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slippinmickeys · 3 months ago

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Familiar (1/?)

I have always had this idea of writing a fantasy-like AU where unbeknownst to her, Scully is a witch and Mulder has been cursed as her familiar, spending his days, ‘Ladyhawke’-like, as an animal, and his nights as a man.

You'll recognize the first chapter as something I wrote as a one-shot and posted in my AU Prompt Collection where it collected dust. But I haven't been able to get this story out of my head and I'm going to post it here in it's own space while I mull where to go with it. I know I promised no new long-form new fics and I meant it; that said, this may or may not turn into something. And I won't have a lot of time to work on it. I'm still having fun with Funfetti and other prompts, but when the muse calls you, you have to follow that bitch, so: here it is.

Dana wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and looked up at the green underbelly of the canopy. The oak leaves were still, but something stirred just above her head—a fluttering movement too deliberate to be the wind.

She reminded herself that feathered things flew in daylight, that she was safe. But deep down, she knew the truth: other things, darker things, flew at night. A swallow of unease tightened in her throat, and she quickened her pace. The sunlight, after all, was dying.

There was an old crofter’s cottage near the edge of the wood, just beyond the remnants of a Roman road. If she could reach it, she could rest. The roof would surely leak, and the place would be damp as a toad’s foot, but it was better than sleeping beneath open sky. Not with that creature still following her. Not with the shouts of witch still ringing in her ears.

She glanced back. The path was empty. But she felt it—the presence in the undergrowth, biding its time. Stalking her with patience.

It had followed her for three days now, slipping through the edges of her vision. Too fast to be human. It had been with her ever since she was run out of the village—ever since Alexander had whispered conjurer to the men bundling sheaves and to the women combing wool. It followed her like a shadow. Like the rumor that had driven her away.

She spit into the duff. Alexander.

He had been her friend once. He had proposed marriage—more than once—but she’d refused him. She hadn’t explained why. That she wanted more from life than to be some villein’s broodmare, bound to a landlord’s field. But he’d figured it out quickly enough. And the affection in his eyes had soured into hate.

A branch snapped behind her.

Her hand flew to the dagger at her belt, cursing her wandering thoughts. The blade—long and old as the Norsemen who once landed on their shores—thrummed faintly at her touch. She had named it Bite. Like a cat’s teeth, it never needed sharpening.

The creature was growing bold now. No longer satisfied with lingering in shadows. Dana stopped, spun on her heel, cloak flaring around her legs like smoke. The old game trail was quiet, but she caught a flash of amber in the dying light.

“Out, then!” she shouted. “Show yourself and let us have it out! I have a shadow already—I’ve no need for a new one!”

Only a low owl-call answered her.

She sniffed the air. Nothing. With a wary glance over her shoulder, she continued on, knowing she had little choice but to press forward.

She had no idea where she was going—only that it had to be far. Far from the village where she’d come of age. Left as a babe on a peasant doorstep, wrapped in high-quality wool with Bite tucked in the bottom of the creel. The basket had been woven with river grasses that didn’t grow anywhere in the whole of the county.

The name conjurer would cling to her now, like stink to a pig’s hide.

She had always stood out—red-haired in a village of mud-colored pelts. Maybe in one of the larger cities, she could disappear. Though how she’d feed, clothe, or shelter herself was another matter. She had only the few coins she’d sewn into the lining of her cloak last autumn.

Ahead, the trees broke. A field of barley stretched out, golden in the last rays of sunlight. Dusk was coming on fast, the sky streaked with grey and rose.

If she could reach the crofter’s cottage unseen, she might sleep—rest her aching feet, leave behind the feeling of being shunned. Of being hunted.

She crossed into the barley. A low stone wall marked the property line between one landowner and the next. The stalks were still green, their plaited bead-heads brushing against her arms with long whiskers—like a lover’s caress.

Or what she imagined a lover’s caress might feel like, if she had ever let one touch her.

Alexander hadn’t been the only man in the village to stare too long. Her adopted mother had warned her early: men’s eyes meant danger. Especially when the milites came through, collecting taxes in coin or wool. Those were the ones to avoid.

“Any man touches you without invitation,” Old Mildred would bellow, “you wait until he sleeps and slice off his cock!”

Dana almost smiled at the memory. Mildred had found her as a babe and raised her without help—no husband, just goats and chickens and a wicked aim with a ladle. She had died not five months ago, and since then, Dana’s world had unraveled.

Over a hill and through a rye field she walked, ducking under a stile. The sky pinked. The first stars blinked into being.

There—at the bottom of the dale—stood the cottage. Framed on two sides by thick old elms.

She picked up her pace, letting the slope carry her downward. The feeling of being watched thickened. The urge to draw Bite was nearly overpowering.

Almost there.

She reached the door—and then stumbled over a root hidden beneath the tall grass. She landed hard, jarring her shoulder and bruising her hip.

Padded footsteps. A branch cracked.

Dana’s breath caught as she raised her eyes.

A large fox—with a pelt the same red as her own hair—darted behind one of the elms just as the sun dropped below the horizon, blinding her.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

When her vision cleared, the fox was gone—and a man stood in its place.

Scrambling upright, she drew Bite in one smooth motion, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. The blade gleamed, deadly and steady.

The man didn’t move. He was young—maybe a year or two older than her. With the sunset still glowing behind him, his hair looked golden, like the fox’s. But as the light faded, she saw it was brown. His chin was strong, his nose long and slightly crooked—enough to lend his face character. He was tall. Nearly as tall as the sheriff’s gelding back home.

“Hullo,” he said. His voice was light.

Dana said nothing. She flicked her wrist, making the blade glint. Let him see she knew how to use it.

“You’re the one the villagers call Dana,” he said, his tone low and pleasant.

But Dana knew pleasant tongues could hide sharp teeth.

“I’m the one they call witch,” she hissed, hoping to scare him off.

He didn’t retreat. He grinned.

She waited for him to step forward, to strike. Instead, he leaned against the elm with the air of someone who had all the time in the world.

“You’ve been following me,” she said at last. She kept Bite raised.

He shrugged. She bristled.

“You don’t deny it?”

Another shrug. “Following you is more an act of self-preservation than pursuit.”

Her fear was starting to turn. Not to trust—but to irritation.

The fox she had feared was a man. Or perhaps something in between. She had been confused, and confusion made her angry.

You are too intelligent, Mildred used to laugh. Stupid people are happier. Smart people are always vexed.

“You are Dana, then?” he asked.

“Do you plan to turn me in to the witch-slayers?”

His expression darkened. “I plan nothing of the kind.”

She studied him. His easy posture. The long fingers. The dark hair on his forearms. She didn’t lower her blade yet, but the edge of her panic dulled.

“Then I am Dana,” she said. A beat passed. She sheathed Bite.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied, clearly relieved.

“You now know my name,” she said. “Tell me yours.”

Now that the light had faded, she could see him more clearly. His eyes were kind. His clothing—a flaxen tunic dyed the color of winter leaves—was simple, well-made.

“I only know what they called me in the village,” he said, voice laced with something like longing.

“And what’s that?”

“Fox,” he said, sheepishly.

Gooseflesh bloomed along her arms.

“You have no memory?” she asked.

“I have knowledge,” he said carefully. “But no past that I can name.”

“You sound like me,” she murmured.

His gaze sharpened. “You have no past?”

“I have a story with no beginning,” she said. “And lately, I’m called only witch.”

“The villagers don’t know what a witch is,” he said. “You’re not what they think.”

“I’m not,” she agreed, lifting her chin.

“But a witch you are,” he said, stepping closer. “And I? I am your familiar.”

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #au #familiar #historical au #fantasy au #don't get excited this will not be a story that comes quickly lol

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fairytales-and-folklore · 4 months ago

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A New Familiar

The Owl House » Huntlow

featuring art by the marvelous marimbles (formerly carpisuns) ♥️

Title: A New Familiar

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: The Owl House (Masterlist)

Relationship: Hunter | The Golden Guard x Willow Park

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: With the power of mindscape magic, Hunter reunites with an old friend, has a heart to heart with the man whose likeness he was made in, and learns how to carve a new palisman.

Flapjack flutters from the head of the wolf to perch on Hunter's shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek one last time, twittering a gentle Hunter is loved by Flapjack always, before flying back over to land on Caleb's shoulder. "I'm very happy to have met you, Hunter," Caleb tells him, genuine pride shining in his eyes. "Live a long and happy life for all of us, would you?" "I'll do my best," Hunter promises, understanding all of us to mean not just Caleb and Flapjack, but all the grimwalkers who'd been unlucky enough to meet the same fate. "That's all anyone could ever ask," Caleb says, giving Hunter one last bright smile before turning to walk the long, winding, sunlit path through the forest, Flapjack chittering cheerfully on his shoulder as the two of them disappear beyond the golden horizon.

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In the months that follow the Battle of the Boiling Isles, after two great evils have been defeated and the dust starts to settle on their strange little island, Hunter delves further into his studies, into subjects he'd never been allowed to research in the light of day — mindscape magic, palisman magic, grimwalker lore — now more knowledgeable than ever with access to a whole underground archive that Lilith had uncovered in her renovation of the Emperor's old castle as she seeks to turn it into a school for wild magic.

"Are you ready?" Willow asks as she fluffs the pillows behind Hunter's head for the dozenth time, never satisfied that he's comfortable enough.

Hunter smiles up at her and nods.

"Thank you for doing this," he says, taking her hand and pressing a gentle kiss against the back of it.

"Hey, you're the genius who figured out it was even possible," she says with a wink that makes Hunter's face heat ten degrees. "I'm just the one casting it."

Hunter beams up at her, settling back against the cushions of Eda's living room couch with a deep, steadying breath.

"After all this time, I'm finally going to get to see him again," Hunter sighs as he clutches a hand to his heart, almost certain he can feel the faintest hint of bird's wings fluttering inside his chest.

"Ready," he says with a firm nod.

Willow leans forward to press a kiss against the top of Hunter's head, before twirling her fingers in a bright green spell circle, and brushing the hair out of his eyes as he falls back against the couch cushions, fast asleep.

• • •

Hunter wakes in a bright, sprawling forest filled with golden sunlight, a gentle breeze waltzing through the surrounding trees (willow trees, he muses, chuckling to himself — of course a part of her would manifest inside his mindscape) and follows the winding path to a little grove gated by wildflowers, where a man twice his age but nearly identical to him down to the very last freckle sits atop an overturned tree trunk, steady hands whittling away at a small cutting of wood while he chatters away cheerfully to a little red cardinal perched on his shoulder.

"Flapjack?" Hunter marvels, heart lurching in his chest at the sight of his old friend after all this time. The little cardinal perks up instantly at the sound of the familiar voice, emitting a high-pitched chirp as he zooms toward Hunter, hopping back and forth between his shoulders and tugging on that stubborn strand of hair that's grown out again since the last time Willow cut it. After his initial excitement, Flapjack settles down, nuzzling against Hunter's face as he gently strokes the top of the little bird's head, tears rolling down his scarred cheeks as he whispers, "I missed you too, buddy."

"He's been bragging about you nonstop ever since he arrived," the older man his mirror image says with a cheerful smile as he approaches the two of them. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Hunter."

"Caleb?" Hunter asks, though he already knows the answer.

"Indeed," Caleb replies.

"But…I don't understand," Hunter says, awed but confused. "How are you here?"

"You can thank our little red-feathered friend for that," Caleb tells him, smiling across the way at the little cardinal perched on Hunter's shoulder. "His soul has been residing inside your mindscape all this time, waiting for the moment when you two would finally meet again. He wanted to see you settled, make certain you were in good hands, before moving on to join me in the after. He believes that I can help you in this endeavor, and so, the moment he caught wind that you were coming, he conjured me from memory, so that I may act as your guide."

"I—" Hunter falters, feeling a fresh wave of tears well up behind his eyes at the revelation that this little bird had stayed with him for the sole purpose of protecting him, of ensuring his happiness, long after he'd already given his life for him.

"Thank you, Flapjack," he says softly, a mix of overwhelming gratitude and heart-wrenching sorrow for the way in which he'd had to go gripping his voice. The little bird chirps back at him, reminding him that it wasn't his fault, that he knows how hard Hunter fought back against Belos's control, that he's happy he was able to save his boy this time around. Hunter exhales on a shaky sob, gently placing his hand along the side of one of Flapjack's wings and hugging him to his cheek.

"Just as I may remind you that it wasn't your fault you weren't able to save me," Caleb tells the little cardinal, who merely chirps back at him in protest.

"You have saved Hunter, given him the chance to go on and live a long and happy life," Caleb argues, smiling kindly as he sets his gaze between the both of them. "And that is worth everything."

At this, Flapjack finally relents, ruffling up his feathers in pride at Caleb's praise, and chittering back a response that Hunter can't make heads or tails of — something along the lines of: show him, teach him, give him a friend.

"Yes, you're quite right," Caleb replies, smiling across the way at the little cardinal before casting a purposeful look at Hunter. "Shall we get started, then?"

"Doing…what, exactly?" Hunter asks, utterly lost.

Caleb's mouth curves into a bright smile that reaches all the way up to his dark brown eyes. "Why, carving your palisman, of course."

Hunter gasps, one hand reaching up instinctively to Flapjack, the only palisman he's ever known. Flapjack gives his fingers an affectionate nibble, fluttering down to land in the palms of Hunter's hands, and gazing up at him with an encouraging smile in his golden brown eyes.

"Are…are you sure?" Hunter asks the little bird, emotions both conflicting and bittersweet swirling inside him. "Is that okay?"

Flapjack twitters through their shared mental link, reassuring Hunter that of course it's okay, it's exactly what he wants for him, reminding him that he deserves to be loved, to be protected, to have a new companion to watch over him, just as Flapjack has always done.

Hunter holds the little bird gently in his hands, tears sliding down his cheeks as he tells him, "I love you, Flapjack. Thank you for saving my life, in more ways than one. I am so lucky to have called you my friend, and so thankful for the chance to see you one last time."

Flapjack stares up at him, chittering back a chorus of tweets that, to anyone else, would be unintelligible, but to Hunter, mean everything in the world.

Flapjack would gladly do it all over again, because Hunter is worth it.

Hunter is love. Hunter is friend.

Flapjack will always be with Hunter, in his heart and in his memories.

And now it is time for a new adventure.

Hunter nods, wiping a stray tear from his eyes as he smiles down through shining tears at his beloved little bird friend.

"Okay," he says, exhaling on a shaky breath he feels like he's been holding in for months, before turning to face Caleb with a determined smile. "I'm ready."

• • •

The two of them sit across from one another on a pair of felled tree trunks, whittling knives in hand as Caleb walks him through the basic maneuvers, Flapjack perched on Hunter's shoulder to watch his progress with rapt curiosity, occasionally chirping little sounds of encouragement. Hunter heaves another frustrated sigh, tongue stuck between his teeth in concentration as he struggles to make his first few cuts, while Caleb sits beside him working on his own project, hands moving in easy strokes across the grain.

"Remember to carve with the curve of the blade," Caleb instructs him in a gentle, calming tone. "Each stroke should be one nice, fluid motion. And remember to take your time — when it comes to making palismen, the journey is just as important as the destination. If you haven't yet figured out what it is you're crafting, fret not — it will come to you as you go along. More often than not, I've found that the budding palisman will tell you what it wants to be, rather than the other way round."

"Thank you, but at the rate I'm going, it might never happen at all," Hunter sighs, smoothing over another jagged cut in the palistrom wood's surface.

"You ought to give yourself a little more credit. You are doing marvelously for a beginner," Caleb assures him with a kind smile. "I know it must be difficult for someone to whom new skills often come naturally, to struggle with one that does not. But I have watched you persevere through many a daunting task with practice, patience, dedication, and determination, and that is the mark of a truly great student."

Hunter beams up at him, grateful for his encouraging words.

"Just look at what you have accomplished today! You and I, able to sit beside one another and commune across generations," Caleb exclaims with a jovial grin, gesturing around at the gorgeous expanse of Hunter's woodland mindscape. "This is quite a complicated spell you managed to pull off. I'd come across the concept of mindscapes in my own studies, of course, but I must say, your knowledge and expertise far outweighs mine. You must be quite adept at magic."

Hunter's smile falters.

"Oh, I— I had help," he confesses, chagrined at having to turn down Caleb's praise. An old insecurity he thought he'd finally put to rest creeps up on him, expanding in his chest like water in the lungs of a drowning man. "I'm not…it's not like I'm a real witch, or even a human. Hell, I'm not even sure I'm a real person. I'm just—"

"A grimwalker, yes." Caleb fixes him with a knowing smile, empathetic and bittersweet. "But mark my words, that does not make you any less real. You are not a witch, but you have still mastered glyph magic and found other more creative ways to perform extraordinary spellwork. You are not a human, but you think and feel just as deeply and complexly — some would argue far more — than the lot of them. You have thrived working within your own — as you may see them — limitations, proving time and time again that you do not need to be a witch or a human in order to be valid."

"You were made in my likeness — as is any child of their parent, when you really think about it — but you are still your own person, with your own unique thoughts and feelings and desires for the future," Caleb tells him, bright smile and dark brown eyes brimming with pride. "You are perfect, Hunter, exactly as you are."

Hunter feels the carving knife slacken in his hands, slip and fall to the forest floor as he stares at the ghost of his ortet, tears shining in his eyes for the third time since he arrived. He swallows against a lump in his throat, trying to find the right words to express how it feels to finally hear the one thing he's been longing for from the moment he found out what he was (his whole life, really, if he's being honest) — that he is enough, exactly as he is.

Before he can open his mouth, however, a strong yet gentle set of hands claps him on the shoulder, giving him an affectionate squeeze, before pulling away to grab for the carving knife that had fallen to the ground, and handing it back to Hunter with the sharp end facing inward.

"And your woodworking is coming along quite nicely. You shall make a splendid palisman carver," Caleb adds, redirecting the conversation back to the task at hand, saving Hunter the trouble of having to come up with a response he has no idea how to even begin to articulate. "Now that I've shown you the basics, you'll have a fine footing for when you begin your studies with Dell."

"Dell…Dell Clawthorne?" Hunter exclaims, voice coming out in a slightly nasally inflection as he hastily wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater. "Eda and Lilith's dad?"

"The very same," Caleb replies.

"But how did you know I was planning to— how do you know Dell?" Hunter asks, utterly baffled. He'd only just started talking to Eda about the possibility of learning her father's craft.

"I make it a habit to know all of my descendants," Caleb informs him with a sly smile. "Blood-born and grimwalker alike."

Hunter gapes at him. "You mean Evelyn was—"

"A Clawthorne, yes," Caleb says, a note of pride in his voice. "When we married, I became a part of her family. And now that family belongs to you."

Hunter stares at him, warmth at the word family spreading through his chest, threatening to spill more tears. He's already a Noceda, hopeful to one day become a Park, but now he's discovering that he's a Clawthorne, too. (Well, even more of a Clawthorne than he'd already thought — after all, Eda did offer to sign adoption papers.)

"I understand that you have been living under Eda's roof since your return to the demon realm, and that you have been making plans to apprentice with Dell to learn how to carve palismen," Caleb says, joy shining through his smile. "I'm very glad you've found one another, and — if you'll pardon the pun — I am very glad they've taken you under their wing."

Hunter snorts with laughter, a bout of wonderstruck giddiness bubbling up inside him at the notion that all he's ever wanted is a loving parent, and now here he is with more family than he knows what to do with.

"That's…that's amazing," he says. "I can't wait to tell them."

"I am thrilled for you. Family should never have to be without one another," Caleb says, joviality slipping for the first time since they'd met, replaced with a wistful smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes this time.

It doesn't seem fair that Caleb will never get a chance to meet the family he's been watching over all these years, his own happy life with his wife and child cut short well before his time.

"What was she like?" Hunter finds himself asking, eager to know more about the one who started it all — the witch who captured the heart of a hunter and led him down a better path.

"Evelyn," he says, and the moment Caleb hears her name, his face breaks into a beatific smile the likes of which Hunter has only ever seen mirrored in himself in candid shots taken whenever a certain plant witch had caught his eye.

"She was…incendiary," Caleb reflects with a starry-eyed sigh. "Beautiful, fiery, fierce. Smile like sunshine and a laugh like a lullaby. Oh, and the wit on that one — I was half convinced she was trying to murder me through sheer force of laughter, how my muscles ached from smiling. I awoke every day in awe of the fact that I was the one lucky enough to be with her."

"She sounds wonderful," Hunter says, Caleb's smile contagious.

"She truly was," Caleb heaves an idyllic sigh, fixing Hunter with a curious smile. "And what of your great love? Willow, if I am not mistaken? Tell me about her."

"She's—" Hunter swallows, finding the gentle sunshine and tepid, tranquil forest very hot all of the sudden. "She's Willow. She's smart, and she's cool, and she's strong, and she's kind. She makes me smile more than I ever have in my entire life. She knows everything I am and everything I've done, the good and the bad, and she still chose to be with me anyway. She makes me feel safe. She makes me feel…she feels like home."

Caleb's lips quirk up, dark brown eyes alight with a twinkling smile.

"Perhaps history does indeed repeat itself," he says. "Though I am confident that your story will contain many more chapters and have a much happier ending than mine."

Hunter stares at him for a moment, on the verge of telling him how very sorry he is for everything Philip put him through, but Caleb holds up a hand to stop him, smiling in a way that assures Hunter he has long since made his peace with it, that eternity has provided him his happily ever after, his soul at rest with hers now.

"I am very glad you met her," Caleb says, and Hunter can't help but return his heartening smile, a delicate blush tinging his cheeks as the possibility of spending a lifetime with Willow weaves a tapestry through his mind.

"How is your palisman coming along?" Caleb asks, redirecting his attention toward the little bundle of wood held aloft in Hunter's hands.

Hunter glances down suddenly, only just realizing that he'd completely forgotten what he was supposed to be doing, hands on autopilot while the two of them had been busy talking, and is surprised to find he's carved something entirely different from the little green and gold bird he'd been picturing, musing over the idea of calling him Pancakes in honor of Flapjack.

Instead, he finds a wolf cradled in the palms of his hands, each detail precisely executed as though some invisible force had been guiding his hands all along. As he smoothes his fingertips over the carefully crafted grooves of the wolf's fur, Hunter can't help but marvel at how perfect he is, how much he already loves him. Within seconds of thinking the words, the little wolf glows bright gold in Hunter's hands, rising into the air and transforming into a magnificent staff the color of deep red mahogany.

"Oh, what a beauty," Caleb remarks, smiling at the brand new creation clutched in Hunter's hands. "There's something rather mystical about wolves, don't you think?"

Hunter smiles up at him, huffing out a laugh as his own words echo back through his memory. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

"Thank you for teaching me how to do this," he says, glancing up from the fiery red of his brand new staff to the warm brown of Caleb's eyes. "This has been such an amazing experience."

"You're very welcome," Caleb replies with a bright smile. "You've done a marvelous job, Hunter. You should be very proud."

"Thank you," Hunter says, beaming up at him.

"What do you think, Flap?" he asks, tilting his head to brush his cheek against the side of the little bird's wings. In answer, Flapjack swoops down to land on top of the wolf's head, chittering cheerfully.

"Glad you approve," Hunter chuckles, gently stroking the top of Flapjack's head. For a moment, he loses himself in the muscle memory, watching as the sun slowly sinks below the horizon, casting their surroundings in a warm, golden glow — a gentle reminder that their time together in the mindscape is coming to a close. Hunter turns back to face Caleb, a resolute nod passing between the two of them.

"Before we part, I'd like you to have this," Caleb tells him, reaching out to place the project he'd working on in Hunter's outstretched hand — a little wooden carving of a bright red cardinal. "He won't become a palisman, of course, but I wanted you to have a little reminder of your old friend, so that a piece of him will always be with you."

"Thank you," Hunter says softly, staring down at the little figurine, thumb smoothing over the scar etched across its left eye, absolutely awed by how well it captures his likeness down to the very last detail. He places it inside the pocket of his cozy yellow sweater where Flapjack used to sleep, back in the days of lazy autumn afternoons spent paging through books about adventures among the stars, gaze flickering from Caleb to Flapjack as he reaches up to scritch his favorite spot on the underside of his beak. "Both of you. For everything."

"I'm very happy to have met you, Hunter," Caleb tells him, genuine pride shining in his eyes. "Live a long and happy life for all of us, would you?"

"I'll do my best," Hunter promises, understanding all of us to mean not just Caleb and Flapjack, but all the grimwalkers who'd been unlucky enough to meet the same fate.

"That's all anyone could ever ask," Caleb says, giving Hunter one last bright smile before turning to walk the long, winding, sunlit path through the forest, Flapjack chittering cheerfully on his shoulder as the two of them disappear beyond the golden horizon.

• • •

Hunter wakes with a wolf pup snuggled on top of his chest, gazing at him with a pair of golden brown eyes, soft fur a fiery shade of red beneath his fingertips. He blinks against the hazy afternoon sunlight streaming through the open windows of Eda's living room, glancing up to find another pair of bright green eyes beaming at him from behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.

"They're back," she says with a soft gasp, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"What's back?" Hunter asks in mild alarm.

"Your eyes," she elaborates, passing him a little handheld mirror so that he can see the difference for himself. Hunter gazes into it, surprised to find a pair of bright red eyes staring back at him between a winding path of pale pink scars.

"Brown eyes are beautiful, but I have to admit, I've missed the red. They're just so…you," Willow says, gazing at him with a smile that makes Hunter's heart skip a beat.

"Yeah," Hunter says softly, feeling that same swell of pride, that familiar spark of I like who I am right now flaring to life inside him as he stares at his own reflection in the mirror, hand over his heart as he clutches at the little Flapjack figurine safely tucked away in the front pocket of his sweater, a bittersweet kind of contentment settling in his chest at the knowledge that his old friend has finally been able to pass on. "Yeah, I think so too."

"I see you've acquired a new companion," Willow says, gently stroking between the little wolf pup's floppy ears. "I take it your trip went well?"

"It was amazing," Hunter exclaims, warmth like a roaring fire spreading through his chest at the sight of his girlfriend and his new palisman bonding. "I can't wait to tell you all about it. There's so much I want to—"

But just then, the little wolf pup perks up, bolting forward to attack Hunter with affection, licking his face and tugging on his forelock the same way Flapjack always used to.

"Little rascal," Hunter chuckles as he scritches the wolf pup behind his ears, watching with fond amusement as the little wolf tilts his head to the side, ears flopping adorably, and lets out a spirited bark.

"Oh," Hunter says, marveling at the fact that he just understood what that meant. "Is that what you want to be called?"

The wolf pup barks again, and Hunter could swear he's smiling.

"Okay then, Rascal," Hunter says, an excited gleam in his eyes. "What do you say we go for a test drive. You ready to fly?"

Rascal lets out another cheerful bark, transforming into a staff in Hunter's hands.

"There'll be plenty of time to talk later," Hunter says, glancing up at Willow. "But first, there's something I've been wanting to do for a very long time."

"Oh? And what's that?" Willow asks him, though she thinks she already knows, that same excited gleam reflected back in her eyes.

"Go get Clover, and let's round up the rest of the team," he says, taking her by the hand and leading her to the front door, dark red staff held aloft in front of him. "I think we're long overdue for a friendly game of flyer derby."

#the owl house #huntlow #hunter the golden guard #willow park #the owl house fanfiction #the owl house fan art #huntlow fanfiction #a new familiar #fairytalesandfolklore #fairytales-and-folklore #marimbles #carpisuns #fairytalesandfolklore fanfiction #fairytalesandfolklore the owl house #fairytalesandfolklore huntlow

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marumaruz-haikyuu-agere · 2 months ago

Note

Okay I know it’s kinda late (and by kinda late I mean 9 PM) but like

When one of the teams goes on a trip they have to keep a diaper bag in the back seat for emergencies??

I see parents keep some necessities in the car for like- long trips and stuff when they have children going with them. That’s what I’m thinking of lol

Shimp 🦐

Hey guys I'm alive...working on a big project for main so I haven't had much time to get to these requests

TW: Detailed diaper talk

Okay so I think it absolutely depends on the team, and even still the contents vary

Karasuno

Absolutely, they have a pretty big bag for it

It's mostly pullups and stuffed toys

The karasuno kids are pretty young but they're usually quite responsible

They're pretty good at knowing when they're hungry or need to go

Apart from poor Shoyo and Yachi💔

He doesn't like long journeys and he's too freaked out to worry about his own body

There'll usually be a few spare diapers in there but he's the only one who uses them

Yachi is a nervous wreck in most situations but when she's little? A meow could make her breakdown.

She's unfortunately prone to wetting herself from the amount of fear she puts herself in...so she uses the most diapers out of anyone

They also pack other toys, like bubbles or tennis balls

Mainly for the hyper kiddos like Noya or Shoyo if he's in the mood

They have a separate bag blankets and pillows since most of the kids are low energy and they like to bring familiar bed stuff rather than have to borrow

This does mean Tsukishima brings his own duvet, its in his own bag and he has to carry it cuz he couldn't pack light

Aoba Johsai

So I haven't talked about Seijoh littles at all actually!

They've got some pets and a few flips but all in all, pretty good spread

Their travel bag is mostly first aid and dog toys

Their littles don't exactly have good pain tolerance and it doesn't help that they all push their limits

There's some cat toys in there for Kunimi, a few roughed up dog toys with all the squeakers missing for Kyoutani

But again it's mostly just ice packs, pain killers and some ice teethers for any frustrated kiddos

Date Tech

I don't get to talk about Date Tech a lot either!!

They don't have too many littles, it's actually just Aone

He's a pretty big guy so he's quite embarrassed that the diapers in the bag are for him

It's a small bag since it's mostly just his stuff

Couple of stuffies, a clean pacifier or two in case he loses one

Nekoma

It's pretty full with pull-ups, most of them being Kenma's

He's not like a baby baby he just...doesn't care?

Take it this way, he's more interested in whatever game he's playing than getting up to go pee

He does unfortunately share the bag with some of the others...

Fukunaga's stuff doesn't take up much space, its just some cards and some juggling balls, he enjoys entertaining the other kiddos

Yamamoto's belongings in there are just tennis balls, he likes the chew on them and occasionally he'll chase them but nobody can ever know.

Lev is the reason Kenma wants his own bag.

Lev's stuff is small because he steals from Kenma's supplies, the only things in there that are his are a stuffie from Alisa and a pacifier

Itachiyama

It's mostly cleaning wipes and blankets

Komori is a bit of a burrower/snuggler so he's got a big collection

He's unfortunately fond of chewing on things so Kiyoomi might as well make sure he doesn't get sick

Komori is very snuggly, the whole team has been pulled into a cuddle pile in his nest

He likes long journeys, it's just one big nesting opportunity

Fukurodani

It's mostly a snack bag

Lots of seeds and gummies and some chocolate mice

They're mostly owls and a few seven year olds

The bag is just action figures and game consoles to entertain the older ones

The owls are pretty content to just wrap up and watch the windows or sleep

Bokuto likes having seeds thrown at him though, he really likes catching them in the air

Shiratorizawa

Diapers for Goshiki is pretty much their biggest concern

The rest of them are old enough to not really need any so it's just entertainment

Tendou has about 20 sliding puzzles, they are all unfinished and they make him angry

There's an obscene amount of hair gel in the bag, Tendou likes to have his hair down when he's little

Goshiki is a very needy baby though, he doesn't like not having attention on him

He just wants someone to be holding him, he has to have someone holding his hand the whole journey

He likes fruit smoothies and cold pacifiers

Ushijima isn't little exactly but he's not the oldest

He's a really spacey 5 five year old who doesn't like being separated from the team

Tendou's very overprotective of him because he thinks that he's fragile

Ushijima is not fragile, he's completely unaware of the world around him and that's okay

Kamomedai

Blindfold and some sunflower seeds.

That's all Hoshiumi needs for a trip to be honest

Feed him some sunflower seeds, put the blindfold on, he's out for hours.

He likes to cuddle a lot so he tries to get a seatmate who he knows well

Inarizaki

Two hyper twins that need to be subdued.

It is not very good bet

Normally they'll fight until they get tired

You could also cover their eyes like people do with dogs

They're cuddly just not when they're awake

'Are we there yet?'

Just put on a show until they pass out

They'll wake up at a gas stop and plead for some snacks

They don't like the yoghurts Kita packs

Nohebi

It's mostly Daishou's 7 powerbanks

He likes to stay on the phone with Mika when he's away

Doesn't matter which one of them is little, they just like to talk

He doesn't mind if they're calling or texting but he doesn't like talking to his teammates on journey's

He has to save his patience for the destination.

He likes check-ins from them though

Just a quiet sort of nudge and a thumbs up and he'll feel so little

He brings eggs with him, he has to be watched so he doesn't swallow them whole

He is not happy about being watched and he makes it known by biting people

Johzenji

Misaki and a bus full of loud rowdy toddlers

There's no sleeping, no quiet moments

They're trying to unbuckle their seatbelts, pull each other's hair, colour the windows

Multiple bus companies actually have Johzenji Boys VB blacklisted

Their one weakness? Wildlife.

They're so insanely rowdy because they want to be outside and the bus is like prison.

The minute they're told that if they behave they can go bug hunting later they'll sit down

Absolutely distraught if Misaki forgets their promised outside time

#haikyuu #haikyuu agere #haikyū!!#haikyuu petre #inarizaki #aoba johsai #shiratorizawa #karasuno #johzenji #nohebi #kamomedai #itachiyama #nekoma #date tech #fukurodani

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theadhddimsenion · 7 months ago

Text

some more thoughts, theories and headcanons I have regarding season three and four.

potential spoilers if I turn out to be right.

None of you are going to like this first one so be warned. Stella Isn’t going to stop at just turning Octavia against her father, that so easy even a stupid cow like her could figure it out mainly because as much as stolas tried to break free of his painful past he still ended up neglecting via just like paimon did to him though stolas is still a far better parent as he at least made some effort to be a good father to her even if he screwed up which is more than paimon can say (good at daddying my ass!!). All that harpy ends to do is frame stolas actions as being motivated by selfishness rather than desperation and severe trauma that she had no small part in causing and the poor owlet will not have any real way of knowing what else to think. Stolas biggest mistake with her is not being honest with her from the start, I understand that he wanted her to have a normal and happy life but the fact is that he was only delaying the inevitable, Stella was bound to show her true colors eventually and keeping secrets from Octavia only damaged her trust in him and something tells me sinsmas won’t end with them being reunited…

but you have waited long enough for me to actually get to the theory part of this theory post. Stella won’t stop at just ruining her daughters relationship with her father no she has to twist the knife even further by cutting her off from her only real friend Loona, perhaps she will go off on some racist bullshit about how anthro hounds are no different from their feral counterparts or that Loona was just going to tell her to run back to the father that had “abandoned” her or more likely a combination of both but here’s the sliver lining of this whole thing, like I mentioned above Stella is not the type to keep her awful nature a secret and is not the brightest bulb of the goetia family so methinks it will be her bad attempts at manipulation and inability to keep her true nature a secret that will ultimately be the undoing of her and her brothers plan the first domino to fall being her poor attempt at manipulation of her daughter, leaving small gaps in her fake story that clue octavia in on the reality of what is going on but sadly this won’t make her run back to her father as some might hope no this only brings her down even lower as now she’s convinced no one loves or cares about her and to make matters worse for the poor owlet her mother and uncle have found out about her snooping around and have locked her in a tower rapuzel style.

But fret not my friends for this is not how her story ends because her father and his new found boyfriend and his found family are putting together a rescue mission to save her from being married off to some creep and the most important part of this is that stolas isn’t doing this to earn her forgiveness but because he loves her and wants what’s best for her even if she never forgives him. THAT is what will ultimately earn stolas his daughters love again, proving that he cares more about her well being than his own personal happiness.

You can throw in some badass action scenes and maybe Stella stealing stolas’s powers for herself so stolas can both literally and figuratively take the power back from her, Loona being the one to rescues Octavia from the tower for the sisterhood feels, blitz getting to call Stella every bad word he knows, Octavia bashing her uncle in the head with the “fucking heavy book” and bonding with her new step father over hating clowns, you could fill in the time gap between the other episodes that lead up to this finale by having shorts about her sneaking out and doing various things like collecting taxidermy (maybe sighing when she sees one of those taxidermy owls), her rejecting a line of terrible suitors much to her mother and uncle’s frustration and like I said doing some detective work on her parents relationship.

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morgy-doo · 1 year ago

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THE OWL HOUSE RELATIONSHIP HEADCANNONS~

Luz noceda~

has 100% made you read all of the azura books ATLEAST once

has started teaching you spanish because she thought it would be cute if you two had your own cute lil conversations without over people over hearing

always pestering amity on relationship advice

the owl house is basically your second home by now

hooty can never leave you both alone for more than 5 minutes when your with each other

tries to hide whats going on with belos from you but you figure it out pretty quick because she is a BADDDD liar

she just doesn't want you to worry <3

AMAZING at cheering you up, honestly she would throw herself off a cliff just to hear you do that little cry laugh thing

Amity blight~

she is constantly worrying she is not good enough for you

please give this poor girl some love and reassurance

based on the past person she was she is terrified that one day you will realise there are better people and will never speak to her again

even if your not in the track, abomination magic has become a big part of your life

sometimes at school she gets an abomination to follow you around and carry your bags and stuff when she is not avaliable

she thinks its sweet and endearing

you think its terrifying but don't have the heart to tell her

literally gulps down your praise

"you really think i did good?"

she is so proud of herself after that

she cares about you SM

lucky bitch

your safety always becomes before hers and sometimes she forgets to do certain things for herself because she is to occupied with worrying about you

Willow park~

loves gardening with you

honestly you were clueless about how to diffrentiate (did i spell that right?) different types of trees

but ever since dating her you know the label and scientific name of ever plant that's ever grown

good for you boo <3

always is slightly self concious around you

always trying to smooth down her hair

but DAMN this girl is STRICT

if you play a sport or any type of activity that involves potential injury, you better expect her to be wrapping you in bubble wrap the moment you leave that field

if you were trying to impress her with your skills and get hurt, she will scold you the entire time she is fixing your injury, but secretly finds it cute

she will find simple little things to brighten your day like leaving cute little potted plants on your desk before class

Gus porter~

THE MOST supportive boyfriend to ever grace this earth

you wanna try something new? go ahead he will be excited to hear how you liked it

you wanna try out a new sport? he will be cheering you on at every practice and game in the stands

definately owns one of those shirts that say "i love my bf/gf"

tries so hard to impress you

he wants to be the perfect boyfriend for you so if you show interest in the slightest thing then boom you own a whole collection of items related to that interest and he has learnt everything there is to know about it off witchapedia

loves watching you use your magic

it interests him

learns so many different jokes just to make you laugh and smile everyday

Boscha (i only just realised she doesn't have a last name)~

oh god how do i even start this

can be super clingy one minute, but then acts as if she is used to the attention from you and couldn't care less

she takes it upon herself to be your protector

even if its from a potential splinter

BIG on pet names

babe,baby,darling,sweetheart, yk

"heh did you see that babe? i totally just saved you from that rogue grudgby ball"

speaking of grudgby, as cliche as it sounds she has bought you a jersey that has her name on it for when she plays grudgby

honestly dies of happiness when she hears you shout "that's my girlfriend!"

always lends you her jacket when your cold, even when she is freezing herself she is way to stubborn to take it back

or she just lets you wear it around the school hallways so everyone knows the coolest girl in school is your girlfriend

when she is ruling hexside, she keeps an eye on you, no matter where you are in the room, her third eye is always on you

she is terrified she is going to lose you like she did the others

lets you sit on her lap when she is on the throne

can you tell she is my favourite?

Hunter deamonne~

he is literally the definition of acts of service

the biggest gentlemen ever

holds open every door, pulls out your chairs for you, literally he could be your slave

gets red VERY easily

when you give him praise he practically melts

found it hard to open up to you about his past but when he does he feels a huge relief

now he tells you literally everything

you totally gossip together all the time

he loves training with you, it's never serious and he can see your magic in action

you are honestly his everything

he loves playing with your hair too

is honestly so good at doing hair, he has learnt how to get the perfect rounded bun

loves you more than life itself

part two? <3

#the owl house #toh #hunter toh #amity toh #luz toh #boscha toh #gus toh #willow toh #x reader

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avatarmerida · 2 years ago

Text

Alright babes, here’s the thrilling conclusion the huntlow memory story I’ve been working on where basically Hunter was in season one but Willow lost her memories of him in Understanding Willow. Hope someone likes it 💚💛

Part 1 Part 2

———

Hunter’s photos could be sorted into three categories: 1. him trying to figure out how the camera worked (with a collection of blurry or terribly out of focus objects), 2. photos of Flapjack and 3. Photos he had clearly been roped into taking.

As Willow scrolled through his collection, it was like she could see him physically easing into the idea of friendship over time. There were several montages of Luz or Gus taking his scroll and posing for selfie as he lectured about something behind them, unaware of the shenanigans. Group photos where his frown became less and less aggressive and soon enough he was even looking at the camera with the rest of them. He began to lean in to help get everyone in frame and even a few of them had him trying out a pose of his own. She couldn’t help but notice there were a lot of photos of just the two of them: in the library, the botanical gardens or at the owl house.

And she just couldn’t get over the way he looked at her.

It was as though he was in disbelief that she had taken the time to document spending time with him. His eyes locked on her with a soft look of wonder in each photo, engulfing her in rays of gratitude and delightful confusion. It was like he was starstruck.

Maybe even enamored.

“Okay here hold it up,” Willow heard herself say. She looked down and saw she had stumbled upon a video. She focused and saw Hunter trying to steady his scroll, showing him and Willow sitting underneath a huge tree. She instantly recognized this tree, it was her favorite place to go when she needed to focus or clear her head. She had never brought anyone there, not even Gus. But she had clearly trusted Hunter with the knowledge of its location, and that spoke volumes.

The camera shifted down to just her and she laughed. “Nooo, you gotta get in here too, silly!” She insisted as she went to wrap her arms around his neck to bring him back into frame. His face instantly turned red as the camera became shaky and Willow noticed a flower crown resting atop his head, its state implying they had been there for a while.

“Okay, now smile!” She instructed as a wide smile appeared across her face, it appeared so naturally as though it was returning after not being away very long. Hunter followed suit but only after his eyes turned down to see her, he shook his head ever so slightly as though he was in total awe of her. She opened one eye, as though she suspected it, and raised her brow at him as she scrunched her nose. “You need to look at the camera, you dork!” She reached over and turned his face forward but it was like his eyes didn’t know how to leave her and something in her eyes suggested she knew that.

“Woah,” she said to herself. It was weird seeing herself like that, like she was a whole different person Willow was observing from afar. She knew she had a bit of a crush on Hunter from bits and pieces of context clues she had found but this… this was uncharted territory. She knew exactly what she was doing here; flirting in a way she had only day dreamed about, with a natural, effortless dialogue. She thought it would take her years to be the bold one in that type of situation but no, they were fun and silly and comfortable. If she could only go back in time and tell them how to stay that way.

But if her suspicions were correct, then it was out of their hands anyway.

Who could ever see them like this and think this was something bad? That this goofy, nervous boy wanted anything but wonderful things for her? Even now, Amity rolled her eyes at the mention of his name which suggested to Willow that she had made little effort to know who he truly was from the get go.

“Any luck?” he asked from beside her as he turned the page in his book. He had brought nearly every book ever written about memory loss and had been reading them cover to cover for any suggestion on how to restore her memories. He had hoped that looking through his scroll of photos and videos of them would spark something and as enjoyable as seeing these things was, it didn’t connect any dots for Willow. She felt closer to Hunter, to who she was and who they had been together, but it was nothing she could attest to on her own. But that didn’t stop her from playing the video over and over.

“It’s really cute, but not familiar,” she admitted sadly. She had reread their conversations on her scroll and tried to map out what she could recall from the days he had been removed from but there was nothing so detailed that it felt like it was really hers. He had pulled memories for her of them spending time together, still feeling regretful of not reintroducing himself sooner and paranoid she would doubt their former connection. But as compelling as the evidence was, it didn’t answer questions that only her past self held the answers to.

“Maybe I could let you into my mind,” he said. “So I could show you things you’re still missing in their entirety. I mean, they wouldn't be totally perfect and they're hard to sort and there’s alot about the coven I can’t show you… unless you’ve reconsidered your stance on-.”

She cut him off by placing her finger over his lips.

“I'm not joining the Emperor’s Coven,” she said sweetly before booping his nose. The boldness of the girl in the videos seemed to be effortlessly resurfacing as she kept finding herself present in a well-worn dynamic.She could feel Hunter smile beneath her fingertips and his eyes lingered on her for a moment the way she was growing re-accustomed to before he turned away to look at his book hoping to get ahead of his oncoming blush.

“Worth a shot,” he said with a shrug

“I appreciate the offer, but having someone in your mind is kinda scary,” she said. “I mean, one wrong move and there’s fire everywhere. You’re sweet, but I couldn’t let you do that for me; it might put your memories at risk too.”

“I trust you with my memories,” he said. He said it so naturally and it made Willow’s heart leap. Woah, she thought for a second time. She knew exactly why she had developed a crush on him, in fact she was still developing it. He was a lot like her. They both needed a place where they didn't have to prove that they belonged, where they weren’t trying to stand out or lay low and they had that together. He knew she had memories of him that weren't perfect. He cared more about her having what was rightfully hers than having her think highly of him. Hunter had told her he could be snobby and selfish, but she had yet to see these traits in him.

“I uh… thanks,” she blushed in response as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before handing him back his scroll. “It’s too bad I wasn’t keeping a diary then, I guess I must have stopped for awhile. I searched everywhere in my room, all my usual hiding spots, but I didn’t find anything.”

Hunter’s ears perked up as he quickly flipped through his scroll, searching for something. When he found what he was looking for, he moved closer to her to show her a zoomed in photo of them sitting in her room. “Look! Right there, that green book! Does it look familiar?”

Willow squinted. “Hmm, no? It looks like a notebook I’d pick out but I don’t have one like that.”

“But you did! I remember you writing in it alot! One time I said something I didn’t realize was a joke and you grabbed that book to write it down in.” Hunter was delighted to have a lead. “I don’t know what else you’d have transcribed but it could offer us something!”

“Wait, you were in my room?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, knowing her fathers’ would surely have a policy about that once they saw the way she looked at this tall, dashing boy.

“Oh yeah,” he said, cleaning his throat.

“And my dads were okay with that?”

“You, uh, miiight’ve helped me sneak in a few times,” he confessed somewhat nervously.

“Really?”

“Yeah we’d just uh… hang out, and stuff,” he said softly as though there was more to it. Or at least, he felt there was more to it. “But, anyway the diary!”

“Right, the diary.” Willow repeated getting back on track.

“We find the diary, we find more things you’re missing!”

“It’s a great idea but I’ve cleaned my room and my locker plenty of times and I haven’t seen any sign of that book,” she sighed. “I’m not sure where else it could be.”

Hunter tried to say the next part as carefully as he could, knowing things were still delicate. “Has the youngest Blight been to your house recently?”

---

It felt like lifetimes since Willow had been at the Blight estate.

When Amity answered the door, she was a bundle of nerves. Willow knew that she was serious about making things right between them but that she also knew that she wasn’t sure how to do that. Willow knew that not knowing things made Amity nervous, and this was uncharted territory, (literally off her predetermined path). They both knew this road would be complicated but when Willow had asked to come over Amity took it as a sign that she hadn’t messed things up yet.

“Hey, Willow!” Amity greeted her, her nerves mixing with her genuine excitement as her voice tried to decide the right octave to jump to.

“Hi!” Willow greeted her. Before, they’d call each other silly nicknames or be all a buzz about the activities they had planned. This was somewhere between overly formal and overly informal but it didn’t feel quite normal.

“Hello!” said Amity, searching for something else to say before they entered a never ending loop of exchanging greetings. “So uh, what can I do for you? Not that you need a reason to come over! It just seems… like yooooou did.”

“Yeah, actually,” Willow chuckled awkwardly. “We, uh-.”

“‘We?’” repeated Amity and her eyes darted behind Willow to notice Hunter for the first time. He stood behind Willow in full guard dog mode, standing tall as though a sixth sense anticipated danger. “Oh, you brought him.”

“Amity…” Willow warned.

“I know, I know sorry,” Amity said with a sigh.

Suddenly, something in Willow’s mind felt full, like something about Amity’s tone made it spring forth. It didn’t bring sound or pictures but a familiar feeling. Willow couldn’t quite place what it was trying to tell her but she knew enough to not dismiss it as she continued.

“We were talking and I was wondering did I maybe leave my diary here?” Willow asked.

“Oh, d-diary?’ Amity’s voice shook. “I… I forgot you kept a diary! Haha, uh…”

Willow immediately knew something was off. Diaries had been something important to them both. One summer at the fair they had decided to pool their prize tickets from games to get a better prize and they had fallen in love with a diary. It was purple (for Amity) with vines and flowers (for Willow). Amity was becoming busier with private lessons and the girls used their cherished book to write letters to each other. Every other night, one of them would read what the other had written and then respond. They had lost touch a few pages short of it being filled, but Willow knew that if their friendship meant as much as Amity claimed, a diary was no shock.

“Yeah, uh Hunter mentioned he saw me with one when we would hang out and we wanted to see if reading it helped me with the memories I’m still missing,” Willow explained.

“Right! Yeah! T-that would be… really helpful now, huh?” Amity chuckled.

“Amity, do you know anything about it?” Willow asked carefully, feeling certain she did. But she knew there was a reason she was being indirect and Amity knew her oldest friend sensed her hesitance and knew it was rooted in something shameful.

But Amity couldn’t admit that Boscha had stolen it from her bag during lunch. Because even though she had been against it, and even though she had even said so out loud it didn’t undo the fact that she hadn’t switched it out for any other book when she had the chance. She had been too cowardly to stand up to Boscha so instead of returning it to Willow or hiding it, the best Amity managed to to was make sure it was “accidentally” destroyed before Boscha could find anything blackmail worthy. She had meant to make it unreadable, but in her moment of panic she did not cast the proper protection spell and so when Bosha opened the book, it burst into flames.

So while Boscha was not granted access to Willow’s secrets, this still did not undo the fact that Amity did not confess the whereabouts of the diary to Willow and now it was lost forever. Amity had assumed it was another thing forgotten and decided to accept that rather than try to right her wrong, knowing that forgiveness was not guaranteed.

Things had still been tense between them when the instance occurred so Amity thought she had time to find a solution or at least a way to word things so they sounded positive in some way. But she had found neither and she knew how that looked now. It didn’t matter that she had no way of knowing how important it would end up being, it was just another way she had let Willow down when helping her would have been such a simple thing for someone who cared about her.

Amity knew that even at their worst, Willow would guard her secrets with her life. Amity didn’t deserve her.

“No, I don’t sorry.” Amity lied, her eyes wide and sorrowful and Willow somehow knew they held something lost in translation.

Willow sighed, and though Hunter did not know Amity well enough to know there was something she was not saying, he knew Willow well enough to know she did. And he could tell there was more than just a diary on the line. Cautiously, he reached out to take her hand but at the last minute felt the gesture was too strong and instead linked their pinkies together to show he was there. He may not understand exactly what had shifted, and he didn’t know what he could do, but he knew he was there for her.

“Well then,” Willow tried again, doing all she could to steady her voice as she struggled to remain professional. “Was there anything else you remember? I mean, Luz said you got separated for awhile so you saw some things she didn’t, was there anything from around that time? Anything with Hunter?”

“Um, ya know it was all just happening so fast and I can’t really remember if he was-.”

“Because if you were close enough to my memory to erase it, you must have been close enough to have seen it.” Willow pleaded with wide eyes.

“Willow, do we have to do this now? I just-.”

“Amity why is Hunter the only person missing from my memories?” Willow asked directly, and Hunter felt her grip on his finger tighten, like his presence heightened her strength.

“I thought we told you, it was-.”

“No, Luz told me,” said Willow. “She told me you got separated and when she found you, you were trying to put out a fire. But she didn’t know how it started and you never told her. You never told me because I didn’t know to ask, but you can’t say you have no idea when you were the only one there.”

Willow inhaled, 1,2,3 and then exhaled 1,2,3.

“Can you at least tell me what the memory was?” Willow asked, and Amity knew she could not deny her again. She knew there was so much hiding and riding on that request. She could not hide behind good intentions now, because they were no longer doing anyone any good.

Amity sighed. “It wasn’t about Hunter,” she admitted with solace. “It was about me.”

“Of course it was,” Willow scoffed, rolling her eyes. “It always is.”

“No, not like that!” Said Amity. “We, I mean it kind of is, but… look; I know what I did was wrong and I’m sorry-.”

“Funny, I think I’d remember you apologizing for erasing all the memories of someone I cared about,” said Willow. “Unless you just erased that part too.”

Amity had seen Willow upset before, she had seen her annoyed and sad and angry and confused but this was an emotion she had only seen in the inner Willow: she was furious.

“Willow, please,” Amity pleaded. “Let me explain!”

Willow said nothing and Amity quickly pressed on.

“It was an accident, I- we were looking for things I needed to fix and when Luz got distracted I found a memory of you and Hunter,” she said. “A lot of memories with you and Hunter, actually. And you did look happy with him and I felt sad that I had missed that because we used to tell each other everything and now we don’t.”

“Well whose fault is that?” Said Hunter, crossing his arms.

“Er, stay out of this!”

“Amity,” said Willow, her voice stern and serious. “This affects him too. Besides, he’s right.”

“Fine,” she took a deep breath as she continued. “I saw a memory of you and Hunter… talking about me.”

Hunter’s eyes widened; he instantly knew the conversation she was referring to.

“You were telling him how we used to be close and how you didn’t understand what had happened. You were telling him how you still cared about me even though I treated you awful. H-how you still worried about me and you felt stupid because the way I acted made you feel like our friendship was never real. And I hated that I made you feel that way and I… I got carried away and I wanted it gone and it all happened so fast but when I erased that memory, instead of erasing the memories of those feelings I erased the memories involving Hunter.”

“You could have just apologized when you got back,” said Willow. “You didn’t have to try and control me.”

“I know that knowing the reason doesn’t erase the fact that you felt that way,” said Amity. “And I don’t know what came over me and I’m so, so sorry-.”

“Are you sorry though?” Willow basically spat. “Or are you just sorry that you got caught in a lie? Amity… how am I supposed to believe you? How can I believe anything you say?”

“I know I have a lot to make up for but I-.”

“-never told me,” finished Willow. “You just… let me think that you were trying when this whole time you were fine with me missing something that was obviously important to me if it meant you looked slightly better. If you really cared about me and about fixing things between us you wouldn’t try to trick me like that. I mean, if you weren’t trying to get close to Luz, would you have ever tried to fix things between us? Or was it just something you had to do to get what you really wanted?”

“Willow, you know that’s not-.”

“Do I know?” The plant witch spat. Hunter looked around and saw the vines inching closer as she became more enraged. “You keep telling me what I know and telling me you’re sorry but what have you done to actually show me?”

Her eyes turned greener and began to glow and this was the anger Hunter remembered. Willow didn’t get angry often but she felt all her emotions so strongly that they always found a way to make themselves known. He remembered discussing Amity brought out more pain than anger, but every so often a small pocket of positivity snuck in with a pleasant or silly memory. But sadness lingering long enough without explanation bubbled up into more eventually.

Amity didn’t have a rebuttal. She couldn’t repeat another empty apology. For once, she had to listen.

“You can blame your parents a-and Boscha for not standing by me but how many times did you go out of your way to find me on your own just to bring me down?”

“Willow, I didn’t want to! I-I had to!”

“You had to?!” Wilows’s voice was becoming more distorted as she let the rage consume her. “Really? So every time you stopped me on my way to school to make fun of my abomination and remind me how pathetic I was, who was that for? There was no one else around, no one to see you do it. So why bother to find me unless you really believed it?”

Amity did not have an answer. She had done it to convince herself, to make herself believe that it was how things had to be. But she knew Willow was right.

“Admit it, a part of you believed it, that I was a pathetic, scared half-a-witch. And a part of you still does.”

Amity’s eyes filled with tears. She knew she had no right to cry, she was not the victim here, but she couldn’t help it.

Hunter could see the trees behind them begin to shift, as though the entire forest was coming to aid her. He knew stopping her before the emotions could process could lead to an earthquake but he remained on guard in case he needed to remove her at a moment’s notice. As much as he wanted to chime in and add how strong and smart and capable Willow was, he could see this was not the time for his voice to echo. She needed to do this herself, what he needed to do was stand by her side and made sure she was heard. She didn’t need him, but he knew she wanted him there and that was more than reason enough to stay.

“Willow, I’m sorry.” Amity said for what felt the hundredth time; Willow felt it sounded too natural in her voice.

“Well, that doesn’t fix anything, does it? Willow replied. “It doesn’t undo the fact that you erased my memories of someone who you knew liked me and cared about me and you did nothing to try and fix it. You just… did what you always do.”

Willow didn;t have to elaborate, Amity knew what she meant. She acted selfishly. She took away something with no explanation. She thought ignoring something would make it hurt less. All these things did was temporarily distance Amity from the pressing consequences of her actions and allow her conscience to breathe. But Amity had created her own crushing weight and Willow’s words had every right to drown her.

“It was an accident.”

“But telling him to leave me alone wasn’t,” said Willow regaining control. “What, did you think if I had less friends I’d be more likely to forgive you sooner?”

“Are you seriously gonna let a-a boy come between us?”

“The only one standing between us being friends again is you,” said Willow, turning away from her, she leaned against Hunter as she felt lightheaded. He would normally love to add something snarky, but he knew this moment was Willow’s. He wasn’t here to tear Amity down or add his voice to the chorus of her disdain, he was there to support Willow. “Come find me when your apology is more than just talk.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t find your diary,” said Hunter quietly when they reached her front door. They had walked home in silence. Flying would have been quicker and easier but they both needed a longer time in the fresh air to decompress. Hunter knew Willow had been holding in alot and felt the ground was the safer option to do so in. “I’m sorry I made you go through all that. I mean, I know I didn’t make you do anything but I still feel like I should-.”

“Did we ever fight?”

“What?”

“Did we ever argue?” she rephrased. “I mean, I know all that just now was pretty… intense but I know how I get when I’m upset sometimes so did I ever-.”

“We did,” said Hunter quickly. “Not alot, a few times. We had disagreements. I told you, I could be kind of a jerk and you would call me out on it and I didn’t always like it. But I deserved it.”

“We fought and you didn’t totally hate me after, right?” Willow asked softly, her eyes on the ground.

“What? No, of course not!” He said. “Why would you say that?”

“I just… urgh!” Willow exclaimed as a thorny vine dashed along her feet. “I know what she did was wrong and mean but I… I still want her to try. I’m not ready to forgive her but I… I still don’t want to totally lose her. Is that dumb?”

“No,” he said softly. “No, not at all. I know Blight isn’t all bad, she’s just… going through something probably.”

“Kinda like what you were going through?”

“Uh… yeah?” he said, uncertain. He felt like it was very unlikely that someone else was going through what he was. “But Amity is smart, she’ll figure out how to make things right eventually. This kind of stuff doesn’t always come natural for people like us. It’s… hard to unlearn things sometimes.”

Her smile became stronger and more real. “Thanks Hunter,” she said softly. “Sorry I got you roped up in all this crazy.”

“I’ve gotten you involved in much worse,” he chuckled and then he saw the inquisitive look on her face. “Which we will talk more about later, heh.”

“Looking forward to it,” she said. Hunter saw her eyes glance at the door and something in the back of his mind dared to hope she was looking for a reason not to go inside just yet.

“Ya know, In all the times Blight and that Bo-sha girl tried to bring you down, you never sunk to their level. You never threw the first punch, you never went out of your way like they did. You were always on defense, just not always for yourself.”

“Gus told you all that?”

“Well, not exactly,” he said. “I mean, he told me you and Amity weren’t on the best terms before you told me more about what happened but I’ve seen it.

“When? I thought you didn’t go to Hexside.”

“I didn’t but one time I ran into you guys at the market…”

“Accidentally or on purpose?”

“I said it was a coincidence but I miiight’ve been waiting around where I thought you’d show up,” he admitted. “You had to get supplies for a school project and I said I could escort you even though I didn’t really need to. It was just an excuse.”

“I see.”

“To spend time with you.”

“Okay?”

“Because I really liked you.” He said it as though it was just an important detail for the context of the story and not something that made her knees feel weak.

“Got it,” she said with a smile as she bit her lip, allowing him to continue.

“Anyway,” he went on, trying not to focus too much on the way she was looking at him. “We were walking, just… hanging out- I think I’m using that phrase correctly- when we ran into Bobcat-.”

“Boscha,” Willow corrected.

“-right, Boscha,” he reacted like the word was sour milk. Willow found it charming how he never said her name right, and she couldn’t tell if it was on purpose. “Like, I literally ran into her because we were talking and I was looking at you and it wasn’t a fatal collision but when she saw you she just started saying these awful things to you. You weren't even the one who bumped into her!”

“Eh.” Willow shrugged, not surprised.

“And I pointed that out to her but she didn’t care and you rolled your eyes and she kept talking and ya know I didn’t wanna pull rank but I had to say something I mean she clearly didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“Clearly.”

“And when I told her she shouldn’t speak to you like that, she started coming after me,” said Hunter. “She started making fun of my voice and the gap in my teeth, which is nothing new. But when she started targeting me, you decided she needed to be quiet and you… defended me, which was something new.”

“Well, it’s like you said she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Yeah, but… when it was you being mocked you were brave and above it. You were strong and calm and didn’t stoop down to her level

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I was ‘above it’,” she admitted. “It does get to me when she constantly says those things about me.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything until it was about me?”

“Because I don’t want the people I care about to feel that way,” she said simply. She didn’t need to remember the specific instance to know that.

“You put yourself in harm’s way to protect others, that’s noble,” Hunter said simply. “Even more, you don’t let the cruelty of others make you cruel. I can’t imagine a greater strength.”

“Wow, have you always said such sweet things to me?” Willow blushed.

“Oh, uh, I-I don’t know,” said Hunter, suddenly shy. “It’s not on purpose. Gus said I do talk to you differently, but I didn’t mean to-.”

“No, no it’s a good thing,” she assured him. “From the way Luz described you, I thought you’d be snarky and sarcastic all the time. But you’re not, at least not with me.”

“Yeah well, I guess you don’t give me a reason to be,” he shrugged. Even now with his future uncertain and his past blurry, just being near Willow made him feel… lighter. Maybe absence made the heart grow fonder but he didnt’ know how that was possible; he had never been more fond of anyone. “But Willow I … I can’t tell you how happy I am to be back, to have you back to… talk to you again, I meant. But I… I don’t want to be the reason you and Amity are on bad terms.”

“Hunter, Amity and I had our issues long before I met you.”

“I know, I know but… I remember that conversation she mentioned. And I know how much your friendship meant to you. I know that knowing you makes me feel safe and seen and I think that’s what Amity needs. I mean, I could hardly handle not being your friend for a few weeks, I can’t imagine how hard it was for Amity doing it for years.”

“Do you think,” Willow started. “That if my memories about you hadn’t been erased and we kept being friends and spending time together that by now we might be…”

“What?”

“…more than friends?”

“Like… best friends?”

“Not exactly,” she said with a smile. “I mean something more… serious.”

“Like…” he gulped, suddenly forgetting what words were. “Advanced friends?”

She smiled. “Yeah?” she said with a giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“W-w-why do you ask?”

“Well, do you remember the other day…” Willow started gently. “When I came and found you and we were talking?”

“Yeah,” said Hunter. “Of course.”

“And um… then when I got mad and I… kissed you?”

“Yeah, yeah I-I really uh remember that, heh.”

“I um… we’ll I know you said you were fine with it even though it was kind of impulsive but I was just wondering if…”

“If… what?”

She fiddled with her braid. “Um… if…”

They spoke at the same time

“Have we kissed before?”

“Did you want to kiss again?”

They both looked at each other and blushed as they processed what the other had said.

“Um… n-no, we haven’t,” said Hunter, answering her question first and hoping she wouldn’t think him terribly forward for his. “No, that one time was the first time.”

“Oh,” she said, and Hunter swore she sounded disappointed. He didn’t know what to make of that. Did that make things better or worse? Was she let down that in all the time she had known him before he hadn’t had the guts to make a move or was she let down that it wasn’t everything it should have been?

“There was… this one time though,” he admitted, rubbing his neck with his hand as he tried to play it off as an afterthought and not an often revisited memory. “When I thought we might, I mean I guess I didn’t really realize what was happening at the moment and I uh…”

Willow raised her eyebrows and he took that as a sign to backtrack, hopefully an explanation would help him understand the situation better too.

“Okay, well Gus wanted to do some research for an illusion presentation he had and in order to recreate a scene he had to see it first,” began Hunter. “It was up a mountain and there was a rare flower that grew nearby that you wanted to see as well so I offered to escort you both because I knew a shortcut from a mission I had been on. Long story short, we ran into some weird mountain animals and in the chaos you lost your hair clip helping me get away. You said it was no big deal but I know that wasn’t true so I went back later and found it. In hindsight I should’ve waited until the morning but I rushed over to return it to you because it was my fault you lost it in the first place. Also in hindsight I should have messaged you that I was coming but instead I kind of just teleported outside your window.”

“Something tells me it wasn’t the first time,” Willow teased. The tips of Hunter’s ears turned crimson as he went to continue, confirming Willow’s suspicion.

“You seemed surprised to see me and I thought it was just because it was so late and you were tired but you looked at me… different. You said it really wasn’t a big deal, and I shouldn’t have gone back by myself when it was so dark out but you seemed happy that I did so I don’t really know? I mean, it’s your lucky hair clip and it looks nice on you so of course I wanted you to have it back. I mean, I’d do anything for you.”

Willow felt like all the air left her lungs, the way he said it like it was an undisputed fact. Even though she knew it wasn’t possible, she felt herself transported back to her room that night feeling utterly starstruck to see her modest knight in a patched cape return her treasure to her. Her heart twisted and leapt the same way she somehow knew it did that night as Hunter continued to be none the wiser and he went on.

“Then you hugged me really tight and I was a little worried because I ran most of the way and thought I might smell but when you pulled away y-you… didn’t let go right away and it was like you were waiting for something.”

“So what did you do?” Asked Willow, captivated by her own history.

“I put your clip in your hair for you,” Hunter said with a gulp as Willow lured him closer with a similar energy. “And I must’ve been dehydrated or something because everything felt like it was in slow motion.”

Willow chuckled, understanding more by the second the real reason for the sensation. “And then?”

“And then uh w-when I went to move my hand you took it and you said I was sweet, which you’re the only person to ever call me that and you’ve called me that before but every time you did it still felt odd but I didn’t mind and I thought that…”

Hunter continued to ramble which told Willow there was something else in the moment that he didn’t know how to articulate. Something he still wasn’t certain of and didn’t understand how to explain without having her account to confirm or deny it. She knew he didn’t want to tell her outright in case he was mistaken about her feelings during the moment but Willow was certain she knew what she was thinking in this forgotten life.

Because she was thinking it again now.

“Well you are sweet,” she said softly as his words started to fizzle and a smile tugged at his lips as though she had just played his favorite song. “So… what happened after that?”

“Oh uh well heh I-I didn’t realize Gus was still over until he walked back into the room eating a snack and I guess from his point of view we were… fairly close and he said ‘are you two gonna kiss?’ And…I kinda teleported back outside because I didn’t know what the right thing to say was.”

“Oh.” Willow said with a giggle.

“Yeah,” he said with a nervous sigh. “So I mean, I don’t know but like if you were to ask Gus he might mention that time but he wasn’t there for the whole thing and I-I mean it’s not like I came there to- n-not that I wouldn’t want to! But just so you have the whole story, ya know? But… yeah.”

“I see,” said Willow. Something she was re-learning about Hunter is that the way he felt about something could be seen in the details he gave. The more he cared, the more thorough he was. She supposed that wasn’t totally unusual but the way he could focus on the smallest thing so long as it was somehow connected to something he cared about made her feel warm. He paid attention and held the things he noticed close to his heart. He held the things she said and the way she said them. She knew he wanted to have all the answers for her.

“It’s just I know the way I remember things might not be the same way you would remember them,” he went on, looking down at his hands as he twiddled his thumbs. “So I mean I want to try and be as objective as possible because I don’t want my perspective to influence yours in case it was all in my head.”

She had no concrete evidence to prove it, but she knew in her heart that it wasn’t. It was exactly the kind of scenario that made her secretly giddy when she saw it in cheesy rom coms.

“Well… you answered my question, so can I answer yours?”

“My question? What did I-oh.” It suddenly caught up with him, what he had thought she was asking and what he had ended up asking her in turn. What he revealed he had hoped she had been implying. If she didn’t regret it enough to repeat herself. If she-

“Yes.” She said it simply and brightly, with confidence.

“Y-yes?”

“Yes.” She confirmed again with a nod. She couldn’t remember everything they had said where they went together or when or but she could feel the how. How she felt when she caught him staring at her out of the corner of her eye or the pride she felt when she saw the way his face softened she said his name like it was a spell only she knew how to cast. “I do.”

“I… heh, uh…”

“I mean, unless you didn’t want to-.”

“No! No, I want to!” He said, hoping to avoid any misunderstanding. He cleared his throat, trying to save face. “I-I would like to very much.”

Willow knew she could trust this feeling she had that told her to bring him close and keep him there. This desire to take his hand and hold it as tight as she could. This impulse she had to cover his face in kisses every time he smiled was not a trick her mind was playing on her.

Her mind may have forgotten Hunter, but her heart couldn’t seem to. Small yellow flowers sprouted along her hair as she couldn’t help but smile at the nervous yet delighted way Hunter fidgeted.

“I- I just want to be sure that you’re sure,” he went on. “Because I don't want you to think that just because I thought… I mean, after everything that happened today too and I… wait, you’re not mad again are you?”

“I mean I’m… processing a lot right now, I guess? I feel kind of overwhelmed and tired but I don’t feel mad,” she assured him. “I promise you that’s not the reason.”

Hunter had been sure it was a moment Willow would not want to bring up. That she’d be embarrassed or disgusted but knowing she felt the opposite, that in fact she felt the same he did didn’t seem real. Like he had unknowingly tricked her.

“Willow, I…” Hunter started, suddenly overly aware of how close she was standing to him. How she seemed to be inching closer. She wanted to be close to him. “I want you to think of me… I want you to think that I’m…” he struggled to find an elegant way to say this, because the simple way was just too simple. It sounded childish and incredible and insecure, but it was true. “I want you to like me.”

She smiled. Simple was more than enough for her, because it was a shared simplicity. “I do like you.”

“I guess I’m just worried that I’ll do something to change that.” He said. “I guess I’m just worried that you like me now because you don’t know all the things about me that you knew before and I uh…”

“It’s okay to have secrets,” she assured him, sensing his struggle.

“Yeah but …” he sighed, this felt like it would never get less complicated. “I know things about you from before that I don’t know if you’d want me to know now and now I get to decide what you know about me and it doesn't seem fair.”

“Hunter, I think you miiight be overthinking this,” Willow said with a smile. She didn’t really mind, she liked being something her thought alot about.

“I know,” he sighed. “It’s just… I don’t want to only tell you things that I think will make you like me but I’m worried that if I tell you everything that I might say it wrong or in the wrong order and it’ll change things or-.”

He was cut off by Willow taking his hands in hers.

“Hunter, is there something you want to tell me?”

Truthfully, Hunter didn’t want anyone to know, especially her.

He took a deep breath, working his way up to his concern. “You know how you said… you think that you had a crush on me before…”

“Oh, uh yeah…” she said with a blush and a deep breath. She felt giddy and nervous and warm at the way him trying to talk her out of her former feelings made them settle in like a dove in a freshly made nest. “I mean… I kinda have a crush on you now.”

His face turned beet red as he uttered his response before he had a chance to truly relish in her confession. “B-but you shouldn’t!”

“D-do you not want me to?” She said, fear creeping in that the romance was one-sided.

“No! No, I-I do!” He said quickly. “But… I’m not someone you should like… like that.”

She frowned. “Does this have something to do with what Amity said?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“Is it because you’re the golden guard?”

“Not really, it’s more-.”

“Is it because you don’t feel the same way about-.”

“I’m a grimwalker!” He exclaimed, not wanting her to finish. His hands quickly covered his mouth as he watched his words wash over her. He waited for disgust, shock, betrayal to take over. Instead she looked at him with wide, waiting eyes and said:

“Okay?”

“I mean I’m… ya know… do you know what a grimwalker is?”

“I mean, kind of,” she said with a shrug. “But that’s what you are, not who you are.”

“I-I’m a clone of someone who hunted witches who probably helped Belos hurt people. I’m a liar. How can you be okay with that?”

“Who says that’s who you are?”

“Everyone! It’s just a fact I mean the books all say-.”

“Everyone used to say I was a half-a-witch,” interrupted Willow. “Even when I believed it, you didn’tdn’t because that’s what everyone else said, would you let me

“Well, that’s who you’re supposed to be, it's not who you are,” Willow said simply. She knew better than most how the two differed.

“It doesn’t… I mean, i-it doesn’t bother you?”

Willow simply shook her head. Hunter had been certain she would take the opportunity to cut her losses, despite her determined nature he wouldn’t blame her. After all he had done to change to show her and everyone he changed to change into someone worth being, this made feel pushed back and stuck. But the warmth of gaze was a helping hand that easily pulled him from his mental quicksand. Whether she saw through him or the true him Hunter did not know, but he knew he could not fool her twice. Even under the mask or as Caleb she knew better, she still knew him.

“Ya know, it took me awhile but I’ve accepted that I probably won’t get my original memories back,” said Willow gently. “But do you know why I don’t feel sad about that anymore?”

Hunter shook his head as she reached out and placed her hand beneath his chin and cupped his cheek. He knew she didn’t remember how often she had done this before, how it miraculously managed to calm him.

“Because I know I’ll get to make new memories,” she said. “And I want you to be a part of as many as possible.”

He had read that grimawalkers were cold, unfeeling creatures. That they couldn’t feel compassion or love. That their memories often mixed with their source until they reached the age the person they were based on was when they passed. All Hunter could think about was how he was never meant to be his own person, how there was always a path of some sort that he was chained to.

But maybe he could pick a new path.

“I want that too.” he whispered.

Her arms moved down to wrap around his waist as she pulled him into a hug. She hugged him the same way she used to, even knowing what she knew now she still wanted him close. He rested his chin atop her head and tried to process how she still wanted to be a part of his path, she wanted to remember him.

She still wanted him.

The books all said he couldn’t feel this way, that he shouldn’t be able to feel this way.

But the books didn’t know Willow Park.

So when he pulled away to look at her, he forgot what the books, what his uncle and everyone else said he was or should be. When he brushed a loose hair from her face, she looked at him the way she had that day at her window and there was no reason now to not follow through. So when he leaned down to kiss her, he forgot for a moment all that was waiting for him at a home he could not return to or how much more difficult things would get once they left this little bubble. Because he was someone Willow Park wanted to remember, and he intended to do everything in his power to be a good memory.

#huntlow #huntlow fanfiction #toh #the owl house #Willow park #Hunter toh #winter toh #toh fanfic

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certified-bi · 8 months ago

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Okay so(Spoilers up to 65):

Marianne has publicly challenged the Jewel Box and pointed out that it's politically sus.

Moon Owl knows about (and could possibly be) the princes decoy (I'm confused on the timeline given he was with them before the girls died but maybe that was just before the rebellion). Moon Owl doesn't seem clear on his past given he didn't understand he's a hostage.

Moon Owl and Marianne's mother are both from the country that started the rebellion or at least had a controversial part in it.

The pope is buy young girls, grooming them to be helpless powerhouses, and probably stealing their magic if they choose to leave. The Jewel Box either edited this out or the empire is not concerned by this (both are bad but I'm leaning former given how Garnet's people feel about the saints).

Marianne has chosen to conceal herself and run away. The emperor wants her back at attention and being obedient. He is also willing to kill our Obsidian over this but Moon Owl isn't for this.

Alex knows Marianne to some extent and has figured out she's missing. He knows enough about the emperor to be concerned for our Obsidian and so far is only not trusting Moon Owl for reasonable points. He is also concerned for Marianne.

Marianne was pressured to some extent to be in the Jewel Box for her popularity and sway. It's possible that her husband's accident was foul play. It's odd she didn't choose a lover she already had to marry and instead chose to be the face of season five.

The emperor and his family are possibly cursed due to what happened to the Mers which I believe is relevant given Obsidan is established to hate this history before she steps into the Jewel Box (with her husband's collection) and its a mirror to current circumstances.

My thoughts:

Marianne may have more politically outspoken beliefs than we know, and possibly aligns with those who are against the empire given we don't know exactly why they rebelled. She has run away and hidden herself to great lengths. Alex is very likely to be on her side and also against the empire to some extent, given we don't know who he is and his ancestry that could be a further motive.

The empire is willing to use and abuse others, especially concerning magic. Considering how much magic the Jewel Box takes, it'd be interesting if there's resentment from the less fortunate about mana being used in such way given its not endless and comes at such a cost and they're being frivolous with it to some degree for political propaganda romance TV. The pope and emperor might be in cahoots over magic draining but that's purely speculation based on themes so far.

I think the merman tale is important because of the way the legend ties into Obsidian's history and the empire as a whole. It also ties into different characters' themes. Platinum is carrying the curse of his families greed for power. Amethyst is a pawn for the pope, but also a divine healer. Mana stones cost miners a great deal. Pearl is a woman so she's unable to take the throne alone, much like the maiden needing the merman's help. Obsidian is tied fairly heavily to the maiden as well, but more on the grief aspect.

Also keep in mind the broadcast seems to be airing with a slight gap in release, but I could be misremembering.

I think we're looking at a few possibilities:

Marianne and/or Alex are against the empire and looking to start another rebellion. Obsidian will either have to lean towards this or towards some sort of compromise.

Moon Owl had his memories taken, will regain them and will join the rebellion to help Obsidian as she's a pawn with no protection.

Amethyst will heal Platinum.

Platinum will have to break the curse by righting his family's wrongs.

The empire falling in its current form.

#obsidian bride

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azierum · 3 months ago

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🖊 Emrys 👀👀👀

SMILES GRINS. okay so. i’m pretty sure you’re in the alverton server so i will talk about both alverton em and my universe em. they’re kinda the same but kinda different. warning this will be long and potentially incomprehensible

they were my first proper oc really so i am prone to favouriting him but i swear i love all my ocs equally….. fun fact they were originally an oc for an owl house rp server but i never ended up sending them in there cuz i got nervous. but i then reused them for alverton when it came about

some general stuff. she’s old as fuck and has lived through a lot. this is true of both versions of xem. in my universe he’s probably older?? alverton i always imagined a few thousand, max 10000, in mine. significantly older. they’re both magic users but a warlock in mine and witch in alverton. difference in backstory mostly boils down to universe lore and rules and shit, but also the existence of charlie, but there are hunters in both universes and they are very intrinsically tied with his backstory. she loves adopting random children. or adults. whoever. anyone in need of a parental figure, he will be there. it’s a massive nerd, loves to read, is very friendly to everyone but that doesn’t mean she actually likes you, is somewhat paranoid, can have a temper and has audhd because. ofc. (basically all my ocs do i project too much)

alverton ems backstory has always been a bit more vague to me, but the main stuff is basically witch hunters burned aer family at the stake leading to a loss of control of her powers resulting in the death of not just the hunters but the whole village. the guilt from that has lead her to try and be peaceful ever since. this also lead them to wanting to protect all creatures she could against stuff like this. this is part of what eventually leads him to help found alverton!! which is a safe haven for supernaturals. some other stuff happened, fae lost more to the hunters and eventually went on a rampage, killing every one she found. he became infamous among hunters. eventually they got tired and the rage died down and they lived relatively peacefully after. the number of hunters died down over the years which lead to more lax wards and protection of alverton which is how some of them have been able to enter again. xe now owns a bookshop/café thing (ellary nook) and is in a qpr with blaise

as for my universe emrys. they’re a warlock not a witch (completely different species btw it’s not a weird male female thing lmao) no one knows how or why they get born but they’re normally born to humans parents. most are abandoned and left to die (when they’re that young their magic isn’t at the point where it will keep them alive no matter what so they can die) some are kept but normally not treated well. em was kept but confined as much as possible and not allowed to use magic. warlocks have ‘marks’ that differentiate them from humans (em has yellow snake eyes, polydactyly and an unnatural hair colour) so it’s quite obvious. one day he’s kidnapped by hunters who torture him. they like to rid supernaturals creatures of stuff that makes them inhuman and sometimes collect them. sooo some stuff happens. but!!! this is where she met charlie!!! (platonic soulmate and also a warlock) he had been found as a baby by hunters and they used him to their advantage to capture various creatures to kill. they meet, they bond, the leader hunter guy turns up and burns one side of ems face (trying to burn the eye out) which leads to loss of control despite the power dampeners charlie’s been forced to put on her. the whole place comes down but they manage to escape and the other guy thankfully dies. fast forward a long time to the present they own a library in an obscure in the middle of nowhere town which is mostly supernaturals and she lives with charlie. and a bunch of other stuff happens with a bunch of other ocs but for the sake of not rambling too much (as if i haven’t already) i will hold off…..

#she’s very dear to me #oc tag #arthur rambles #asks #emrys oc

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majormeilani · 1 year ago

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Hi. I have some OC asks from the game you reblogged. :] Big list incoming lol.

Kani: What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

Gordon: If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

Sparky: If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

Darby: If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

Zeta: What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

Wormie: What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

Cassidy: Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

Phillip: Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

okieee sorry took me 40000000 yrs to do these

Kani: To find her I'd probably have to yell out something about romance novels LOLLLL. She loves to read them and collect them even though they're all trashy and terrible a lot of the time jahswjsjbwisb. And her friend would probably yell something about being hurt because she'd come RUNNING if she thought any of them were hurt, intent on healing them. That or she would be summoned by the mention of a really cute animal or someone saying they had ice cream sandwiches lol.

Gordon: The one way to tell who the real Gordon would be is asking him where Mary is since he almost always has Mary on his person and if the imposter didn't have a Mary that answered the question "What's your opinion on grapes?" correctly, then you'd know that Gordon was a fake lol.

Sparky: Either accidentally electrocuting someone (non-fatally) or stealing something expensive but she gets away with it because she's oitty.

Darby: She'd probably be able to infodump about giraffes or the history of skateboarding and its cultural connections.

Zeta: As the king of the castle he's probably gotten many odd gifts from residents of the castle. I think a gift that he hated would probably be a food that he cannot stand, like a fruitcake or something lmaoooo. He'd probably try his very best to be polite in their presence and then as soon as they're gone either dispose of it or ask someone else to.

Wormie: She will always be excited to tell people about her pet worm on the string, Specimen, and his ever growing and changing elaborate backstory. She'll also probably be able to infodump a whole bunch about her own little ocs or stories that she enjoys. I imagine that she's sometimes gone to other locations in the game and watched some shows on the TVs and probably seen some of the birds' movies. She'd literally talk for a solid hour straight about nothing, so starved to talk to someone willing to listen.

Cassidy: Of course since she is his best friend, he likes Nicole for who she is despite not being the biggest fan of her work. He just doesn't find the genre of her movies to be that engaging to him and suggests her to add some more horror elements to her work lol. In terms of the vice versa, he used to be big a fan of both DJ Grooves and Conductor's work but after meeting them he thinks a little bit less of their work. He also used to like them as public figures before he met them and saw how arrogant they can be. He doesn't really hate them per say but he definitely wants to knock them down a few pegs and can get rather annoyed by them and their rivalry. They're not on friendly terms but he will tolerate them in his presence.

Phillip: Phillip's probably done this before LMAO. I can see him being given something AWFUL and being one of the few Express Owls who actually gives the food a fair try while the others spit it out. He'd be like ".... It's deli-- (nearly throws up) delicious..!" and then aside he'd probably say "... This is so gross-"

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helldustedstories · 1 year ago

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Very loosely inspired by a t.iktok by ate.zart:

When he was nineteen years old, shortly after Octavia was born, Stolas decided that he didn't want her to be subjected to the same treatment he had been growing up, that he wanted to give her a better life, where she could make her own decisions. And the only way to do that was to run away from his family, to take her and disappear, to raise her far from the rest of the Goetia.

He had already been working on a plan to escape if he needed to, quietly selling artefacts that wouldn't be missed from his father's collection, gathering up as much money as he possibly could. Because as soon as he left, he wasn't going to be able to rely on his name, his title for anything; it would just endanger them if he did.

Stolas took a cutting from his favourite plant, a few nondescript outfits to help keep him from standing out more than he already would, a couple of books on magic from the library (so he could fight back if anyone came after him, could keep learning, even without his tutors or additional training), and as many supplies for Via as he could carry, leaving behind the only life he'd known, determined to give his daughter a better chance than he'd had.

He ended up at the circus he'd visited on his birthday almost a decade before, wondering if his first friend would remember him, one of the only people outside of the Goetia family he knew at all. And with the words "I'll hire you" ringing in his ears, plus his own desire to reconnect with his friend, Stolas found Blitzo again.

The owl knew that he was going to have to find a job, if he hoped to give Octavia any sort of stable life, and he ended up 'convincing' Cash (by giving him most of the money he'd managed to squirrel away before his escape) that he could help bring in crowds with his fortune telling. It was that, along with a demonstration, that ensured Stolas' place in the circus. He would be able to give Octavia a home, while hiding in plain sight.

But little did he know that this new-found community would become so much more than just a job or a place to stay: they would become more of a family to him than the Goetia ever had been.

Some other basic points! This will probably expand!

Does tarot readings and 'fortune telling' for the circus. Those who are in the know (read: Cash makes sure some people are aware and pay a much higher fee to see Stolas) can receive a genuine reading from him, which involves looking to the stars for actual prophecies.

Definitely still has a crush on Blitzo.

Fast friends with Fizz, with the two of them bonding pretty quickly. Fizz is the one who suggests incorporating elements of drag into his performances, to also help conceal his identity, which Stolas embraces whole-heartedly.

Eventually starts learning aerial silks and the lyra to contribute even more, doing a majority of his practice with Barbie.

Does his performances using an imp disguise (visuals can be seen here!) since it's an all-imp circus, and having an owl demon as the only non-imp member would stand out too much.

Octavia is still absolutely his world, though he actually has help with her now.

More outgoing, though still something of an introvert.

Is slowly figuring out how to control his powers through studying the grimoire and other books he took with him, so that he'll never be powerless against anyone if they ever manage to track him down.

#ᯓ★ stolas : verse // a light in the darkness #[Better writeup for this verse]

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coldranger · 2 months ago

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Had to take some time to collect my thoughts but generally, as previously mentioned, people tend to do their own things!

For some general rules of thumb of my own post-game/head canons, post constructs still within the "construct" are dependent on a hypothetical playthrough you could get in-game, memories of all routes and every possible ending to that route are given to the voices overtime, and regarding the vessels I just don't see Shifty willingly letting the vessels separate from her in most scenarios.

I'll mostly be talking about which post construct is usually seen on my blog and some smaller ideas I have

Main Group (seen in most doodles)

These birds come from a Moment of Clarity straight into Oblivion. Quiet goes into his eternal nothingness. With the voices tangled up in him and Shifty they manage to detangle themselves and into "the woods". There are no lasting physical scars on the voices from MoC (they do look different in MoC I just haven't gotten around to designing them). I don't really have any specifics regarding the voided vessels aside from the fact that they're all ch.2's specifically, since a ch.3 would imply those voices look visually different (my ch.3's for them but yk, time to actually conceptualized that where???)

"The woods" did start out as TLQ strands, but with 11 voices of a god walking around whatever leftover influence the Princess has reverted back to its usual look. The voices generally live in the normal woods area, but there is a part that looks like MoC's barely put together forest. As for Heart Princess she is more or less stuck within Shifty, but I could see the voices eventually attempting a rescue mission after a very long debate amongst themselves.

A Quiet Wasteland

You know Mod Owl's Burning Glass AU? Yeah, it's kind of like that. It's an Empty Cup into Oblivion. Much like the main group all of the voices awaken to a whole lot of nothing, but due to Empty Cup TLQ is aware of itself and more importantly- of it's potential powers. Things quickly go south as a power vacuum arises and many voices are either vying for control of TLQ or are simply trying to keep themselves safe from those who do. Hero is the only "normal" looking voice left. The woods have been divided into various territories with battleground areas being absolutely devastated and barren. Hero lives in on the outskirts of these areas with a rundown cabin.

This is a very old concept which I've been hesitant to share with how, uh, slowly I've gotten around to designing everyone. To boil it down it's basically my excuse to have kaiju level fights with the voices and have some more fun in their designs. The Princess does happen to show up here though! She's very late game however and ties into the narrative climax.

Extras

There are just smaller ideas I want to have fun with, like everyone's their respective ch.3 and don't remember any other routes or "The Gang's All Here" without any MoC or Razor. These aren't tied to any one ending in particular just fun little thought experiments. They could just likely be variations of NAUD.

As for the endings where you leave with Shifty or Heart Princess are some looser territory by nature of me not being sure what to do. Leaving with Shifty has me trying to figure out what two gods will do with their smaller parts, an ending where Quiet was mean to the voices and that reflects in their godhood would be neat to explore.

Leaving with Heart Princess is a lot more open ended, so there's a lot of angles you could take it from. I think one interpretation I'd explore is that Quiet and Heart do manage to escape the construct but without these key components to their being both god's forms destabilize and break the construct. So Quiet and Heart get to have a nice time frolicking in the new world while voices and vessels alike flounder about without any structure.

As a fun little hc of mine, confined to the construct the voices can only see how Quiet sees the world, mostly black and white, but if they manage to leave they can suddenly see in color. Aside from being suddenly flashbanged by the remaining color spectrum the voices also look different and have patterns. Do not expect a color guide anytime soon sdjhgfshjdgfs

I'm not sure/to what extent this would be given to the Princesses but I think I'd just piggyback off of someone else's ideas bc I would NOT know where to start in regards to colors for them

Hey slay the princess fandom!

Is there a common way to see the post Construct worlds and how the voices and/or vessels live? I've seen a few already and also have my own idea which I WILL talk about.. soon..... I just have to "professionally" write down the whole idea

I've seen: the woods, big house, a shit ton of cabins in the woods to choose from, and a couple variations of these, also JUST A VOID

Sooooo is there like a common agreement or intuitive way to see it or everyone's just going with their own flow? ALSO!!! Are they... alone? In the world? Is it a normal human world? A fantasy like one where creatures like them are normal?(not taking into account the human designs)

Also how do yall do it with memories of the game events? Do certain voices only remember certain routes? Do they all remember everything? Do they only remember the 5 routes one playthrough consist of?

And if vessels are involved, does Shifty let them go and just accepts she's not "whole" or decides to grant them more of a personhood than being a perspective? Was it her choice to begin with?

I already have my own ideas for all of these but I want to know if there's a silent agreement I'm missing. My inner Skeptic is acting up, I overanalyse everything and kinda lose myself....... help. It's the undertale multiverse structure all over again, it's the adhd again

#txt post #ramble #rb #slay the princess #stp voices #I have a lot of thoughts #I just tend to keep them in my head hjgdhsgfsd #like there's a reason my voices don't have wings #I just. don't say why #but wasteland voices get wings #so hehe haha

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milo-myhigh · 1 year ago

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I was never close with my grandmother. She was mean, and I didn't like how mean she was. As an adult, a couple years after she had passed I figured out why. She grew up in tough times, in a not-the-worst for the time but certainly-not-okay household, and her early adult years were horrible. She bounced from an abusive home to abusive relationships, and was a single mother in the late when she gave birth to my uncle in the late 1940s. She had several relationships that failed (for good reasons, usually bc the man was abusing her or her kids) and had more kids. Iirc she had 4 to 6 kids by the time she married her husband in the 1960s. Like I said, I wasn't close with her so I don't really know the details fully. By this point she was already cold, according to my father; but marrying her husband changed her entirely. This man was a horrible person who did horrible things I won't repeat. But something he did that makes me livid to no end is prevent her from ever telling her children her side of their heritage. She wasn't allowed to tell his stepchildren about their fathers (including my biological grandfather, who I still no nothing about). She wasn't allowed to talk about her parents or grandparents at all but especially in front of the children.

My parents had me in their 40s, so by the time I was born my grandma was in her 70s. I only knew her as mean and honestly abusive herself. Obviously I'm not excusing her behavior and actions, I just understand where she was coming from after learning about her more. I despised going to her house for the most part unless my cousins were over, bc she would be outright hateful to me and say I "couldn't take a joke".

But sometimes she'd talk about how her dad would braid thick strands of wild grasses into a stick and cleanse their home. They lived in an actual sod house at one point bc it's what they could afford, and she remembered how they would tamp the dirt down with their feet. Her grandfather lived with them in the sod house and taught her about different rocks, and developed her love of them (she had a Chyna cabinet dedicated to her rock collection). She talked about how her grandfather and father would get "stared at weird" and how her mother and her would go to town alone; this went right over my head as a child, I just assumed it was because they were hicks. She'd make calls around to family members everytime she'd hear an owl outside, and told everyone to be wary of owls. That was all she was really allowed to say until her husband died, and by that point she was beginning to experience dementia. The most anyone could get out of her in her later years about her parents (much less her grandparents) was that they weren't supposed to talk about it outside of the home.

I hate that I didn't get to learn more from her. I hate that I wasn't able to hear about my ancestors from her. I especially hate that it was because of her abusive husband that whole stories and family member's names came to an end. And even tho I didn't like her, it's heartbreaking that when she was finally free to tell she couldn't bc of alzheimers. The most I get is my father (who I spent years doubting until I could basically fact check him through as many resources as possible) telling me that his great-grandfather was a Cherokee man. That his great-grandmother cheated on her husband with him, was found out, and divorced immediately. She was excommunicated from her family, and got with the man she'd cheated with. I don't get their names, bc he doesn't know their names. He doesn't know their names bc a man who smelled like tobacco and sweat wouldn't let my grandma tell him.

I'm white-passing. I know it, I won't deny that at all. But I also won't deny how many times growing up in the sticks some random hick would tell me to "go to Oklahoma" (wtf) or ask me if I could smudge their house. I've been mistaken for Asian a weird number of times, and as an adult I've been told I'm "pretty dark for white" (which left me both nauseous and wondering wtaf that even means). I had to unlearn internalized racism for years, because I thought my blood quantum made me white and that I shouldn't try to be part of my community. I still find myself trying not to take up too much space, bc I worry that I'm overstepping. I worry about trying to learn about my heritage and culture without looking like some white person pretending their great-great-great-great-grandma was a Cherokee princess. It's a struggle I don't even know how to begin figuring out and yet I have fucking people acting like I'm a fascist bc I won't support democrats blowing up brown people over republicans blowing up brown people

#vent post #vent #indigenous #indigenous struggles #i dont even get to know my fucking lineage #native american #native struggles #tw abuse mention #tw abuse #america is committing genocide

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carewyncromwell · 3 years ago

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Lineage Challenge Day 4: Character Spotlight

Hosted by @kathrynalicemc

~~~

“So much in my life I took for granted, Like tucking my children into bed... My world was always spinning fast, And in an instant, years have passed, And here I sit with so much left unsaid... I've always lived a world apart, But through it all, you were my heart... That's one of many things...oh, so many things... I never said...”

~“Things I Never Said” from First Date

~~~

For my character spotlight, I decided to put some focus on a member of the Cromwell Clan I’ve done almost no content for...Charles’s wife, Lane’s mother, and Carewyn and Jacob’s maternal grandmother, Marilyn Cromwell!

Marilyn is partially based off of stories my mum told me about her mother, when she was growing up. My maternal grandmother was a very stylish and image-conscious person -- the sort of woman who had impeccably chosen outfits for every occasion and who always had very high expectations both for herself and her family -- to the point that sometimes she came across as emotionally distant and impossible to please. My grandmother was much less of a piece of work than Marilyn, though -- for unlike Marilyn, she wasn’t married to a toxic, abusive sociopath like Charles Cromwell, and she most certainly wouldn’t have played as his accomplice by letting him gaslight, manipulate, and even physically punish their children as much as he wanted, so long as they could still tidy themselves up after the fact.

Marilyn Cromwell was a very conservative woman who like Charles believed in strict gender roles, making her a very dutiful wife who took pristine care of the Cromwell estate and pushed her children academically rather than chasing her own career, even if truthfully, she was a talented enough witch that she could’ve easily earned just as high of a position at the Ministry as Charles did, had she put herself out there. Although her children often considered Claire their parents’ “favorite” because she most blindly obeyed their direction and put a happy face on everything, Marilyn was just as overbearing in her upbringing of Blaise as Charles was, since he -- as Charles’s heir -- would have to represent and mind the Cromwell Clan after his father’s retirement or death (though let’s be honest, Blaise knew full well his father would never retire complete control of the Cromwell family willingly). It’s really due to Marilyn’s influence that Blaise learned how to “take care” of people, though of course in a way that kept a certain power dynamic between the caregiver and the subject -- namely, “Mother knows best, and only I will decide when you are well enough to leave your bed and go outside and play again.” The child Marilyn had the most difficulty molding to her satisfaction was always her third eldest and family black sheep, Lane, who was always so painfully soft-spoken and reluctant to play the part of a poised, perfect family in public. One of the few things Marilyn was able to bond with all of her children over -- which ironically was what also first earned Charles’s attention, when they met -- was her love of and talent for music. She played multiple instruments, including the flute, violin, and piano, and she always loved forcing her children to stand in front of the piano forte and sing for their father or guests. It always entertained Charles greatly, and it made Marilyn proud, to show off her children and their talents.

Marilyn and Lane’s relationship, however, was shattered beyond repair when Lane ran away from home and eloped with a Muggle. Marilyn shared Charles’s contempt for the Muggle world, and she resented her daughter not only turning her back on her family after everything they’d -- and by extension she’d -- done for her, but also for forever shattering that perfect family image Marilyn had fought so hard to maintain for so many years. Sure, there were plenty of people who thought the Cromwell Clan was way more dysfunctional than outward appearances would suggest, but Lane’s departure was pretty solid confirmation of that presumption, which reflected badly on the whole family and their reputation. And that was simply unforgivable, for Marilyn. When Marilyn learned in 1964 that Lane and her new Muggle husband had given birth to a son, she expressed nothing but bitterness around her husband and adult children, solely referring to Jacob as nothing but “Lane’s bastard son.”

The following year, however, Marilyn’s heath took a very abrupt turn for the worse. After going on holiday to visit her family’s old vacation home in Greece, she came down with a very bad case of dragonpox. Although the disease isn’t normally deadly in young people, Marilyn’s frequent smoking had made her more vulnerable. This combined with her stoically trying to soldier through it at home rather than going to St. Mungo’s, so as to “save face” and not let anyone outside her family see her without her usual makeup and hair care regiments, proved to make things worse. Soon the eternally glamorous and flawless Marilyn Cromwell was reduced to a shell of her former self. Her hair had gone white, she vomitted so frequently that she could hold down almost no food at all, and she was so weak and emaciated that she couldn’t even stand, let alone walk. The most she was ever able to do was sit up, but even then, the pain and nausea she felt, coupled with the lack of restful sleep and the terror and anxiety she felt both about how unpolished she looked and her own looming mortality, began to affect Marilyn’s mental state. She started becoming more delusional and disoriented, babbling random things to her remaining family members as they sat at her bedside. The thing she brought up most was Lane’s son -- but surprisingly, her words were far more fretful, rather than cruel:

“Laney’s baby. He’ll be a year soon.”

“It’ll be his first birthday soon.”

“We can’t forget about Laney’s baby. We must get something for the baby.”

A week later, Marilyn Cromwell was dead. Her last words were ascribed to delusion by her husband and children, rather than any kind of “last wish” or expression of regret.

Visually Marilyn most resembled her eldest child, Pearl, though many years later, her granddaughter Carewyn occasionally heard members of established Ministry families like the Crouchs and the Fudges compare her to Marilyn, largely because of their similarly classy fashion sense and make-up. Marilyn’s face claim is Ingrid Bergman, an actress most famous for her role in Casablanca.

Bonus AU where Marilyn had been able to send along a proper gift --

“The baby can have this owl until he gets a proper one, in time for school.” 💔

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #lineage challenge #marilyn cromwell #charles cromwell #blaise cromwell #pearl cromwell #claire cromwell #lane cromwell #jacob cromwell #evan bach #my art #my writing #my headcanon is that marilyn's favorite animal was the owl #just like my maternal grandmother's was!#she had a whole collection of owl figures #my mum inherited some of them from her after she passed away

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lichenaday · 2 years ago

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I thought it might be nice to share a bit about what PhD student life is like since before I started it, I really had no idea what to expect.

I have an office that I share with 3 other PhD students at my institute. It is in an old, historical building at the Munich Botanical Garden.

Let's take a tour around my desk:

First, my homemade Darwin crossstitch (pattern compliments of @shitpostsampler) to remind me that all scientists have bad days.

It sits behind my wonky dragon tree (Dracaena marginata) who I rescued from the trash outside my apartment. Who throws away a whole ass tree?

He's recovering beautifully, considering how fucky and sad he was when I pulled him from the bin.

Above my unnecessarily giant computer monitor I keep part of my expansive plant collection. Pink princess philodendron (Philodendron erubescens) w/handmade moss stick, my beloved jewel orchid (Macodes petola), zebra plant (Tradescantia zebrina) in owl pot (courtesy of my labmate, since I am the bird person) and poorly mounted staghorn fern (Platycerium bifurcatum).

Little baby jewel orchid! He flowered recently and I am so proud of him.

Then there's my Cladonia collection, and my bottle of Icelandic lichen (Cetraria islandica) booze.

On the top shelf is my Calathea musaica 'Network', and jar of discarded lab lichens. I will figure out a use for them eventually. For now they are just aesthetic.

Then there's my monstera Peru (Monstera karstenianum) in a pot I "salvaged" from a cemetery. Pretty sure it's cursed, but nothing I can do about that now. Also the baby succulents off my mystery flea market sedum. Behind my desk you can see my German sailing cookbook, Florentine bat notebook, Pikachu of encouragement, and turtle postcard. The turtle is one of many who live in the greenhouse that I visit when work gets stressful. Also a magnet of my favorite Minoan goddess--tits out, snakes in hands, cat on head.

This is desk ant. She appears to have no colony and just hangs out with me all day. I have tried to track her and find where she comes from but she just runs around in circles on my desk for hours so I have given up. Sometimes I give her a little bit of my tea to drink. She is the backbone of this working group.

Anyway, if you ever see a scientist's office that isn't cluttered and chaotic, they are doing it wrong.

#scientist #science #PhD student #STEM #women in STEM #queers in STEM #lichenology #lichenologist

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oh-cramity-its-amity · 2 years ago

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Oh? A tag game? Game on then. Thank you for the tag.

something old

With what begins as phone calls and casual emails quickly grew into kissing and casual flings after days of being around each other. Hope doesn't mind at all, quite the opposite actually, there's something about Amy's face that just makes sense to Hope, and maybe that would seem strange to most, but Hope seriously doesn't mind it. Actually, she would be lying if she said she didn't want more of it. They don't talk about it much, frankly because there really isn't much to talk about other than the fact that they're still the same two kids from high school. Hope's found her nerve not to tease Amy, and Amy's found the nerve not to over think everything. And that's kind of nice for once. But Amy still insistently defends Molly in conversations, and Hope still constantly bashes her, Hope figures that not much ever changes in a year. It still feels like Hope is still learning new things about Amy however, like the fact that she has no favorite color because of some belief that choosing one would be ultimately be discriminatory to the rest. (It's yellow.) They still have their 2 AM talks though, the only difference is that Amy's just there now and there isn't a time difference separating them. No obscure data rates, nothing. Hope's thankful for that part however, she liked hearing the sound of Amy’s voice as she falls asleep.

something new

(Little sneak peek at a future chapter that's not out yet of my current WIP.)

“Amity?” The shower curtain was drawn closed, something behind it being outlined in the shape of a figure. As ominous as it seemed, she turned around to the mirror above the sink, shoes crunched against the tile. Red writing lingered in the broken edges of glass. Luz noticed now that shards of said mirror had sprinkled the floor. One letter remained past the shattered mirror traced itself into an “M,” untouched by the damage. “Hello?” She turned to see the same outline as before behind the curtain. It didn’t look as if it moved an inch since she entered the bathroom, with a careful step Luz took hold of the plastic and tugged. There, sat motionless in a pool of crimson was a bronze figure. Its head lulled back and two holes pierced its throat. The opaqueness of the water seemed to cover the fact that the body remained naked. Luz couldn’t see past the sternum, nonetheless the sight alone knocked the air from her lungs. She carefully probed the shoulder with a finger to find its deathly cold and limp. Blood contoured and collected itself at the corners of their mouth, but she doesn’t have to ask to know who it is. There’s a hand print on a tile wall beside the figure that’s the same shade of crimson; if not darker.

Something borrowed,

I will be inserting my all time favorite fics because I cannot choose between these two. I absolutely adore them both. I may not be as deeply in the Booksmart fandom as I was but Axis Mundi will always hold a special place in my heart for founding my favorite trope of reincarnated lovers/soulmates. I absolute fucking love soulmates with every fiber of my being.

The other?

learning how to be (with you by my side. Thank you to the amazing person that tagged me for showing me this amazing fic. I have to stay on brand and at least recommend one TOH fic, but both I absolute vouch for wholeheartedly.

Something Blue

I didn't think I would have something to fill this prompt but then I remember I literlly wrote some sad shit like three years ago based on a Taylor Swift song (yes I am calling myself out with that meme).

She’s taken down the picture frames, evidently putting all of them in a single box in the back of her mind, and completely forgetting everything that was of Hope. It was terrible, she hadn’t slept properly in ages, and she doubts things will ever be like they were before. The last she heard, Hope had gotten her degree from NYU and moved back near Manhattan. She on the other hand, stayed there. In their little apartment up in Queens, with her nine to five job and her bitter black coffees at eight AM. She was a mess. An absolute mess. Molly had said it herself, came to her side when she called her on the phone at three in the morning after Hope packed a single bag and left. Out. Poof. And maybe Amy feels like shit for being the instigator of that. Maybe she wishes she could just be fine. Stopping this spineless smile that she draws on daily with lipstick, wider than her mouth, wider than her dreams. But Amy still dreams though, because that’s the one place Hope hasn’t left yet. She still holds her like the first time, and kisses her like all the times before, and maybe that’s sick to think about, but Amy doesn’t know what else to do about it. Perhaps it would be good if she saw someone, got some sort of medication, and cut up all the pictures in those frames. But she doesn’t want to. Because maybe her self-control isn’t willing to let go of all of those memories, like the two AM talks, or the movie nights where they’d build a fort out of that worn vinyl couch in the living room, with their blowup bed, their extra set of sheets and Hope’s lavender scented candles. She always scoffed when Hope insistently bought them. And maybe Amy buys them now too… Because she wants to still pretend like Hope’s around. Her old vintage jacket is buried in the back of their closet – rather, just hers now. But Amy sleeps in it every now and again, she doesn’t tell anyone, sometimes she’d roll it into a ball and hold it up to her chest. It comforts her. Perhaps because it still has the rich smell of Hope’s body spray, or the feeling of Hope’s arms around her when she buries her nose into the collar. But Amy doesn’t know what to do. She misses those days, the ones where Hope was in them. Ones where Hope would wake her up by burning toast in the kitchen, or laughing at Friends reruns with her curled up beside her. And maybe those times weren’t the best, but they were happy. All Amy wants is for Hope to be happy. But she isn’t happy, not unless she’s asleep. It might all be okay, but she isn’t fine.

I don't know who to tag but this was so fun. If you want to do this, GO FOR IT!!!

Tag game!

so, i just discovered that the fanfic question id ussualy answer around this time is out of commision, so im making a tag game! for some reason the only thing i can think of is a poem-ish thing (it rhymes, thats the poem part.) for a list, so thats what we're going with! First ill give you an explanation of the question, before providing my own answer! With all of these, feel free to add a link to the story uyou're pulling from

something old

(here, please provide a bit you wrote a bit ago from an older fic taht you like! Is the question referring to an old fic you like, or a bit? you decide!)

my answer:

As she tugged on the cord next to the window, Masha couldn’t help but be reminded of a stage play by the way the warm, orange sunlight hit their mother- like a spotlight turning on at the lifting of the curtain. The angle also didn’t help, Placing Masha in such a position that mom was framed as a silhouette, like they were watching from the wings at the opening moments of a play.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/47992501)

something new

(here, provide your favorite bit from among the three most recent things you've either published or worked on. Why three? Idk, maybe this post works by fairytale logic now)

my answer:

That isn’t to say that there’s no blue around her- there’s plenty, just not the Blue that matters. Theres the Blue streetlights, casting a light that’s almost negligible in the screaming buzz of neon billboards and signs, some of which are blue. The light- so sharp and loud its almost toxic- Cuts through the rain, and bounces off of the layer of water covering the street, and fills the thin mist that’s gathering above the ground, giving the entire street the feeling of being a mix of nightclub and dream. There’s blue everywhere around Red, but it only serves to remind her of the overwhelming need inside her- it’s like handing a cold person a candle, providing just enough warmth to dangle the possibility of comfort in front of them, but not nearly enough to stave off the cold.

Something borrowed,

(sharing time! share a bit from, or a fic, you enjoy from someone else. please credit your sources though)

my answer:

This is just a really good fic. Its also by a really good writer, who deserves all the love

Something Blue

If youve been wondering why ive coloured the headers up until this point, heres your answer: the blue bit.

(please either share a bit/fic you wroite taht made you, teh author , sad. And for those of us who dont do taht often, just provide something you think of with something blue. This might be getting a bit weird now, sorry.)

whoops, ive used my blue bits already at the top. Well, i did just remeber teh one other time i focussed on the colour blue. behold,

The girl that was looking back at them was dressed impeccably, Masha noted. She was wearing a long royal blue trenchcoat, the type you would expect on a noir detective. Gods, I want that coat. They also noted the fact that it was a crumpled mess. A coat shouldn’t be so messy and yet look so good on someone, they thought with a pang of jealousy. The coat wasn’t the only thing that was a mess though. The girl wearing it looked like she hadn’t slept in a while, indicated by light bags under her eyes that she obviously hadn’t tried to conceal.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/47040430/chapters/118509421)

im sorry for the slight mess that was this post, i hope you people can have fun with it. I think that im supposed to give you numbers here or something, but i dont know that many writers here, so ill just tell you to tag who you want

following my own advice: @topheecoffee @queereldritch @oh-cramity-its-amity @sky-neverending @bonpocalypse @usernamemybeloathed

and for a riskier tag, @captainimprobable

#tag game #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic

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