full knowledge of Townsend supposedly being an evil ghost, and in spite of that, she still wants her. She still loves Townsend, she loves May, and still is completely comfortable sleeping next to May. Phượng knows that May would never hurt her, May can’t event stomach the idea of hurting someone, let alone hurting her partner. Phượng keeps telling May that it’s just in her head and that that there’s no way May would hurt her, pulls her close at night so there’s not the kind of distance May thinks is safe for Phượng, is insistent that May isn’t dangerous or evil. Specifically having it be when Phượng is sleeping next to May is something interesting to take note of, because she trusts May at what could be considered a person’s most vulnerable state. People can’t defend themself when sleeping, so it’s a big sign of trust and security in May.

“But it gets so bad

I don't know why you're not scared of that

I'm thinking of your broken body

Reaching in and squeezing softly”

Townsend’s worst night has started pulling itself out of the hellscape that is her OCD, the intrusive thoughts and homicidal compulsions have transferred onto Phượng. She’s started thinking about killing Phượng, and it’s hell. What’s worse is that the compulsions have gotten more gorey and violent, which scares Townsend. Even still, after presumably telling Phượng about her compulsions, Phượng remains a devoted partner and isn’t scared of May. It confuses the hell out of May, Phượng knows damn well what May is thinking about, and she still loves May.

“No one ever tell you not to play with fire?

Somehow got to hang me higher than your knife”

(Going to be so for real, I’ve got no clue what the knife line is referring to, so gonna focus on the other one. )

The line about fire has a larger meaning, May is comparing herself to fire, something dangerous and deadly. Thing is, Phượng isn’t scared of fire, she burns stuff often as offerings to her sister. May saying she’s deadly, that Phượng is playing with fire, but it’s a double meaning that helps show why Phượng isn’t scared of Townsend. Phượng can see the good in fire, the good it can do for her sister, and is completely fine around it. Townsend is fire to Phượng, but in the sense of the warmth and safety it brings, and more importantly the love.

“I swear to god

Stop saying that you trust me with your life!”

Phượng keeps trying to reassure May, tell her that she trust her, but it’s just cold comfort to May. May couldn’t even be trusted with her own life, how is she expected to be trusted with her partner’s? It’s the racing thoughts of not being able to keep a loved one safe, and all their reassurances not making May feel better. Sometimes loved ones say the wrong thing and can cause people suffering from a mental illness to spiral or lash out, being told this just makes May feel like she got handed a loaded weapon with a hair trigger on it.

“ "Choke her" Fuck Him" "Devil"

Why would I do that?

Why would I do that?

Why would I do that?

"Choke her" Fuck Him" "Devil"

Why would I do that?

Why would I do that?

Why would I do that?”

May is full in her own mind at this point, she’s scaring the every loving hell out of herself, and questioning why she’d even want to choke her loved ones to death. It’s scary, and she just is repeating the question over and over again in her mind. The three most common intrusive thoughts she has are full swing, the thought of choking Phượng, the thought of harming her brother, and the thought that keeps calling herself the devil due to her religious trauma. It’s bouncing back and forth between the compulsions and questioning why she’d ever even think of doing that. The bridge is basically just one extended panic attack May is having in her mind.

“Choker!”

Roll credits.

But seriously, this is just May calling herself choker, and the compulsion of “choke her” morphing into an insult in her mind due to the stress and similarity of pronunciation. Townsend has managed to find a way to turn her compulsion into a title/self loathing term by meshing the two words together.

“I lover her

And I love my baby brother

Love her (Devil)

Love her (Devil)

Lover (Devil)”

May is reaffirming her love for her brother and for Phượng in her mind, along with accepting the fact she is in love with Phượng. She accepts Phượng as her lover and is willing to have that vulnerability, even tho her own low self esteem keeps causing thoughts that call her the devil. She’s trying to comfort herself with continued remembrance that these are the two people she loves most in the world.

“I’d never do that

(Choke her)”

I think this line can be read two ways,

•May accepting that she’d never actually hurt Phượng because she loves Phượng, even if the compulsions are still ringing in the back of her mind.

•Townsend having a crisis of conscious and desperately trying to cling onto the last bit of self soothing she can find when she feels like the intrusive thoughts and OCD are consuming her.

Personally I like the first one more because it leaves the door open for hope and the possibility of May being able to life a happy life with her lover. The mental illness may never go away, but she still knows that she loves Phượng and her little brother, and at the end of the day she’d never hurt them.

Moral of the story, intrusive thoughts don’t make you a bad person, there is no such thing as thought crime, and the Catholic Church should never be trusted with mental health issues.

This is just my own interpretation and analysis, I could be completely off the mark with this one, I just am having fun.

Again, please go check out the original creator, his work is amazing and he deserves more love for it. Their work really resonates with me, especially Choker with the fears of how intrusive thoughts could harm loved ones, and I think there’s a lot of good to be had in someone making stuff like this. Plus, the dude is just generally really skilled, and you can see the amount of effort it took to get to this point in his various artistic endeavors. I pray for that man’s wrist, the carpel tunnel must be so bad.

[colorfuldreamsmkg]

Shine a Light - Chapter 1 Trial Results

What a ride…. Through the arguments and defenses and those that chose to BELIEVE… The group had mostly come to their conclusions. It was unfortunate, truly, to have to bid someone farewell in a situation that shouldn’t have dictated such an end. But the glow of the light upon Hitome’s podium never changed before it dimmed. Never did it shine upon anyone else in the room. Perhaps, as a result, you already knew who would be getting the axe moving forward.

With a small jump resulting in a splash, Miku twirled around in apparent excitement, a wide grin contradicting the tone that this farce of a trial had otherwise held. How could she keep such a cheerful attitude through it all? It was as if nothing could hold her down at all. She took a sip from the mug Witch had given her earlier before clearing her throat and setting it down.

“Well then… I think it’s time to share the results with everyone. I’m sure you already know the winner, but I would like to break down all of the votes, so you can see JUST how much she won by, right?”

The stage screen that had been brought in to display photos lit up, displaying a list of names and numbers, starting with some of the lowest counts.

Swan - 1 Clarabell - 1

“Wow! It seems like some of you tried to unvote so you wouldn’t vote at all. That would be a shame, so I made it not allowed… But if you aren’t going to use the power to vote I gave you in the future, I’ll be using that power FOR you, ok? How about this… I’ll randomize your vote so it counts for someone within your SEKAI instead! It’ll be like turning on your comrades to not vote from here on. OR yourself, if RNG dictates it so. Some of these small number votes you see here are a result of realizing you can’t unvote and only change it! That’s a lesson for the future.” “But as for our lovely winner of the vote…”

She hummed a tune, as the largest number vote rolled in on the screen.

Hitome - 17 Swan - 1 Clarabell - 1

“So there you have it! Your vote is correct! Feast your eyes on the totals yourself. Now… It wouldn’t be kind of me to not give you some time to say goodbye to Hitome, even with the strife she has caused, so… You may take the next 15 minutes to say goodbye. I’m lifting the restrictions on leaving your podium so you can hug each other if you want… Just like this! Let me give you an example.”

Miku trotted over to Maria Dolores and brought her into a brief embrace and affectionate nuzzle before letting go, regardless of whether or not the hug was returned. ...Huh.

“So… Go on! Get the closure you need. I’ll be right here waiting for you before we commence the execution.”

[demonhimbo]

more marosia posting! gonna ramble about my daemon, Gale

this is Gale! So in marosia you can also spawn kids (played by other players). There’s no like, sex or pregnancy involved, it’s just two characters intertwining their souls (intentionally or in the case of Gale’s parents, accidental prolonged meaningful eye contact while bathing together). The act is mechanically optional, both parties have to click a button to agree to it.

And after doing said soul-twining, it’ll set you up in the system to be open to having a kid spawn in nearby. They spawn in at 5 years old, and have better stats than spawning as an adult (assuming your parents have decent stats). Gale was originally played by someone else, but they put him up for adoption ‘cause they didn’t like his parents (and is a pretty dickish guy OOC). One of the parents is my roommate, so I was like “yknow what fuck it, lets go”

He just turned 14, which is when kids are finally able to make their own projects and go off on their own. Right now he’s in a town called Dead End, which is full of fellow daemons (think tieflings) that all worship the goddess Strife. Very orcish culture, and Gale’s finally decided to take up their True Flame rite (ya get the shit kicked out of you). I’m pretty excited to see where he goes from here, but developing him so far has been really fun.

All races have a special racial ability, and daemons’ allows them to literally ignite their inner flame and catch on fire. Each dae has a different way of manifesting it, and Gale’s makes his lil horn nubs turn into fully flaming horns. They’re all goddamn chaotic almost as a rule, though, and especially the ones in Dead End. Just catching on fire and beating each other up and drinking afterwards. Gale got to spar Strife themselves once too!

[miss-tc-nova]

Angry S/O - Leona, Kalim, Jamil

Well, you voted, so this is what you got. 

I’m seeing a trend, not that I’m complaining. 

~~~~~ When You’re Angry

Leona:

Leona doesn’t always help when you’re angry.

To him, you’re cute—especially when you’re angry.

Sometimes he picks on you, mocking you for being so upset.

He draws the line at tears. If he causes them, he’s going to backtrack like hell. Probably even try to bribe you to stop.

If it’s not his fault your angry to the point of tears, someone will pay though. Assuming there is someone at fault.

Once he’s had his fun or pushed too many buttons, Leona will haul you off to Savanaclaw. Most of the students there are athletes anyway, so surely there’s a punching bag to help you blow off some steam because lining up other students for you to beat up is frowned upon.

He braces the bag, egging you on to “hit him harder!”

“C’mon kitten, I know you got more than that. Let him have it. Knock his teeth out.”

At some point, it turns into him showing you some of his dirty tricks top tips to winning a fight. Might even include a knife he’s got the funds to replace the bag anyway.

After the bag is properly flayed, Big Kitty may sneak you up to his room for a make out.

“You know how hot you are when you’re mad? Didn’t think so.”

 Kalim:

Otter is fully oblivious to your fury until you decline tea with him.

Yeah, that’s when it finally clicks for him.

He’s used to being nagged and told off while never taking any of it to heart, but when you show signs of not enjoying the little things you normally do, that’s when he knows there’s something wrong.

So oblivious but not.

Anyway, Kalim is a big pest when he’s trying to cheer you up. He’s genuinely trying his best to be helpful, he’s just not always good at it.

However, he’s persistent so, at some point, you inevitably give in to his whims.

The young man drags you off to the Scarabia Dorm to show you his magic carpet. Of course you’re not just going to see the magical artifact and not ride it.

“This is gonna make you feel a thousand times better. Just trust me.”

The sky, whether day or night, is beautiful. More importantly, it’s empty. Far away from the dorm, high above the ground, Kalim just starts yelling at the top of his lungs. It takes some poking and prodding, but he gets you to join him—yelling about your frustrations and just generally expending all that pent up negative energy.

It’s surprisingly exhausting.

It’ll eventually end with the two you, flat on your backs, staring into endless sky as you float along. You feel significantly better, just as promised, laughing with him about stress that seems so far away now.

“Haha. You’re scary when you’re mad. But that’s okay, I’ll bring you out here whenever you want.”

 Jamil:

Snake is much more perceptive than Otter.

He generally tries to keep tabs on your frustration levels as they progress, offering small gestures and words of support as the day goes.

Unfortunately, due to so many tasks on his plate, he may wait a bit too long before intervening.

In the instant he notices you starting to reach your limit, though, he makes a show of stopping whatever he’s doing. It’s a bit jarring which is the point. Books close suddenly, his bag is flung onto the table with supplies stuffed inside, he’s done with whatever he was doing and he’s got you by the hand as he leads you back to the Scarabia Dorm.

You end up being pushed into his room but he closes the door after, leaving you there with little explanation.

When he returns, however, it’s with a tray. There are two cups, a steaming pot of tea, and perhaps a sweet or two.

Jamil ushers you onto the bed, sitting across from you, and placing the tray in between.

“I know you’re upset. So come on. Let’s hear it.”

So, in the privacy of his room, you vent, while Jamil genuinely listens to your strife. He presses when he knows you’re holding back and makes remarks so you know he’s paying attention. He’ll even add his own sass about whatever asshole is giving you grief if there is one.

But talking helps. Talking about your troubles turns into talking about school which turns into talking about absolutely anything. Lying on the bed, you spend hours blathering nonsense together, which is something he probably needs now and then too.

“I hope you know you’re helping me with dinner tonight. No? Would you rather babysit Kalim then? Fine. Probably best not to give you a knife when you’re angry anyway.”

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[tommybaholland]

what they’re insecure about in the relationship

featuring: midoriya, bakugo, todoroki, kirishima, kaminari, shinso, amajiki and dabi

all these boys deserve love no matter what!! some fluff, some angst, some possible (dabi) manga spoilers..

midoriya is afraid that he’s not good enough for you. it’s that simple. he wants to be strong and the best hero he can be, as there was a time when he felt helpless and weak. it comes at a cost though when he puts himself through too much and ends up damaging himself more than he’s helped. his self-sacrificing tendencies are hard to give up, but he wants to focus more on you. he can’t stand seeing you cry when he’s hurt. it only makes him feel helpless all over again or like he’s the reason for your pain. but he doesn’t want to lie to you and promise that he’ll hold back next time. you have to hold him tight and make sure he knows that you appreciate everything he does for you or for others but it’s okay to slow down sometimes. he can still give everything even when it’s not 100 percent. nothing he does is without effort and that’s more than you could ever ask for. 

bakugo’s tough and prideful exterior never ceases, but he worries that he can be too rough with you sometimes. he feels like he should be treating you differently than he does others, like not yell as much. his biggest fear involves you leaving him for someone who’s more gentle but can still protect you, like kirishima. he’s not used to having so many feelings for someone. you drive him crazy in both the best and worst ways but he wouldn’t trade any of that for anything. he likes to surprise you with cuddles, just holding you peacefully while occasionally pressing kisses to your head. he makes you smile more than he thinks, so you try to return the favor. you always strive to beat him to the ‘i love you’ so he knows and can make damn sure that he doesn’t have to worry. 

todoroki isn’t overtly insecure, but the gears in his head really turn when he hears that he’s deemed ‘class 1A’s pretty boy.’ he doesn’t understand what makes him so special, especially in terms of physical appearance. he doesn’t like to feel insecure about his scar but it only reminds him of his strife and trauma. forget about being ‘pretty,’ how could you deal with someone who once held so much anger in their heart? you’re so wonderful to him but he never wants to take advantage of your kindness and worries that it’ll all be too much to handle one day. it hurts to hear how much his past tortures him so you invite him to get comfy in his favorite spot, with his head on your shoulder. you stroke his hair and rub his back as you remind him that he is more than his past; that he’s funny, kind, caring, beautiful. you will never have a reason to let him go because he’s everything you ever wanted. 

kirishima is always confident in himself and knows how to turn things around into the positives, so you’re shocked when he admits that he’s surprised that you’re still with him. he wants to be a better boyfriend to you because sometimes he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. sure, he’s manly but there’s always someone better, like bakugo: smarter, can use their quirk better, maybe even all around more manly. it breaks your heart to hear him have doubts because it’s totally the opposite so you like to tell him how wonderful he is to you. he gives you all his attention when he’s with you and makes you feel nothing but loved. you could never match it but you try to love on him with as many kisses and cuddles as he wishes. and he couldn’t ask for anyone better (or cuter) than you. you love spending time with him and would be happy to give him more if he wanted. 

kaminari feels he’s nothing special to you, especially when it comes to how much smarter you are than him. he’s at the bottom of the class, can’t use his quirk too much without frying his brain and therefore he just doesn’t deserve to be with someone as great as you. he’s afraid that you’ll grow so far apart that one day, you’ll be gone. he doesn’t want to drag you down. little does he know, you don’t care about how smart or dumb he is. he never ever fails to make you smile, even when you’re in the corner of your room crying your eyes out. he dotes on you, shows you so much love, like no one else has. you tell him you don’t want anyone else and he is more deserving of your love than anyone else. you actually like when he short circuits, because that’s your chance to take care of him and show him just how much he means to you. 

shinso questions your trust in him but then again, he’s never been in good standing with his own trust in others. they were almost afraid of him or avoided him because of his ‘villainous’ quirk. it’s not that he has doubts about you, but rather that he fears that he’ll do something that will scare or hurt you. loving him is different and while he loves your affections, you have to come at this with a different approach. you offer to let him brainwash you to show how much you trust him. he swore he would never do that to you but you reiterate that you know he’s not going to do anything he’d regret. you love him too much to watch him suffer in his head. afterwards you seal it with a kiss, printing all the love and passion you can convey with your lips on him. you physically feel him release all the tension, gifting you with a smile. shall i expand on this??

amajiki doesn’t strive to be manly like kirishima but he doesn’t want you to think that he’s a nervous, anxiety-ridden mess all the time. he wants to be cool and show you that he can protect you just as much as any ‘manly’ person out there. he knows you’re fine all on your own and that you can handle yourself. what worries him the most is that you’ll figure out that you don’t need him; he’s only a burden to you. but he’s so sweet that you can’t bare to watch him put so much pressure on himself. sure, he’s not always bold but he still has an amazing amount of courage when it comes down to protecting people. he truly amazes you every single day. although you love how shy he can be, that one day he kissed you on the lips, holding you impossibly close without any hesitation had your head spinning. you remind him that it’s moments like those that make you never want to let him go.

dabi just doesn’t understand your appeal to him, period. his burnt skin has to be held together by force, he coughs a lot and just generally looks weak. he can’t protect you without burning up inside, literally. looks aside, he’s done horrible things. he can’t rationalize how anyone could love him even after all the turmoil and destruction he’s caused. sometimes it makes him angry when he can’t figure out why you’re still there yet, he doesn’t want to let you go. he worries he’ll scare you off with his self-deprecation. he can’t fight how you feel for him and neither can you. yes, he has issues as result of a damning past but that doesn’t mean he isn’t worthy of love. he lets you hold him close to your chest as you tell him that you’re not afraid of him or anything that happens to him or you. he falls asleep to the sound of your heartbeat as you make sure he knows his persistence makes him strong, even when he feels weak. 

*present mic voice* YEEEEEEAAAHHH ITS BNHA NIGHT!! send requests so we can keep the fun going

[skywardscroll]

divine intervention | venti

✧ word count: 2.5k

✧ summary: baring witness to world can become wearisome. venti, though you don’t really know him, wants to help.

✧ warnings: really angsty with some fluff thrown in! the reader has depression / there is self-deprecation. reader is also afab!

✧ a/n: this is so sweet >-< . i’m really proud of this one! also, writing klee is literally the funnest thing ever lol. <3 hope you guys enjoy!!

Teyvat, as you’d come to learn through your years, was a dangerous, merciless world. Every day, people lost their fathers, sisters, friends, and lovers. The world was full of greedy bandits and vicious monsters, and it only seemed to be getting worse as the days went by.

This last adventure out to Liyue had really taken the optimism out of you; Growing weary from traveling, you returned to your home in Mondstadt quite exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. Was there any other facet of you that could be exhausted? Because you were sure that it would also be stricken with strife.

You told the Adventurer’s Guild that you were temporarily retiring from your work to take a well-overdue vacation from fighting and the ever-arising political strain you witnessed every time you left the City of Freedom. You just wanted to enjoy your safe corner of the world, at least for the summer.

The (admittedly strange) way you decided to do this was by staying indoors with your books, sometimes going entire days without once stepping into the sunlight. It was a pleasant way to spend the time, but you knew it was unhealthy.

Your books, when the main characters shared similar habits to you, called this behavior ‘depression.’ Though, you willfully ignored this, pretending that this was normal of someone with a heavy heart (just a heavy heart. Not all the other symptoms that you were falsely denying you had, like an aversion to engagements with friends, or a neglect of hydration.)

It was one of the hottest days in July, you remembered, when you heard a knock on your door. You contemplated answering it, thinking that maybe the Adventurer’s Guild would want you back to work prematurely. This was quickly disproven, though, when a small voice called from outside the door:

“Miss Y/N? Oh, Miss Y/N~! Please come out!”

Klee’s sweet voice seemed to somehow wrap itself around your heart and pull you towards the door.

“Miss Y/N?”

You hesitated, knowing that once you saw that endearing child’s round eyes, you would be forced to play outside with her for as long as she wanted you to. You loved Klee dearly, and would do anything for her, even if you didn’t necessarily wish to go along with it. But you really didn’t feel like leaving your house, knowing that the Freedom Festival was currently in full swing.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” You recognize a second voice to belong to Grandmaster Jean.

Inhaling deeply, you opened the door to see Klee’s face light up as she excitedly pulled on Jean’s hand.

“She opened the door! She did! I told you Y/N would open the door!”

“Y/N!” Jean said, obviously surprised by your appearance. “It’s so good to see you’re well.”

“It’s good to see you two, as well.” You said with full honesty. You hadn’t realized it until you saw them before you, but you had certainly missed seeing your friends.

“Y/N! I wanted to ask if you wanted to go to the Freedom festival with us! There’ll be food, and music, and I overheard Rosaria saying something to Kaeya about special drinks!”

“Oh… I don’t know…”

“Come on! It’ll be fun! They have this game, and it has a prize that looks like a biiiig dodoco! I want it but if you come you can have it!” Klee’s excitement makes a smile appear on your face.

“You should come, Y/N. It would be good for you, I think.”

You sighed a little, looking back at your book which sat with the pages down against the cushion of your reading chair, waiting to be returned to. But as if by design, the wind carried the smell of food into your door and your stomach rumbled. Besides, Klee’s eyes were bearing into your heart just as you predicted, and you could see Jean’s hand clasp onto Klee’s a little tighter in hopes that she wouldn’t be disappointed.

“Alright, I’ll come.”

If you were to be frank, you had no idea what the difference between the Windblume Festival and the Freedom Festival was. To you, it just seemed like another concocted excuse to party. Which, in your youth, you never complained about, and you weren’t inclined to complain now, either, as Sara handed you a particularly delicious-looking chicken and mushroom skewer. You hadn’t eaten something like this in a month, and it was very welcome in your stomach.

“Over there! It’s Venti! Venti!” Klee went running ahead of you and Jean, who were idly speaking to one another as you finished off your food and threw the stick away.

“Klee! Don’t run off!” Jean called out, running after the young girl while you walked a bit behind, enjoying the scenery of Mondstadt decorated in flowers and it’s streets lined with vendors.

“Hi Klee!” You looked up and saw a man hug Klee tightly (a boy? He was quite short, but you were pretty sure he was an adult.) It was hard not to notice the golden lyre in his hand and how the strings seemed to be luminescent. You’d never seen anything like it before, and accidentally stared at it in clear awe.

“Do you play?” He asked, a smile that seemed to lift your heart was directed to you after the question left his lips.

“No… Not anymore. I tried to learn when I was a child but…”

“That’s alright. It takes a lot of practice, yeah?”

You let out a breathy laugh and nod, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Jean scooped up Klee into her arms before she could run off again. “You two haven’t met before?”

“Sadly no.” Venti said, placing his hand over his heart. “I would’ve remembered such a beautiful face, surely.”

Bard’s and their sweet words. You thought to yourself. Out of kindness, you only laughed in response to his compliment.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Ahh! I’ve heard of you! The exceptional adventurer!”

Why does this guy say everything so enthusiastically? Is this what you used to sound like? His way of speaking, though you felt guilty for it because you knew he couldn’t help it, grated against your nerves. You weren’t in the right mindset for his optimism. Or, perhaps, it was that you were jealous that he still had a hold on his, and so easily too, while it had been so long since you were excited about anything.

When you didn’t say anything, there was a small look in Venti’s eyes that told you he could see right through you, or that he was at least aware that something was wrong with you.

“Well, I ought to be on my way back home.” You said, causing Klee to whine out.

“Y/N~! You can’t go yet! What about the giant dodoco?”

You frowned, feeling guilty for letting Klee down, but feeling too exhausted for any more socialization.

“At least stay for a song, Y/N?” Venti offered with a quieter tone of voice, pointing to a chair that was left unoccupied by the gathering crowd around him.

“Yeah! Just one song~?” Klee pleaded.

You bit the inside of your cheek before eventually nodding and sitting in the chair. Klee let out a cheer of celebration as Jean sat down beside you, letting Klee sit in her lap. You noticed how Jean had been particularly silent throughout this. Did she feel bad for you? Or did she, too, want you to stay for some reason?

“I’ll sing a very special song for a new friend!” Venti announced to the audience, to which you blushed a little at the attention and rolled your eyes. Though, once Venti’s fingers started gracing the strings of his harp, all feelings of discomfort and irritation floated away.

“Sit here closely, let me tell,

of the young maiden’s heart who one day swelled.

The once frozen walls, the once salty tears,

Now gone with a kiss that she wished had lasted years.

In the times of old, long before the gods were bold,

there was no remedy for a heart gone cold.

The young maiden wandered, hoping for peace

from the heartache and unrest the world did unleash.

Did she find it, you ask? Did she find it? I’ll tell.

She found it in freedom, from freedom it fell.

For Barbatos did bless her, from under the Windrise tree,

She only had to meet him in the morning at three.

The warmth she had searched for, that unlike she had ever known

was hers, finally, to own.”

The crowd clapped for Venti as he finished his short song, one that was unfamiliar to you and unsettled you to no end.

What was his motive?

You weren’t stupid. You’d read enough of your books in the last month and been on enough adventures with a multitude of twists and turns to know that he had just come up with that song for you. As beautiful as it was, you felt uncomfortable with the stranger being able to see through you so well.

Yet, when he flashed you a cheeky smile while he reveled in the applause, you felt that he had good intentions. In fact, you wondered if he could do any wrong. He just didn’t seem like the type to do anything evil… Ever.

“Did you like it, Klee?” Venti asked, bending down to talk to the girl who wriggled excitedly in Jean’s lap.

“Yes! It was sooooo pretty! I’ve never heard it before!” She gushed.

“A very lovely song, indeed, Venti.”

“Thanks Jean!” Venti flashed her a confident grin.

“Well, Y/N! Thanks for staying for the show!” He said, standing back up and turning to you. “I hope I can see you again soon!”

“Yeah. See you soon.” You replied with a half-hearted tone.

You were entirely conflicted. Your mind was telling you no; You shouldn’t go out there tonight. It was dangerous and you were significantly out of shape to be dealing with slimes and hilichurls. Besides, it was just a song… What if you were reading too much into it? And what if… You just wanted him to be singing about you and him?

Your heart wanted that to be true. It’d be like the books you’ve been reading, where the prince comes up with some elaborate way of asking the maiden to meet him in secret. You were, no matter how hardened you became, a hopeless romantic at heart. Something about Venti made your heart soar from the pits of depression you had fallen into. You… Trusted him.

You could do with a late-night walk, you supposed.

It took longer than usual because of the festivities, but the city eventually fell silent as everyone either rested in their beds or in a tavern. You found walking in the empty city strangely comforting. Rather than being shut away from the world out of fear of pestering others, you could now walk freely without a single care, if you so pleased.

You took your time walking out of the city, smiling at every stray cat and even stopping for a moment at the bridge to admire the water. You missed how, when you were a young girl, you used to look at the lake and dream about visiting all the other lakes in the world. You’d seen a lot of them, now, but this one still held a special place in your heart.

Windrise, though it had been years since you visited the Archon Statue, was as beautiful as ever. The tree looked even more alive in the moonlight, if it were possible.

You were raised to believe that you were under the protection of Barbatos, though you never would call yourself devout. That title belonged to the sisters of the church, who were truly faithful to Barbatos. But you would feel comfortable saying you were a believer. You liked that Barbatos was so just, and his famous story of his liberation of old Mondstadt was a tale you frankly would never tire of.

Regardless, as you sat in front of the statue, you saw no signs of the charming bard from before. You wondered if he memorized that tale of Barbatos; A part of you wanted to hear him tell it.

“I’m a fool, aren’t I?” You said, talking to the statue (not talking to yourself.) “A silly, odd, hermit of a fool. One who shuts themselves away and avoids all their problems. How cowardly can I be?”

A peculiar phenomenon began: The words started pouring out like an uncontrollable waterfall. Once the self-deprecation started, it didn’t seem to want to end.

“My family was so proud to hear I was a part of the guild. They said that you – that Barbatos – had blessed me with the life of an adventurer – a life of freedom. Am I selfish to despise it? I don’t feel free. I feel heavy with all the troubles of the world. Outside Mondstadt it’s… Well, you’re a god, you know how it is.”

You hadn’t spoken much to anyone in over a month. You didn’t even know if anyone was listening. Was he listening? Did he see the tears starting to run down your face and did he hear the cracking in your voice?

“I feel like a joke. A witness to trouble without the power to make things right. It’s so… Frustrating. I hate myself because I hate the world. I’m so useless… So useless.”

And you cried, your head leant against the statue of Barbatos. The months of pain finally bubbled over and bared itself for the world and the gods to see. You were ashamed, and angry at yourself, but you let yourself cry. You cried up to the heavens, to Celestia. Was he watching? Listening?

“Y/N?” A voice softly spoke your name, but your sobs turned into wails immediately following and you couldn’t make yourself stop even if you wanted to.  You felt a pair of arms wrap around you and you hugged Venti back, breathing in his scent of Cecilia. He was so warm compared to the cool summer breeze that blew through the leaves above.

“I’m sorry.” You cried against his shirt; the words muffled but still understandable. There were so many apologies you were making with the single phrase: Sorry for crying, sorry for being rude. Sorry for shutting everyone who cares about me out. I’m sorry for being ungrateful. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“You don’t have to hide your tears from me, okay?” His voice was so soft and gentle as he pulled your head away from his chest and wiped away your ever-flowing tears from your cheeks.

This went on for a while, him running his thumbs over your cheeks every few minutes and catching the tears. You felt so awful that he was witnessing you like this, he barely knew you. But something in you was saying that this was right. Trust him, this is where you’re meant to be.

You calmed down enough about an hour later that he felt he could speak.

“Everything will be alright, Y/N.”

You let out a jagged exhale. At this point, your jaw was numb, and you were developing a headache. Still, being in Venti’s arms brought you comfort unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was… Divine.

“Do you think he heard me? That he’s watching over me?”

Venti gave you the most assured, comforting smile you think is humanly possible. Brushing your hair from your face, he replied.

“I’ve never been so certain of anything.”

[strawwritesfic]

Bruce Banner x Pregnant!Female!Reader: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [Ch. 9]

Summary: Anger isn’t the only emotion that can take over a life.

Challenge: “9 Months” challenge by crackleviolet on Lunaescence Archive -- Miscarriage

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (sexual references; miscarriage; miscarriage caused by fictional conditions; angst; depression; domestic strife; marital separation; discussion of abortion; foul language; crude humor; not canon compliant; Bruce & Tony friendship; Tony & Reader friendship; Pepper & Reader friendship; OC child of canon pairing)

Pairing(s): Bruce Banner/Female!Reader; past!Bruce/Natasha; Tony/Pepper; Clint/Laura

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Master List

Chapter 9: Where Do We Go From Here?

It was birdsong that brought you back to life. You awoke as though coming out of dark water. One minute, everything around you was cold and black. Then a strange warmth took hold of your feet and climbed, inch by slow inch, all the way up to the top of your head.

A deep breath in preceded your eyes fluttering open. A cool breeze stirred the simple curtains to your right, and along with that drifted inside the chirping and the smell of rain. Blearily, you sat up and looked around. Doing so hurt. Every muscle in your body felt stiff, like it had been forced to run a marathon after a month without moving.

Hold on. A month?

Ignoring the pain, you crawled out of the bed to walk to the window. Outside shone a watery sun in a halo of palest blue. The bushes in the backyard burst with tiny clumps of flowers. It was spring. That couldn’t be right, though. You recalled it being autumn last: dying leaves and Halloween decorations, plans to spend Thanksgiving with the Starks. Springs was weeks away, if not months.

“Bruce?” you called. Your voice sounded thin and reedy. No one replied. Turning back toward the bed, you tried again, “Bruce?”

Bruce wasn’t there. His half of the bed was empty and perfectly made. It looked as though he hadn’t slept in it at all. Had Tony called him in on something during the night? You shuffled to your bedside table to check your phone, but that, too, was missing. What was not was the bathroom mirror.

“Oh my!”

The banshee in your reflection pressed her hands to her mouth just as you did. There was no avoiding it: that fleshy skeleton in the mirror was you. It was spring. And if both of those things were true, then…

With trembling fingers, you pulled up the top of your pajamas. Across your abdomen stretched an ugly, vivid scar. You closed your eyes and rubbed your palm down it. It was real. Faint words drifted from the foggy recesses of your mind, “Lucky he didn’t come out the back. It’ll be a miracle if she can walk again.”

Along with those words, everything else flooded back: Eugene, Bruce, your time away.

A sudden surge of heat and anxiety raced from your feet to your head. Bruce! Had he left? He had every right to. Even then, you wanted nothing more than to shamble back into bed and sleep your life away. Doing so would hurt less, and yet…you had to know. Pain be damned, you left the bedroom.

Unsteady feet took you down the hall. An empty room sat at the end of it, but your chest contracted at the thought of entering it. The door was closed; surely no one was in there anyway. But where was Bruce if not there? Surely he had not left you alone like that. Someone had to be there with you—Pepper or Laura or a nurse or someone.

“[Name]?”

A familiar voice froze you where you stood at the top of the stairs. Just below you was the kitchen, warm with the glow of the strengthening sun. Inside it stood your husband, barefoot, bare-chested, and squinting at you as though you were the brightest thing he’d seen in his entire life.

A silence that felt like an eternity stretched between you. Then Bruce took a step past the little square table, and said, “Hi,” in a voice that sent shivers up your sore spine.

You latched your hand like a vice around the banister to prevent yourself from running away—for a given definition of “run.” Perhaps Bruce noticed that, because he went still. He remained with you, though. Unless you’d started hallucinating on top of everything else. A single, hesitant step took your closer.

Say something! you screamed mentally, but it took so long for your words to reach your mouth that all that came out was a raspy, “hello.”

Bruce smiled. “You’re up.”

That time, you managed two steps and clearing your throat. “Looks like it.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Do you want breakfast?”

You considered the question as you clumsily navigated the rest of the way to the kitchen. Hunger was something you had not thought about in a very long time. Food could be joy, and joy you did not deserve to partake in. The hollowness in your stomach felt more like emptiness than dead weight that morning. Could that be hunger?

“I…guess so,” you said, stopping an arm’s length away from Bruce.

He beamed. “I made waffles,” he said, and pulled out a kitchen chair that had a plate of waffles and other breakfast foods in front of it.

You shrank away. “That’s your breakfast.”

“I can make more easily. Please eat something, [Name]. Please.”

His eagerness made it impossible for you to refuse. You sat in the offered chair, which Bruce then pushed in. Still grinning, he busied himself back at the waffle maker. He had extra butter at the table, you noted. Had your presence been expected, or merely hoped for?

“What are you waiting for?” he asked. “Eat. You need your strength.”

More to get him to quit looking at you than any sort of desire to do so, you took a bite. The sweet flavor of maple syrup spread heavily across your tongue. So strong was it that you had to close your eyes to avoid tearing up.

“Is it okay?”

When you opened your eyes again, Bruce was at the table setting down a plate of his own. The corners of your mouth twitched.

“It’s amazing.”

“It can’t be that good.”

“It is! It’s the most delicious thing I’ve had in ages.”

His smile faded. Warm brown eyes roved slowly across your face before settling back on the plate before them. “How are you feeling?”

You had thought that it might come to a question like that. Your fingers wrapped momentarily tighter around the handle of your fork. The metal pressing into your skin brought you back to reality soon after, and with that came the realization that you couldn’t lie to him. Not anymore.

“I’m…a little confused,” you said.

“About what?”

“Where I am.” You caught a flash of worry in his eyes and added, “I know this is our house, and who you are, and who I am. I just don’t remember how I got here, to this table this morning. The last thing I remember is yelling at you in the—the nursery.” The memory floated back to you as you spoke, and your voice grew hushed. What cruel things you had said. What cruel things you had done.

“Dr. Robinson said that might happen. You’ve been through a traumatic experience. Your mind might not be ready for you to process it all just yet.”

A little shudder ran its way up your back. To think there might be worse waiting for you in the dark, cobwebbed corners of your mind was not comforting. Neither was the thought that you’d lost a whole six months of your life until you were ready to cope with that time. It was nothing short of miracle that you had said nursery without dissolving again.

“Dr. Robinson? I’m going to therapy?”

Bruce nodded. “Physical and emotional. Have been for a few months now.”

If you tried hard enough, you could see flashes of warm rooms, of Bruce holding your hand while you spoke to a younger man behind a desk, of dragging yourself across the same hurdles Bruce’s friend Colonel Rhodes had. The images were like silent movies: mouths moved, but no sound accompanied them. Whatever you were saying and whatever was said to you remained a mystery.

“And I’m doing better?” you asked.

“Today you are,” said Bruce.

You swallowed roughly, then gulped down much of the coffee he had left for you. That flavor threatened to overwhelm you as well, but you forced yourself to drink until your throat felt less clogged with tears. If you were doing better, then you were determined not to ruin the moment by crying. The sun was out, you could walk, and Bruce was eating breakfast with you. What more could you ask for?

To avoid figuring something out, you shoved another chunk of waffle into your mouth. For a few minutes, nothing more sounded off in your kitchen except for the forks and knives against the plates. Only when you’d finished your food did Bruce try again:

“I missed you.”

You swallowed. “I missed you, too. My head’s been a pretty scary place.”

“I know the feeling.”

Though Bruce had said the words with a smile, his expression swiftly faded at the look on your face. Your throat contracted at the same time that your hands squeezed around the coffee mug you’d reached for.

Bruce did know the feeling, and he’d loved you through it just the same as you’d usually loved him through his anxiety and full-fledged Hulk-outs. It took some effort, but eventually you were able to force yourself to unwind. You were not the only one that had lost a child.

“Yeah,” you said, a little unsteadily, “I know you do.”

For a long minute, all he did was look at you, as though he were hungry just to see you. The idea of that twisted up your insides. All you were now was greasy, uncut hair and bones pressing against your skin in all the wrong places. You had not taken care of yourself. Still you tried not to duck your head or otherwise hide from him. That much you owed Bruce.

Feeling suddenly shy, you decided to focus your attention on your empty plate. The very first bite had had your head spinning. When was the last time you’d tasted something so sweet? Obviously Bruce had ensured you’d eaten during your time away, or else you would not have been alive to eat breakfast with him that morning. You couldn’t remember eating for a long, long time, though.

Before you could prevent it, hot tears sprang to your eyes. Bruce’s hand found your shoulder at once. You shook your head wildly, sniffing and snuffling to get yourself to stop.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccuped.

The hand on your shoulder squeezed, then vanished to move straight to the hand you had resting on the table. “Don’t be sorry,” Bruce said.

You shook your head a second time. “I have to be. I’ve been s-s-so awful.”

“You are not awful.”

“I am. You dealt with everything alone, and now I’m having a breakdown over waffles!”

“You’re sure it’s over the waffles?”

You whipped your wide-eyed gaze toward him. “What else would it be?”

Sighing, Bruce slid his hands back into his lap and looked at them. “You got so hurt because of me.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, tears forgotten in your confusion.

“If you had not had a child with me, you’d still be okay. The child would have lived. All of this happened because I’m a monster.”

“Robert Bruce Banner, don’t you dare!” you said. The flash of anger felt good, almost warming. Bruce had no answer for it either, perhaps because it had been so long since he’d heard any emotion from you at all.

“You were the one that suggested I have an abortion,” you went on. “I should have listened, I wanted a family with you. Eugene died because of me. You and everyone else wasted time taking care of me because I’m the monster you and Eugene never could be.”

Your voice rang against the walls for a few seconds after your tirade. Both of you sat to listen to it. After the echoes faded at last and your anger began to cool, Bruce took your hand again.

He rubbed his work-worn thumb against the top of your knuckles. “Everyone who has helped you has helped you because they love you. No one thinks you’re a monster.”

“They’re wrong.”

“They aren’t. It wasn’t just you, [Name]. I’m to blame as well. If I hadn’t decided we ought to have sex—”

“I liked the sex,” you interrupted.

His smile was weary. “I did, too. And you know what else we have in common? I wanted a family as well. I’ve always wanted a family. I wanted one so badly that I ignored the risks. I convinced myself that you and Eugene would be all right.”

A few tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes in the aftermath of his confession. With your free hand, you reached over to dry them off. Hoarsely, you said, “I can’t have kids anymore, Bruce.”

“I know, but,” he licked his lips, hesitating on what looked to be a precipice before he took the leap, “I’ve been thinking. If you want kids and I want kids…there’s no saying we have to have them ourselves for them to count. Maybe—Maybe we can adopt.”

That was a thought. A very big, very scary thought. It was not a thought that you immediately wanted to reject, however. Bruce would be a fantastic father. Everything in his life leading up to the conversation had proven that, especially his taking care of you while you were too mentally fogged to do so yourself. You had the room in the house and in your heart.

“I think I’d like that,” you whispered.

“We’ll talk about it some more later. We don’t have to rush anything. I think we both need some time to heal.”

After a pause, you nodded, dragged your chair closer to Bruce’s, and leaned your head against his shoulder. “Together now?” you asked him.

“Together from now on,” he promised, and kissed the top of your head.

THE END

[a-lil-perspective]

So uh… would you like to hear about Vigilante!Crosshair?

Well I’m gonna talk about it anyway. XD

So the concept has been spinning in my head for a long time now. I’m only just started to piece it all together and reinforce my points.

The timeframe is set after the war, Crosshair’s got a Cyare and things have settled but he’s more restless, more driven, than he’s ever been. I’ve touched on this in my “Domestic!Crosshair Headcanons” and I did so with this context in mind, because it leads up to his vigilante undertakings.

He does so without his Cyare’s knowledge.

And it causes a lot of strife, in their marriage—he’s gallivanting around the Galaxy and she’s not a clue where he is, when he’s coming home, if he’s coming home. He comes back at all hours of the night, disheveled looking and furtively cradling his weapons. She can only assume the worst.

And this becomes a regular occurrence. He’s stressed beyond belief but won’t utter a peep as to why. He keeps his belongings—weapons and armor and devices—hidden from her. After several months of this, of him shutting her down anytime she asks, of tiptoeing through the house after ensuring she’s asleep, she’s had it. She wants to know what he’s up to.

I’m sure you do, too.

Crosshair has gotten himself involved with the syndicates. He’s entered their world of trafficking—as an enemy. He’s commissioned by families/clans/organizations to intercept and rescue personnel—mainly children—from the clutches of these traffickers.

And so you can see why he keeps this information from his Cyare. To protect her. Because he’s shown his face in that world. They know of the ever elusive sniper with the highest body count, who continuously robs them of men, of credits, of assets. Crosshair can’t let them discover the people he’s associated with. Certainly not his precious wife.

It looks bad, his secrecy, and he ends up hurting her in the process of keeping her safe. I’m writing a whole fic about this; both Crosshair’s vigilante jobs and his marital strife. It’s really heavy and I try to tread carefully with angst nowadays but I’m excited. Not sure when it’ll be finished but. Have a little snippet maybe???

(Also this is Reader insert here and that’s tbd but for now let’s just roll with it XD)

———

He returns at an unholy hour, and this time you’re ready, you’ve anticipated it, your mind has been conjuring up one odious context after the next concerning the nature of his whereabouts. It’s whisked your insides and when he finally traipses through the front door, you nearly keel at his feet.

“Didn’t stay up just for me, did you sweetheart?”

He’s barely set down his pack—his rifle—before you’re throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close, struggling to keep the lump in your throat at bay.

“You smell like gunfire,” you breathe in his ear, accusatory and aghast all at once. It lingers on him, ozone and metal and skirmish. It’s the mediator between you two and your own personal informant, pointing you to his unspoken deeds. You pull him closer, an unconscious act to keep him in the sanctity of your arms lest he slip away again.

Not slip away. Leave.

You suddenly question the difference.

He kisses you in lieu of an explanation, with his whole chest and it’s gallant like you remember, his lips hot and lingering and Crosshair is the only syllable you mewl in the tender space between.

His lips are a tack as they travel painstakingly up your jaw to the lobe of your ear where his low hum is a delicacy reverberating down your spine, making your knees shake. It takes everything in you to cant your neck away, but there are questions in need of answers that are, unfortunately, impervious to his deft love-making.

“Where have you been?”

It comes out with a needy lilt that you loathe.

His arms are loving at your back, a juxtaposition to the blood they shed elsewhere. “Don’t worry about it.”

It’s scripted and frivolous—and downright stupid. He knows this and yet has the audacity to foist it upon you anyway.

“That’s not fair.”

Crosshair separates you from his chest then, and his actions speaks for themself. His hands shift to your waist to establish a modicum of connection, just a faint one. He apprises you of his incentive without ever uttering a word, and it’s your job to assimilate the nuances; it’s just who you were as a couple.

It didn’t make it any less heart wrenching, any less frustrating.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You’re unerring in his sharp gaze, his warm hands that now cup either side of your face. “Don’t keep secrets from me.”

His lips press into a grim line, because it’s a protest familiar in the air, but one he quickly grows tired of. “It’s for your own good.”

You gawk, for only a second, as a stubbornness that only ever flourishes in his presence comes effervescing to the surface all at once before you can redact.

“You don’t get to decide what’s good for me, Crosshair. I am your wife.”

But dammit if you haven’t had it up to here with him, his crypt.

His face pinches in anger at your outburst. He releases you, and takes two measured steps back that feels like he’s created a chasm between.

“Exactly.”

He leaves you in the devastation of your fury, the wet kind that constricts your throat and streams hot and plentiful down your face; the erasure of any affection you might’ve needed from him that night. You suddenly want nothing to do with his secrecy, the makeshift heroism he craves. You go your separate ways then, him to the bedroom, and you to the living room where you remain the rest of the night with only your soft sobs to keep you company, and him his.

[painless-innit-colourful]

After Wilbur leaves, Tommy’s legs give out, and his panic takes over, feat. the rest of the Bench Trio. TW for suicidal ideation, massive amounts of self-loathing. Also, spoilers for today’s stream.

---

"What did you do?"

He falls to his knees, and for a few minutes, the world goes blank.

What has he done? He's doomed them all, that's what he's done. He let one of the only people that believed in him get killed, he failed in his mission, and now he's almost single-handedly released one of the biggest sources of pain and misery back onto the server. Any moment he expects some righteous punishment for what he's done: a cruel hand, the final blow from a sword, the divine arrow, another damn lightning strike, because why not? Why should he get to sit and cry like a baby when the whole server will soon suffer for what he's done?

The reason they had to kill Dream was just like Ranboo had once said: 'If the villains can come back, then what's the point in winning?' Ranboo, whose presence he can feel, vibrating angrily mere metres away. It's like when you agro an enderman; Tommy expects the hit to come, he wants it, he deserves it, because Ranboo was right! They can't win. Not anymore. All Dream needs is the body, and they can welcome back all those they banished to the other side. Wilbur was supposed to be gone. That was supposed to be done with. It can't be happening again. He can't be back.

His mind whirrs, trying for any solution to this mega-problem, no matter how outlandish, but it returns nothing. Wilbur defeated himself last time. They can't conquer the prison again; besides, Sam will kill him if he goes near it again. Sam, who helped him build Jack Manifold's (his, his, his) hotel, who built him a robot that helped him gather materials and work for himself and protected him and refused to hurt him. Sam, who nearly just took his last canon life several times, who told him he should be dead, who told him he caused all the problems at the prison, on the server, hell! Why didn't he kill him? Maybe the server would be safer that way. Perhaps Wilbur isn't the first villain Dream's resurrected.

He'll never sleep again. Partly because he has to find a way to stop this, has to put an end to everything even if it kills him, especially if he can take them all out at the same time. But also partly because that look Wilbur gave him, the fire that burns nations to the scorched earth underfoot dancing behind his eyes, already haunts his dreams. He already knows which words he'll hear when he tries to rest, which crazed looks, which gestures he'll never forget; he doesn't want that. He wants to sleep in peace, without the ghost of a villain returned beckoning "Let's be the bad guys." and "Why not?" and "My hero, Dream!" The roles have reversed, the blackstone table has turned.

"You wanna be a hero Tommy?" He thinks he'd rather have died one than become... whatever monster stares back at him in the glass beneath his feet. Glass that protects the crater of a nation. A nation that he died twice for. That caused so much pain and strife. That ultimately was razed so far down that the earth will never forgive its creators for painting upon it a target so large and flammable. It was never meant to be, indeed.

And he cries. The tears make tiny 'plinck, plinck, plinck' sounds as they hit the glass, forming a small puddle as the once-proud soldier puts his head against the grave of his home, and himself, Prime knows how many times, and sobs. The ground is unforgiving, the silence carries his weeping out to sea. He shed tears like these for Wilbur once. He wants him back. He wants to go back to the Void. And with a whole server of people about to wake up to the news of the impending chaos in the form of one persuasive former president, he doesn't think it'll be long before he returns. He wants to go back to the Void, and play Competitive Solitaire with Wilbur forever, and maybe, just maybe, that'd be enough to give his friends the peace they need to build lives in the shelter of the shadows. In the runoff and the rubble, they could grow old. And maybe they'd mourn him occasionally. He doesn't see the point.

He doesn't deserve their love anymore. He's fucked up. He's fucked up, and he should pay the price. He should march up to Wilbur, and kill him, and die in the process. But if they both woke up, what then? Who knows how many canon lives zombies have anyway.

He doesn't deserve kindness, or love, or affection. He watched the sweet, innocent ghost be slaughtered because of him. A man he might've accidentally called 'father' should've killed him. Ranboo, dear Prime, patient, forgiving, compassionate Ranboo stared at him with eyes full of disappointment and betrayal and anger and stormed off. He doesn't deserve anything but his ruined city's sky, not anymore... But he wants it. Needs it. Needs it, or what is there left?

So when Tubbo stands at his side, his scarred face barely reflected in the glass, he doesn't compel him to leave. When he kneels and puts an arm around Tommy's shoulders, the younger boy does not ask for Wilbur's end. And when he is scooped up in arms that no longer tremble, he does not try to escape. He merely buries his face in his best friend's coat and waits. Waits to be let go. Waits to be thrown from the clifftop. And somewhere along the journey, he blacks out again.

---

"Would you?" "No, but-" "Exactly! He's fucked up, we can't-" "We can't just abandon him, he's my T-" "The whole server'll be out for blood within the week! We can't hide him here!" "Why not? We have basements, and secret rooms and tunnels and-" "They'll find him, Tubbo." 

Ranboo puts his hands firmly on Tubbo's shoulders, staring right into his eyes. Tubbo freezes, as people often do when eye contact is maintained. They're silhouetted in the doorway, haloed by the light spilling in through the ajar curtains. "They'll tear this place apart if they think they'll find him here. We can't do that. We can't let them do that."

"But-" "Michael. That's who you're putting at risk if you do this. People'll tear Michael's loft apart if they think we've hidden him up there, you know they would! They'd frighten the life out of him." Tubbo puts his head in his hands, quickly wiping his hair back from his face. "A life for a- a life. That's what you're saying, basically. They'll kill Tommy. No question." "They'd kill Michael too!" "Would they? Who the fuck is this 'they'?" "Literally the whole server- Look, I haven't been around here as long as you have, alright, but I know enough. They'll come for Tommy, and they won't have mercy for anyone caught in the crossfire."

Tubbo looks up at his husband for a long time, his expression becoming guarded while his posture straightens. "You're right. People don't care who they hurt around here; it's all means to an end. But-" And his eyes dart towards Tommy, Ranboo's following, and while Ranboo looks shocked and maybe a little embarrassed to see Tommy awake, lying awkwardly dumped on the guest bed, Tubbo's expression doesn't change. "-I won't leave him. I did it once, and it was the worst damn choice I ever made." He sighs, taking Ranboo's hands and staring down at them while they speak. "I don't know what to do, truth be told. I won't let anyone hurt Michael, and if they want to try then perhaps I should get back in the nuke lab. But Tommy's a part of my family as much- as much as you are." His eyes flick to Tommy, and the barest hint of a smile appears. "Looks like it's us against the world, again." 

He leads Ranboo with one hand into the room as he sits beside the mute, exhausted form of his best friend. His best friend that leans into the arm he puts around his shoulder and tries not to start crying again. "Us against the world." Tubbo repeats. "And I ain't leaving you behind."

Tommy looks up at Ranboo, who's staring at him with an impassivity that borders on scary. "Did I tell you you have mesmerising eyes? Because I actually think they're very intimidating." The enderboy's face softens. "Where did you find him." He asks Tubbo drily as he also sits on the bed, the other side of Tubbo, who smiles. "You'll have to-" He cuts himself off. "You'll have to ask Wilbur." He says softly.

"Don't sacrifice yourselves for me." Two heads snap in Tommy's direction, and Ranboo tries to answer first. "Oh, well, we weren't exactly planning on-" "I mean like, your happiness." He quietens again. "Don't lose lives, don't jeopardise Snowchester because of me." "How about you let me decide what happens in my nation." Tubbo's voice has regained some element of its smile. "You focus on surviving, alright Big Man?" "Don't- Please, don't let me ruin all this. Again."

‘I don't deserve your support. I don't deserve a place in your family. I don't deserve you.’

"You deserve another chance."

They make no promises in the half-dark. There are no agreements made over the steaming teapot. There are no settlements reached as the minutes tick by, and nothing comes of the quiet hours spent by a warm fireplace. But there are enough things said in the silences to fill the whole house. And even if Tubbo can't make his best friend fall asleep anymore, he can still hold him close somewhere that maybe, once was, once could've been something like a home.

[featherfall-tarot]

What gifts are coming your way

* And what barriers are slowing you down

Pile 1 Pile 2

Dolphin Squid

Pile 3

Starfish

————————————

Pile 1

So for those of you who have chosen the dolphin, congratulations, y’all are the lucky ones. You guys are very special, and I don’t mean that to toot your horns, or butter and if your biscuits. I mean that in terms of gifts, you guys are the gifts, for many people, at least you will be. You all have the power to create the life of your dreams, but your holding yourself back from success.

I’m seeing that you’re someone who’s talented in a certain or multiple fields, good enough to possibly even share what you know. You could be super creative or even a dancer or artist. Either way you are your worst enemy in this particular situation.

I see that your lack of trust, both in yourself and of the universe is contributing to your blockage of success. You need to let go of useless and self-sabotaging thought patterns and behaviors. There’s nothing you can’t handle, take a leap of faith and trust in your abilities and believe in the possibility that the impossible can be made possible.

You’re meant to be a leader of some kind, guiding others through the actions that you take. Think of the phrase “Do as I say, not as I do”, however in your case actions far exceed the weight of words pile 1. You guys got this, you got the power, believe in the best version of yourself and create him, her or them. The sky isn’t the limit for y’all, it’s just a pit stop, good luck. 😁

————————————

Pile 2

If y’all chose the squid, I’m sorry, ur not gonna like me for this, so again sorry I’m advance. However y’all chose this pile sooo…..

I’m seeing here that you guys have a MAJOR problem with people pleasing and codependency and may potentially have an addiction to relationship hopping. So obviously the solution as well as the gift here is to to become more independent.

You may be suffering from a lack of a father figure or may be dealing with cheating in your relationships; And dude look out for toxic friendships as well. Honestly just review your entire circle, there’s too much dirt surrounding your life.

You need to trash toxic people out of your life and realign with what it is you really want and who it is that your are. Spirit isn’t saying that it’ll be easy, or that it’ll be quick, expect this to take time, expect this to be lonely and expect this to hurt. But it’ll be worth it in the end when you can enjoy being in your own skin and enjoy being around people who enjoy being around you.

Don’t give up y’all

————————————

Pile 3

Pile 3, guys, we really need to talk. Do you want some tea, a cookie, a hug? Are you sure, cause I think ya need it. Are your shoulders sore? They must be from all of the weight your carrying around. You can let that go, it’s perfectly fine to let people drown in their own mistakes and problems. The only person you are responsible for saving is yourself, and your children if you have any, but even then only to a point.

This reading could last a lifetime but let’s get into it. You come from a background of strife and chaos and constant arguing and betrayal. This forced you to shrink yourself for protection and become different versions of yourself depending on the environment. This caused you to become a peacekeeper.

I see here that you’re ready to let go of this energy and walk away, but you’re reluctant. It’s OK, it’s not your fault, you don’t know how, you were never given the right tools. I get that you feel as though you can’t see a clear way out and you feel as though it’s out of reach. Others may have noticed that you’re thinking of changing and may try to bully you into submission, but don’t let them.

Spirit is guiding you to create a new beginning, but to do this you have to release the old and the negative, and that which no longer serves you in reaching your highest goals. You really need to protect your energy from this who seek to steal it from you; Call it back. Let go of any negative self beliefs you’ve been programmed with and connect with who you are. This will be the beginning to the end of the cycle you came from and show you the light at the end of the tunnel.

BEST WISHES PILE 3

[jenseits-der-sterne]

An Update

Sorry to be so quiet these last few days, I’ve been doing alright

I did end up having a conversation with my parents on Sunday about this. That did make me feel better to at least tell them my concerns.

I basically said that if my sister still refuses to vaccinate, she’s not going to be able to be around us. 

My dad understood this, he said that she’s going to need to make her choices and decide what’s important to her.

My mom didn’t really say anything. My mom was vaccine hesitant all the way up until September 2021 and I think she’s still not happy she got vaccinated. So... she basically has no comment to leave regarding my sister’s prolonged hesitancy. At least she’s not the argumentative type. She stayed out of the discussion and didn’t say anything. 

I don’t actually know how this will play out in practice. It’s good to talk about these things and set ground rules. I just hope it doesn’t cause too much strife and friction in the future when we do have gatherings and I have to enforce those boundaries.

I talked a bit with my boss about this - he’s in a similar kind of situation with his own older brother. I told my boss I basically lost an entire day from the stress of it. On Saturday, I really did not feel well physically or mentally. I felt a little better when he explained that this kind confrontation really throws him out of whack for like a week. So, it’s good to know I’m not alone in experiencing a reaction like this. Like, sometimes I admonish myself and tell myself I’m overreacting, that I need to move on. But... it’s good to hear from someone else that feeling these kinds of things is normal. I feel like should know this, at 35? But alas, I am very much a work in progress, myself...

Thank you to everyone who reached out to my original post. I really appreciated your advice and kind words 💗

I’ve been writing some dumb, fluffy fic. Hopefully it’ll be done soon and I can share it with you all :)

[incorrectshantaequotes]

Shantae Headcanons - Magic and Magical Species

Been a while since I've done headcanons, huh? This time, I'll be covering magic and how it works, as well as various magical species! This is one of the longest headcanon posts I've made, so I'll keep it under a read more.

Magic in General

So! Magic has a variety of subcategories depending on what you're trying to do and what it'll accomplish, but as a whole, it has two main forms - light magic, which is typically just called magic, and dark magic. Both kinds of magic can fit into the subcategories, as believe it or not, the difference isn't a good/evil dichotomy - it's how you work with magic and cast it. To explain the difference, however, a bit of context is required.

Magic is spread out everywhere in the world, and over time, various species have evolved to produce their own magic and work with the magic of the world around them to create a variety of effects. Basically, think the Owl House. Every species has some form of latent magic - even humans - but the less magically inclined you are, the less you'll be able to access it. For example, humans, the least magically inclined species, have some magic, but can't really access it. At most, it'll manifest as some minor biological oddities, such as enhanced strength, or, perhaps, controllable hair.

As a side note - the less magically inclined you are, the more resistant you are to magic as a whole. Humans are actually completely unaware of several magical illnesses and plagues because they're totally immune to them - the only things that work against humans are the big guns, such as the stone curse in Pirate's Curse.

Anyway, the difference between light and dark magic is how one works with the latent magic around them in conjunction with their own to get the results they want. Now, to clarify on how they differentiate...

Light magic is what happens when you coerce magic into working with you - convince it to do what you want to do. Generally the safer option, but working with magic as a partner or friend rather than something to be bossed around doesn't come naturally to some people. As such, prewritten spells like Fireball and Storm Puffs are popular for those who can't quite get those results.

Dark magic is what happens when you force magic into working with you - you assert your will over it and demand that it do what you want. In some ways, this form of magic can be easier to cast than light magic. If you have the right amount of will, you can easily cast dark magic, even if you're not that magically inclined. However, while dark magic isn't inherently evil, it is hard to use properly, because that force of will and dominance can be a bit...addicting. And corruptive. When you use force to solve all your problems, it can start to take a toll on your good intentions unless you really know what you're doing.

So! Onto magic species!

Genies and Half-Genies

Genies are by far the most magically inclined species out there, and for good reason - they're literally made of the stuff. Even their physical bodies are just magic constructs. As such, convincing magic to do what they want is usually as simple as just asking.

Due to their constitution, genies don't really have any particular preferences of what kind of magic they practice like other species do. Instead, it tends to be more that individuals pick what kind of magic they prefer to practice, and then focus their entire lives into perfecting that magic, with their children generally ending up picking the same magic as a result.

While being made of magic is cool and all, it's not as cracked up as it seems. For instance, Genies cannot use dark magic. Like, literally can't. It's not a moral code or anything, it's just that they have absolutely no filter for dark magic's corruptive properties. Remember the thing about how being less magically inclined gives you more resistance to magic? That also applies to dark magic's side-effects, and as the most magically inclined species out there, Genies have none. Just a touch of dark magic can be enough for a Genie to go bad. This is how the Tinkerbrain/Dynamo was able to turn Shantae into Nega-Shantae and corrupt the Genie realm so easily - their own biology worked against them. Speaking of that...

Half-Genies are. Weird. Aside from the pointed ears, biologically they're no different from humans. What makes them so unique is their magic half - which is quite literal because they actually have a magical copy of themselves fused with their biological body, and that's what the use for magic. It's a rather unique form of storing and casting magic, one that no other species has. As seen in the series itself, however, this comes with the downside that a Half-Genie's magic can have their magic completely separated from them if you have the right artifacts, something that no other species has to worry about because their means of producing and storing magic is purely biological. Though, as seen in Seven Sirens, sometimes this can be a good thing, as a Half-Genie can use this to temporarily give their magic to someone else.

Sirens

The everyman may wonder, "what's the difference between Mermaids and Sirens?" The answer: pure magical power. The main thing differentiating Sirens from their more well-known counterparts is that Sirens have far more magical potential, giving them more biological diversity as well as increasing their intelligence, letting them make the marvelous structures we see in Seven Sirens. In fact, it was a group of Sirens who made the plans for the steam engine Mimic found and Risky stole in the first Shantae game.

Of course, while Sirens can technically use whatever magic they want, they tend to gravitate towards Summoning Magic. What is Summoning Magic? Honestly, it depends on the Siren you ask. Some prefer summoning magical constructs, some prefer summoning the creatures nearby for aid, and some just straight-up pull others to them via teleport. This room for experimentation gives Summoning Magic a potency that other magics struggle to face.

Sirens have their own language consisting of various clicks and fish noises. This is actually what Lobster Siren speaks! For those wondering, while she could hypothetically learn how to speak Surface, she never has because she's always been too shy of surface-dwellers to actually talk to them. She can understand it perfectly fine, but can't really speak it. Thankfully, those in tune with magic can pick up on what the clicks and fish noises mean! Sort of. How much they actually understand depends on what kind of magic they practice and how much magical potential they have.

Zombies

Zombies are notable for being the only species to actively run on dark magic. There are some magical constructs that run on dark magic - like the Tinkerbats - but they're the only species that runs on it. As a result, they're the foremost experts on dark magic and using it properly, because not knowing how to properly manage it could lead to them becoming feral, or worse, losing their second chance at life.

There are two types of zombies: artificial and natural. Artificial means they were made as a product of some kind of spell, and this is generally the most common kind of zombie. These kind of zombies also tend to be self-aware more often than not. Natural zombies are something that's only popped up recently in the world - while ambient magic generally defaults to light magic, it's been found that over time, repeated conflict and strife in a certain area can gradually cause the ambient magic to turn dark, which can lead to corpses rising from their graves all on their own. These zombies are generally the wild kind, though some natural zombies who woke up self-aware have happened in the past.

The idea of zombies needing coffee to stay self-aware isn't necessarily true. It's moreso that zombies need to keep their bodies active to avoid the degradative effects of dark magic. See, without any will to direct it, dark magic tends to default to exerting the force that drives it over everything around it, leading to it either slowly or quickly destroying said things around it. In order to combat this, zombies make sure their body is active as much as possible to keep the dark magic from going to that default state. The easiest way to do this is coffee or other caffeinated drinks, but there are other methods as well - exercise, adrenaline, anything that keeps your body up and alert is acceptable.

Yes, zombies can reproduce, even with other species. It's honestly not as weird as you'd think it'd be. Zombies or zombie hybrids produced as a result of this fall under the category of natural zombie.

Warp Squids

Warp Squids are notorious for being ridiculously difficult to kill - the only real way to actually do them in is sickness or old age, and that has to do with their unique form of teleportation magic.

Whenever Warp Squids teleport, they leave a magical imprint of their body behind wherever they were before. Whenever they "die," their soul immediately heads over to their last magical imprint, which they use to regenerate their body. As a result, death isn't really permanent for them. At all. The only things that can get them consistently are magical sicknesses, as some can mess with their teleportation magic, and old age, which ignores magical imprints.

As a result of this, Warp Squids have a...really nonchalant attitude towards death. Even zombies treat death more seriously. It's what allows for the business of squidsmithing - the Warp Squids volunteer to have their bodies made into artifacts to help heroes, and in return, squidsmiths give their local Warp Squids a cut of the pay they get.

Pixies

Ever wonder what Holly Lingerbean's deal was after Seven Sirens? After all, Harmony clarified that they were the first generation of Half-Genies, so where does that leave Holly? The simple answer? She lied. Sort of. She was in fact a hybrid between a human and a magical species, but it wasn't Genies...it was Pixies!

Pixies are a nearly extinct magical race, well known for having specialized in two types of magic. The first is illusion magic - Holly wasn't lying about her father being a stage magician. Pixies used their illusions to trick and misguide others, giving them a reputation as pranksters and con artists. The second - albeit far more rare - is preservation magic.

Preservation magic was first approached by Pixies as a sort of opposite to illusion magic. After all, one makes things look different, the other makes sure it looks the same, that sounds pretty much like opposites, right? But it's a lot more complicated than that. Magic tends towards change. Asking it to keep something the same is hard, even for a Genie - give it even the slightest of wiggle room, and chances are your spell will go horribly wrong. To give an example, Holly Lingerbean ended up the way she is because she attempted to cast preservation magic on herself. So the fact that even a few Pixies managed to master it was enough to garner attention, and ultimately led to the near extinction of their race.

Their structures are still around, but without someone to reapply the preservation magic, they're slowly crumbling apart. What few Pixies there are left are survivors, using preservation magic to stay alive far past what should have been - and even then, it's failing. Much like the Half-Genies, without some kind of miracle, their generation will likely be the last.

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 12

Prompt: “Who are you?” 

Read on AO3

One Last Lesson

The afterlife was getting quite dull. There is only so much to do after being returned to the Force. It's given Qui-Gon a lot of time to relax, meditate, and go back to revisit some of the parts of his life he wished to further reflect on. Though time is not a real thing in here, it already feels as though it's been millennia since the Sith Lord's saber was thrust through his stomach and he watched the tearful face of his padawan fade away with his consciousness.

But what the Jedi didn't realize that day is that Qui-Gon didn't accept his fate to return to the Force. After much deliberation on the subject as he lay there dying, the Maverick master decided to pull one last stunt of going against the grain-- he denied to fully return, and instead willed his soul to stay close to the world he physically left behind. The Force allowed his request, and he has remained in limbo ever since.

It's strange being a bystander to the living. Sometimes terrifying. Qui-Gon won't ever forget the surreal feeling of watching his own body burn on the pyre. His greatest quest is to figure out how to bridge the gap between his spirit world and the living. He knows it to be possible, he just needs to find the right balance.

It's taken years, but he finally believes he has the technique down. He stands on the very edge of the spirit world. One push big enough, and he can manifest himself back into the living as a ghost of himself. When considering how he was to test such an ability, Qui-Gon knew exactly who his first visit would be to.

He sees Obi-Wan now, sitting alone in the living room of their old apartment. Same youthful eyes and toothy smile, but now he seems to have grown out a significant amount of facial hair to mask his child-like features. He looks older, definitely feeling the effects of having an apprentice running amuck. His padawan cut has vanished completely into a well-groomed flow that licks at his collar-- Qui-Gon recalls humorously growing his own hair out in a similar style as soon as Dooku cut off his braid.

Obi-Wan is a well-respected knight, a good master to Anakin, and better than Qui-Gon could have ever imagined. He always knew Obi-Wan would be far wiser than him, and having watched him grow since his untimely death, he is prouder than he thought possible.

Which is why he must see him. Speak to him. Try to find some way to make up for the years of pain he has inadvertently caused.

The moment the Jedi Master realized the damage he had done was the impromptu knighting of his dear padawan. It was not in the Temple with the council honoring him with a lightsaber salute. Qui-Gon was not there to welcome him, bring him before Master Yoda, and be the first to present his student as a Knight of the Order. There was no party afterward, in which his friends and teachers would flood in to congratulate him. Instead, Obi-Wan knelt before Master Yoda and Master Windu, tears falling silently down his face, but they weren't of happiness for his accomplishment. Neither of the Jedi Masters really knew what to do with the new knight who said his vows through mournful sniffles. There was no party, and in the end, Qui-Gon watched as he threw the waist-length braid into the flames of his funeral pyre.

Though Obi-Wan had no idea, he was there for the sleepless nights where he dragged his comforter out to the couch because sleeping in Qui-Gon's old bed was a little too much for the first few months. He was there when Anakin lashed out, wishing in vain that "Master Jinn were here". He was also there when Obi-Wan broke down as soon as he had a moment long enough, saying to nobody in particular that he too wished he were still around.

But I am, padawan. I am here. Qui-Gon would want to say, but he wasn't yet strong enough to manage such a communication.

But now he is. And now, he will finally be able to say the words he should have said as his dying breath. I am proud of you, padawan mine. You have done marvelously.

Obi-Wan is making a cup of tea as Qui-Gon gathers the Force around him. He concentrates on his physical form, trying to manifest the body Obi-Wan formerly knew as his Master. It's taxing, and he has a sinking feeling he won't be able to hold it for long, but he doesn't need long. He just wants him to know he is still watching over him.

Though, what Qui-Gon didn't anticipate, was the severed bond between them to spark up with life, and to feel a burst of panic and confusion flowing openly through it.

The mug that was in Obi-Wan's hand a moment ago drops, shattering upon impact with the floor. Qui-Gon immediately withdraws as he sees the knight's wide eyes looking frantically around the apartment.

"Hello?" Obi-Wan calls, his hand resting on his lightsaber hilt. "Who's there?"

So I have his attention at least... time to try again. Qui-Gon repeats the process from earlier, this time being more careful of his shielding-- he hasn't had to worry about such a thing in years. The Force surrounds him, bolstering his spiritual self and pushing him slowly into the living world. Qui-Gon can feel his spirit pushing through, but as he looks down at himself his visual form isn't quite strong enough. It'll have to do.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon says, immediately disappointed with the distant echo of his voice. He isn't as near as he thought himself to be, and now he has only succeeded in making Obi-Wan draw his lightsaber in panic, waving it around at nothing.

"Hello? Who are you? Show yourself!"

He must be able to feel my presence, but not see or hear me clearly... Qui-Gon pushes down his sorrow, watching helplessly as Obi-Wan continues to look aimlessly through the apartment. He thinks back to their bond that sprung open. Maybe...

Qui-Gon strums against it ever so carefully, trying hard not to scare the poor boy, but not succeeding in the slightest. Obi-Wan staggers in confusion, pressing his palm against his temple in confusion.

"Master?" he whispers, before shaking his head. "No... that's impossible."

"It's not impossible, padawan," Qui-Gon says, cursing when Obi-Wan only looks over his shoulder and doesn't seem to register his actual words. He pushes through their bond once more. It's not impossible.

But their bond isn't what it once was. When Qui-Gon was slain on Naboo, their training bond was severed. Forcefully and painfully. Now he is doing nothing but reopening old scars. He realizes this as Obi-Wan's knees buckle and he cries out in pain. The dead Master recoils immediately, guilt coursing through him at the pain he's caused. He didn't expect Obi-Wan to feel his presence and panic. Nor did he expect their bond to begin bleeding again, leaving his padawan lying writhing on the floor. If his soul had the capacity to cry he probably would.

Qui-Gon kneels down beside the young knight, laying a hand he will never feel on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, my padawan. I'm so sorry."

The front door opens, and in runs a teenage Anakin, tall and gawky. His eyes are wide as he spots his master lying on the ground, and in an instant Qui-Gon's place of comfort is stolen by the young padawan.

"Master!" Anakin cries out. "I felt you in pain, what's going on?"

A bond of their own. A life of their own. Qui-Gon stands back, watching as Obi-Wan tries to assure him he is fine and it is only a headache, while Anakin begins the ever-tedious lecture on going to the Healers. Though he feels shameful for his powers failing and causing such strife, he can't help but smile seeing the boys together. They care for one another deeply, he can feel it. They are two pieces to the puzzle of balance that holds the galaxy together.

That's what Qui-Gon never really got to explain to his padawan or the Council. Though he felt a special connection with Anakin when he found him on Tatooine, the discovery of the slave boy also unlocked a new feeling in the Force that centered around Obi-Wan. His Force presence felt as though it was cloaked in light, a new shatter point that hadn't previously been there. Qui-Gon kept it to himself until he had more time to explore the strange feeling--and then he ran out of that precious time. It's why he couldn't return fully to the Force. Nobody else seems to have discovered the significance of Obi-Wan Kenobi yet, and he won't let his importance be buried by a prophecy that Qui-Gon himself brought to light. A prophecy that nearly ruined their relationship and gave no allowance for the Jedi Master to try to mend it.

Though he still knows not what their roles are in the Universe, Qui-Gon does know they are meant to work together through it all.

Anakin manages to hoist Obi-Wan to his feet and help him to the couch. They talk quietly to one another, Anakin eyeing the broken mug but not saying a word about it. Obi-Wan asking for pain killers, which is more than he usually would request.

And Qui-Gon steps away. He will let his grand-padawan pick up the pieces that he broke yet again. He will practice his ability to manifest as a Force ghost on people he hasn't damaged so deeply. One day, he will be able to show himself to Obi-Wan fully without sending him into a fit. Maybe he will even get to pass on such a gift at that time. One final lesson for his padawan.